Transfiguration: The Tale of Two Mountains

Sermon 381 St. Martin’s 137 (Traditional Services) 3/2/25

Moses came down from Mount Sinai. As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, the skin of his face was shining, and they were afraid to come near him. But Moses called to them; and Aaron and all the leaders of the congregation returned to him, and Moses spoke with them. Afterward all the Israelites came near, and he gave them in commandment all that the Lord had spoken with him on Mount Sinai. When Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil on his face; but whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with him, he would take the veil off, until he came out; and when he came out, and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, the Israelites would see the face of Moses, that the skin of his face was shining; and Moses would put the veil on his face again, until he went in to speak with him. Exodus 34:29-35

Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. Luke 9:28-36

Mount Washington

Anything can happen on a mountain.          

I learned that the hard way last summer when my father and I went to New Hampshire to hike Mount Washington. This is kind of our thing.

Over the years, we’ve hiked the Grand Canyon, the Colorado Rockies, and Glacier National Park, just to name a few. We’ve had a lot of memorable experiences together, but nothing as memorable as what happened last July.

For context, you need to know that my dad and I have a deal. We will begin our hike together as we get into a rhythm. As the day goes on, I will push ahead and then wait for him, push ahead and then wait for him. But there comes a point when I will make a dash to the summit, and he’ll continue at his pace.

On this particular day, I trekked up to the summit a little earlier than usual. Mount Washington has a steep ascent, and it took a while for me to get to the top, but once there, they have a café for all those who took their car or train up the mountain.

Pretty much every car in New England has a bumper sticker that reads, “This Car Climbed Mount Washington.”

I sat down for lunch with all the tourists, but as we passed the hour mark, my father still hadn’t arrived. I thought he might have met some folks and sat down for a long conversation with them—which he is known to do. But another 30 minutes soon turned into another hour, and he still wasn’t there. I tried calling and texting with no response. 

To make matters worse, a wicked storm began brewing at the summit; thick clouds and rain moved in within minutes and made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.

There was still no sign of my father, and my calls were going straight to voicemail. I went to the ranger’s station and told them the situation. They began preparing for search and rescue, but I was told it was going to be difficult due to the clouds that had enveloped the mountain.

I set off to begin the search with the uneasy feeling that my father was either seriously injured or worse.

As I went down, the rocks had become dangerously slick, and the wind had picked up. Every minute or so, I would yell my father’s name into what seemed like a cloud-covered abyss.

After 20 minutes, I heard from somewhere in the distance a voice call out, “Wesley! Son, I’m over here. Follow my voice!” It took another 15 minutes of yelling back and forth before I finally saw a silhouette of my father emerging from the clouds. 

He had gotten off-course hours ago. Another lost hiker saw him and thought he was rock climbing because he was so high up the mountain and nowhere near the trail. Together, they found a separate trail to the summit when the storm rolled in.

Thankfully, he was alive and just a little dehydrated. But we learned that day that anything can happen on a mountain.

Cosmic Mountains Mountains have always captured the human imagination. Their presence looms in the distance, rugged and mysterious. For most of human history, high mountains were revered by the people who lived in their shadow.

It is no wonder that many different cultures came to believe that the summits of these mountains were the fortresses of the gods.

Inspired by the Himalayas, the people of northern India imagined of yet a higher mountain hidden from their sight. Hindus and Buddhists called this mountain-above-the-mountains Meru.

They believed Meru was the central mountain of the universe, with rivers of sweet water running through it. Buddhists later added that Mount Meru was the center of the earth, from which the four cardinal directions proceeded.

Similarly, the Greeks boasted of Mount Olympus, and the Japanese claimed the mythical powers of Mount Fuji, both the seat of their gods.

For cultures that were not near any mountains, they would make their own. The Egyptians and Meso-Americans built pyramids, and the Mesopotamians constructed ziggurats as a way of reaching to the heavens.

Notice that our altar sits atop a similar mountain-like structure.

In many of these cases, like Mount Meru, the tops of these grand structures were not simply the home of the gods, but they were cosmic (universal) mountains. They were the center of the universe and the place where creation began. 

These cosmic mountains captured the human imagination because it was the nexus point between the human and the divine. Anything could happen on the sacred mountain.

Sinai and Zion Believe it or not, ancient Israel shared a lot of similarities with these cultures. Open your Bible—especially to the Psalms—and you will hear references to a cosmic mountain. To understand ancient Israel’s story, we must see the role that Mount Sinai played for God’s covenantal people.

Sinai was wrapped up in the larger story of the Exodus, where God led his people out of Egyptian slavery. It was in the wilderness that Moses ascended Mount Sinai and received the Law directly from God—that was the Old Testament reading we just heard.

This God-given Law distinguished them from all the other nations of the world. It was not a burden but a gift, and this sacred gift was given as Moses ascended and God descended on the holy mountain—they met halfway. On Sinai, the Israelites learned that they were no longer slaves but chosen by God (and reconstituted) for his divine purposes.

Thus, wrapped up in Mount Sinai is the story of slavery and liberation, exodus and renewal, the Law and what it meant to be a follower of God henceforth and forevermore. Sinai was a cosmic mountain because it was where a nation was re-created.

But, as you know, the story doesn’t end with Sinai; the journey of the Exodus leads them to the Promised Land, and within the biblical imagination, it was a journey from one mountain to another: from Sinai to Zion.

Unlike other cosmic mountains, Mount Zion was neither enormous nor remote, but at its summit stood Jerusalem. The Holy City became the focal point of Israel’s faith because God’s glory resided on earth within the Temple. Every aspect of religious life, from festivals to sacrifices, revolved around the gravitational pull of Mount Zion. God had brought his people to the Promised Land, and he had taken up residence among them.

For the biblical writers, the terms Jerusalem and Zion were used interchangeably. Both described not only the fortress of King David but the fortress of Yahweh. Heaven and earth met on Mount Zion, and the whole universe revolved around it.  

The Jewish faith focused on the two cosmic mountains of Sinai and Zion. From one, Moses met with God and received the Law, from the other, God’s glory dwelled in the Temple. So much of the Old Testament is the story of these two mountains and the journey between them. 

Mount of Transfiguration It shouldn’t surprise us, then, that we find Jesus on yet another mountain in our Gospel reading today.

There are plenty of oddities in this passage: Moses and Elijah appear out of nowhere, there’s a cloud and a heavenly voice, and Peter—being typical Peter—blurts out the first thing that pops into his head.

What does this all mean?

The clue can be found in the subject that Moses, Elijah, and Jesus were discussing on the Mount of Transfiguration. Luke tells us that they were talking about Jesus’ “departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.”

Another way of translating the word “departure” is “exodus.” They were talking about Jesus’ “exodus, which would be accomplished in Jerusalem.” The connotation was meant to be quite obvious. 

What happens on the Mount of Transfiguration sounds a lot like what happened to Moses on Sinai. The cloud, God’s voice, the transformation, and the overwhelming brightness are all hints to us that something similar is happening on this mountain to what happened on Mount Sinai all those years ago. 

The writer Luke knows the Exodus story; he knows that the great themes of slavery and liberation, promise and fulfillment are, in its essence, the journey between two mountains, Sinai and Zion.

But now there is a new mountain. This unnamed Mount of Transfiguration has taken the place of Sinai, but the destination is the same. Jesus’ journey will lead him to the same place it led the ancient Israelites: the cosmic mountain of Zion and the blessed gates of Jerusalem.

If you haven’t guessed it yet, Luke wants to show us that Jesus is the leader of a New Exodus.

The great themes of slavery are still central to this New Exodus, but rather than being enslaved by the Egyptians (or any other foreign nation), Jesus has come to set his people free from the Cosmic Forces of Evil—which are Sin, Death, and the Devil.

The story has moved from Moses and the disobedient Israelites— who failed to live into their covenantal relationship—now to Jesus, who perfectly does the will of God as he makes his way to the very same mountain.

The Exodus story was being redeemed (set right) by God himself.

Our Way Forward It is quite clear that Jesus walks off the Mount of Transfiguration and begins his trek to Jerusalem. Just like the Israelites in the wilderness, it will be a slow journey, with plenty of stops along the way, but he is dead set for Jerusalem, nonetheless. 

If there is something we share with other ancient religions, it is that our imagination should also revolve around a cosmic mountain, but like our Jewish siblings, our particular Christian imagination should revolve around not just one but two mountains. 

The transcendent experience on the Mount of Transfiguration is worthless without the Cross and the Grave that are on Mount Zion. Yet, the actions on Mount Zion cannot be fully understood (or appreciated) without realizing the significance of what happened on the Mount of Transfiguration.

The New Exodus, brought about by Jesus, was a journey between two mountains. From one summit, there was transfiguration and revelation, and on the other, crucifixion and resurrection.

When it comes to God, anything (and absolutely everything) can happen on a mountain.

You and I are about to embark on a journey as we enter the season of Lent this coming Wednesday. Just as Jesus and his disciples walked off that mountain and headed towards Jerusalem, we too, will journey with our Lord to Mount Zion.

Like any long journey, whether it be 40 days or 40 years, there will be plenty of time to reflect on our lives. To ask what it means to be a follower of Jesus; what it means to be a part of the New Exodus he is bringing about in our fraught and broken world; among the people and places that need to desperately hear that God has is still in the saving business; he is still leading people from fear and into freedom.

You see, we should never forget that our story is inextricably linked to two mountains.

On one, our Lord ascended to talk with the prophets of old; On the other, he was lifted on a cross to set right our dreadful wrongs.

On one, he was transfigured for but a moment, to show who he truly was.  On the other, he was resurrected forever  so that all might rise like him.

On one, he descended  to begin his long journey, On the other, he ascended to heaven  so that our journey would one day end with him.

Come, together let us go to the mountain of God.

Last Sunday after the Epiphany. Year C. Exo 34:29-35. Lk 9:28-43. Quote from The Discovers, D. Boorstin pg 82. Theme based off Sinai & Zion, J. Levenson. Based on Sermon 126.