Keep Listening!

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, …. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to Him! [Mark 9: 2, 7].

When we come to this week’s Gospel reading, Mark 9:2-9 [Transfiguration Sunday, RCL, Year B], we may be prepared for a lot of things. I don’t think we’re prepared, however, for a mountain. I acknowledge that earlier, according to Mark, Jesus “went up on a mountainside and called to him those he wanted” (i.e., the Twelve, see Mark 3:13). Somewhat similarly, after Jesus had fed the 5,000, Mark indicates that Jesus “went up on a mountainside to pray” [Mark 6: 46]. But the story reverts to Galilee, and most of Galilee is relatively flat. Indeed, a significant part of it is a lowland. And yet, here, among the Galilean lowlands, we suddenly encounter a mountain.

The change is so stark that some NT scholars have posited that the transfiguration story is actually a post-resurrection encounter that the Gospel writer pulls back into the middle of the overall narrative. If I had space, I could relate how many exegetes see Mark as divided into three distinct parts, separated by three similar pronouncements from God: (1) the baptism of Jesus; (2) the transfiguration story; and (3) the story of the crucifixion. The argument goes that in order for Mark (and others) to come up with “three points and a poem,” Mark had to insert the transfiguration story here, in the chapter that we number 9.

For my money, however, those folks miss the forest for the trees. Turning to my old journal notes, I note that the Reverend Dr. Thomas G. Long, Bandy Professor Emeritus, Candler School of Theology (Emory University), who has preached at Duke Chapel many times over the years, has argued, “The transfiguration story is not a wandering Easter account that makes a clumsy entrance into the middle of Mark’s Gospel.” Instead, it is an invitation—or rather, a divine command—to look at our surroundings from a different perspective. We are invited to climb the mountain, along with Peter, James, and John, to see what cannot be seen in the valley. And what is more, we’re called upon to hear what cannot be heard in the lowlands.

And so, while we’re on the mountaintop, what do we see? We see brightness and light. The scene draws us inward to the sight of our Lord’s clothing becoming “dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them” [9:3]. It is an unnatural sight. It’s like the light emitted from the flame that does not consume the bush (Moses’ initial encounter with Yahweh, see Exodus 3:1-6). It’s like the fire on the altar drenched with 12 jars of water to win the divine bet with the prophets of Baal that Elijah prayed for—and received—from Yahweh (1 Kings 18). It is a light that both hypnotizes and frightens as Jesus is joined by those earlier prophets of fire, Moses and Elijah.

While we’re on the mountaintop, we see the real Jesus. Down in the valley, Jesus is rejected by those in His hometown. He’s scorned after his first teaching in the synagogue. He’s misunderstood by His disciples. Away from the mountain, one of His devotees will betray Him. Another will deny him three times. The authorities will mock and murder Him, but here on the mountaintop, Jesus is accepted by God. Indeed, it is clear that He is loved by God.

In Mark’s Gospel, only Jesus is the beloved (agapetos) Son, just as Isaac was the agapetos son to Abraham (Genesis 22:2, 12, 16). The LORD did not require that Abraham give up his son. Alas, the LORD, of course, did give up His own.

What we see while we’re on the mountaintop is important. It’s staggering. It’s monumental— “Let us put up three shelters” (i.e. “monuments,” Mark 9:5)—but what we see here is a mere footnote when compared to what we hear.

We likely recall that in Mark’s version of the baptism of our Lord narrative, Yahweh spoke in the second person,

You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased [Mark 1:11].

Here, in the Transfiguration story, there is a stark difference. Yahweh speaks not in the second person, but rather in the third:

This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him! [Mark 9: 7].

“Listen to him.” The message from the cloud on the mountaintop is not directed at Jesus. Instead, the words are thrust at the disciples, and if to the disciples, then equally and importantly, the command is given to you and me, as members of Christ’s holy church. On the mount of Transfiguration, Yahweh confirms to us the identity of Jesus. We can now be included within the message offered to Jesus when he was baptized at the River Jordan: We’re told that He is Beloved. And we are admonished to listen to him.

Following our descent from the mountaintop, after we have returned to the lowlands, when we listen to Jesus, what do we hear? We hear Jesus teach us that any of us who fails to receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it [Mark 10:15]. We get to park not only our fine automobiles, but also our JDs, our MDs, our PhDs, our M.Div. degrees—indeed, all our “me too” badges. Relationship with God is not something to be accomplished through diligence and competence, it is something to be enjoyed through childlike awe and acceptance. We hear that with humanity, much is impossible, but with God, all things are possible [Mark 10:27].

We hear Jesus praise the widow who blessed the offering with her two small copper coins, since many give out of wealth, but she, “out of her poverty, put in everything—all that she had to live on [Mark 12:44]. The widow gives us an example of trust and faith, the wealthy an examination of careful, calculated withholding of their lives.

Jesus tells us to keep watch since we do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn [Mark 13:15]. We must all live as those who are constantly ready. We must watch for our Lord’s return.

When we are confronted with hunger and need around us, Jesus tells us, “You give them something to eat” [Mark 6:37]. We notice that he doesn’t tell us that whoever wants to be His disciple must spend time organizing the community around secular humanistic causes, but rather we should take up our cross and follow Him. We needn’t be loyal to the cause; we need to be loyal to the Christ. He will show us the path, since He is literally “the Way.”

The other Gospel writers will supplement Mark’s Gospel with many of His other statements. We are to die to ourselves. We are to love our neighbor as we already love ourselves. We are to be wary of defining “neighbor” too narrowly. A neighbor needn’t share our skin tone, our heritage, our mobility, or our opinions. Jesus defines who are our neighbors; we don’t have the ability or the authority to choose to bar them from the neighborhood because they are yet to be born.

What else does Jesus tell us. Perhaps lastly, I think Jesus tells us that when we in the lowlands stand before Him, terrified and tongue-tied, like Peter and James and John did on the mountaintop, that’s actually a proper response, for our task is not to speak, but rather to Listen!