Today we celebrate the Feast of the
Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Transfiguration is attested in
all three Synoptic Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke, as well
as by the Second Letter of Peter. While the Gospel of John does not include an account of the Transfiguration,
it explicitly underscores the theological significance of the event in an
important dialogue between Jesus and Philip.
Philip said to him,
“Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have
I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever
has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you
not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I
say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his
works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you
do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell
you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact,
will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. (John 14:8-12)
All four Gospels make the same
point: in seeing Jesus, we see God. And in seeing God, we are empowered to become
fully ourselves: human beings created in
God’s image. Through Christ, we become
united with God in the creative, life-giving work of love.
This teaching is at the heart of
Christian faith. It was expressed
beautifully by Bishop Irenaeus of Lyon in the Second Century, when he wrote
that "The glory of God is man fully alive, and the life of man is the
vision of God. If the revelation of God through creation already brings life to
all living beings on the earth, how much more will the manifestation of the
Father by the Word bring life to those who see God" (Against Heresies IV, 20, 7).
This vision of God is made possible through "the Word of God, our
Lord Jesus Christ, Who did, through His transcendent love, become what we are,
that He might bring us to be even what He is Himself." (Against Heresies V, preface)
This is a great mystery, and it is astonishing to realize
that God desires to freely share God’s life and glory with us! God desires so much more for us that we can
ask for or imagine! How patiently God waits for us to wake-up to
our desire for God, to become united with his will for us, which is true
freedom and joy.
In Luke’s account, Jesus brings Peter, James, and John up to
the mountain to pray. The three
disciples struggle to remain awake, but in doing so see the glory of God
revealed there. This is the work of
prayer: the struggle to shake off our
illusions and preoccupations, so that we can attend to God’s desire for us and
our desire for God. Prayer is the work
of seeing God so that we can see ourselves as God sees us. Prayer is waking-up
so that we don’t miss the point of being alive!
Prayer can be a struggle, much as attending to any
relationship can be a struggle. It takes
effort and perseverance, time and attention, for a real relationship with
another human being to unfold, to move beyond our projections and illusions
about each another to that we can really see each other. Genuine friendship is the fruit of such
effort; accepting one another as we really are so that we can grow into the
fullness of who we are meant to be. Real friends love each other, and they
accept each other, warts and all, thereby providing each other the space and
time to let go of those things that prevent them from becoming fully
alive.
St. Theresa of Avila describes prayer in much the same
way. She writes that “prayer in my
opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means
taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us. In order that love be true and the friendship
endure, the wills of the friends must be in accord . . . Oh what a good friend
You make, my Lord! How You proceed by
favoring and enduring. You wait for
others to adapt to Your nature, and in the meanwhile you put up with theirs!” (The
Book of Her Life, VIII, 5-6)
Like any good friend, God puts up with us until we can see
ourselves through God’s eyes: as objects of God’s loving desire, invited to
share God’s life and work. Prayer is the experience of God loving us
until we can love ourselves. Then God
loves us some more, until we begin to love others as God loves us. We adapt ourselves to God’s nature and so
become like Jesus.
Good friends also listen to each other, deeply and
patiently. The voice from the cloud
announces to Peter, James and John: “this is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!”
(Luke 9:35). The vision of God in the
face of Jesus Christ also entails a willingness to listen to his voice, to
internalize his teaching, not simply to venerate him but to follow him, to
become like him. How do we do this?
In Eastern Orthodox tradition, the Feast of the
Transfiguration is a celebration of the chief end of human life: deification or union with God’s will. This is called theosis in the Eastern Church, a process of transformation through catharsis (purification of mind and
body) and theoria (illumination by
the vision of God). Theosis is not our achievement, but
rather God’s gift to us, whereby we become transparent to the energia of God in the power of the Holy
Spirit. The practice of prayer disposes
us to become willing to receive this gift, empowering us for service in God’s
name.
In English, theoria
is translated as “contemplation.” Gerry May defines contemplation “as a
specific psychological state characterized by alert and open qualities of
awareness . . . contemplation consists of a direct, immediate, open-eyed
encounter with life as-it-is.”
Contemplation as a psychological state occurs naturally and can be
taught, learned, and cultivated. May
notes that when practiced over time, the psychological state of contemplation
produces changes in brain function, with quite visible psychophysiological
effects:
1 1.Increased clarity and breadth of awareness: the experienced contemplative develops a
capacity for more panoramic, all-inclusive awareness that includes stimuli that
is normally screened out as distracting or irrelevant. Thus more information is available for
consideration.
22. More direct and incisive responsiveness to
situations. Since a greater range of
perception is available, the experienced contemplative is more present in the
moment and responsive to people and situations.
At the same time, she is increasingly confident in the mind’s natural
intuitive ability, thus spending less time consciously thinking about what to
do. This combination of increased
information and decreased effort makes for more immediate and efficient
reactions.
33. Greater self-knowledge. Mental activities that were previously
unnoticed become visible; the unconscious becomes conscious, increasing
understanding of thoughts, sensations, emotions, and memories. Personal abilities and vulnerabilities are
better understood and accepted. Most
importantly, the insubstantiality of one’s self-image is recognized, making one
less vulnerable to a variety of existential anxieties.
All of this makes for a remarkable increase in personal
power, but at the level of technique, contemplation is morally neutral: it can be cultivated for great good or for
great evil. Contemplation becomes
contemplative prayer only when it is directed toward a conscious desire for God
and knowledge of God’s will. This is
also why, in the Christian tradition, the practice of contemplation is always
done in conjunction with the cultivation of the virtues, especially the
theological virtues of faith, hope, and love.
Here, we move beyond honing neurological responsiveness and
personal power to cultivating a willingness to be open to God’s grace,
embracing the vulnerability of friendship with God of which St. Teresa
speaks. Contemplative prayer is a
willingness to embrace the vulnerability of loving and being loved.
In contemplative prayer, we reach the limit of what training
and effort can achieve, and surrender to the healing and transfiguring power of
God’s love.
We cannot make the vision of
God happen.
We can dispose ourselves to
become willing to receive it, to risk the vulnerability of love.
This willingness is risky.
In prayer, St. Catherine of Genoa heard God say,
“If you know how much I loved you, it would kill you.”
How much love can we bear?
May argues that the only psychological
determinant that correlates with our capacity for love is our willingness to
accept the pain of love and the courage to bear it.
Love can hurt, but it also heals like nothing
else can.
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In the Kontakion
for the Feast of the Transfiguration, our Eastern Orthodox sisters and brothers
sing,
On the Mountain You were Transfigured, O Christ God,
And Your disciples beheld Your glory as far as they could
see it;
So that when they would behold You crucified,
They would understand that Your suffering was voluntary,
And would proclaim to the world,
That You are truly the Radiance of the Father!
In Christ, God willingly risks the vulnerability of love for
the sake of life, for our life and the life of the world. In contemplative prayer, we gamble on that
same risk and surrender to this love. We
become truly ourselves: icons of God’s own love, united with God in the work of
justice, healing and reconciliation. For
this, we were made. Amen.
