Daniel 7:9-10.13-14 2 Peter 1:16-19 Matthew 17:1-9
We know the basic meaning of today's feast. On Mt Tabor Peter, James, and John caught a glimpse of the light of Easter, of Christ's divinity and of the glory of heaven. All that to strengthen their faith and “to remove the scandal of the Cross”, as we heard in the martyrology yesterday. I'm not so sure that “the scandal” was in fact entirely removed. You have to stumble over the humiliation of Jesus, over His suffering and over the finality of His death, in some ways that's the whole point – and all disciples would in fact stumble over it. They would be left grief-stricken, confused and utterly humiliated themselves – as those who staked their very lives on Jesus being the Messiah. “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered” (Mt 26:31). What the Transfiguration did was to implant in the disciples' hearts and memories something that would survive the Cross against all odds, almost independently of all else, something that could not be squared with the brutal reality of Good Friday and therefore would remain open to Easter. Maybe we could compare this “something” to what existed in Mary Magdalene’s heart, for different reasons – on account of her ardent love for Jesus.
But, in the Patristic (and certainly in the monastic) tradition, the Transfiguration also stands on its own, as it were, and occupies a central place. It's a sign of a promise fulfilled. The Desert Fathers took the beatitude “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8) very seriously and quite literally. It became foundational for the whole monastic movement. And here we have it, Peter, James and John did see God on Mt Tabor! Not so much in the bright cloud out of which came the booming voice of the Father, of course, nor in some sort of a dream or in a prophetic vision. No, they saw God in and through the humanity of Christ, the humanity which was part of their everyday reality. And for the great early exegetes of the Church like Origen, it meant that those three apostles must have been spiritually ready to receive such a grace. “Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom” (Mt 16:28).
The Desert Fathers threw themselves headlong into this idea. As John Cassian wrote: “Our Lord … taught us by example … that, if we wish to address God with purity and integrity of heart, we should draw apart from all the turbulence and confusion of the crowd. Thus, while [still] in this body, we shall in some fashion be able to prepare ourselves for the likeness, as it were, of that blessedness which is promised to the holy ones in the future” (Cassian, Conf. X.6.3-4). In other words, it is possible to at least prepare oneself for such a grace, the grace of seeing reality transfigured here on earth, to hope for it. It is also possible to reflect some of Christ's glory and be transfigured. As St Paul wrote: “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
And so we read in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers: “Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said to him, Abba, as far as I can, I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace and, as far as I can, I purify my thought. What else can I do? Then the old man stood up and stretched his hands towards heaven. His fingers became like ten lamps of fire and he said to him, If you will, you can become all flame” (Joseph of Panephysis, 7).
If you will... This is a dangerous desire to entertain, but it has been driving monasticism and Christian mysticism from the very beginning. Abba Lot is like the Rich Young Man from the Gospels, while Abba Joseph stands in for Jesus and reflects His glory. The stakes couldn't be higher then. Is the risk worth taking? One can fall into heresy or become proud in the course of such a striving. Much more likely though, numerous and inevitable personal failures will make one complacent, spiritually lazy or even clinically depressed. The gap between what we aspire to and where we actually are most of the time is enormous, almost impossible to bear. So it is about the Cross after all... How can we carry it? Fr David Foster of Downside has recently given us a very original and inspiring retreat dedicated entirely to this very question. But let me conclude with the well-known story of St Silouan, a simple Russian peasant who died a monk on Mt Athos in the 1938.
St Silouan experienced mystical heights early on in his monastic life but, after being praised for his “accomplishments” by his spiritual father, he was thrown into confusion and the grace left him. For fifteen years, no matter how hard he tried, he could not pray with a pure mind. One night he rose from the stool in his cell, intending to bow down and worship Christ, when he saw a gigantic devil standing in front of the ikon, waiting to be knelt to. St Silouan sat down again in despair and prayed: “Lord, I desire to pray with a pure mind, but the devils will not let me. What must I do?” And in his soul he heard: “The proud always suffer from devils.” “Lord,” said Silouan, “teach what to do to grow humble.” And in his heart he heard God answer: “Keep your mind in hell and do not despair” (cf. Sophrony, The Monk of Athos, 27-8).
DSP