Exodus 34:29-35
2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
Luke 9:28-36, (37-43)This Sunday marks the end of the Epiphany season, and the point of transition into Lent. It is not the feast of Transfiguration: that remains in August, but we read the story of the transfiguration and theme the liturgy around it, because, next to resurrection, which it foreshadows in the Gospel narrative, it is the nearest to the summit moment in the story of how Jesus the carpenter-prophet is revealed to be the very presence of God in the world.
That is all the comment I wish to make on the story, because I should like to concentrate my meditations this morning on the texts themselves and more especially on the process of intertextuality in the formation of scripture which we see in them. We have read three texts, but they contain one story, that of Moses on the Mountain, and two retellings of it.
The basic story from Exodus has two themes. Moses is descending from the mountain bearing God’s revelation to his people, the law. The result of his revelatory encounter with the Holy is that Moses is suffused with the divine light. His face shines. Note that he is not aware of this, only those who see him. To this theme of descent from the mountain with the law is added another theme, perhaps edited in from an originally parallel tradition. The suffusion with the divine light occurs each time Moses enters the tabernacle, and communes with God. But in this second theme, Moses is aware, and having transmitted God’s communication to the people, Moses covers his face with a veil. The Holy is always dangerous.
Now let us look at how Luke retells the story. Actually, although we read the passage from Luke, we are really seeing how Mark retold the story, for Luke here, like Matthew, takes over the story from Mark. There are interesting intertextual developments in this process too, but you would need the three stories in front to you to follow the details, so I will stick to comparing the synoptic retelling with the original the Exodus story.
In all three of these Gospels, Jesus is the New Moses who has given his teaching and climbs the mountain to commune with God. And there he is, like Moses infused with the divine light – so great and holy that it has to be hidden by a cloud. The revelation of the presence of God in the life of Jesus is so great and holy that the disciples fail to understand it and fail, in Luke, or are forbidden, in Mark, to pass the experience on to others. So, from the original Moses story, we now have a story about Jesus, with two motifs – the revelation of the divine glory – and the human inability to understand or know it.
In the letter to the church in Corinth Paul uses the Exodus story quite differently. He, Paul, is the new Moses, but the details of the story are seen in a negative light. The hidden ness of God and the incomprehensibility of God’s nature are in the past. In the new dispensation the veil is no longer needed. Paul is declaring the whole truth fully and openly.
In these two retellings of the story, there is a bifurcation. The synoptic gospels maintain the mystery and incomprehensibility of God. Paul insists on the possibility of human understanding. In fact this is not Paul’s last word on the subject, and elsewhere he does speak of a mystery beyond the grasp of most human understanding.
But the particular context of the Corinthian correspondence, which is an attempt to affirm the authority of his interpretation of the Gospel over that of preachers who were probably proto-Gnostics, requires him to deny that there is anything hidden. All we know about God is open and available to all.
I think that these two understandings are related to two ways of approaching the faith that are with us today. One way is the way of simplicity and fullness : we know the full gospel and we tell it to you. All you have to do is to accept it and you will be saved.
The other way is the way of mystery. We can never catch more than a glimpse of the divine holiness and being, , and each glimpse is a from a different angle. The totality remains incomprehensible. This is the debate being pursued today in the church. I could only wish that all who are involved in this debate could see that both ways are biblically based interpretations. Both spring from the tradition. Both have their uses and values in different contexts and situations and for different people. The acrimony in the church at the present time is not caused by the existence of different views and understandings. In our Anglican church in particular, the existence of different theological understanding has been the very basis of who we are. The acrimony and division of the present time are caused by those who claim that only they are right, and that any differing from them are not only not Anglican, but not Christian either.
As we worship here this morning, the Primates, or leaders of each region of our Anglican communion are meeting together in Dar-as-Salem in Tanzania to discuss these matters. The press is excluded from this meeting, so we are hearing only carefully managed and controlled information. From what I have heard, and from where I sit, I have two fears. One is that we shall be told to be good children and play nicely together. The other is that those who take the line of which I have just spoken will not be called to account on the issue. They have already refused to share the Eucharist when the new Primate of the Episcopal Church in the United States is present. However we shall be hearing more in the coming days.
Meanwhile I want to end my meditation by saying again why, in the present time and context, I more and more lean to the way of mystery.
I live, most of us live, in the story of science. Few of us are scientists but we all have been brought up with its basic presuppositions: first a quantum universe, or universes, of random happenings but with order and meaning which in principle are explicable within their own terms; and secondly life driven by forces of evolution totally internal to life as such. Where we can god fit into such a world is not at all obvious. To come with too simple an answer is to deny all that we know of the world around us. We cannot know about God. All we can get are occasional glimpses of the possibility of her glory, and even then they are hidden by the clouds of our other knowledge and experience. Actually as a non-scientist, it seems to me that even science works on a similar basis. What you see depends on what you are looking for. There is no ultimate certainty, only accumulated experience and statistical probability. Not only that: I live in a world of cultural diversity and relativity. A simple gospel claiming to tell all the truth just does not fit into my world
I do not deny the evangelical approach – It is biblically based. It speaks to certain people at certain times of their lives and in certain places. But I do ask of the evangelicals not to deny the critical approach or the theology of mystery. It has spoken for two thousand years. It speaks to me. It can speak to others. It too is biblically based.
A century and a half ago, a young American woman, of strict Presbyterian family and education, was struggling with some of these issues.
This is what she wroteTell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surpriseAs Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind— i
i Emily Dickinson, Tell all the Truth