March 2, 2025
Worthy of Our Attention
Luke 9:28-36
Each year, Transfiguration Sunday marks our transition to the season of Lent. We hear about how Jesus was transfigured on a mountain in the presence of Peter, James, and John while he was praying.
In the middle of the gospel story, when we expect to find Jesus on dusty roads, with dirty feet, and sweaty clothes, with a flash of divine revelation we catch a glimpse of who he really is, before he descends the mountain and goes to face his destiny in Jerusalem.
Today, we’re invited alongside those bewildered disciples to witness this unveiling and hear the divine instruction that follows, a message that clarifies the response to which each of us are called.
Encountering the Experience of Transfiguration
Perhaps one way of understanding this experience is through that wonderful scene in the second part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Tale of the Two Towers. If you recall the character of the wizard Gandalf. For most of the story Gandalf is a somewhat down-to-earth and ordinary wizard. He wears a grey cloak, his hair tussled, and he has a friendly and sort-of working-wizard demeanor.
But if you recall, Gandalf wrestles with an ancient dragon, a Balrog, at the bridge of Kazhad-dum and falls into the chasm with the dragon. We think he is gone forever, until he returns by surprise, resurrected in way, but in a slightly different form – now dressed in white, with hair combed straight, and a radiance of authority. He is not a different person, but he is more powerfully, more fully and more visibly himself.
Somewhat like that the Transfiguration is an unveiling of Jesus’ true and deep nature, a glimpse of his divine identity.
The Story of the Transfiguration
The story comes in chapter nine of Luke’s gospel, just as Jesus has begun to talk to his disciples about the cross, the cross that he will take up and the cross that they must take up in order to follow him. About a week after he first mentioned it, he took Peter, James, and John up on the mountain with him to pray.
While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, his clothes became dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appeared with him, and they were talking.
What were they discussing? Jesus’ departure – that means the cross that he had begun to speak of with the disciples – his departure and the destiny that he would fulfill in Jerusalem.
This week we will enter Lent, the forty-day journey we take each year to the cross. It begins on Ash Wednesday with a service here in the sanctuary. This conversation between Moses and Elijah and Jesus about the destiny Jesus would fulfill is an important message to us as we begin our journey to the cross. Why?
On the one hand, the cross of Christ is a symbol of Jesus’ murder at the hands of corrupt power. It is symbol for us of the depth of sin and corruption in the world. When we see the cross, we are reminded of the evil that every person – and all people together – are capable of.
And yet, on the other hand, the cross is a symbol of the profound grace of God. How is that?
Because Jesus did not trip into Jerusalem by accident; he did not wind up on the cross because Pilate was a scoundrel, or because his friends let him down. The gospel is so clear about this. Jesus went to the cross, he did not wind up there. It was his destiny.
His destiny was to defeat on the cross the sin and corruption that works in every human heart and in all human time. He went to defeat the inward corruption that twists human life tragically in on itself. The corruption that causes one neighbor to threaten another, that pits humanity as a perpetual struggle of one group or tribe or nation against the other.
This is cynicism and not hope, and we see this logic on display in world affairs, and in our own nation and leadership. This cynical logic says it’s “every person for themselves,” “might makes right,” “the one who holds the best cards should win the game.”
It is a corruption of the truth and it leads us into darkness and away from the light of God.
Jesus went to the cross to save us from this tragic outcome. Jesus’ went to the cross to bring the human community together because we insist, in our corruption, on pulling ourselves apart.
Jesus went to the cross to reveal that love and not power is the key to understanding God’s will.
Love and not power is the norm of human relationships.
Love and not power is the determining characteristic of God’s future kingdom.
That was Jesus’ destiny and his revelation.
The Response of Peter, James, and John
Of course, there on the mountain, Peter, James, and John didn’t quite get all this. They weren’t even really awake.
You see, while Jesus was praying and being transfigured, they fell asleep. He had been running them ragged, and they were tired. When they woke up, they saw him there with Moses and Elijah, but they only got the end of the vision.
As Moses and Elijah were fading away, back into the mists of eternity, sleepy Peter said, “Lord, it’s so good we’re here, we can make three shrines, one for each of you on this mountain.”
Now, this is not the response Jesus was looking for, but it’s not a bad instinct. Very much like we are in our life of faith, Peter was trying to respond to a divine experience.
When we know that God has spoken or called or moved or been present to us, it’s natural to want to do something. Yet very often it’s hard to know what to do, the next right step, how to respond well to God’s presence.
I happened to speak with a person this week whom I had never met about this very thing.
We were standing at a sales desk and the person casually asked what I did for a living. I sort of sheepishly said, “I’m a pastor.” (When you say that, you never know where the conversation goes next!) Immediately, this man, who does not actively practice any faith that I could tell, began to tell me about a recent powerful experience he had of divine presence, where he knew he was at a threshold of time and eternity, what the Celtics call a “thin place.”
He knew it was real, it was unlike anything he had experienced, but he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He was groping for language and ideas. And I think that’s why he mentioned it to me, not for my advice, but for a conversation partner as he was groping to respond.
Sort of like Peter, “well, what if we build a shrine?” Is a shrine the right thing? What do we do with this?
Before Peter could finish the sentence, God rescued him from his confusion.
As he was speaking, a cloud cast its shadow over them and surrounded them, a voice spoke…
A Voice Spoke
We need to pause here, because we’ve encountered this kind of thing before at the baptism of Jesus. There, at his baptism, you may remember that a voice spoke from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I delight.”
Now, once more, a voice speaks to confirm and to extend what was said before. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him.” At the baptism, the voice from heaven spoke, but it was to no one in particular.
Now, the voice speaks once more and this time to the disciples directly. The cloud surrounds them. It is direct divine address. Once more, the voice identifies the one they are following – this is my Son – and now extends to these disciples a divine instruction: “Listen to him.”
The voice from the cloud makes it clear and tells Peter and James and John – and to us – how to respond: listen to him.
Worthy of Our Attention
That is remarkably helpful and clear instruction. Because it can be very hard to know who to listen to or trust today’s world. In our information-saturated age, we face a daily barrage of voices competing for our attention and trust.
Consider an ordinary morning in your home, sitting down with a cup of coffee to catch up on the news. We face a dizzying array of competing voices, each claiming to have the truth:
News outlets with different editorial slants
Social media feeds that are curated by algorithms to reinforce existing beliefs
Political pundits analyzing and predicting with certainty and bias
Family members who have their opinions and are happy to share them
Our own internal biases that filter what we’re willing to hear
Each source presents itself as trustworthy. Statistics get cherry-picked, quotes taken out of context, complex issues reduced to simplistic talking points to provoke emotional reactions.
In this swirl of conflicting narratives, even the most diligent person struggles to discern truth from spin, facts from manipulation. It’s hard to know who we should listen to as we form our opinions and make our decisions about life.
This is at its heart a spiritual challenge: in a world of competing voices claiming to speak the truth, how do we recognize the authentic voice of Jesus?
In another place in the gospel, Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd and tells the disciples, “My sheep hear my voice.” In that comment, he’s acknowledging this very human struggle to pick out his voice from the cacophony of many voices.
It requires spiritual discernment. That’s what the season of Lent is about, developing the discernment to tune our ears to the voice of Jesus. We often do it through a simple practice. We give something up and take something else on to help us learn to hear his voice more clearly.
I find it best to give up something that gets my attention, something that I will notice, and replace it with something better – something more worthy of my attention.
Each of us has discern what that is for ourselves. Perhaps you give up reaching for email and news first thing in the morning, and instead sit down with a morning devotion, or quiet meditation, or reflective prayer. It’s a personal decision.
Attention is a precious commodity. It’s one of our greatest resources. There’s a whole economy of news and social media and shopping that is created around capturing our eyes and ears. So often, without thinking, we give our attention to things that are just not worthy.
Back on January 20th, when the inauguration of the president was claiming every ounce of the news and clamoring for our attention – and is still clamoring for our attention! – the public theologian Nadia Bolz Weber published one of the most helpful things I read that day.
It was a prayer, and just the first line has remained with me nearly every day since that one:
“Dear God, All I can think to say this morning, is please guide my attention to that which is worthy of it.”
The message of this Transfiguration story: the words of the Lord Jesus are supremely worthy of our attention.
Very often his words direct us to places the modern consumer attention-economy will not look, places that do not make for good television:
blessed are the poor – look over there – blessed are the hungry – look over there – blessed are those who weep – look over there – blessed are those who show mercy – look over there.
And very often, his words bring comfort to the hurting and hope to the despairing and strength to the failing in ways that nothing else will do:
“Come to me, and I will give you rest.” “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” “Peace, I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and neither let them be afraid.”
May we listen closely to the words of Jesus, for he speaks truth and life. Amen.
Rev. Patrick W. T. Johnson, Ph.D.
First Presbyterian Church
Asheville, North Carolina