RCL Last Epiphany C
2 May 2025
Church of the Epiphany
Surrey BC
More than thirty years ago, Paula and I were invited to a gathering for families who had children attending the same schools and parishes. What I remember most about that party was a brief moment of revelation. David, our oldest, was three or four years old and was playing with some older children. All of a sudden, I saw David as a young man, and I liked what I saw. Then, just as suddenly as the vision came, it vanished, and my young son was once more before me.
David is now thirty-eight. Over the past thirty years or more, he and his parents have experienced all the ups and downs of growing up. There have been moments of joy as well as moments of quiet despair. But David has become a man committed to justice, to his friends and to his work as a librarian who helps young people gain access to the knowledge they need to lead good lives. He has grown and is growing into the vision of what I saw so long ago.
On the Sunday before Ash Wednesday it has become the practice of Anglicans in Canada to read one of the versions of the story of Jesus who, in the company of Peter, James and John, climbs a mountain for an encounter with God. This encounter is called ‘the Transfiguration’, and it is important for us to understand what this word means.
A transfiguration is not the same as a transformation. When something or someone is transformed, they become something or someone that they were not before the transformation. Transformations generally last for some time, perhaps for as long as something or someone exists. A transfiguration is something else entirely. When something or someone is transfigured, they do not become something or someone else; they become what or who they truly are. Transfigurations, unlike transformations, are generally moments in time. They come and then they go; but the impressions that they leave upon us endure.
On the mountain top Peter, James and John see Jesus as he truly is – the Beloved of God who shows us the path towards become fully alive, fully human in the image and likeness of God. Just as brilliantly as the vision comes to them, the vision then vanishes. But they cannot divest themselves of the impact upon them.
Jesus went up the mountain as the Beloved of God and comes down the Beloved of God. But Peter, James and John are transformed. They went up the mountain disciples of a rabbi from Nazareth; they come down the mountain as witnesses to the glory of God made known to them in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. They will never be the same. They have taken an irreversible step on a journey that will lead them on paths they never imagined while they were fishing in Galilee.
Transfiguration leads to transformation. When we see something or someone for what or who they truly are, perhaps seeing ourselves as we truly are, we are transformed, we are changed. As hard as we may try to pretend that we have not experienced what we have experienced – and believe me, we do try very hard sometimes – we have been changed. We cannot unchange the moment of clarity.
Augustine of Hippo, a bishop and teacher living in North Africa during the political and social upheaval of the fifth century, once held up the consecrated bread and wine of the eucharist and said, ‘The gifts of God for the people of God.’ But then he said one thing more, ‘See who you are. Become what you see.’ It is one thing for us to believe that the bread and wine of the eucharist are the body and blood of Christ, broken and poured out for us and the life of the world. But it is a more difficult and challenging thing for us to grasp that our lives are on this altar as well. We too are broken and poured out for the life of this neighbourhood, for our families and friends, for those who are voiceless and powerless.
In a few minutes we shall baptize Thomas. He is already a beloved child of God. In baptism we shall glimpse a vision of who Thomas is – an image of the God of all creation – and a vision of who Thomas is to become – the likeness of God’s Beloved, Jesus the Christ. As we experience this transfiguration, this revelation of Thomas is and who he is to become, we see who we are and who we are to become. And we cannot erase that revelation from our hearts, our minds and our souls. We are people of truth and the truth that we know in Jesus will set us free to become fully alive – people who do justice, people who love kindness, people who walk humbly with God.
The moment of Thomas’ baptism will come and then will pass. But the experience of God’s grace revealed in water, oil, bread and wine will endure. It will become the energy that fuels our transformation from who we are now into who we are meant to be. It is a lifetime enterprise but a worthwhile one. The great twentieth-century cellist Pablo Casals was once asked why, at the age of ninety, who continued to practice. He replied, ‘Because I think I’m making progress.’
As we rejoice in Thomas’ baptism and as we prepare for our annual Lenten pilgrimage, let us give thanks that we continue to experience the moments of transfiguration that lead to transformations. Let us, like Pablo Casals, continue to practice what we have seen in those moments of transfiguration, so that we can make progress towards becoming our true selves made in God’s life-giving and life-renewing image. God knows – and we know – our world surely needs this.
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