ABOUT EIGHT DAYS after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. 29As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. 30Two men, Moses and Elijah, 31appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. 32Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. 33As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (He did not know what he was saying.)
34While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. 35A voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.” 36When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves, and told no one at that time what they had seen.
Original Meaning
THIS UNIQUE EVENT of the Transfiguration is one of only two places that “heaven” speaks directly about Jesus. The voice that tells the disciples to hear Jesus recalls an earlier heavenly endorsement at his baptism (3:21–22). The additional presence of Moses and Elijah also adds a note of uniqueness. No other event in the Gospels involves the presence of luminaries of the past. The visible glorification of Jesus is also unique. Even in his resurrection appearances he is not described as bearing the brilliance he does here.1
Jesus has just told the disciples that following him will involve a radical change of perspective. The life of the disciple is different from that of the world or even from that which the world expects God’s people to have. But much instruction lies ahead for the disciples. Thus this scene emphasizes the need to hear Jesus. The rest of the events in this chapter indicate that the disciples’ initial instincts about how to respond to certain events are wrong. They will need to listen carefully to correct their ways.
Jesus opts to go to a mountain to pray and takes Peter, John, and James with him. The specific mountain is not named, but suggested candidates include Mount Hermon near Caesarea Philippi, Mount Tabor in Southern Galilee, and Mount Meron, northwest of the Sea of Galilee. Tabor has the strongest support in the tradition.2 The mountain’s not being named suggests the exact locale is not significant, though Jesus’ being in northern Palestine indicates that his central ministry takes place outside of Jerusalem, outside the beaten path.
During his time of prayer Jesus is transformed into a glorious figure with a brilliance like lightning. His glory recalls the description of Moses on the mountain in Exodus 34:29–34. Jesus is not alone, since he is joined by Moses and Elijah. Their presence has spawned much discussion. Why are these two present? Do they represent themselves or stand for a larger group?3 Though these are two great saints, it is hard to believe their selection has only personal meaning for them. They represent two key periods in Israel’s history. Like the figures Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob, when Moses and Elijah are mentioned, a string of associations surfaces. Moses typifies the type of prophetic office Jesus will occupy, especially since the voice from heaven will allude to Deuteronomy 18:15 (cf. v. 35). Elijah represents the prophet of the eschaton (cf. Mal 4:5), so he pictures a commitment to the arrival of the age of fulfillment. These two Old Testament witnesses highlight that Jesus represents a realization of Old Testament hope, since the two figures also span both the early and late periods of Old Testament history.
Moses and Elijah are discussing Jesus’ “departure” (Gk. exodos). Luke is the only Gospel to note this topic of conversation. The “exodus” alludes to the journey Jesus is taking, with its turning point being his death in Jerusalem. Much of Luke’s Gospel from here through chapter 19 concerns preparation of the disciples for ministry in light of his departure.
The disciples are napping but wake up to find the discussion in process (v. 32). Peter, in his excitement, asks Jesus if three booths should be built—an allusion to the Feast of Tabernacles, which looked forward to the arrival of the end times through recalling God’s provision for the nation in the desert (Ex. 23:16; 34:22; Lev. 23:34; Deut. 16:13).4 Peter correctly understands that Moses and Elijah represent hope and fulfillment, but he wants three booths in a way that ranks the three figures equally. Luke signals that Peter speaks with ignorance, for he does not know what he is saying (v. 33b).
Before a reply can be given, a cloud envelops the three and offers commentary. The presence of the cloud recalls the Shekinah presence of God in the Exodus. The disciples are filled with fear, but need only listen as the voice commends his Son, the chosen one, who must be heard. These remarks work like a political endorsement—only this time the endorsement is from God himself. The use of the first person “my Son” indicates who is speaking. The saying virtually parallels what was said at Jesus’ baptism. There, too, the Son whom God loves was mentioned, but there is one addition and one change. (1) The description “whom I have chosen” elaborates on the “whom I love” in the baptism scene. It highlights the fact that God’s choice of Jesus is conscious and makes him unique. He is the elect one, called to be the deliverer and a prophetic figure like Moses, who revealed God’s way in the Law and consolidated a people he led into a new existence.
(2) The addition of “listen to him” marks out the disciples’ responsibility. They must pay attention to what Jesus is saying, for they have much to learn. This phrase comes from Deuteronomy 18:15, marking Jesus out as a prophet like Moses. As he guides and directs God’s people, he will form them into a newly constituted community. There is no need for three booths; they need only listen to one voice—that of Jesus.
After the endorsement only Jesus is left. The event is so startling that the disciples say nothing about it for some time. They are best silent until they understand it. No doubt the implications of it will take a while to develop. Second Peter 1:16–18 provides a later reflective commentary on this event. It is not unusual for startling events to be accompanied with a period of silence (Dan. 10:15). Some events need reflection before there can be adequate commentary.
Bridging Contexts
THIS EVENT REMINDS us of the glory Jesus will possess. He has just spoken of the glorious return of the Son of Man (vv. 26–27). Now he is revealed as that figure in a sneak preview of what God’s plan has in store for him. But before glory must be the “exodus” of suffering.
As with many texts in Luke, the major feature of this passage is its Christological teaching, that Jesus is the messianic chosen one who functions like Moses and Elijah. Many great Old Testament figures walk the pages of divine history, but none are more illustrious than Moses or Elijah. Yet in the face of the presence of Jesus, they are mere witnesses. In the Hall of Fame that is made up of the great figures of the Bible, no one occupies a space alongside Jesus; he is unique.
The call to hear Jesus is also timeless. What he says about discipleship and ministry here, the church needs to hear today. This is especially true of the values the church should have as it ministers (cf. 6:20–49 and chs. 9–19, which function as a commentary on “listen to him”). The ethical requirements for successful ministry never change. The disciples must understand that following him means going a different way from the world. Expediency is not the road to travel; integrity is. Ministry does not involve material gain; it is a call to serve others.
Contemporary Significance
THE FUNDAMENTAL APPLICATION of this passage highlights the uniqueness of Jesus. Even though in the sense of resurrection and renewal Jesus is “the firstborn among many brothers” (Rom. 8:29), he is also the unique Son of God, the Son of David who will soon be revealed in power through his resurrection (Rom. 1:2–4). No one brings the package to the table of God’s promise that he does. The surprising nature of this claim is lost on us two thousand years later, because the church’s public relations within the community have been very effective. But the claim of Jesus’ superiority to Moses was revolutionary at the time.
In an ironic way, however, the unique claim about Jesus is just as revolutionary today. In our pluralistic culture, we long for spiritual examples, and like Peter we want as many booths to be built in a row as possible. Our culture desires to assemble a religious hall of honor from as many religious traditions as possible, all in honor of our commitment to religious toleration. But Jesus does not ask for a booth alongside the others. The heavenly voice notes that he transcends all cultures and is called to minister to all humanity as God’s chosen servant. He is the ultimate multicultural figure, calling everyone to himself in the ultimate equal opportunity call. The world does not need the clash of competing religious figures and examples. It needs a Savior for all humanity. The Transfiguration is a divine declaration that such a unique figure exists, and the world should listen to him. Any devaluation of Jesus distorts who he is.
The event also gives insight to these privileged disciples about where God’s plan is headed. Jesus is not just a meek Galilean teacher, nor should he be seen as someone who merely calls on us to love one another, perhaps the most popular current image of Jesus. He is not the equal of Moses, Mohammed, or Joseph Smith. These current popular perceptions of Jesus are a major distortion of who he is. He is the glorified and chosen one of God, who one day will manifest himself with all the glory that the mountain scene revealed.
One thinks here of Revelation 4–5 and its glorious portrayal of the heavenly throne room, where God sits in glory with the “Lamb,” who is worthy to reveal God’s plan in the sealed scrolls. No wonder so much of the church is driven by the desire to worship this unique figure. No wonder God calls us to worship, as a reminder of just how unique he is and how honored we are to share in the blessings of his hand. No wonder the disciples who experienced this event left the scene silent for a long time about what had taken place. No wonder in church we often sing, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and honor and dominion.” Such hymns do not emerge from thin air; they reflect the heartbeat of a community who understands the Lord whom they serve. To fathom the Transfiguration requires something other than words; it takes a new heart.
A new heart leads us to sit at Jesus’ feet, ready to learn and listen. In our era, where feelings are so important, it is difficult to stress the importance of carefully laid out religious instruction. What is in view here is not the pedantic memorization of religious facts or the ability to indicate where something is in Scripture, but a reflective interaction with Scripture and one’s walk with God. This dynamic between God’s Word and life enables the believer to interact wisely with the culture and people God brings into his or her life.
Our walk with God requires a different way of assessing the world and expects a distinct perspective on moral values. It means that spouses treat each other with mutual respect and that issues of power dissolve in the face of mutual love and concern. It means a word given is an act performed. It means that a powerful and beautiful gift like sexuality is not cheapened by being paraded to all bidders, but is kept like a precious treasure, to use as God intended in a context of love and commitment. It means that life and the preservation of life are to be honored. It means at a social level that injustice aimed to those who do not have power and risk being dehumanized is exposed and addressed. It means that theology and a moral perspective from the Scripture are paramount, no matter what ideology or political party might be challenged in the process. It means that ethical decisions, including those related to medicine, are thought through, and the expedient choice is not all there is.5
These distinct perspectives do not emerge from instinct, nor are they developed overnight. The disciples required several years of twenty-four-hour-a-day life instruction from the Lord to grow in the understanding of God’s call. Today’s church needs a similar saturation of exposure to the voice of God. Disciples who desire to know God will not only seek to give him worship but will sit at his feet constantly listening to his voice.
Os Guinness, in analyzing our culture of secularism, notes the dead end it creates in contrast to a view infused by the living God:
Americans with a purely secular view of life have too much to live with, too little to live for. Everything is permitted and nothing is important. But once growth and prosperity cease to be their reason for existence, they are bound to ask questions about the purpose and meaning of their lives: Whence? Whither? Why? And to such questions secularism has no answers that have yet proved widely satisfying in practice. Few of the great thinkers of the twentieth century have remained loyal to secular humanism. Secularism in its sophisticated form rarely flourishes outside intellectual centers where the mind is the organizing center of life. In its more “popular” Marxist form, it is keeling over arthritically. The very emptiness of our secular age is its deepest spiritual significance.
It is even conceivable that our generation is standing on the threshold of a rebound of historic proportions. The collapse of the great counterreligious ideologies—Freudianism’s failure to recodify the private world and Marxism’s to recodify the public—clears the greatest obstacle to this possibility. Philosophical denials of faith have become affirmations that need denying. Social permissions have become constrictions from which we need liberating. Secular iconoclasms have become idols that need debunking. Moral inversions have become blind orthodoxies against which we need new heresies. Critical deconstruction has become destructiveness against which the need is to build and rebuild. Even secular humanism turns out to be, not the bogey its enemies fear, but an oxymoron its supporters regret—for secularism does not produce humanism; humanism requires, not secularism, but supernaturalism.6
This is why turning to God and allowing him and his values to direct life is not only crucial to a healthy existence but essential in serving others well.