The Transfiguration and the Place of Scripture

I dare say that many of you will have noticed that the story of the Transfiguration occurs in each of its synoptic versions, in turn, on the second Sunday of Lent every year.  We might wonder why this is, given that there is also a Feast of the Transfiguration in August, when the accounts are read again.  We do not, after all, read accounts of the Nativity at other times in the year for those who do not get to Mass at Christmas or the Passion for those who are absent in Holy Week.

There is a further conundrum within the story itself.  The events of the Transfiguration are high on the scale of drama and impact; and yet, we are told, that the Apostles who were present were bidden not to divulge what they had experienced.  Why?  Can it really be true that this was their own private son et lumiere?  It is unlikely that they saw something that they should not have, since they were picked for the journey up the mountain.

The answers to both of these questions are connected.  The events of the Transfiguration were a revelation of deeper truths about Christ and His identity.  Flanked in prayer by Moses and Elijah, He is portrayed as the fulfilment of the Law and the Prophets of which and whom Moses and Elijah are respectively the pre-eminent representatives.  The divine voice clarifies this for the sleepy associates of our Lord.

Some scholars interpret this account as a post-Resurrection narrative displaced into the earlier ministry of Christ.  In other words, the events, in some form, actually took place after the Resurrection, but are placed here in the story to provide some key to understanding the narrative of the Passion that was to follow.

Whether or not they are correct about that, it does explain why the story of the Transfiguration has a constant place at the beginning of the Lenten lectionary.  As the tension around Jesus builds with the approach of His last Passover and Calvary, we are to keep in mind Whose story exactly it is that we are following; Who is speaking; Who is being tortured, tried and crucified.  With all the claims and counter-claims flying around, the reader must not let go of the fact that Truth, the culmination and fulfilment of the Law and the Prophets, resides wholly in Christ.

The point here is that the story has a purpose: it is not told simply on its own account, but as part of a carefully crafted narrative that not only discloses past events, but interprets the story to ensure that its full meaning is not lost.  Such a motivation is exactly reflected in the decision of those who devised the lectionary to place the story here, just before Holy Week and Easter: thus playing exactly the same role in calendar that it does in the Gospels in which it is found.

This draws us to a greater and important observation about the place of Scripture in the life of the Church.  It is a burning question in the ongoing rows bedevilling the Anglican Communion; which are but the latest instance of a question that surfaces from time to time.

The use of the story of the Transfiguration, both by the Evangelists themselves and also by subsequent generations, begins to give us a clue that when reading the scriptural texts, we need to ask why we are being told of these particular events.  The four Gospels are not exactly similar – indeed, if they were we would hardly need four.  However, not only do they differ in the material that they use, but also where stories are common to more than one account the details are often at variance.  The reason for this is that every author had a point-of-view.  The backgrounds of each Evangelist are different, they are addressing different situations and questions, and their intended audiences would hear things in different ways.

The same considerations apply to the other texts of the New Testament and the Bible generally.  Some people even suggest that we should be raising the question of why these texts were selected and not many others of a similar nature, which were floating around at the time the Scriptural Canon was fixed.

It is for this reason that Anglicans formulated a tri-partite approach to the interpretation of Scripture: the texts themselves, the reflexion of the inherited tradition and the application of reason to our interpretative deliberations.

Obviously, we cannot ignore the scriptural texts, which record the experiences and insights of those closest to the encounter with Christ’s earthly ministry.  Equally, we need to consider how those observations and accounts might apply in our very different context – hence the place of reason.  Reason, of course, may lead to different conclusions at different times and places as the knowledge that underpins it develops and changes.  At the same time, if we are to have proper regard to our Apostolic and Catholic character, we cannot ignore what our forebears in the Faith have thought and said.

This, of course, renders scriptural interpretation an imprecise science as there is no objective direction as to the weight that each of the factors should be afforded.  Part of the problem in our present day is that there is a vocal group of people seeking to accord the very words of the texts the lion’s share of the authority.  There are obvious problems with this and a more sophisticated version of the same approach is to say that we need to look at the totality of the Biblical pronunciation: but none-the-less, it is Scripture alone without reason or the tradition that must determine our understanding.

The result of this is that odd and unrepresentative phrases are adduced to arguments in the clear expectation that their citation forecloses on any need for further discussion; and this is exactly the situation in the debates in the Anglican Communion at the moment.

However, there is a flaw in such an approach.  In according such authority to the literal versions of the Bible, they are effectively identified with God Himself rather than being an account of His self-revelation through the events of history, and the reflexion of His adherents.  Those whose records now comprise the Scriptures lacked God’s omniscient wisdom and will have had the capacity only partially to appreciate the significance of their encounters, physical, intellectual or spiritual.  Subsequent generations need to be mindful of these limitations, which will necessarily have made an impact on the way in which they presented their works.

This is exemplified in Peter’s clumsy response to the events of the Transfiguration.  Subsequent Christian generations have always refined and, indeed, changed the interpretations of their predecessors.  To assert that with the last page of the Book of the Apocalypse God’s revelation ceases is novel and ignores the tensions within the pages of Scripture itself.

The story of the Transfiguration itself transfigures our own encounter with the Scriptures, as reason and tradition appear, glowing either side of the texts.  The imprecision of this key to interpretation should stimulate a sense of humility about our opinions, however firmly we hold them. 

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