Summer is often the season for major events that herald a new phase in life. For some it could be a wedding, for others the day when successful exam results are released. At the cathedral, we have seen baptisms and confirmations, not to mention the licensing and ordination services back in June. Each of these brings a great surge of positive feeling, and ushers in a change in our daily existence: a new world of work or study, a new dimension of life at home, a new sense of belonging and participation in something beyond oneself.
This week in the church’s calendar, we remember the Transfiguration: the mountaintop moment where Peter, James and John saw Jesus transformed with a vision of heavenly light, talking with Moses and Elijah. This episode has always fascinated me – notonly because Jesus is, in a sense, both the agent and recipient of the miracle, but also because of what occurs immediately afterwards. The light recedes, Moses and Elijah disappear, and everything returns to how it was before.
This is unusual. After Jesus’ healings, people could see or walk anew or enjoy freedom from disease. After the feedings, thousands of people went away with a physical feeling of nourishment. Yet after the great vision of light, little seems to change. Jesus retains his normal appearance, the three disciples remain silent, and they all go back down the mountain. This momentous event, a visible experience of God’s glory, a life-changing revelation of Christ’s divine nature, seems to fade into the background as the Gospel narratives – and the life and work of the disciples – move on. It is almost as if nothing has happened.
It can seem like this for us, too, with the momentous events in our lives. We experience that incredible, ineffable feeling, which at the time seems so powerful that it could never possibly go away. But sure enough, after a few days or weeks, we find the adrenalin rush has subsided. The old stresses and anxieties, having been temporarily submerged beneath the flood of exhilaration, start to re-emerge. Our new work or home life starts to feel a lot like it did before. We have come down the mountain, and the view of the plain seems, well, plain.
But the disciples never forgot the miracle, nor did they themselves remain unchanged. What they had seen, or what they had felt in the presence of the divine light, was etched on their hearts and minds, so deeply that they could recall the event years later. Even though they told no-one at first, they kept the memory, and the feeling, safe: something to which they could return for sustenance throughout their lives, both in the mundane moments and the inevitable challenges. We see this in the Christmas story too. After the birth of Jesus and the shepherds’ visit, Mary treasures these events and ponders them in her heart.
This is an encouraging thought. Even though the plain to which we descend may start to seem the same, we ourselves have been transformed. We too can treasure the memories and the feelings of our mountaintop moments. We can stand still, take a breath, relive the experience and remind ourselves of the newness of our life, just at the times when we need it most.
Revd Stuart McKerracher
Cathedral Curate