Exodus 34. 29 – end

2 Corinthians 3. 12—4. 2

Luke 9. 28 – 36

Fr Alex

 

There were many strange things about the Covid 19 pandemic, but I think one of the strangest was getting used to seeing everyone with masks on their faces.  It completely changes the way you engage with someone and relate to them – all the subconscious visual cues that are so important in conversation, are obscured.

It was a particularly difficult time for children.  Apparently children are naturally wary of a distorted face, especially before they can understand speech to help interpret meaning and emotion.

It can provoke an extreme reaction in little ones.  Think what happens when a clown in full makeup arrives at a children’s party: some of the children think it’s hilarious, but most scream and run for mummy in tears.

Thank goodness those years of mask-wearing are behind us.

I got to thinking about this when I read our readings for this morning, because they are all about faces being changed; and the reaction it provokes in those who behold them.

In Exodus we heard about Moses coming down Mount Sinai after his face-to-face encounter with God, and not realising that his face is shining as a result.  The sight of it makes the Israelites afraid, and he has to veil his face to calm their nerves.

St Paul is telling the Corinthians that this Sinai covenant has now given way to the new freedom found in Jesus Christ.  He says that the reason Moses had to veil his face was to hide the transformation from life under the law to life in the Spirit.  Indeed, it is only through Christ and in the Spirit that the veil is set aside, and like Moses, we can gaze without fear on the shining glory of the Lord. 

And through our baptism we become members of the transfigured, glorified body of Christ: so we may see that same shining glory when we look at ourselves, and witness the transformation that is taking place in each one of us.

And then of course that wonderful Gospel reading, which we always hear on the Sunday before Lent begins.  Jesus goes up the mountain to pray, and while he is praying, the appearance of his face changes, and his clothes become dazzling white.

The disciples are thrown into terror and confusion: Peter’s instinct is to try to hold on to the glorious vision, to build three dwellings, or tabernacles, to keep them there and worship them.  But this glory cannot be contained; it is not for one people in one place and one time, but for all who acknowledge Jesus as the Son of God, and listen to him.

What is it about these shining faces?  It’s a little unusual to us in the Western church, as our piety has always focussed on the wounds of Christ as an object of devotion.  The miraculous appearance of the stigmata, wounds in hands, feet and side, have been signs of extreme holiness in many western saints.  There are a great many depictions of the crucifixion in our churches, including this one.

But in the Eastern tradition, prayer normally takes place, not before a crucifix, but in the presence of icons; and one of the most popular images is that of the Transfiguration.

And instead of the stigmata, many Orthodox saints have demonstrated that same glorious shining face that we heard about in our readings.  A follower of the Russian Saint Seraphim once saw him surrounded by light and said, “I cannot look at you, father, because light is pouring from your eyes.  Your face has become brighter than the sun and my eyes ache.”

Both traditions come together in our readings today.  As the Eastern tradition emphasises, we find God’s glory not just at the top of mountains or in beautiful places of worship, like the tabernacles Peter wanted to build; God’s glory is revealed in the faces of one another.  But, as in the Western tradition, we also see God’s glory when those faces reveal their suffering.

Notice what Jesus is talking to Moses and Elijah about in the glorious vision.  Luke writes that “they appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.”  Jesus’ face reveals his glory while he is speaking of the terrible suffering and death that await him at the end of his earthly ministry.

This is a gift to Peter and John and James: they can hold on to this vision of glory when they come to the Garden of Gethsemane, and at the foot of the cross, when all seems lost.

And so often this experience of transcendent glory goes hand-in-hand with the depth of human suffering.  It was surely not just a coincidence that it was the Feast of the Transfiguration, 6th of August 1945, when the United States dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.  The blinding and unspeakably destructive light of the detonation of humanity’s most terrible creation, on the Feast of the revelation of God’s divine light to his creation.

The truth of the Transfiguration is this: even the darkest moments at the extremity of suffering and the edge of despair, may be transformed beyond all imagining by the shining light of Jesus’ divine glory.  The darkness of human experience, however awful it may seem, doesn’t have the last word; “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it,” as St John wrote.

We see in the destruction of Hiroshima, and the wars of today, that humanity cannot live with itself, without this divine light and the transformation it may bring.

So when we go searching for God, a good place to start looking would be the faces of people in those places of darkness and suffering.  We could perhaps look at the faces of the people of Ukraine, as they are abandoned by their most powerful friend to who-knows-what fate.  Or the people of Gaza, as that same powerful man looks there and sees not the suffering faces of people created in the divine image, but real estate opportunities.

Christians see God’s glory in the faces of those who are suffering.  Not as a glorification of their suffering, but as a place where God is calling us to join in his work of transformation, and share the glory that is given to us.  As places where God has already been himself, in the suffering of Jesus: and triumphed over darkness and death.

As the world seems to grow ever darker, may we never fail to be agents of the light: as we prayed in our collect, may we be given grace to perceive Christ’s glory, be strengthened to suffer with him, and be changed into his likeness, from glory to glory.  That is what this world desperately needs.  Amen.