The Mountain and The Hill

Looking for Jesus with Biblical Imagination

Taylor Worley | Est. 3 minutes

I. Like clockwork, the third Monday in April brings with it the annual running of the Boston Marathon. I was especially mindful of it this year because a colleague’s husband was attempting it for the first time. He did it, and there was much celebration. Obviously, such a feat was years in the making, but a last-minute COVID positive derailed his efforts last year. I’m sure it was even more gratifying after that nasty disappointment. 

Of course, to even qualify for it is an accomplishment that most of us will never have. In that way, even the grueling hills of Boston must testify to what each runner already knows about themselves. They got there because they’ve got it. Tellingly, last year’s race had an astounding 98.4% finish rate! 

I imagine that Jesus himself may have felt a similar sense of satisfaction to those accomplished runners as he made his way down the Mount of Transfiguration (Matt. 17:1-9). Probably not so much “I told you so,” but more like “Will you trust me now?” Finally, there’s the proof. They saw it with their own eyes. 

Like so many artists of the Christian tradition, we weren’t there with Peter, James, and John, so our imaginations have to fill in some enormous blanks to visualize what happened. And just like so many of the pictures produced by those Christian artists, our efforts at biblical imagination here fall short. 

Consider the floating figures of Renaissance beauty in Raphael’s Transfiguration or the intense geometry of the icon tradition in the Russian school. Despite these magnificent efforts, our many questions remain.

We’re not so different from Peter, James, or John. We want to see Jesus today. We want him to appear in our lives. We could use a Transfiguration moment ourselves. 

Let’s look within the text once more. What does it show us? More importantly, what happens right before Jesus reveals his divine glory on the mountain?

II. The Transfiguration follows an extremely poignant and tense moment between Jesus and the disciples. In Matthew 16:13ff, we see Jesus pose that fateful question to his disciples: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” It’s followed by the even more awkward: “Who do you say that I am?” 

Now, we don’t know how long that question hung in the air or how many disciples started staring at their feet. All we know is that Peter replied: “You are the Christ the Son of the Living God.” 

But Peter’s praiseworthy confession is soon met with a stinging rebuke. As Jesus unpacks for them what it means to be God’s Messiah and his inevitable suffering, death, and resurrection, Peter tries to take Jesus aside and disabuse him of such defeatist thinking. He actually tells Jesus: “God forbid that this happen to you!” In other words, that’s not the Messianic action plan they had in mind.

For this, Jesus rebukes him with the equally famous words: “Get behind me Satan!” What a reversal of fortune? In the same episode, Peter goes from earning the first and best apostolic nickname (i.e. Petros meaning “rock”) to being called ‘Satan.’ The intensity and awkwardness of this episode, however, demonstrate just how high the stakes are for everyone involved. Jesus has finally disclosed his true identity and true mission as God’s Messiah, but – based on Peter’s response – this brings more conflict and confusion. It’s in the midst of this pivotal moment that Jesus decides to draw away with his closest three to a nearby mountain.

Now, Jesus intentionally chooses the location of a “high mountain.”  because of the theological significance of mountains for God’s people. Mountains are symbolically important, because since the time of ancestors like Abraham and Moses mountains have been a meeting place for God and his people. 

The events that unfold on the mountain, therefore, serve to make sure that Peter’s confession is confirmed. In his characteristically strategic writing, Matthew does so by relaying what is seen (Jesus’ divine glory), who is there (Moses – figuring the Law, and Elijah – figuring the Prophets), and what is heard (thundering affirmation from the Father). In all these signs, it is clear that Jesus is indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God. There was no disputing that now. Not even Peter would try to correct Jesus after what he saw.

III. Of course, the Bible has many such moments of divine glory made manifest. Think especially of Exodus 24. But – and this is the unique plight of Christian artists – such glory cannot be recreated by human artistry. Our representations and recreations merely point to a literally un-seeable vision. For this reason, I’ll take the plain, if somewhat awkward realism of Fra Angelico. 

If you make it to Florence, Italy and you tire of the unending feast of Renaissance masterworks, try a palate cleanser. Look for the Dominican priory of San Marco and there you’ll find a series of Fra Angelico’s fresco. In the monk’s cell #6, you’ll find his Transfiguration (see image below). Admittedly, like others before and since, Fra Angelico made some curious artistic choices in his piece. The mountain is no more than a raised platform of rock, and the heads of Moses and Elijah float into the scene like 15th century special effects. 

But look at it once more. There’s one subtle and all-important detail in the fresco. It is the defining feature of the piece. Jesus is depicted with his arms outstretched as if already on the cross. His glory is cruciform.

This transfigured and glorious one, it is he who has come to die. The mountain shows us that he possesses the power to unveil a beauty and a glory that exceeds anything that we could bear to see, but the hill is where he has chosen to demonstrate the greatest glory of his love by taking our place under the sentence of death. In other words, don’t look for him on the mountain. He wants you to remember him on the hill – the hill where he took our sin and died. 

Let’s have our eyes rest there. If we do, perhaps, we’ll take in his words from the mountaintop:

“Rise and have no fear.”

© Taylor Worley | This article was first published in Lakelight Monthly, April 2023 Edition