Biblical meditation on the fourth mystery of the rosary of light (conclusion)
Fr. Vojtěch Brož
Matthew (Mt 17:1-9)
After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and his brother John and led them up a high mountain by themselves. He was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him, I am well pleased. Listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
The account of the Transfiguration in Matthew is similar to that of Mark, with slight variations which we will mention. The context is the same as in Mark: the Transfiguration follows Peter’s confession of Jesus’ divinity at Caesarea Philippi and Jesus’ first prediction of his suffering. This suggests that the overall meaning of the pericope will be similar to that of Mark. However, when read in the broader context of Matthew's Gospel and its theology, the individual elements of the narrative take on their own nuances. In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus is not only the Messiah, the eschatological prophet, but also the new Moses, the founder and lawgiver of the people of the new Covenant. We see this particularly in his Sermon on the Mount (5-7). In this light, we can also see the event of the Transfiguration.
The scene recalls Ex 24, where the revelation of the Lord on Sinai and the giving of the stone tablets of the Law are described. There, a high mountain and three companions of Moses are mentioned: Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu. When Moses ascended the mountain alone, a cloud covered it. On the seventh day, the Lord called to Moses from within the cloud. This event is central to the narrative of the establishment of the Covenant between the Lord and his people, freed from Egypt. The Covenant is a gift of grace that God offered out of his incomprehensible love, based on his most free act of choosing. Israel, on its part, did not contribute to the establishment of the Covenant with any previous quality or merit. However, for the maintenance of the Covenant, faithfulness to the Lord is required on the human side, manifested in obedience to his word, to the commandments, and to the other precepts of the Law. The motif of the mountain is particularly close to Matthew. The high mountain appears not only at the Transfiguration but also earlier in the temptation scene (4:8) and at the end during the sending of the apostles (28:16). Therefore, the mountain is present in Matthew's Gospel at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of Jesus’ public ministry. On the first mountain, Jesus himself demonstrates obedience to the Father and does not succumb to the temptation to gain all the kingdoms and glory of the world (on the condition that he bows down to the devil, thus rejecting God as the supreme Lord); thereby, he demonstrates the perfect attitude of the Covenant. On the second mountain, at the mountain of Transfiguration, the disciples are called to obedience to the Son, and thereby to God. Finally, on the third mountain, they are sent to make disciples of all nations and teach them to obey everything that Jesus has commanded them. This will lead them to the true stance of the Covenant.
The proximity of the event of Jesus' Transfiguration to the Old Testament narrative of the establishment of the Covenant on Sinai casts characteristic light on the individual details in Matthew's account. Unlike Mark, where only Jesus' clothes shone, Matthew testifies that Jesus' face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. This resembles Moses' face, which shone after encountering the Lord on the mountain (cf. Ex 34:29). Thus, Jesus' face now shines. However, it is not stated that it shone as a result of encountering God. It shines of its own accord. By this, Jesus far surpasses Moses. The sun and light to which Jesus' face and clothes are compared are symbols of fulfillment, divinity. If Jesus shines of his own accord, it means that he himself is the perfect fulfillment, that he bears in his person all fullness. According to apocalyptic Judaism, the righteous will shine like the stars at the end of time (Dan 12:3). Jesus brings the end of time in himself; Jesus is the eschaton.1
The presence of Moses and Elijah can again be perceived primarily in terms of the theme of the Covenant, which encompasses the Law as the space in which human faithfulness to the Lord operates. Moses is the lawgiver of Israel. Elijah is the first prophet, the first in a series of those who denounced the people's unfaithfulness to the Lord and his Law and sought to bring Israel back to obedience. Thus, Moses and Elijah represent the Law and the Prophets. And so, at the moment when the Father testifies about Jesus, the entire Old Testament, the Law and the Prophets, Moses and Elijah also testify concerning him. Jesus is with them and at the same time above them. They stand here as his witnesses. Jesus came to fulfill the Law and the Prophets (5:17).
Peter reacts to the vision as he does in Mark: “I will make three shelters...” There is a small difference here, though, in the singular: this corresponds to the significance of Peter’s role in Matthew. For the same reason, the comment about the absurdity of Peter's suggestion is likely omitted; such an assessment is expressed indirectly: while Peter is speaking, the revelation ends. A human interpretation of the vision is inadequate, anyway. Peter wants to prepare three shelters, one for each, thus implicitly placing Jesus on the same level as Moses and Elijah. He considers them three equal bearers of Revelation. He does not differentiate between Jesus and the mediators of the old covenant. God’s voice corrects him.
The voice from the cloud forms the center of the entire narrative. It conveys God’s interpretation of the vision, which alone is competent, thus correcting and supplementing Peter’s interpretation. Here, God declares Jesus as the eschatological bearer of Revelation. It repeats and expands on the statement that was made at Jesus’ baptism. It adds the words: “Listen to him!”, placing emphasis on the pronoun: “Listen to that one!” If this is said in the presence of Moses and Elijah, the bearers of Old Testament revelation, then God indicates that Jesus surpasses them as the eschatological bearer of Revelation. No longer the Old Testament, but Jesus himself is the binding voice, to whom the disciples must listen, and not to Moses and Elijah anymore.
Jesus is the Messiah who fulfills the Law and the Prophets (5:17), the eschatological Prophet promised by Moses (Deut 18:15). As the eschatological bearer of Revelation, he is also the new tent of meeting, onto which—just as now on Jesus—the cloud of God’s glory descended. In the tent of meeting, Moses received instruction, revelation. The source of Revelation is now Jesus—him they must listen to. However, Jesus is more than the promised prophet, more than the new Moses. In the old event on Sinai, God revealed himself and introduced the Decalogue with the formula: “I am the Lord your God” (Ex 20:2). Here, his voice sounds, presenting his Son: “This is my beloved Son, listen to him!” Jesus is not merely the successor of Moses; he is the representative of God, the Son of God!
Jesus is the bearer of the definitive revelation, the eschatological Prophet, the new Moses, the living Torah, the tent of meeting with God, the embodied Covenant, the beloved Son. Jesus is no longer a predecessor; Jesus is the fulfillment of everything. Therefore, in the end, he remains alone with the disciples.
Luke (9:28-36)
About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John, and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what he was saying. While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and covered them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. A voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and did not tell anyone at that time what they had seen.
Although the basic framework and the context remain the same as in Mark and Matthew, Luke's account of the Transfiguration differs in some significant details and additions. The first difference can be noticed right in the first verse of the pericope: there is a different time indication than in the other two evangelists: there it was after six days since Peter’s confession at Caesarea. Here it is about eight days after those words, that is, after Jesus’ words that followed Peter's confession of Jesus' messiahship, namely after the words in which Jesus first predicted his suffering, death, and resurrection, and at the same time set the conditions for his disciples’ following: to deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and not to be ashamed of the Son of Man (9:18-27). Eight days after those words is not only a time indication but also a substantive connection. The Transfiguration connects to the question: “Who is Jesus?” and his journey to Jerusalem, where he will be crucified and rise from the dead, as well as to the demand that his disciples should follow this path.
Another slight variation is the different order of disciples than in Mark and Matthew. Luke places John before James. Perhaps by the time the Gospel was written, James had already died and John was thus considered more significant?
Luke often places John alongside Peter (cf. Lk 22:8; Acts 3:1; 8:14).
The ascent of the mountain has a clear purpose in Luke: encountering God in prayer. It is mentioned twice that Jesus was praying. In Luke's Gospel, it repeatedly returns that Jesus prays. Jesus prayed at his baptism in the Jordan (3:21); he spent the night in prayer on the mountain (!) before choosing the twelve apostles (6:12); he also prayed right before he put the question to the disciples: “Who do the people say I am?” (9:18); he rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and praised the Father for hiding his secrets from the wise and learned and revealing them to little children (10:21); at other times, he prayed alone, and this awakened in the disciples a desire to learn to pray from him, after which he taught them the Lord's Prayer (11:1ff.); in his mortal anguish, he prayed on the Mount of Olives (again, the mountain as a place of prayer!) (22:39ff.); finally, he prayed on the cross (23:34,46). The motif of prayer internally connects all these moments. The Transfiguration, in a special way, is close to Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives. There, too, it is night, Jesus prays, and the disciples sleep. This relates the glory on the mountain of Transfiguration to suffering.
The Transfiguration itself is briefly described by Luke and again in his own way, independently of the sources he referred to: Jesus’ “appearance” changed; literally, he became “other”.
Only in Luke is the content of the conversation between Moses and Elijah with Jesus disclosed. And the theme of the conversation gives significance to the entire scene and aligns with the context in which it is situated, namely with the journey to Jerusalem. Moses and Elijah speak with Jesus about his departure, literally his exodus. For Luke, the connection of the Exodus and Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem is immensely important. In his death in Jerusalem, Jesus fulfills the entire history of the Israelite people, which began with the exodus from Egypt. The entire long and arduous journey to freedom culminates in Jesus’ death and subsequent resurrection. Therefore, Moses and Elijah have even a different significance here than in Mark and Matthew. They are here for their relation to the exodus. Cardinal Ratzinger writes very aptly on this topic:2
“Moses and Elijah, two great sufferers for God, speak about Jesus’ suffering, about the exodus of his cross. Both are privileged interpreters of the exodus. Moses, the leader of the people during the exodus of Israel from Egypt. Elijah, who lives in a moment of Israel's history when his nation is geographically in the promised land, but in terms of existence has returned to Egypt, because they live in the forgetfulness of God under the tyranny of a king, through whom however the tyranny of existence is manifesting which has returned to the time before the exodus. The word from Sinai, the command of the Covenant, which was the internal goal of the exodus, was rejected as a bond so that people could reach a freedom they would create for themselves, one that proves to be the deepest tyranny. Thus, Elijah must symbolically return to Sinai, travel back through Israel so that he can bring them from God’s mountain the fruits of the Exodus anew. In Elijah, the intrinsic nature of the narrative of the Exodus becomes clear. This journey cannot be firmly established on a geographical or political map. The exodus that does not lead to the Covenant and precisely there, in the life based on the Covenant, does not find its “land,” is not a true exodus.”
Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, predicted that the Messiah “must suffer and thus enter into his glory” (cf. Lk 24:25ff.; Acts 26:23). When on the mountain of Transfiguration both speak of his exodus, they do not announce it to Jesus; there is no need to teach him. Rather, it confirms to the disciples from heaven what Jesus himself was about to fulfill and what he had already predicted to them (9:22).
Everything seems to happen at night, as the disciples are overwhelmed by sleep. Then they wake up to the light radiating from Jesus’ face and clothes. The disciples’ sleep, which Luke only mentions, is symbolic. It signifies their closure to themselves, their inability to perceive the fullness of reality, it represents a spiritual dullness that leaves the true meaning hidden. Thus, a similar attitude can be found in them on the Mount of Olives or in the disciples at Emmaus, who are ignorant and heavy-hearted (24:25). This dullness will only be removed by the Risen One.
Peter's inappropriate remark about the tents can be understood as a misunderstanding of the disciple regarding the true significance of Jesus’ exodus. He would want glory without the cross, the promised land without the risky passage through the sea, eternal life without death. However, the path to liberation leads through the cross, not otherwise.
During Peter’s speech a cloud appeared and covered them. That cloud did not suddenly come upon them; it is above them, and they are able to enter into it. Who? Certainly not Moses and Elijah, for they have already distanced themselves. The cloud, therefore, envelops Jesus and the disciples (in Mark and Matthew: Jesus with Moses and Elijah). There is greater intimacy between Jesus and the disciples here. It is also a clear sign that the disciples are destined to participate in the glory that Jesus has and to which, through his exodus, he will grant his disciples a share. “We may therefore say that Jesus’ departure in Jerusalem is the true and definitive Exodus, in which Jesus walks the path to freedom and becomes for humanity the way to freedom. If we add that Luke portrays the entire public life of Jesus as a journey towards Jerusalem, then Jesus’ existence appears overall as an exodus in which Jesus is at once Moses and Israel.”3 Just as Israel performs its exodus before us and for us, so Jesus leads us as Moses, that we may follow him. And we must follow him. The Father himself gives him to us as our leader: “Listen to him!”
At the moment of Jesus' Transfiguration, when he assumes the form of glory, it is spoken of his exodus. This indicates what kind of glory it is. Not an untouchable majesty, not the result of a laborious ascent, climbing to ever higher places. Rather, his glory is manifested in descending: from the throne of glory into our misery. Thus, in Jesus’ exodus in Jerusalem, the divine descent that began with the first exodus (cf. Ex 3:8) will be fulfilled: there the Lord descended to free his oppressed people. Jesus also descended to free humanity enslaved by sin. He will descend from the mountain; he will not remain at the top, as Peter would want. He will descend into the depths of suffering; he will descend into hell. But then, glorified, he will rise from the grave, he will ascend to heaven. And behind him will remain an open path—for us. The only path for man to glory. We must follow Jesus on the path of Transfiguration. We must listen to him, follow him, be transformed into his image. The only transformation of man that will give him the form of eternal glory is the transformation through obedience to the Father. That obedience which Jesus demonstrated not on the mountain of Transfiguration but on the Mount of Olives. The full liberation of man occurs where he says—even in bloody sweat: “Not my will but yours be done!” (22:42). The laboratory of our internal transformation is prayer. In prayer, I stop turning around myself and open myself to God, I transcend my self and enter into God's cloud, I set out on a journey from myself, from the slavery of my selfish “I,” so that I may come—through death to myself—to the promised land of God's eternal “You.”
“The Transfiguration of the Lord” in the Gospel of John (12:20-33)
John's Gospel does not know of Jesus' Transfiguration on the mountain, as testified by the synoptic Gospels. However, in the fourth Gospel, we find a passage that can remind us of the synoptic Transfiguration on the mountain. This is the concluding scene of the first part of the book, namely the “Book of Signs” (1:19-12:50). Common with the synoptics here we find both the voice of the Father speaking for the glory of his Son and the theme of Jesus' glorification through the cross.
The scene begins with the request of Greek pilgrims to Jerusalem, to whom, after Jesus' entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, they turn to Philip: “Sir, we would like to see Jesus!” Philip and Andrew pass this request to Jesus. Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified...”
What kind of answer is that; does it even have any logic? The Greeks are looking for him, and he starts talking about the fact that the hour has come, of which he has been mentioning from the very beginning of the Gospel until now. It seems that these Greeks have prompted Jesus to start speaking of his hour. It is they, their coming and their interest in Jesus, which have led Jesus to realize that the Hour is at hand. It is the Hour to which Jesus' whole life is directed, in which his entire mission is to culminate. He wants to undergo it even though his soul is filled with distress. “It was for this very reason I came to this hour.” Without it, his previous work, his incarnation, and indeed all the previous history of salvation would remain mere fragments. God's hour, the hour of salvation. The time that the prophets have been teaching to expect. For instance, Isaiah: “In the last days, the mountain of the Lord's temple will be established as the highest of the mountains; it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it” (Isa 2:2). Jesus hears about the Greeks who are looking for him and realizes that that time has come. It is as if God's work were fulfilling itself from below. However, it will not fulfill itself by itself. Those Greeks are looking for Jesus, but salvation will be fulfilled when He is lifted up and draws all men to himself. Only the cross will fulfill that promised Hour.
Jesus' hour has come. The hour in which the Son of Man will be lifted up. By that “he meant what kind of death he was going to die.” Isaiah speaks about the exaltation of the Lord's Servant: “See, my servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted” (Isa 52:13). And Jesus himself welcomes this hour with the words: “Now the Son of Man is glorified.” How can one speak of death as glorification? Is not death the greatest humiliation of a person, the ultimate expression of his weakness and limitation in life? When Paul speaks of Jesus' exaltation, he means the resurrection that follows his humiliation in death: “He humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name” (Phil 2:8-9). But in John’s perspective, the hour of the glorification of the Son of Man is the hour of death, which constrains Jesus with anguish and leads him to the question of whether he should ask the Father: “Save me from this hour!” The letter to the Hebrews even confirms this plea, mentioning Jesus’ “prayers and petitions” to the one who could save him from death, created with loud cries and tears” (Heb 5:7).
The last hour, the hour of glory and God's power, is the hour of Jesus' humiliation, pain, and deepest darkness. John presents the whole Passion from the perspective of glory. Jesus is betrayed and delivered over, yet he gives himself up to those soldiers whom Judas has brought to him; he is judged, yet his death brings judgment upon this world; Pilate will remind him that he has the power to release him or deliver him to death, and Jesus will remind him that he would have no power over him if it were not given him from above, and ultimately, it is Jesus who judges Pilate and considers his guilt less than that of those who delivered him. Jesus is lifted up from the earth, expelled, cast out from the midst of God's people; his affair must be concluded before sunset so that the Sabbath and Passover can be celebrated, and his accusers will not cross the threshold of Pilate's residence to avoid becoming defiled and be acceptable to God, before they eat the lamb in the evening. He has been swept away like trash, waste, “suffered outside the city gate” (Heb 13:12). And yet it is not he who is irretrievably removed in that Hour but rather the ruler of this world will be cast out.
In John’s Passion, Jesus is glorious, majestic, divine. However, this does not in any way diminish the realism of the suffering. The glory present in his suffering does not lighten its weight. On the other hand, the brutality and absurdity of his sacrifice do not diminish or overshadow his divine glory. On the contrary, it is through them that it is manifested. Both weakness of suffering and exaltation of glory are here together, both in full measure, unchanged and unbroken, yet also unmixed and unseparated. Suffering and glory, weakness and power, life and death are in a “hypostatic union.” They are not merely mysteriously and incomprehensibly alongside each other. God’s glory serves human weakness so that it may reveal itself in it and through it, instead of in spite of it, alongside it. Only John’s faith can perceive this. He recognizes in faith that precisely here, exactly in the cross, God’s nature has revealed itself in a way that could not be otherwise. But then there must be something in God himself that is similar to dying; otherwise, God’s glory could never have revealed itself in Christ’s death, and John could not have named Jesus in Revelation (13:8) as “the Lamb slain from the creation of the world”. Through the cross, God's glory carved its path into the world, into human hearts: “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.” This is one of the examples of that glorious Johannine irony, which is actually somewhat of irony upon irony. The first sense is that Old Testament one: exaltation, raising up, crowning... But this, in the historical fulfillment, becomes the true opposite, a mockery. The royal crown is made of thorns. By this, however, the original meaning is mysteriously achieved again. The mocked king is the true king. Jesus is lifted up to be removed, yet in this way, he captures the world. He will draw all to himself. God’s “Servant will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand” (Isa 53:10).
He will see his offspring. Thus, Jesus explains what he means by his glory: “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” The seed proves its quality in fertility. However, to show fruit, it must die, decompose. It cannot bear fruit as long as it is merely a seed. The seed as such cannot see its fruit. It cannot give “from hand to hand,” it cannot surrender itself only to the extent that it can see the purpose of its sacrifice, it cannot measure the outcome. The death of the seed is total. And yet, even that is already glorification. Already the seed that decomposes, that merges with the earth and does not yet have visible fruits, is already the glorification of life. Only a living seed can die—and it will also bear fruit. Jesus’ death is already the glorification of the Father. Through his death, he says: “Father, glorify your name!” And the Father answers: “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again!” Already death is God’s glory, and that glory is love, which is capable of death, which “is as strong as death” (Song of Solomon 8:6). If the Son glorifies the Father through his death, the Father will ultimately not allow himself to be outdone. “For the Father is greater than I” (John 14:28). Love is stronger than death. The Father will still glorify. The Son is “heard because of his reverent submission” (Heb 5:7): he will see his offspring, he will produce a rich harvest, he will draw all to himself.
Jesus said this word about the grain of wheat primarily about himself. But not only about himself. It applies to us as well: “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, my servant will also be.” He invites us to follow. He invites us to the death of the grain of wheat. He invites us to a life lived in unity of life and death. In this lies the paradox of our Christian identity. “Where I am, my servant will also be.” Jesus spoke of his exaltation to indicate how he would die. At the end of the Gospel, he predicts to Peter that when he is old, he will stretch out his hands, and someone else will dress him and lead him where he does not want to go. And even then, he will say to him, “to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God” (21:19). Thus, the fruitfulness of Jesus’ death will be fulfilled: it will transform the disciple into the image of his glory, the glory of the cross.
