Lifting the Veil
Reflections on Luke 9.28-36
RCL Last Sunday after Epiphany C
3 March 2019
Holy Trinity Cathedral
New Westminster BC
Luke 9.28-36
9.28Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” — not knowing what he said. 34While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 36When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
The mid- to late-nineteenth century was a time of religious upheaval in the churches of the Anglican Communion. Social and cultural developments such as changing attitudes towards the role of women in society and the ‘rush towards empire’ that afflicted even smaller European countries such as Belgium contributed to this turmoil. But within the Anglican world, the world that gave rise to this cathedral church building in which we are worshipping today, the most visible conflict was around worship.
In the 1830’s a group of Oxford academics had rediscovered the theology and worship of the early church and of the English church before the Reformation. Along with some of their colleagues in Cambridge they began a movement that is sometimes called the ‘High Church’ movement or the ‘Anglo-Catholic’ movement. They dared to resurrect the teachings of some of theologians and bishops of the early seventeenth century who had fallen out of favour in the years following the English Civil War. These teachers had spoken of the ‘beauty of holiness’ and they dared to bless God ‘for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for [God’s] immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory’. [1]
This movement inspired many younger clergy whose views were not always welcomed by their bishops. These new priests were often assigned parishes in the inner city, parishes whose buildings were often in need of repair and whose parishioners were among the poorer residents. These priests threw themselves into beautifying their churches and enriching the worship of the congregation with vestments and music and even incense. What these priests wanted to do was to show their parishioners who God intended them to be, beloved children of God called to share in the heavenly banquet, and to show them that beauty was not just for the wealthy and the privileged, beauty was God’s gift to every human being. For some of these young priests their motto was ‘See who you are. Become what you see.’
This work of showing us who we are and helping us become what we see has continued ever since. When I was a boy, this Sunday was called ‘Quinquagesima’ because it comes fifty days before Easter and we read the story of the healing of a blind beggar. Now it is the Last Sunday after Epiphany, a reminder that we have been hearing stories of the revelation of Christ in the lives of ordinary women and men, and we hear the story of the transfiguration, the revelation of who Jesus of Nazareth is, the Beloved of God, the Chosen, who has shared our humanity so that we can share in his divinity.
Even our attitude towards Lent which begins in three days has changed. As a boy Lent seemed to me to be a time of self-denial to remedy a year spent falling short of God’s expectations. Somehow my friends and I thought that God could be appeased by our righteousness abstinence from Brussel sprouts, spinach and other such foods as our parents tried to foist upon us. To learn that Lent from its earliest origins was about walking with those people who were going to be baptized at Easter, that Lent is about examining our priorities and, yes, perhaps giving some harmful and perhaps even some good things up, that Lent is about growing into Christ, our baptismal identity, was and continues to be a revelation.
Although the story we heard read today seems to focus on the transformation of Jesus, the dramatic change in his appearance, the real story is this. On the mountaintop Peter, James and John see Jesus as he really is. The Jesus with whom they have been travelling throughout the towns and villages of Roman Palestine is more than they could ask or imagine. The Jesus whom they call ‘Teacher’ is the Chosen in whom God reveals God’s very self. This has been true from the first day and will remain true today and tomorrow. What changes is the relationship that Peter, James and John have with Jesus. When relationships change, we are compelled to re-think, re-imagine, re-create ourselves in the light of this new relationship.
Every Sunday as we celebrate the eucharist, we say words that have the potential to change relationships and to transform ourselves. When the presider says, ‘The peace of the Lord be always with you,’ and we respond, ‘And also with you,’ we are invited to look at one another differently as we exchange a sign of that peace. If I have exchanged the peace of God with you, then how shall I live and work with you once this assembly is over? When the presider says, ‘These are the gifts of God for the people of God,’ what are the consequences of acknowledging that we who receive these precious gifts are now called to become the gift we have received? Do we ever ponder the risk we take when we ask God to forgive our sins as we forgive the sins of others?
Every Sunday, every eucharist, every gathering of the Christian people, is a time of transfiguration when, in one way or another, God speaks to us, saying ‘See who you are. Become what you see.’ Every Sunday, every eucharist, every gathering of the Christian people, is a time of transfiguration when, in one way or another, we catch a glimpse of the glory of God dwelling in the person sitting next to us, in front of us, behind us, within us, and the possibility of renewed and life-giving relationships lies open before us.
Here we are invited to behold and to participate in the beauty of holiness in order that we may see ourselves as God sees us and become agents of transfiguration wherever God sends us. Here we are empowered to go into the world to lift the veil that prevents our neighbours and friends from seeing ‘. . . all that gracious in the lives of men and women, revealing the image of Christ’. [2] This is what transfiguration is all about, the revelation in the lives of ordinary women, men and children of our true selves, made in the image of God, called to be agents of God’s love and reconciliation and destined for glory.
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