Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. 3 Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 5 While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” 6 When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7 But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” 8 And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
Matthew 17:1-9
9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
My sermon from Transfiguration Sunday (February 15, 2026) on Matthew 17:1-9.
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A few weeks ago, someone at the church said something I’ve been thinking about ever since. We were, at the time, working on a problem that felt like we were sort of building a plane while flying it. We said stuff like : “well, what about this,” “what happens when,” and “did you think about this?” a lot. We eventually came up with a solution that didn’t cover every situation but worked well enough for what we were trying to do. And as we reflected on what we had done, they uttered the phrase “clear is kind” as the model for why they communicated in the way they did. When we talk, our words should be big enough to hold every expectation, assumption, question, and truth we have. We can have the courage to express our authentic self while accepting how communicating well will require a lot of humility and vulnerability. Striving for clarity isn’t easy since it’s more than simply “telling it as it.” Rather, “clear is kind” pushes us to realize that in all the ways we communicate, there’s a real person bearing the image of God who is being impacted by what we say and do. Being clear isn’t easy and what we thought was clear will often be anything but. Yet a holy thing happens when we, if we’re able, choose to communicate well. We’d imagine then, that this kind of communication would be at the heart of our experience of the divine. But as we see in today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, who we want Jesus to be and who Jesus really is – isn’t always so clear.
Now it’s difficult to talk about the Transfiguration – Jesus’ transformation – without including what happened immediately before he took Peter, James, and John on a trip up a mountain. Jesus was, at this point in Matthew’s version of his life, on his way to Jerusalem. For three years, he had preached, taught, healed, argued with, and fed all kinds of people throughout ancient Judah and Galilee. A small group of fishermen, tax collectors, and women followed him while others, including the Roman Empire and its allies, wondered how revolutionary Jesus truly was. In the chapter immediately before what we just heard, Jesus visited a city named after the Roman emperors. It was built at the base of another mountain covered in religious temples with some declaring Rome’s rulers to “sons of gods” themselves. And so while standing in a place showcasing how strong, mighty, divine, and central to human history Rome imagined itself to be, Jesus asked his friends: “who do you say that I am?” Peter, who didn’t always get everything right and would soon immediately put his foot in his mouth, had a moment of clarity. He called Jesus the Messiah – the true center of our entire universe. What exactly that might mean is something we regularly debate. Yet Jesus’ clear question and Peter’s brave and vulnerable response – laid the groundwork to see that clarity lived out in a vivid way.
And so six days after Jesus and Peter spoke at the foot of the mountain where the Emperor was seen as divine, Jesus took Peter, John, and James on a little field trip. We’re not told what they talked about while they walked but I imagine it was full of questions, comments, and wondering what Jesus was up to. When they neared the top, something unexpected happened. Jesus was suddenly different. His change, though, was more than putting on a fancy new outfit or making sure he had good lighting. Rather, Jesus looked exactly like what Peter described him to be. Jesus was radiant; otherworldly; and looked like someone we should follow. The picture we have in our heads of everything that’s holy – all the comfort, peace, hope, love, eternal life, power, and grace there is – that’s the Jesus they saw. And if that wasn’t enough, two other figures showed up. They instinctively realize Moses who had received the commandments and the law on Mt. Sinai as well the great prophet Ejiah was with Jesus too. Jesus wasn’t acting as if he was superior to Moses or was here to replace the words the prophets shared. He was, instead, affirming God’s commitment to never giving up on us and the world. God’s ongoing work of building a different future where our worst days won’t be our only days – that’s what God always does. And for a brief moment, Peter thought he received the clarity he needed to follow Jesus. That might be why he offered to make something – a tent – to keep a hold on this Jesus as long as he could. But when a word from heaven came, what felt clear became incredibly unkind. It’s possible the experience of the divine pushed Peter, James, and John to realize who small their own thoughts, words, and actions actually were. Or maybe when Jesus finally looked the way they wanted him to, they realized his words, teachings, and way of being in the world might actually cost them more than they wanted to admit. We expect, I think, that when Jesus shows up, we’ll receive a sense of peace, comfort, and wholeness that will cover our body and soul. Yet our Bible shows over and over again that when the divine shows up, even the most faithful of us end up being afraid. That doesn’t mean we’re somehow unworthy or undeserving of God’s presence. Rather, when we finally realize we’re not God nor the hero of our own story, that clarity causes us to fall down and cover our eyes. The disciples assumed seeing Jesus being everything they imagined him to be would bring clarity for whatever came next. Yet what they, at a conscious and unconscious level, experienced was a sense of how far from divine they actually were.
But before they could uncover their eyes, Jesus reached out. With a gentle touch – and a word – he told them to “get up” and “to not be afraid.” Jesus wasn’t angry, dismissing what they were experiencing, or wondering just how faithful they were. He, instead, showed them how the clarity they assumed they needed had already been with them. It wasn’t the Jesus lit up like the Vegas Strip, Times Square, or a Japanese anime character that revealed what God was up to. God’s clarity is how, since the very beginning, the divine always comes down. We assume we have to look up, away from our world and our lives, to find the grace, certainty, and faith that will make our doubts, questions, and fears vanish away. Yet God’s love doesn’t wait for us to be right before God rightly claims you as God’s own. In our baptism, in our prayers, at the Lord’s table, and through the countless ways love makes itself known in your life – God comes down to show how you really are part of what God is doing in the world. It would be awesome if a life with faith felt more clear and our communication with God didn’t feel so empty, scary, and silent. But the One who chose to be born; to live; to laugh; to cry; to form friendships; to grieve; and to live through the Crosses we build whenever God’s love shows up – that One has already clearly proclaimed you really are worth everything to God. Jesus chooses to come down into our worries; our questions; our doubts; our joys; and even into our unanswered prayers to clearly say that God’s grace doesn’t depend on how many times you go up the mountain of faith. Rather, Jesus is already down here with you – and he will never let you go.
Amen.