The Preacher's Lectionary Notebook - Thematic Connections
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany: Transfiguration Sunday (Year A)
Exodus 24:12-18; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9
The Transfiguration doesn’t just drop out of the sky in Matthew 17 like a one-off spiritual fireworks show. It’s the kind of moment that only makes sense if we’ve been paying attention for a long time—back to Sinai, forward to the testimony of the apostles, and inward to the way God keeps showing up in glory and fear and intimacy all at once. When Jesus leads Peter, James, and John up the mountain, he’s stepping into a story Israel already knows by heart. Mountains are where God pulls back the veil, where the ordinary world thins out and the holy presses close. Moses knew that well. In Exodus 24, Moses climbs Sinai, disappears into the cloud, and waits while the glory of the Lord settles like a consuming fire. The people stay behind, watching from a distance, while Moses enters the terrifying beauty of God’s presence. It’s not cozy. It’s awe-filled, risky, and overwhelming—but it’s where revelation happens.
Matthew’s mountain echoes that scene almost note for note. Jesus is transfigured, his face shining, his clothes blazing white, and suddenly Moses is there again—this time not climbing the mountain, but standing beside Jesus. Elijah too, another mountain prophet, another witness to God’s fire and voice. The cloud returns, just like Sinai, and with it comes the divine voice. But here’s the shift: instead of Moses going up alone while the people wait below, Jesus brings disciples with him. They see the glory. They fall on their faces in fear, just as Israel once trembled at the mountain’s edge, but Jesus touches them and says, “Do not be afraid.” That’s new. The consuming fire hasn’t gone away, but now it comes wrapped in mercy.
Peter, of course, wants to freeze the moment. He starts talking about tents, as if glory can be managed, preserved, or politely contained. But glory never works that way. Just as Moses eventually had to come back down the mountain, Jesus will too—and the road down leads not to comfort, but to Jerusalem and the cross. The Transfiguration isn’t an escape from suffering; it’s a revelation meant to prepare the disciples for it.
That’s exactly how the author of 2 Peter reflects on it years later. He insists this wasn’t myth or religious hype. He saw it. He heard the voice. He stood on the holy mountain and witnessed the majesty of Jesus with his own eyes. For Peter, the Transfiguration becomes a guarantee that the long story of God is true—that the prophetic word is trustworthy, that glory really does break into history, even if only in flashes. The voice from the cloud didn’t cancel the Scriptures; it confirmed them. Jesus isn’t a detour from Moses and the prophets; he’s their fulfillment.
These passages tell a single story about how God reveals himself. God still uses mountains and clouds and fear and light, but now the center of glory has a human face. The Transfiguration pulls Sinai forward and pushes the disciples toward faith that can survive the dark valley ahead. It reminds us that before we walk with Jesus into suffering, we’re first given a glimpse of who he really is—radiant, beloved, and worth listening to, even when the path leads down the mountain and into the unknown.
FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION
Why does God so often reveal himself on mountains, and what does that setting add to the meaning of the Transfiguration?
What does it change about fear and holiness that Jesus touches the disciples and tells them not to be afraid?
How does the glimpse of glory at the Transfiguration prepare the disciples—and us—for the suffering that comes after coming down the mountain?