Radiant!

SCRIPTURE TEXT:  Exodus 34:29-35 

Rev. Monte Marshall

During the season of Epiphany, we’ve been playing with the light.  Epiphany, after all, literally means “showing” or “shining forth.”   

The season of Epiphany ends today with Transfiguration Sunday—and we’re still playing with the light.  The word “transfiguration” literally means “a [transformation] in form or outward appearance” or “an exalting, glorifying, or spiritual change.”1   

The assigned gospel lesson for the day is Luke’s story of the transfiguration of Jesus.  On the top of a mountain with three of his disciples, Jesus appears transfigured, his clothes dazzling white.  Moses and Elijah appear “in glory.”  The disciples see “the glory” of the transfigured Jesus. 

These references to “glory” are reminiscent of Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus.  When an angel appears to the shepherds, Luke tells us that “the glory of God shone around them.”  “Glory” is here imagined as light, and not just any light, but God’s light “shining forth.”   

This morning’s Exodus text is also an assigned reading for today.  And once again, we’re playing with the light.  But given the context of the story, we could just as well be dealing with the darkness—darkness created by a rebellious people and an angry God.  After all, the Israelites have been worshipping the image of a calf made of gold.  They’ve rejected Yahweh, and it would be reasonable to assume that Yahweh has rejected them.    

But not so.  God’s presence is still with the people.  Moses comes down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Covenant.  He’s transfigured.  The skin on his face is “radiant” because he’s been speaking with God.  One commentator puts it this way: “The aura on Moses’ face comes from standing in the presence of the Divine.”2       

Moses, however, is unaware of the radiance, at least at first.  It’s Aaron and the other leaders of the Israelites who see the light.  They notice that Moses is different. They see that Moses has changed.  They behold the brilliant light of God radiating from his face.   

And they’re terrified.  They keep their distance from Moses until he calls them to him.  Commentator Anna Shirey suggests that in their fear, the people are trying to keep their distance from God because they’re not “sure what will happen when they encounter God this directly.  What will God ask of them?  Will they be able to follow through?  Will God be angry at them for not being smart enough, quick enough, good enough?  Maybe it’s best just to lay low, to play possum, to hide the Light behind a veil which masks the truth it illuminates.” 

Shirey then writes of her own experience: “I can clearly remember the times in my life when I stopped praying not because I thought God wouldn’t talk to me, but because I knew God would.  I didn’t feel ready to hear what God would say, was afraid of what God would reveal to me.  I thought it best to hide away in my distractions, pretend I couldn’t see the Light breaking into my life.”3 

Well, in the story, Moses does indeed place a veil over his face.  But each time he enters Yahweh’s presence, he removes the veil.  And each time he returns to the people with his face still aglow, he tells the people what Yahweh has said to him.  His radiant face reinforces the message as having come from the presence of Yahweh.  Once the message is delivered, the veil goes on again. 

Anna Shirey notes:  ”I know that, in my own life, every time I had a new experience of illumination, when I could tell something in me had definitely crossed over into greater Light, I had to decide how much of it to hide.  Just as the Israelites show us, people tend to be a bit fearful of spiritual illumination.  They intuitively know that they’re encountering something life-changing and transformative; so they tread carefully.”4 

I find it fascinating that in the New Testament—on this side of the coming of Christ—the apostle Paul is still playing with the images from this Exodus text.  In his second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes: “And all of us”—please note that this is no longer just about Moses, but about all of us—“with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of God as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from God, the Spirit.”5 

Anna Shirey describes what it is to live with “unveiled faces:” “We allow those around us to make their own decision about whether they wish to receive our gifts or not.  We give grace to those who feel they need to hide, trusting that they will be drawn to the Light in us or someone else when they’re ready.  And for those who draw closer to us, we trust that we will be able to give them the illumination they seek, that God is doing a work in them and we are part of that work.  We can relax now about our place in the world, no longer trying to figure when it’s best to be ourselves or to hide.” 

Shirey concludes that living radiant, unveiled lives, takes courage: “courage to pull back the veil for the first glimpse of the Light, courage to take it off completely and bask in the full power of the Light, courage to allow the Light to imprint itself upon our own souls, and courage to allow that [Light] to shine from us—unveiled—into the world.”6   

 Well, this past week, I was in the presence of a radiant human being whose life has been visibly transfigured and transformed by the presence of God. My friend’s name is Gabe Dominquez.  He’s a United Methodist pastor in Waco, Texas.   We were together in Waco early last week at a gathering of church leaders who are in ministry with the poor.   

Gabe told us his story.  He’s 40 years old.  He was born in 1975 in Waco.  He was raised in South Waco, a poor part of town, and in a profoundly dysfunctional family without the presence of his biological father.