Sunday, February 23, 2020. Rev. Dr. Scott Ramsey, preaching.Scripture Readings: Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9

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SERMON TEXT

Our

texts today from Exodus and Matthew are strange, somewhat unsettling,

passages.  They are not passages that fit

our intellectual categories very well, which is to say that many people will

find them ridiculous or absurd. Both of these texts take place on a mountain,

which is itself a bit of a clue that something odd is about to happen.  In the Bible, nothing normal happens on a

mountain.  These are passages that ponder

the presence of God, the overwhelming radiance of God.  They ponder that quality of God which our

tradition has come to refer to as God’s glory. 

In

our liturgy, especially at the time of communion, we will regularly sing a

response that is referred to as a Sanctus:

“Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might; heaven and earth are full of your glory, hosanna in the

highest.”  The sanctus announces that the

earth is filled with the glory of the Lord right now.

Many other parts of the Bible pray for this to be the case in the future.  Psalm 57 prays, “Let your glory be over all the earth,” which implies that it is not yet the case.  Psalm 72 prays, “May God’s glory fill the whole earth.”  The prophets of the Old Testament promise that one day, the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.  So some parts of the biblical tradition pray earnestly for this to be the case at some point in the future, while other parts announce that it is already the case, even now. There is an “already-not yet” quality to God’s glory. God’s overwhelming glory fills the heavens and the earth.

In the Scriptures, ‘glory’ also has an almost-tangible quality.  In our reading this morning from Exodus, we read that “Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain.  The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days.”  The glory of the Lord is mysterious, like a cloud, but you can almost see it. The Hebrew word for ‘glory’ is chabod, a term that actually means ‘heavy,’ so we’re talking here about something that is weighty and substantial and commanding, something that can fill a room.

All of this comes to a head in our text this morning from Matthew, when Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain.  Jesus is transfigured transformed before their eyes. The word Matthew uses for ‘transfigured’ here is metamorphos, so that Jesus undergoes a kind of metamorphosis and begins to shine like the sun.  The glory of God radiates forth from Jesus, as he stands right in front of Peter, James, and John.  Peter, James, and John are actually living out the opening verses of the gospel of John where it says that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”  Peter, James, and John are seeing his glory right in front of their eyes.

We may think, “Boy, those guys were lucky to get to see that! I wish I could have been with them!”  But we ought to observe their reaction. Matthew tells us that when the disciples took in the full glory of God in the person of Jesus, they did not give each other high-fives. They fell to the ground, overcome by fear.  They were terrified.  In the presence of the glory of God, the disciples tremble with fear.

Here we have arrived at one of the deep paradoxes of biblical faith. God’s grace and God’s glory are the most wondrous, beautiful things. And there is a tremendous, numinous, terrifying aspect to them. In our reading from Exodus, the narrative says that as Moses and Joshua went up into the mountain of God, the “appearance of the glory of Lord was like a devouring fire.” There was a group of elders at the base camp at the bottom of the mountain, who watched Moses and J