A Glory that Transfigures You and Me

Transfiguration Sunday, in the eyes of many, is a one-off miracle testifying as to just how great Jesus was.  That understanding sells Transfiguration Sunday short.  Far, far short. Christ bathed in the radiance of the Torah tradition of Love of God and of neighbor.  Allowing this Christ to transform us is a life-time adventure.  With a bit of rain amidst the sunshine.

Luminosity is in what happens afterward.  Same as in the transfiguration of Moses as he bears the radiance of his encounter with God on Mount Sinai.  What does he find upon returning?  Apostasy and idolatry.  Yet his leadership shines forth for the tribes of Israel.

From our ancestor on my mother’s side of the family, Julia Ward Howe, we get the significance of this transfiguration.  “…with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me.”

Transfiguration in Christ is an ongoing event.  Echoing down through the halls of human history, working itself out generation after generation.  Down to you and me; and all others who claim the sweet embrace of Our Lord.

It works itself out in the lives expended for others, those who engaged in bitter strife that half my family might be free. 

As St. Irenaeus proclaimed, “The Glory of God is a man, a woman fully alive.  “As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.”  That was the price exacted to free one half of those living in abject misery in the South. 

One who has never been in combat can grasp the enormity and tragedy of that struggle through Shelby Foote’s novelistic presentation of what was maybe the determining battle of our Civil War, Shiloh.[1]  It presents the fruits of historical scholarship and the narrative pace of lively writing.

To those escaping to join the ranks of the approaching Union armies, it was a taste of being fully alive like none other.  In appreciation, former enslaved persons would regularly gather in cemeteries where Union soldiers were buried to lay flowers – a simple but moving show of gratitude for freedom won.  Transfiguration changing an entire society.

Transfiguration brilliance outshining Jim Crow, outshining this racist and bigoted administration.   That same Transfiguration strengthening the souls of today’s Holy Resistance.

If you prefer a more irenic interpretation to the phrase, “…let us die to make men free,” one might understand it as an admonition to fully expend your life as a transfigured person up to the day of death, however that comes.  As Oscar Wilde remarked, so I also strive, “When I die, I want to be all used up.”   Leaving nothing on life’s field.

As one reflecting the insecurities of having grown up in a rather dysfunctional family, I’ve also experienced the same Transfiguration. Through the course of years and under the influence of the living Christ in my life as presented by the Church, pastors, and just ordinary folks of the Jesus Movement, I, too, have been changed.  Certainly more fully alive.

Part of that change was evident on our recent trip to San Francisco to celebrate our 60^th wedding anniversary with a good part of my family. 

First, I’ve become much more appreciative of those people on this trip who went out of their way to show a little kindness.  It was a number of Uber drivers who took care to handle my walker and dialysis bag on those trips at 5:00 in the morning.

It was the kind woman at the United check-in counter at the San Franscisco Airport who saw that Jai and I needed assistance with all our luggage and figuring out the computerized check-in procedure.   She arranged extra help with our luggage and ticketing.  She was a delight as was her supervisor who assisted Jai with 6 pieces of luggage.  (Yes, we don’t travel light with all I need for dialysis and sleep apnea.)

What should have been airport hell was transfigured into a very human and rewarding experience.  A little bit of sunshine on a rather daunting ordeal.  A Transfiguration of my attitude.

Having Alexis, Christopher, Luther and Denise with us made the trip a delight.  Part of my little smidgen of Transfiguration is the increasing value I put on family.  This group certainly made this return after 60 years a fantastic San Francisco experience.

Watching little Luther marvel at the delights of Muir Woods, his infectious smile, playing la-la-la-la-la with him at the snack shop.  Seeing him with his parents and their loving care and encouragement of his entire being.  All a delight – the Glory of God manifest in this natural spender of delight.  My heart softened and a bit more aware to the joys of life over the years, under a Divine Guiding Hand.  Transfiguration of you, me and the entirety of creation, ever renewing.

Transfiguration through a growing sensitivity to the misery and deprivation witness.  No longer wrapped up in my own woes and insecurities but alive to the need around me.  And being able to realize my part in it all.

When I see the destruction of Gaza and Lebanon in the daily paper, I now know my culpability.  The horrid temperatures in France and Spain and here in America.  All part of our climate denialism.  Thank God, I notice.

Transfiguration of my self-absorption.  Transfiguration through working to be the change I can be.  And courage to change the things I can. 

Knowing that through my actions I can set a good example for others to follow.  Knowing the delight in my soul in being a part of the solution with others.   Even if it’s a ten spot and a little conversation with that shopping- cart lady on the corner; or writing a sermon that encourages and gives hope; or in composing a letter to the editor encouraging us all to get out and vote for change.  And be the change.

Finally, allow a little humor.  While at the checkout counter of one bookstore I spied a little tease, Lessons from Cats for Surviving Fascism.[2]  Fascists hate unpredictability, cats are never predictable.

“Cats never let anyone know where they’ll be next, and neither should you.  Cats are masters of unpredictability. 

“Fascism thrives on predictability; confuse it by unexpectedly launching on to the back side of a chair, then rappelling down the curtains.

“One minute they’re curled up on the couch, radiating serenity, and the next they’ve perched on top of your fridge, judging you for your life choices.  You’ve made terrible choices and cats know it.”[3]

Transfiguration delights in the unexpected as well as in duty.  So, go ahead and start a ukulele jam session at three o’clock in the morning.  And tell me what cat isn’t fully alive.  Humor opens the door.

If you are a part of the Jesus Movement, or even have a tangential relationship to it, you’ve experienced a taste of Christ’s Transfiguration.  And in the process become just a little bit more alive.

For those of us Followers of the Way, now and then we know we’ve been touched by the same light, a smidgen of brilliance of that original Transfiguration.  And that shall suffice.  Transfiguration one day at a time.  Transfiguration together.  Amen.

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[1] Shelby Foote, Shiloh (New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 1992).

[2] Stewart “Brittlestar” Reynolds, Lessons from Cats for Surviving Fascism (New York: Grand Central Publishing, 2024).

[3] Op. cit., 3.

August 2, 2026 – Transfiguration Sunday

  “A Glory that Transfigures You and Me”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99;

2 Peter 1:13-21; Gospel:  Luke 9:28-36