Who is This?
Commentary
Poet Marriane Williamson has written a poem that has been widely reprinted:
Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others. 1
The problem with the lesson for today — that Jesus is not the person he seems to be on a day-by-day basis — is that his transfiguration can also be ours. Moses met with God and came back down the mountain “radiant.” Isaiah prophecies that the people returning from the exile in Babylon will also be “radiant.” Moses veiled his face so as to be acceptable to his people. Do we do the same, hiding our light under a clay jar?
What can that possibly mean?
If you were at all like I was at my confirmation, you probably found the whole process a disappointment. I expected to feel the Spirit moving. Maybe not “tongues of flame” above our heads, but at least the sound of a rushing wind, or a whisper of God declaring that I was his beloved daughter. Something divine and beyond my ability to express was supposed to happen. All the scriptures we used that Sunday taught me to expect the movement of God into our hearts and minds. Actually, I had an experience like that about fifteen years later; but that space in between was sometimes much like the desert heights Jesus often sought to talk with God. I certainly did not expect to be transformed before all my friends at that point. I’d put that childish expectation behind me.
But what if that childish thought is exactly why Jesus said “unless you become as a little child, you can by no means enter the kingdom of Heaven?”
Lama Surya Das tells the story of doing a gong meditation with a group of 75 children, aged seven to eleven. He told them to “Follow the sound of the gong, see here it goes, and ‘just be there’ for a moment or two with the sound.” He told them that they just might get closer to God… Later, one of the children told his mother, quite excitedly, about what they had done. “And… what happened?” his mother asked. “Well, when I watched and listened to where the sound went, I didn’t get closer to God. I was God!” Transfiguration. Moses and Elijah and Jesus, glowing, talking on the mountain. Peter, James and John, transfixed at the spectacle, like children. And we — are we still afraid of God, of God-in-us (Immanuel), of the glory of being children of the living God?
Exodus 34:29-35
Moses has returned from meeting with God for the second time atop Mount Sinai, and his face is literally glowing. (The NIV says his face was “radiant”.) His skin was glowing as he brought down the new tablets of the treaty God has made with his people. One of the ways to understand the word “covenant.”
It might be a good thing to begin to teach our congregations to think of the Tablets, which we usually refer to as the Tablets of the Law, or The Ten Commandments, as a treaty, literally. We hear way too many preachers still preaching Law, or alternatively, blood sacrifice for our sins. God is here initiating a treaty, not declaring war. Moses is not initiating the people into a cult that practices human sacrifice, be it literal or substitutionary. God is declaring peace. We are being offered freedom from the animosity of God, not being tied down to have a knife plunged into our bowels. Not that we get off scot free; there are some rules (see the Ten Commandments).
We are also being made promises, not the least of which is that we, too, can be radiant.2 Is that frightening to us? Do we, like Jonah, run from the glory we are being offered? In the letter for today, Paul is referring to Jesus’ saying that “one does not put a lamp under a bushel [clay jar], but on a lampstand so it can light the whole room.” This is, in fact, our calling — to be a light for the world.3
2 Corinthians 3:12--4:7
In the movie Avatar, the medicine woman of the Naavi says to Jake Sully, “You cannot pour water into a full cup.” What she is saying to him is that he arrived on the planet Pandora with a whole set of beliefs, ideas and expectations, and it is very difficult to experience what you do not expect. This principle is precisely what keeps people from seeing the importance of the anomalies in our lives. It keeps us from exploring the spiritual and makes us reject new knowledge in the material world. Paul says it this way: “We have renounced the shameful things that one hides…” (v. 4:2) In this way, Paul calls us to make an effort to change, rather than waiting around for God to heal us. We all crave magical means to change the world rather than rolling up our Spirit-enabled sleeves to change what we can change. We are all waiting for the Messiah to come back and clean up our mess.
From Paul’s perspective, God’s spirit is transforming us into “the same image” — that is, the (reflected) glory of God. We live in a world that is dominated by the desire to be wealthy and powerful. We want the things that are advertised on TV as being transformative. We buy the toothpaste that promises that Hollywood whiteness to our teeth, the car that some handsome star uses to escape the world, the pet food that will bring out the powerful wild ancestor in our dog or cat. And still we are unhappy. Because we are focusing on things rather than relationships. But living without relationships makes us ever more unhappy, lonely and hopeless.
If we follow what Paul is saying here, we will renounce even the “small” sins that vex us. We will repent, i.e. turn around and return to God. The fact that this idea terrifies us, so afraid are we that we will fall under God’s judgement, indicates that we have not taken in the full message of the Gospel, expressed in John 3:17: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Luke 9:28-26 (37-4:3a)
Luke’s gospel is divided into two segments, which hinge on his description of the Transfiguration. In the first half of the gospel, everyone is asking about Jesus, “Who is this?” Of course, we might say that the first such question was asked by Mary, who said, “How can this be, since I do not yet know a man?” and her subsequent visit to her kinswoman Elizabeth, to check out what the angel had told her.
But truly, the series of “Who is this?” questions begins in chapter 4, when Jesus was in the synagogue when a man “who had the spirit of an unclean demon, and he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Let us alone! What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” (v.23-24) Jesus silences the man by casting out the demon, and yet “They were all amazed and kept saying to one another, ‘What kind of utterance is this? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and out they come!’”
In the next chapter, Luke tells the story of a paralytic whose friends brought him on a litter to Jesus, and let him down through the roof because he was surrounded by a crowd of people come in hopes of healing. Luke says, “When he saw their faith, he said [to the paralytic], ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you.’ Then the scribes and the Pharisees began to question, ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’” There is the answer, right in their second question, but no one is willing to make that leap.
Jesus’ response to their question is, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and walk?’ But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” — he said to the one who was paralyzed — “I say to you, stand up and take your bed and go to your home.” The healing itself is proof of his right to forgive sins, but still, no outright answer given.
The next time this question appears (Luke 7:18-20) it comes from an unexpected quarter — John the Baptizer. He sent two of his disciples to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus points to the work he is doing, because it matches the signs expected of the Messiah. But again, there is no direct answer to the question.
Later in chapter 7 (vv. 36-49), we have the story of the woman with the alabaster jar of ointment. She wept all over Jesus’ feet, then let down her hair in front of men not her relatives, in order to dry them. Finally, she broke open the jar and smoothed his feet with the ointment — an intimate act. Even worse than him allowing “this kind of woman” to touch him, Jesus said to her, “Your sins have been forgiven.” Which again causes “those who were at the table with him [to begin] to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’” Yet again, the question goes unanswered.
At last, Jesus and his disciples arrived at the country of the Gerasenes. They are greeted by a violent madman who has been living in the burial caves, naked and alone. He is possessed by a legion of demons, whom Jesus casts out into a herd of pigs. When the people in a nearby town find the man no longer possessed, but sitting, clothed and making sense, no one asks who Jesus is or why he has this power over demons; rather, they ask him to leave their country, because his power terrifies them.
We need to backtrack before we get to the Transfiguration event itself. In many of these stories, there actually are some who know exactly who Jesus is — the demons! Go back over these stories, and it becomes obvious that Luke is injecting a bit of dark humor. “Who is this, who ____?” is preceded or followed by the demon afflicting the one needing to be healed crying out, “What do you want of us? We know who you are — the Holy One of God! Have you come to destroy us? Please don’t kill us, let us go somewhere else!” And yet, the humans insist they have no idea who Jesus is, how he heals, how he dares to forgive sins or how he casts out demons.
At the end of this first section of Luke, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” Because of course no one asks, “Who is this?” without speculating on the answer. They answered, “John the Baptist; but others, Elijah; and still others, that one of the ancient prophets has arisen.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered, “The Messiah of God.”
Eight days later, Jesus takes them to the mountain, where he is transformed before their eyes. Not only that, they see Elijah and Moses standing on either side of Jesus, talking about his “departure” that is coming soon. This vision climaxes as they hear a voice from “the cloud” telling them, “This is my Son, my Chosen. Listen to him.”
When they come down the mountain, they are greeted by a crowd, one of whom calls out for his only son to be healed of his seizures. Jesus does so, but not one person asks “Who is this?” Instead, they “give glory to God.” But there are those who, according to Luke 11:14-23, believe that Jesus casts out demons by the power of Beelzebub (which translates as ‘the Lord of the Flies’). Jesus at that point comes as close as he ever will to saying who he is: “[I]f it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you.”
After this event, no one asks again, “Who is this man who…?” Instead, Luke focuses on Jesus’ teachings until he appears before Pilate, does not ask “Who are you?” but “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answers, but all he says is, “You say so.” So Pilate answers his own question by posting a sign above Jesus on the cross: “The King of the Jews.”
But the Transfiguration has a secondary message. Moses was the first and chief prophet of the Hebrew people. He talked to God, it was said, like a person talks with a friend. Elijah was the prophet who faced down the religion of Jezebel, the queen, who was taken up in God’s fiery chariot and who therefore did not die. At Jewish seders, there is always a place set for Elijah, in hopes that he will come to dinner and usher in the Messianic Age. Just so we’re all clear — Jesus is not one of these two prophets. Jesus alone was transfigured in this vision so that the disciples would be clear that he was far above any earthly person.
Jesus turned to his disciples and asked the question every pastor should, in one way or another, ask of every communicant: “Who do you think this is?”
I vividly remember being approached by the mother of a nine-year-old where I served as Christian Education Assistant. She said her son had come home from church camp and told her he wanted to start taking Communion. Our denomination had no hard and fast rules about this, so she had told him he could if I said it was all right. I said to him, “Why do you want to take Communion?” He said, his face alight, “Because when we take Communion, God and all the people in heaven are right here, taking it with us. It’s like we touch GOD!” I’ve never heard any adult say it any better. So, I told the pastor about this conversation. Of course, the boy was allowed to start taking Communion that very month.
1 Return to Love by Marianne Williamson, Harper Collins, 1992. Often attributed to Nelson Mandela, who quoted her in a speech.
2 See the website https://academyofideas.com/2017/11/jonah-complex-fear-of-greatness
3 Matthew 5:14 and John 8:12
Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others. 1
The problem with the lesson for today — that Jesus is not the person he seems to be on a day-by-day basis — is that his transfiguration can also be ours. Moses met with God and came back down the mountain “radiant.” Isaiah prophecies that the people returning from the exile in Babylon will also be “radiant.” Moses veiled his face so as to be acceptable to his people. Do we do the same, hiding our light under a clay jar?
What can that possibly mean?
If you were at all like I was at my confirmation, you probably found the whole process a disappointment. I expected to feel the Spirit moving. Maybe not “tongues of flame” above our heads, but at least the sound of a rushing wind, or a whisper of God declaring that I was his beloved daughter. Something divine and beyond my ability to express was supposed to happen. All the scriptures we used that Sunday taught me to expect the movement of God into our hearts and minds. Actually, I had an experience like that about fifteen years later; but that space in between was sometimes much like the desert heights Jesus often sought to talk with God. I certainly did not expect to be transformed before all my friends at that point. I’d put that childish expectation behind me.
But what if that childish thought is exactly why Jesus said “unless you become as a little child, you can by no means enter the kingdom of Heaven?”
Lama Surya Das tells the story of doing a gong meditation with a group of 75 children, aged seven to eleven. He told them to “Follow the sound of the gong, see here it goes, and ‘just be there’ for a moment or two with the sound.” He told them that they just might get closer to God… Later, one of the children told his mother, quite excitedly, about what they had done. “And… what happened?” his mother asked. “Well, when I watched and listened to where the sound went, I didn’t get closer to God. I was God!” Transfiguration. Moses and Elijah and Jesus, glowing, talking on the mountain. Peter, James and John, transfixed at the spectacle, like children. And we — are we still afraid of God, of God-in-us (Immanuel), of the glory of being children of the living God?
Exodus 34:29-35
Moses has returned from meeting with God for the second time atop Mount Sinai, and his face is literally glowing. (The NIV says his face was “radiant”.) His skin was glowing as he brought down the new tablets of the treaty God has made with his people. One of the ways to understand the word “covenant.”
It might be a good thing to begin to teach our congregations to think of the Tablets, which we usually refer to as the Tablets of the Law, or The Ten Commandments, as a treaty, literally. We hear way too many preachers still preaching Law, or alternatively, blood sacrifice for our sins. God is here initiating a treaty, not declaring war. Moses is not initiating the people into a cult that practices human sacrifice, be it literal or substitutionary. God is declaring peace. We are being offered freedom from the animosity of God, not being tied down to have a knife plunged into our bowels. Not that we get off scot free; there are some rules (see the Ten Commandments).
We are also being made promises, not the least of which is that we, too, can be radiant.2 Is that frightening to us? Do we, like Jonah, run from the glory we are being offered? In the letter for today, Paul is referring to Jesus’ saying that “one does not put a lamp under a bushel [clay jar], but on a lampstand so it can light the whole room.” This is, in fact, our calling — to be a light for the world.3
2 Corinthians 3:12--4:7
In the movie Avatar, the medicine woman of the Naavi says to Jake Sully, “You cannot pour water into a full cup.” What she is saying to him is that he arrived on the planet Pandora with a whole set of beliefs, ideas and expectations, and it is very difficult to experience what you do not expect. This principle is precisely what keeps people from seeing the importance of the anomalies in our lives. It keeps us from exploring the spiritual and makes us reject new knowledge in the material world. Paul says it this way: “We have renounced the shameful things that one hides…” (v. 4:2) In this way, Paul calls us to make an effort to change, rather than waiting around for God to heal us. We all crave magical means to change the world rather than rolling up our Spirit-enabled sleeves to change what we can change. We are all waiting for the Messiah to come back and clean up our mess.
From Paul’s perspective, God’s spirit is transforming us into “the same image” — that is, the (reflected) glory of God. We live in a world that is dominated by the desire to be wealthy and powerful. We want the things that are advertised on TV as being transformative. We buy the toothpaste that promises that Hollywood whiteness to our teeth, the car that some handsome star uses to escape the world, the pet food that will bring out the powerful wild ancestor in our dog or cat. And still we are unhappy. Because we are focusing on things rather than relationships. But living without relationships makes us ever more unhappy, lonely and hopeless.
If we follow what Paul is saying here, we will renounce even the “small” sins that vex us. We will repent, i.e. turn around and return to God. The fact that this idea terrifies us, so afraid are we that we will fall under God’s judgement, indicates that we have not taken in the full message of the Gospel, expressed in John 3:17: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Luke 9:28-26 (37-4:3a)
Luke’s gospel is divided into two segments, which hinge on his description of the Transfiguration. In the first half of the gospel, everyone is asking about Jesus, “Who is this?” Of course, we might say that the first such question was asked by Mary, who said, “How can this be, since I do not yet know a man?” and her subsequent visit to her kinswoman Elizabeth, to check out what the angel had told her.
But truly, the series of “Who is this?” questions begins in chapter 4, when Jesus was in the synagogue when a man “who had the spirit of an unclean demon, and he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Let us alone! What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” (v.23-24) Jesus silences the man by casting out the demon, and yet “They were all amazed and kept saying to one another, ‘What kind of utterance is this? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and out they come!’”
In the next chapter, Luke tells the story of a paralytic whose friends brought him on a litter to Jesus, and let him down through the roof because he was surrounded by a crowd of people come in hopes of healing. Luke says, “When he saw their faith, he said [to the paralytic], ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you.’ Then the scribes and the Pharisees began to question, ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’” There is the answer, right in their second question, but no one is willing to make that leap.
Jesus’ response to their question is, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and walk?’ But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” — he said to the one who was paralyzed — “I say to you, stand up and take your bed and go to your home.” The healing itself is proof of his right to forgive sins, but still, no outright answer given.
The next time this question appears (Luke 7:18-20) it comes from an unexpected quarter — John the Baptizer. He sent two of his disciples to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus points to the work he is doing, because it matches the signs expected of the Messiah. But again, there is no direct answer to the question.
Later in chapter 7 (vv. 36-49), we have the story of the woman with the alabaster jar of ointment. She wept all over Jesus’ feet, then let down her hair in front of men not her relatives, in order to dry them. Finally, she broke open the jar and smoothed his feet with the ointment — an intimate act. Even worse than him allowing “this kind of woman” to touch him, Jesus said to her, “Your sins have been forgiven.” Which again causes “those who were at the table with him [to begin] to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’” Yet again, the question goes unanswered.
At last, Jesus and his disciples arrived at the country of the Gerasenes. They are greeted by a violent madman who has been living in the burial caves, naked and alone. He is possessed by a legion of demons, whom Jesus casts out into a herd of pigs. When the people in a nearby town find the man no longer possessed, but sitting, clothed and making sense, no one asks who Jesus is or why he has this power over demons; rather, they ask him to leave their country, because his power terrifies them.
We need to backtrack before we get to the Transfiguration event itself. In many of these stories, there actually are some who know exactly who Jesus is — the demons! Go back over these stories, and it becomes obvious that Luke is injecting a bit of dark humor. “Who is this, who ____?” is preceded or followed by the demon afflicting the one needing to be healed crying out, “What do you want of us? We know who you are — the Holy One of God! Have you come to destroy us? Please don’t kill us, let us go somewhere else!” And yet, the humans insist they have no idea who Jesus is, how he heals, how he dares to forgive sins or how he casts out demons.
At the end of this first section of Luke, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” Because of course no one asks, “Who is this?” without speculating on the answer. They answered, “John the Baptist; but others, Elijah; and still others, that one of the ancient prophets has arisen.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered, “The Messiah of God.”
Eight days later, Jesus takes them to the mountain, where he is transformed before their eyes. Not only that, they see Elijah and Moses standing on either side of Jesus, talking about his “departure” that is coming soon. This vision climaxes as they hear a voice from “the cloud” telling them, “This is my Son, my Chosen. Listen to him.”
When they come down the mountain, they are greeted by a crowd, one of whom calls out for his only son to be healed of his seizures. Jesus does so, but not one person asks “Who is this?” Instead, they “give glory to God.” But there are those who, according to Luke 11:14-23, believe that Jesus casts out demons by the power of Beelzebub (which translates as ‘the Lord of the Flies’). Jesus at that point comes as close as he ever will to saying who he is: “[I]f it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you.”
After this event, no one asks again, “Who is this man who…?” Instead, Luke focuses on Jesus’ teachings until he appears before Pilate, does not ask “Who are you?” but “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answers, but all he says is, “You say so.” So Pilate answers his own question by posting a sign above Jesus on the cross: “The King of the Jews.”
But the Transfiguration has a secondary message. Moses was the first and chief prophet of the Hebrew people. He talked to God, it was said, like a person talks with a friend. Elijah was the prophet who faced down the religion of Jezebel, the queen, who was taken up in God’s fiery chariot and who therefore did not die. At Jewish seders, there is always a place set for Elijah, in hopes that he will come to dinner and usher in the Messianic Age. Just so we’re all clear — Jesus is not one of these two prophets. Jesus alone was transfigured in this vision so that the disciples would be clear that he was far above any earthly person.
Jesus turned to his disciples and asked the question every pastor should, in one way or another, ask of every communicant: “Who do you think this is?”
I vividly remember being approached by the mother of a nine-year-old where I served as Christian Education Assistant. She said her son had come home from church camp and told her he wanted to start taking Communion. Our denomination had no hard and fast rules about this, so she had told him he could if I said it was all right. I said to him, “Why do you want to take Communion?” He said, his face alight, “Because when we take Communion, God and all the people in heaven are right here, taking it with us. It’s like we touch GOD!” I’ve never heard any adult say it any better. So, I told the pastor about this conversation. Of course, the boy was allowed to start taking Communion that very month.
1 Return to Love by Marianne Williamson, Harper Collins, 1992. Often attributed to Nelson Mandela, who quoted her in a speech.
2 See the website https://academyofideas.com/2017/11/jonah-complex-fear-of-greatness
3 Matthew 5:14 and John 8:12
