A profound awareness runs throughout Scripture
that fallen humanity struggles even with the penumbra of holiness; how much
less could it endure the radiance of divine holiness and live. When the Lord
descended upon Sinai in fire and cloud, Israelites stood in awe, marvelling, "We
have seen this day that God speaks with man; yet he still lives"
(Deuteronomy 5:24). Yet the story of salvation is the story of God overcoming
that distance. Humanity was never created to remain far from Him.
It is against this backdrop that Christ leads
Peter, James, and John up the mountain (St. Matthew 17:1-8; St. Mark 9:2-8; St.
Luke 9:28-36). The disciples heard
His teaching, walked beside Him, and witnessed His miracles. Yet on the
mountain they perceived what had always been true but hidden from their sight. The
miracle of the Transfiguration is not that Christ suddenly becomes glorious;
the glory was always His. It is the story of human eyes learning to see. On the
mountain, the disciples begin to glimpse not only who Christ is, but what
humanity is called to become-fully alive in the light of God.
St. Irenaeus writes- “For the glory of God
is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God” (Against
Heresies, Book IV, chapter 20). Human beings become truly alive not through
power, achievement, or recognition, but through communion with the living God.
Every restless pursuit of the human heart is ultimately a search for the glory
for which it was created. Yet we often settle for lesser things. Perhaps the
greatest tragedy of humanity is not that we are too small, but that we forget
how great our calling truly is.
Salvation is restoration and flourishing of the
whole human person. From this perspective, the Feast of Transfiguration
challenges every way of thinking that diminishes human dignity. If divine glory
can shine through human nature, then every person bears a sacred worth that
transcends gender, class, race, status, or achievement. The disciples suddenly
saw what had always been present in Christ. The feast invites us to look beyond
appearances and recognise hidden grace where the world sees little value. Whose
voices have we not heard? Whose gifts have we overlooked? Whose hidden glory
have we failed to see? The splendour witnessed on the mountain not only reveals
Christ to us, but it also teaches us how to see one another.
Metropolitan Anthony Bloom observes-
"we live in a world of things which command our attention and assert
themselves... Things invisible do not assert themselves; we have to seek them
out and discover them. The outside world demands our attention; God entreats us
diffidently." We live in a world crowded with things that demand our
attention, attractions that appeal to our senses, ambitions that consume our
energy, and worries that occupy our thoughts. The visible world constantly
presses itself upon us, while the things of God remain quiet, waiting to be
sought.
Perhaps this is why Jesus led Peter, James, and
John away from the crowds and up a high mountain (St. Matthew 17:1; St. Mark
9:2; St. Luke 9:28). Throughout Scripture, mountains are places of encounter,
where earthly distractions fall away and heaven draws near. Moses ascended
Sinai to meet God (Exodus 19:20), and Elijah journeyed to Horeb to hear the
still small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13). The ascent to the mountain is not merely
a change of location; it is a call to a different way of seeing. Before the disciples
can behold Christ's glory, they must first be led away from everything that
competes for their attention.
All three Synoptic Gospels recount the event in
vivid detail (St. Matthew 17:1-8, St. Mark 9:2-8, and St. Luke 9:28-36). St.
Peter later recalls it in his second epistle, insisting that the apostles did
not follow "cleverly devised fables" but were eyewitnesses of
Christ's majesty when they heard the Father's voice on the holy mountain (2
Peter 1:16-18).
The fourth Gospel, however, never records the
Transfiguration itself. Instead, apostle St. John, who was also present on the
mountain, opens his Gospel with the profound declaration: "And the Word
became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory.." (St. John
1:14). For St. John, the revelation of Christ's glory was not confined to a
single day on Mount Tabor. The whole life of Christ was a manifestation of
divine glory. The glory that shone on the holy mountain was present at Cana, in
the raising of Lazarus, in His teaching and compassion, and ultimately in the
mystery of the Cross and Resurrection. The Transfiguration was not an isolated revelation,
rather it was a window into the reality of who Christ had always been.
If the mountain witnessed the glory of Christ,
it also reveals the reach of that glory. It shines not only upon the disciples
standing on the mountain but across the whole story of salvation. Moses and
Elijah appear as witnesses that the glory revealed in Christ is the very glory
they had sought throughout their lives. Both ascended the holy mountain, fasted
forty days, entered the divine presence, and heard His voice (Exodus 19:20, 24:15-18,
33:11, 34:5,28 and 1 Kings 19:8,11-13). Yet, both longed for more. Moses was
permitted only a glimpse of God's passing splendour (Exodus 33:22-23) while
Elijah encountered God in the still small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13). What was only partially glimpsed on Sinai and
Horeb now stands unveiled in the incarnate Son.
The Old Testament records that Moses died,
though no one knew the place of his burial (Deuteronomy 34:5-6). Elijah did not
die but was taken up into heaven in a fiery chariot (2 Kings 2:11). One entered
the mystery of death while the other entered the mystery of translation. Yet on
Tabor, Moses and Elijah stand not as memories or symbols, but as living persons
conversing with Christ. Our existence unfolds within a web of divisions- life
and death, past and present, visible and invisible, heavenly and earthly. Yet
on Tabor these boundaries collapse around the person of Jesus Christ, and the
disciples glimpse the truth that all generations are alive before Him.
"Lord, it is good for us to be here" (St. Matthew 17:4). Peter wants to remain on
the mountain, build tabernacles and prolong the moment. However, the descent is
as important as the revelation itself. Immediately after the Transfiguration,
Christ leads His disciples back into the valley of human suffering where He
encounters a distressed father and his demon-possessed son (St. Matthew
17:14-18). The light of Tabor was not an escape from the Cross but a
preparation for it. Divine glory is revealed not to avoid the world's
brokenness, but to transform it.
Holy Qurbana is, in a sense, our own ascent to
the holy mountain. St. Matthew tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John
up the mountain "after six days" (St. Matthew 17:1), echoing Moses'
ascent of Sinai, where the cloud covered the mountain for six days before the
Lord called him into His presence on the seventh day (Exodus 24:15-16). Having
spent six days amidst the noise, labour, struggles, and distractions of the
world, we too are summoned to ascend, fixing our gaze upon Christ. In the Holy
Qurbana we gather in God's presence, hear His voice in the Scriptures, and
behold His glory in the Holy Mysteries. Yet the mountain is never the
destination. Worship does not remove us from the world; it transfigures us for
the sake of the world. Having beheld His glory, we descend bearing His light,
until the day when faith gives way to sight and we behold Him face to face in
His eternal Kingdom (1 Corinthians 13:12).
In Christ,
Rincy
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