Transfigured and Transformed
based on Luke 9:28-36
Rev. Karen Goltz

One of the more difficult things I had to learn in seminary was vocabulary.  Not Greek or Hebrew vocabulary (although that was difficult, too), but church vocabulary.  Have you ever noticed that we have a different ‘churchy’ name for things that could probably just as easily be called by a more familiar, non-churchy word?  For example, I am speaking from a pulpit, not a podium.  Actually, I’m not even speaking, or lecturing.  I’m preaching.  The book holder is a lectern.  The table is an altar.

Even the simplest things have fancy names – some churches have a flagon as part of their communionware, not a pitcher; the bread sits on a paten not a plate; the cup is called a chalice, and the baptismal water bowl is called a font.  Pastors and assisting ministers often wear albs—not robes—to signify the fact that we are engaged in God’s work in God’s house.

When I’m teaching someone new to the faith about the basics of Lutheran worship, I’m torn between using the special vocabulary and using ordinary words for everything.  On one hand I feel that I should teach this special vocabulary because it does make things here in the spiritual world of the Church seem just a little more special and a little more holy.  This special vocabulary has been passed down from one generation to another for ages, and it does help to designate this space as a place away from the world and the ordinariness of our normal day to day work.  This special status is also a reminder that we are in this world but not of this world.  That we are God’s people, not the people of the world.

But on the other hand, this special status and the special vocabulary can separate us from people who are not part of this particular church culture.  It can be a barrier and make us seem like we’re a closed club with a secret handshake or a whispered password.  I know from personal experience how uncomfortable it is to walk into a Lutheran church for the first time and find out the hard way that I’m going to have to somehow navigate through the service flipping all through a hymnal or two plus juggle a bulletin and maybe some inserts.  And yet we want people to know that this is a special place.  It’s a place that we have set aside to do the most important thing in our week.  It’s a place to come together and pray and worship and seek fellowship with other Christians.

Do these special words hurt us or help us?  I don’t know.  Sometimes they’re a stumbling block, even to those already fairly well-acquainted with church life, and so require a bit more explanation.

The word that we use for this last Sunday of Epiphany (otherwise known as the season of Jesus’ revelation as the light of the world) is transfiguration.  That one is one of those special words in our vocabulary that hurts us.  It hurts us not only in our outreach to those who are here as our guests and visitors, but it also hurts us—the gathered believers—since we have made that word so big and powerful.  Jesus went up on the mountain top and he was TRANSFIGURED—can’t you just hear the capital letters there?—the appearance of his face changed, his clothes began to shine, the revelation of God descended upon the cloud, and the three disciples who saw it all understood that Jesus’ life and ministry were taking a huge turn.  In the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke, this section of the story of Jesus is a turning point—it’s where Jesus ‘set his face toward Jerusalem’ (Luke 9:51-52) and journey there to die and then rise again.

This time on the mountain top is what prepared him for that journey to life through death.  This time on the mountain top is what transfigured him—which all sounds so very “churchy” and quaint.  It also sounds so un-obtainable.  Jesus was TRANSFIGURED (there are those capital letters again!).  But do you know what ‘transfigured’ means?  I’ll let you in on the secret.  [stage whisper]  It means transformed.  [regular voice]   That’s it.  That’s all it is.  ‘Transfigured’ and ‘transformed’ are almost identical.  According to the dictionary in my office ‘transfigure’ is defined as “to transform the figure or appearance of; to alter radically.”  ‘Transform’ is defined as “to change markedly the form or appearance of.”  In earlier English they were used as synonyms.  I think ‘transfigure’ probably fell out of regular use partly because of all the churchy baggage it carries.

In this morning’s reading Jesus was transformed.  That’s all.  Maybe we should call this ‘Transformation Sunday’ rather than ‘Transfiguration Sunday;’ it would make our task of being part of Jesus’ body in the world a whole lot easier.  We can all aspire to being transformed - to being changed by God.  That’s one of the primary reasons (I hope) that people come to church in the first place—to open themselves up to the changing power of God.  I assume that if you weren’t interested in having God change your life, you wouldn’t be here.

We are also on a journey that begins today—a journey to and through the forty days of Lent when we set our sights on Jerusalem and journey with Jesus to the day of his death and the morning of his resurrection.  And we are not only on this journey but we must become this journey.  When we were joined to Jesus and to his life and death through the waters of baptism, his journey became our journey; his death on the cross became our death to sin; his resurrection became our second chance at life; his compassion and love of the poor became own love of the poor and desire for justice in the world.

When we were baptized, our lives were joined to his so that we might rise above the mundane labels and expectations of our world and be the people of God—that we might rise above petty arguments and selfish human need to truly be the people whose lives are so transformed by the power of Jesus that we too have our faces and even our clothes burn with the great light of transformation.

Jesus calls upon us to be transformed by the power of his love and the power of his resurrection.  And then comes the hard part.  Jesus calls upon us to transform our lives not only in this place for one hour every Sunday morning, but to also allow the love of Christ to transform our lives at home, with friends and with family, with one another at work or at school or in our neighborhood, and in all of our interactions with other people.  And it’s a safe guess that we probably won’t be covered with a cloud and have a heavenly voice proclaim this transformation for us.  But the outward signs of transformation can be seen by us and by others.  We can serve the church by participating in the ministry of worship, teaching Sunday School, or supporting one of the other ministries we do here.  We can serve the world by advocating for those who can’t advocate for themselves, by really treating others—all others—as we ourselves would like to be treated.  We can nourish ourselves by following Jesus’ example and going off to a quiet place to pray, read scripture, or just commune with the divine.  We can also continually seek out study and worship opportunities beyond the Sunday morning hour.  These things are not ‘good works’ that earn us salvation, but are signs of our transformation and nourishment for our journey.

Jesus was transfigured on the mountaintop and then began his journey to Jerusalem.  We were transfigured at our baptisms.  How will our lives reflect that transformation?