The Veil Comes Off (March 2, 2025)

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36

Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as if reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into that same image from one degree of glory to another.”

The gospel story of the transfiguration of Jesus is a familiar story for many of us, so familiar in fact that it is easy to forget its strangeness and its depth.  And so it might help us to begin by reflecting on the much less familiar story of another shining face on a mountain, the story of Moses that we have in our first reading today.

This story comes late in the book of Exodus, chapter 34, and a lot has already happened.  Moses leads the people out of slavery in Egypt, they are saved from peril by crossing the Red Sea, and Moses leads them to Mount Sinai where Moses receives the Ten Commandments from God.  But then Moses comes down the mountain and finds Israel worshipping the golden calf.  Moses breaks the tablets and all hell literally breaks loose.  A civil war breaks out among the people, neighbor raising sword against neighbor.  And in an instant the whole project of delivering the people from bondage in Egypt to life abundant with God in the Promised Land seems to have been completely derailed.  Is this the end?  Can the damage be restored?  Is there any hope?

And so Moses heads back up the mountain and has a real heart-to-heart conversation with God.  The outcome of which is God and Moses finally agreeing that God would not be true to the divine nature or to the promises God has made, if God gave up in anger on God’s project of salvation.  And so God gives Moses a second copy of the tablets, and Moses comes back down the mountain to the people.  And – although Moses does not realize it – the people can tell immediately that this encounter with God has changed Moses.  They can see it plainly in his face.

And encountering God face to face ought to change us.  A profound experience of God’s faithfulness and mercy and compassion ought to make us more loving, more merciful, more compassionate to our neighbors, in ways that our neighbors can notice.  And yet the first reaction of the people to seeing the change that this encounter with God worked in Moses was to be afraid.  And Moses has to call them close, to tell them the gracious words the Lord gave him to share with the people, to show them that they need not be afraid of God’s transforming mercy.

So this becomes a regular pattern.  Periodically Moses would go into God’s presence and speak with God, and when Moses came out everyone could see the effect of the encounter with God in his face.  Moses, with his face still shining, would tell the people what he had heard from God.  And then Moses would put a veil over his face until the next time he went to speak with God.  Why does Moses cover his face when he’s not speaking with God, or telling the people about his encounter with God?  The text of Exodus does not explain.

But in our second reading today, Paul offers a possible explanation.  Paul says that Moses hid his face because Moses was afraid the people would see that the shining wore off.  Moses wanted people to see the transformation of his face when he had just finished speaking with God, so they would trust Moses when he relayed God’s word to them – but Moses was afraid that people would see that the transformation faded away with time.  Perhaps Moses was ashamed that the effect of his meetings with God wasn’t more permanent.  Perhaps Moses was afraid that if people saw him again with a normal non-shiny face, people would lose their trust in him – or they would lose their trust in God.  According to Paul, Moses covered his face in the normal times because he was trying to manage people’s impressions.

It's important to say – Paul is not trying to put down Moses here.  Paul is not trying to say that there is something wrong with the law of Moses or with Judaism – that’s actually the farthest thing from what Paul means.  Paul is using Moses as an example of the temptation that all religious people face – the temptation to manage impressions.  The temptation to make us look holier than we are, the temptation to make our church look holier than it is, the temptation to try to sell people on God or faith rather than helping people experience God.

How often have we all tried not to let people see that sometimes our faith isn’t as strong as we wish it were?  How often have we hidden our faded glory behind a veil, as it were, so our children won’t see how much we are struggling.  How often have we felt we needed to show people that we’ve got it all together when inside we know that we don’t?  How often have church leaders publicly denied that abuse has taken place and even attacked victims who have drawn attention to that abuse because they want to “protect the good name of the church” – even though time and time again the cover-up causes even more scandal that the original offense?  How often do we try to get our neighbors and God to see us as we wish we were and not how we actually are?

This is particularly important for Paul given the situation he is addressing in this second letter to the Corinthians.  So far in 2025 our second readings have mostly been from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.  Paul was one of the founders of the Christian community in Corinth, and after he moved on he kept in touch, the congregation sent him some questions and concerns, and Paul responded with the first letter that we’ve been reading.  But then Paul and the Corinthians had something of a falling out.  Part of it was that they didn’t like some of the things Paul wrote in the first letter – pastors sometimes have a way of annoying their congregations, as you may have noticed.

More importantly, however, some other so-called “apostles” have arrived in Corinth, and a lot of the congregation found them really impressive.  They were much more polished speakers than Paul was, they were preaching traditional values like circumcision and no pork, so much simpler and easier to follow than Paul was.  And so Paul writes a second letter to Corinth to defend his ministry and his teaching, which the Corinthians had begun to doubt.  In this letter Paul says, sure, these “super-apostles,” as Paul sarcastically calls them, are very impressive figures.  But what I gave you, Paul says, is the gospel of Jesus Christ, whose power is not in oratorical flourishes but in the weakness of transfiguring suffering and the cross.

And that’s why, Paul said, when I was with you I wasn’t like Moses, trying to manage your expectations or trying to impress you.  I am who I am, warts and all, and that is how the gospel is proclaimed.  The treasure of the gospel, Paul writes, is not held in gold or silver but in earthen vessels, fragile clay, real human beings.  This is the letter where Paul talks about his “thorn in the flesh,” which he kept praying would be taken away from him, but God’s reply was: “My grace is enough for you.”  So, Paul says, you saw me in my weakness and that is as it should be.  Because Christ comes to us and transfigures us and resurrects us, not as the people we wish we were or the people we think we are supposed to be, but as ourselves.  As we are.  No veils are necessary or even desired.

In the gospel passage today, Jesus is seen in all of his glory on the mountain, talking with Moses and Elijah.  Only in Luke’s gospel are we told what Jesus was talking about with Moses and Elijah – they are speaking “of his departure, which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.”  Jesus, visible in resurrection glory, is talking with Elijah and Moses about his suffering and the cross which are about to happen.  Because glory and weakness, resurrection and the cross, these are not opposed to each other in Jesus.

As you know, this event of the transfiguration comes just a week after Jesus has first told his disciples what will happen to him in Jerusalem, and you’ll remember that Peter was against it.  No, Lord, that must not happen to you.  But Moses and Elijah know better.  People sometimes say that Peter’s offer to build three dwellings on the mountain means Peter wanted to stay on the mountain forever rather than return to the real world – but notice that Peter only offers to make dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, not for himself or the other disciples.  I think Peter wants Jesus to stay on the mountain, to dwell only in glory, because Peter does not yet see that in Jesus glory and weakness can go together.

Peter is like Moses was during his earthly life, seeing God’s glory but thinking God needed a little bit of extra help to make sure divinity was impressive enough to keep the people in line.  Peter is like the “super-apostles” Paul was contending with, trusting in their feats of rhetoric and their smoke machines and their mega-church programs because they were afraid the unadulterated gospel was too gloomy to get big crowds.  It’s understandable.  It’s a temptation as old as time.

Moses eventually figured it out, you know.  According to the Hebrew Scriptures, it was precisely because Moses lacked faith and tried to help God along one too many times that Moses was not allowed to enter the Promised Land.  But look at the gospel today – on the mountain of transfiguration, in the Promised Land, who is there with Jesus, but Moses.  Because in Christ Moses receives what, despite his many accomplishments, he did not deserve through his own efforts.  And Peter, too, will eventually figure it out.

For now, though, Peter and the other disciples are confused.  They think they know how to serve God and find God in glory, so all this talk of weakness and the cross doesn’t make sense to them.  They are, the gospel text today says, in a deep cloud of darkness which frightens them.  But they hear a voice: This is my Son.  Listen to him.  He’s trying to explain it to you.  Listen to him.  And because they’re still trying to comprehend it all, as they go down the mountain, they say nothing to anyone – because they know they don’t yet know what to say.  But one day they will.

It takes time to really understand where the glory of God is to be found – to grasp that God is honored, not when we hide the stuff that we think is unworthy of God and always put our best foot forward.  But that God is honored when human life is lived fully, as we are, with our weaknesses and our sufferings and the things that embarrass us, because that is reality, and if God cannot be found in reality, what’s the point?  But it takes time to come to see it, and that is what Lent is for.  A time to be silent, a time to listen to Jesus, a time to let the gospel seep into our souls and our hearts and our minds.  So that come Easter, we will know where to find resurrection glory, without masks, without veils, in the messy reality where God dwells with us.