NOTES for Mar 9:2-13

The disciples go up after Jesus, become witnesses of His transfiguration, see His glory, and hear the Father's word about the Son. Three evangelists tell of this event, and all three connect it with Christ's words that some of His disciples will see the Kingdom of God come with power. If this really was a "taste of the Kingdom," then how does the disciples' experience differ from ours?

We, like them, try to follow Christ (sometimes successfully, sometimes not, just as they did); we believe in His glory, in His divinity; through His words in the Gospel we hear the voice of the Father... The only thing we lack is the experiential sensation, as vivid as the one that seized the disciples then in the radiance of unearthly light. But have we not been told: "...blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (John 20:29)? Do we not taste the Kingdom even before death, uniting ourselves by faith with its Source?

Today's reading is devoted to one of the most important events of the Savior's earthly ministry: the Transfiguration. Judging by the mention in the text of "booths," that is, shelters (v. 5), it took place during the days of the Jewish feast of Sukkot, which is spoken of in the Old Testament books, where it is mentioned as the "feast of harvest" (Exod 23:16), that is, a feast dedicated to the completion of the gathering of the harvest. The word "sukkot" in Hebrew means "booths." It is usually celebrated at the end of September or in the first half of October, and over time it acquired a new meaning, becoming not only a feast of the completion of the harvest, but also a time when believing Jews remember the years of wandering through the wilderness on the way from Egypt to the promised land. It is customary to spend the days of the feast not at home, but in booths in the open air; the climate of Palestine permits this. Such a break with the established order of life is meant to remind one of the wilderness, where nothing was yet secure or permanent, but where God's closeness to the human being was experienced with special vividness, since in the wilderness there was no one else to rely on. One of the signs of God's presence from ancient times was considered to be the cloud that at night emitted a radiance like the light coming from fire: by such a cloud God, as it were, marked the place where a person could find Him. It was first seen during the Exodus (Exod 13:21-22), and then it regularly appeared over the Tabernacle, the traveling sanctuary of the Hebrews (Num 9:15-16). It was called the "glory of the Lord" (Exod 40:34-38), because precisely with its appearance believers associated God's dwelling among His people. It is no wonder that, seeing Jesus in shining garments, overshadowed by a radiant cloud from which the voice of God was heard (vv. 3-7), the apostles became finally convinced that before them was indeed the Messiah-Christ promised by God. Their first desire at this was to stop time so that the feast would last forever, building booths at the place of the event and remaining in them forever (vv. 5-6). But Jesus immediately explained to them that His earthly ministry had not yet been completed, and that the Kingdom of God would be fully revealed only after His death and Resurrection (v. 9).

We often want to "set up booths." When we feel good with God, in some "spiritually comfortable" setting, in a community, in a monastery, in the Church... We think it is very proper and pious to want always to be here.

Little Therese of Lisieux wrote:
"To live by love is not to set up booths,
Even after climbing Mount Tabor:
It is to go toward Your voice that calls,
To look at the Cross without turning one's gaze away."

When we want to "set up booths," we want to stop, to get stuck in spiritual experiences that are pleasant to us, to keep them for ourselves. At times we need this; spiritual rest is necessary. Jesus took with Him onto the mountain those who would have to be with Him in the garden of Gethsemane. He wants us to go farther, so that we do not seek the experience of His presence, but always and everywhere live as if we were on Mount Tabor, even when we do not feel and do not see the light of Tabor. This light must be within us.

We may never again experience this joy of the Transfiguration, but it is enough for us to know what awaits us ahead, and Who awaits us on our path, at times heavy and thorny. But He walked a more difficult path, and He, our God, wants us to follow Him.

Once again we read that the Son of Man must suffer and be humiliated, and rise on the third day. The cycle of church readings is scarcely offering us precisely these passages now "by chance." The Lord Himself speaks of His Passion: "For this hour I came." The meaning and purpose of the Savior's birth in Bethlehem is not to make our life a little easier and more pleasant. He comes in order to share with us and destroy our death.

That is why the celebration of the Nativity has, since ancient times, had a number of features in the Eastern Church that bring it close to Pascha. In a certain sense, the whole life of Christ from the very beginning was the way of the Cross and Resurrection. And as we are moved and rejoice in Christ the Infant, we must not forget this.