Wrapped Up Within the Veil
Transfiguration Sunday
Exodus 34:29-35 • Psalm 99 • 2 Peter 1:13-21 • Luke 9:28-36
Imagine going on a journey—perhaps a family vacation—and waking up every morning to check the weather in order to determine if today was the day you would leave the hotel and move on to the next stop. Imagine going to bed each night not sure how long you would be staying put, knowing that if you looked outside the next day and saw that the fog had lifted you would have only a few minutes to collect all of your belongings (and your children) and pack the car and hit the road. Imagine never knowing whether you would stay in a particular place for a night or a week or a month, always ready to head out but also aware that you had no control over when that would be.
As the people of God made their way through the wilderness from Egypt toward the land of Promise, they were led by a pillar of cloud—a sign of God’s presence. Wherever the cloud went, the people followed. About a year after their journey started, God told Moses to honor the divine presence among them by erecting a tabernacle, the tent of the covenant, the place where God could dwell among God’s people. According to God’s command, the ark of the covenant was placed inside the tabernacle. Inside the ark were the stone tablets on which the Ten Commandments had been inscribed, and on top of the ark was the mercy seat on which God’s presence rested.
After the tabernacle had been built, the cloud came and descended upon it, and, from within the cloud, the glory of God—the weight of God’s holiness—came to fill the tent. As long as God’s glory remained in the tabernacle, the people of Israel remained camped in that place. But, in the morning, if the cloud should ascend from the tabernacle and God’s glory should depart from the place, God’s people would pack up and journey onward until the cloud of God’s presence came down to linger in another spot. Sometimes the cloud remained in place for only a day. Sometimes it stayed put for a week or a month or even a year.
Imagine being so dependent on God’s guidance—God’s presence—that an entire nation would sleep and rise, night and day, waiting for God to show them when it was time to leave. Imagine experiencing the presence of God in such a real way a way that it would govern your every move. It must feel strange to know something that powerful in such an immediate way. It must be indescribably liberating and unfathomably terrifying all at the same time.
That’s why the people of Israel asked Moses to put a veil on his face whenever he came out of the tent of divine presence. Even the reflection of God’s glory, shining on Moses’ face, was more than the people could bear. To be that close to God—to know that God’s infinite power was only a few steps away—was the source of both their greatest hope and their greatest fear. Surely, our reaction would be the same if we came that close to God. Don’t we prefer a God whose power is close at hand yet safely veiled behind a screen or a wall?
Maybe that’s why the disciples were so afraid when the cloud came and overshadowed them. In an instant, they knew that they were within the veil—behind the curtain that had always insulated them from God’s presence.
Notice in today’s gospel lesson that it wasn’t Jesus’ shining face or clothes that scared the disciples, nor did they show any fear when Moses and Elijah appeared with their rabbi. In fact, they were so weighed down with sleep that they almost missed it. I think that the disciples who accompanied Jesus up that mountain initially thought they were bystanders to a mystic vision. In those days, faithful people were known to pray so fervently that God revealed to them otherworldly sights. I think that Peter, James, and John, when they saw Jesus’ face and clothes begin to shine and then saw Moses and Elijah standing with him, thought that their master was praying so hard that even they were able to see his vision.
When the figures beside Jesus began to disappear, Peter did the only think he could think of to prolong the vision. He offered, somewhat clumsily, to build three tabernacles—three tents—in which these icons of the Jewish people could dwell, but Peter didn’t understand what he was saying. Yet, while he was still speaking, the cloud of divine presence descended upon the mountain top, and the disciples were filled with fear. This was not a mystic vision but an unfiltered encounter with the Almighty. The terrifying presence of God, into which only someone as great as Moses could dare to enter, surrounded the disciples. Surely, it would cost them their lives.
But it didn’t. From within the cloud, God’s voice declared, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And, as quickly as it had appeared, all the evidence of God’s presence evaporated. The disciples were left alone with Jesus. The moment had passed. But something had happened that forever changed them—something so strange and awesome that they dared not speak of it in those days. Only later, when the glory of God that dwelt within Jesus, the Incarnate Son, had been revealed to the whole world in the empty tomb were they able to tell this story.
Imagine how wonderful and terrifying and beautiful and life-changing it would be to find yourself wrapped up within the very presence of Almighty God. Imagine the impression that moment would leave upon you. Imagine how clearly and attentively you would listen to that voice. Imagine how determinative and powerful such an encounter would be—clear enough to guide your every step for the rest of your life.
Yet we believe that’s precisely what happens to each one of us when we are baptized. When we are immersed in the waters of Baptism, we are wrapped up within the veil that ordinarily separates us from the glory of God. In Holy Baptism, we are forever united with Christ. We become one with him in his baptism, in his death, and in his resurrection. Through these baptismal waters, the glory of God that shone from within Jesus on that mountain top is restored within each one of us. And the Holy Spirit, which animates us, guides us, and perfects us, is implanted within us.
For the rest of our lives, therefore, we live within that veil. Because Christ has restored our human nature, we belong with God. We dwell with God. We live in God. And, when we remember our baptismal identity, when we renew our union with Christ in the Holy Eucharist, when we nourish the life of the Spirit that lives within us, that veil again is lifted, and we find ourselves where we belong—in the presence of God.
Imagine the shape your life will take because you have been made one with God. Imagine the way that you will love others because God’s love has made you perfect. Imagine how clear your life’s direction has become now that you have encountered God’s presence within your very soul.
© 2024 The Rev. Evan D. Garner
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – Fayetteville, Arkansas
