By Nathan Brown
Within the Galilean town of Nazareth, the small but abrupt hill of Mount Tabor is the “traditional” site of the Transfiguration—if by “traditional” we mean it might or might not be the actual place that it happened, but it is the place identified as part of the pilgrim circuit of the Holy Land established and popularized in the fourth century by St. Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine.* At the eastern end of the Valley of Jezreel, Mount Tabor is mentioned a few times through the Bible, including being the vantage point from which the prophet Deborah and Barak led the Israelite army against the oppressing armies of Canaanite King Jabin (see Judges 4).
Having recently looked over this distinct hilltop while visiting Nazareth, my mind went to this place and the story of what might have happened there when I was asked about the completeness or otherwise of the Seventh-day Adventist faith project. Of course, Adventism is as complete as “It is finished” (John 19:30**) and as incomplete as “the Good News about the Kingdom will be preached throughout the whole world, so that all nations will hear it; and then the end will come” (Matthew 24:14). The church is as complete as the great “I am” and as incomplete as the Great Commission. As has often been said of the Kingdom of Heaven, it is “already” and “not yet.” But the story of the transfiguration of Jesus draws these realities out in the remarkable experience and fumbling responses of the disciples Peter, James, and John.
Confronted with the alarmingly bright display of the divinity of Jesus, accompanied by the mind-boggling appearance of Moses and Elijah—the two Hebrew heroes who personified the law and the prophets of the Old Testament scriptures—Peter offered a curiously human suggestion: “Lord, it’s wonderful for us to be here! If you want, I’ll make three shelters as memorials—one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Matthew 17:4).
Given God’s overwhelming response to Peter’s meager idea, it seems ironic that the hilltop considered a possible site for this historic event is marked today by two main churches and two smaller chapels. But such is the pattern across the “holy lands.” Wherever there is a possible biblical site, churches, chapels, and shrines—and their ubiquitous gift stores—abound.
The most contested of these are about 60 miles to the south, around the Old City of Jerusalem, particularly the two locations that claim to have been where Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected, even though the entire point of the story is that He isn’t there. Jesus’ instruction to His first evangelists—the women He met at the tomb that Sunday morning—was to turn their backs on the empty tomb, not to make it a holy place, but rather to go and tell what had happened and to share their story of this discovery.
Yet there is something innately human that wants to enshrine, memorialize, explain, and defend our experiences and stories of faith and the divine, both in our physical architecture and our theological structures. With successive generations and layers of history, these structures tend to become increasingly elaborate, rigid, and dearly held.
But, in the story of the transfiguration, God seemed to shrug off these merely human inventions—in a way that was both awesome and terrifying. Ignoring Peter’s temptation to human-sized building, the voice of God pointed these perpetually awkward disciples to His “dearly loved Son” (Matt. 17:5)—and to His words. Then Jesus’ immediate words to them were the biblical refrain, “Don’t be afraid” (verse 7). And the culmination of this revelation and affirmation of the divinity among them? “When they looked up, Moses and Elijah were gone, and they saw only Jesus” (verse 8).
When we have Jesus and hear His words of courage and assurance, our faith is complete. This is the testimony of all the Bible’s laws, prophets, apostles, and epistles. And this has been the experience of countless followers of Jesus since that night on the mountain top. When they have encountered Jesus and listened to Him, they have found that He is enough. This was the impulse of Paul in his declaration to the Corinthian church: “For I decided that while I was with you I would forget everything except Jesus Christ, the one who was crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).
But this was not the end of the story. Part of God brushing aside Peter’s earnest building plans was to reject his enthusiasm for this mountain top as a “wonderful” place for them to stay. Instead, Jesus led them back down the mountain. The gospels writers recorded a little of their conversation along the way, explaining something of what they had just seen, but the focus soon shifted to the large crowd waiting for them at the foot of the mountain (see verse 14) and the ministry that was yet to be done among the people there.
As glorious as our mountain-top experiences might be, the teaching and model of Jesus is that our faith must always be more about serving and bringing healing to the crowds in the valley than the time alone on the mountain top. As such, our project of faith is incomplete. While ever there are people in need of hope, healing, liberation and restoration, we are led back down to the valley.
Throughout the Bible, our God eschewed holy sites, even holy and high-sounding ideas, in favor of humble and holy service by and to seemingly unholy people (see, for example, Isa. 58). This is what Jesus was about, the Son who brought great joy to His Father and who taught His disciples to do the same. While His people throughout history have often lived out the service and healing commands of Jesus, it has been patchy at best. And in our Adventist experience we have not had either a robust theology or consistent practice of doing justice and loving mercy as key to our humble walk with our God (see Micah 6:8).
In Jesus, we are made whole and, in following Jesus, we embrace an unfinished and not-yet-completely understood task that works to heal all the brokenness of our world and its people—in anticipation of and until He makes all things new (see Revelation 21:5).
–Nathan Brown is a writer and editor at Signs Publishing in Warburton, Victoria, Australia. His forthcoming book, Of Falafels and Following Jesus, tells more of his stories and reflections from a trip to Jordan, Israel, and the Palestinian Territories. Email him at: [email protected]
*Reading the description of a “high mountain” (Matt. 17:1), the surrounding stories in the gospel accounts and the geography of northern Israel suggests Mount Hermon as a more likely location—but it’s about 60 miles further north, straddling the borders of Israel, Lebanon, and Syria, meaning it’s a difficult place for tourists and pilgrims to visit.
**Bible quotations are from the New Living Translation.