By Kristen Ziccarelli
Today, August 6, the Feast of the Transfiguration commemorates one of the most mysterious moments in Christ’s public ministry. As He ascends Mount Tabor with Peter, James, and John, Jesus is transfigured before them. His face shines “like the sun,” His garments become dazzlingly white, Moses and Elijah appear at His side, and the Father’s voice declares: “This is my beloved Son. . . listen to Him.”
Peter responds at once: “Lord, it is good that we are here.”
The Transfiguration is recounted in all three Synoptic Gospels. It occurs in the final year of Jesus’ life, before His Crucifixion. This should prompt us to ask: why did Christ ascend Mount Tabor with Peter, James, and John before His Passion? Why reveal His glory at that particular moment?
Archbishop Fulton Sheen offers an illuminating answer in his brief book, The Life of Christ: “Peter the ‘rock,’ James, destined to be the first apostolic martyr, and John, the visionary of the future glory of the Apocalypse. Undoubtedly, He chose these three because they were the ones most in need of strength for the hour of trial.”
The core of Sheen’s observation is that Christ did not reveal His glory after the Cross as a reward for their faithfulness, but before the Cross to strengthen and sustain them in preparation for it.
Although Peter would deny Him, he would later repent. James would become the first apostle to give his life for the Gospel. John would remain at the foot of the Cross, receiving only later the heavenly vision recorded in the Apocalypse. Christ knew precisely what awaited each of them, yet before asking them to witness the greatest ugliness in history, He first allowed them to behold His greatest beauty.
It is interesting to reflect on the Transfiguration specifically in light of the purpose of beauty in the spiritual life. Or even to conjecture—as many may not consider—that beauty has such a purpose.
The world tends to justify things according to their utility. From that perspective, beauty may seem unnecessary, or even indulgent, compared to more practical concerns. Even in modern Christian circles, beauty may be relegated to something secondary, having severed its connection to truth and goodness.
Yet the scene of the Transfiguration, where “His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light,” is arguably one of the most striking scenes of beauty in Scripture.
Beauty as the means by which Christ Himself prepared His disciples for suffering? He could have strengthened them another way; He could simply have commanded them to persevere. He could have told them a parable or sent a message through an angel.
Instead, He granted them an encounter with His glory.
Beauty strengthens, but how? For one thing, it reminds us that the visible world is capable of revealing something beyond the mundane, which can offer both hope and consolation.
In the moment we encounter it, we may feel both fulfilled and unsatisfied, enlightened yet longing for more. We recognize the existence of something we have always desired and yet cannot fully possess.
But, more importantly, this experience moves us to perfect contrition, which arises not primarily from fear of punishment, but from love itself. Beauty awakens that love, and having glimpsed something of God’s glory, however fleeting, we recognize how little we desire to be separated from it.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter’s response is recorded as: “Lord, it is good that we are here.” And it continues with Peter’s proposal: if you wish, I will make “three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
It is easy to identify with his reaction of awe: our encounters with authentic beauty awaken the desire to remain. We listen to symphonies without wanting them to end; we are saddened by the thought that the dazzling sunset will finally sink behind the clouds.
But Christ will lead the Apostles back down, where the crowds await and where there is still suffering to endure. There is a Cross to carry. There, too, is a call to take up the difficult task that must be done here on earth, and to be magnanimous in recognizing that our encounters with beauty are gifts, meant to be used in the service of the Kingdom of God.
Before Christ asked His disciples to witness the Cross, He first gave them a vision of glory.
Peter never forgot what he saw. Near the end of his life, he wrote to the early Church that he had been “an eyewitness of His majesty.” (2 Peter 1:16-18) The memory of Mount Tabor remained with him through Gethsemane, the Resurrection, decades of apostolic ministry, and ultimately to his own martyrdom.
The man who once said, to his shame, when Jesus was being tortured and interrogated by Pontius Pilate: “I do not know this man,” became the Saint who gave his life in martyrdom for Him.
Between those two moments, Mount Tabor gave Peter a glimpse of the heavenly glory that would one day be fully revealed. Thus began the transformation from fisherman to apostle, from apostle to martyr, from man to saint. A model for all of us.
About the Author
Kristen Ziccarelli is a writer living in Washington, D.C. The Transfiguration is her favorite patronal feast.