Epiphany Last, Year A | Matthew 17:1-9
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
February 19, 2023
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
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Jesus’ Transfiguration is one of those parts of the Bible that stumps me every time we come across it. I get most of the theological positions and concepts people draw from this passage, but I can’t quite help thinking that none of those are the main point. The whole story feels like we’re missing something—it’s like Matthew’s referencing a story or custom or tradition so obvious to the people in 1st Century Palestine that nobody ever thought to write it down for those of us who came after. That makes speculating about the passage—much less drawing solid conclusions—difficult at best. So rather than attempt to find any sort of declarative truth about the Transfiguration this morning, I’d like to focus on one of the things about the text that simply makes me wonder: why Moses and Elijah? What’s so important about us knowing that those are who Jesus was talking to?
There seem to be a few layers of significance to Jesus having a conversation with these two particular historical figures. As the person who led the Hebrew people from captivity in Egypt to their Promised Land, Moses is clearly a major figure in Jewish history. He’s described as being God’s friend and is the only person apart from Adam and Eve to have physically seen God and lived.[1]
As one of Israel’s most important prophets during the era of the kings, Elijah isn’t any lightweight either. A clear voice of truth and loyalty to God, apocalyptic tradition from Jesus’ time held that Elijah would return to prepare Israel for the coming deliverance of God’s Anointed One.[2] That would be possible because the Bible suggests he never actually died, having been physically carried away to the Heavenly Realm in a flaming chariot instead.[3]
So if you want to give some weight and authority to Jesus within Jewish culture back then, Moses and Elijah are a pretty good place to start. The mightiest authority of the past and the one still coming to prepare the Way of the Lord meet in the present through Jesus.
Beyond their importance in a historical context—or the fact that both Moses and Elijah were said to have spoken directly to God while on a mountain—they can also stand as representatives for two of the three commonly recognized divisions within the Hebrew Bible. Moses is said to be the author of the Torah, also known as the Law or the Pentateuch. As the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, the Torah contains the seminal history and most sacred traditions of the Jewish people.
We don’t know if Elijah ever penned any written works, but he would clearly stand in place of the Prophets, the books that continually call Israel—and us—into right relationship with God through reconciliation with and care for those around us. With those two portions of the Hebrew Bible present, that would leave Jesus as “the Writings,” a collection containing Israel’s formal history along with a variety of books like Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. I’m guessing that Matthew is playing with both the royal and wisdom aspects of the Writings, leaving us with the Law, the King of Wisdom, and the Prophets in conversation on top of the mountain.
I doubt it’s Matthew’s main point—like I said earlier, I’m really not sure what the main point here is—but that’s the thing that strikes me most today, the conversational aspect of that scene.
It’s easy to approach the Bible as historical documentation and/or the source of all the rules God wants us to follow, but despite those common ways of reading it, that isn’t necessarily the reason the Bible exists. It’s unlikely it was ever supposed to be a factual record of what was—that type of literal thinking was largely foreign to most ancient forms of writing.[4] Nor is it supposed to be a compilation of all the rules God demands we follow if we want to go to Heaven.
The idea behind “the Law” is probably closer to a customary—those things generally expected under ideal circumstances. It’s kind of like the rubrics in our Book of Common Prayer—the little italic writing. Rubrics contain both suggestions and expectations. If you turn to page 319/355, you’ll notice we may open our Sunday Eucharist with a song; singing or not, the service begins when I say the opening sentences. However, the book is explicit that people are standing as I offer the first words of the service. But that doesn’t mean you’re somehow rebellious or evil or sinful if you remain seated—you likely have perfectly good reasons for doing so. The instruction to stand simply indicates the way the authors envisioned a model service proceeding. Is it good to stand? Sure, that’s what the liturgists want to see during an ideal service. Are you going to Hell if you don’t? Certainly not.
It’s the same with Moses’ Law. These aren’t necessarily a bunch of hard and fast rules that must be perfectly observed under all circumstances. If you want to follow ancient Hebrew customs, observing the Law is the best way to do that. But there’s supposed to be a reasonableness and flex to it: if a “law” gets in the way of actually doing what’s right or helping someone or loving your neighbor in real life, the correct thing to do is to break the law and tend to the person.
Stepping back a bit, the most helpful way to read the Bible is what we see happening today in the Transfiguration: as a conversation, a dialog between the past, present, and future. It shares stories of how people related to God in ancient times, revealing both their successes and failures. It tells us the standards particular cultures had regarding their approach to religious, legal, and social matters—and what people might do to make things right if they weren’t able to live up to those expectations. It offers us dozens of viewpoints and ideas about how any one of us can better develop our relationship with God. But it’s a guidebook, not a definitive user manual. The Bible might have been canonized in its current form long ago, but that doesn’t mean it’s supposed to remain static or hide behind glass in some sort of museum display. It lives alongside us as we use its guidance to navigate our own journey.
Moses and Elijah talk with Jesus on a mountain. The expectations of the past and the ideals of the future meet with the incarnate reality of the present as the Law and the Prophets interact with Kingly Wisdom. In conversation with the Divine, our present Christian siblings, and those who’ve gone before us, we continue our own daily journeys. How have people attempted to approach God in the past? What might have been a more ideal way of doing that? Can observing others help us avoid certain obstacles that might confound us along our journey? These are things we can ask the Bible as we progress through life and attempt to draw closer to God. And perhaps in that conversation, we, the Church, the body of Christ in the here and now, might also reveal the brightness of God’s glory to those around us.
[1] Exodus 33:11 | All Bible quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted.
[2] Malachi 4:5; Matthew 17:10; Matthew 27:49; Mark 9:11; Mark 15:36
[3] II Kings 2:11
[4] That doesn’t necessarily make the Bible inaccurate. It’s just that what we understand as historical precision probably wasn’t what the authors were aiming for.