This essay first appeared in our weekly Scripture reflection newsletter on March 15, 2025.
The story of the Transfiguration is one of the most unusual narratives in the New Testament. Some scholars believe that the story of Jesus praying on a mountain (usually identified as Mt. Tabor) with his closest disciples—Peter, James and John—and being “transfigured,” is a post-resurrection story. Since it shares some elements of stories of the Risen Christ’s appearances after Easter—including his otherworldly appearance—some believe that the story was “retrojected back” into Jesus’s public ministry.
On the other hand, and crucially, all three Synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew and Luke) place it squarely in the middle of Jesus’s public ministry, a foretaste of the glory that the disciples will witness after his passion, death and resurrection. The Second Letter of Peter also refers to the event, with the author quoting the voice that says, “This is my Son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Peter writes, “We ourselves heard this voice coming from heaven while we were with him on the holy mountain” (2 Pt 1:16-21).
In 2 Peter, with the benefit of some distance, the apostle understands what he saw: Jesus receiving “honor and glory” from the Father. But at the time, on Mt. Tabor, he didn’t know what to do—or say. Luke’s Gospel has Peter offering to construct three tents—one for Jesus, and one apiece for Moses and Elijah, with whom Jesus is seen conversing. “But he did not know what he was saying,” Luke writes poignantly.
This is common in the spiritual life: we have a moving experience of God’s presence—during a Mass, a moment in prayer or a deep conversation—and we want nothing more than to hold on to it. But God’s “glory” cannot be contained.
Luke Timothy Johnson in the Sacra Pagina series notes that Peter’s suggestions are “wrongheaded” for two reasons. First, he is trying to “capture and routinize” God’s glory. This is common in the spiritual life: we have a moving experience of God’s presence—during a Mass, a moment in prayer or a deep conversation—and we want nothing more than to hold on to it. But God’s “glory” cannot be contained.
Second, by assigning them each a tent, Peter is assuming that all three—Jesus, Moses and Elijah—are on the same plane. The Father’s voice corrects this “misapprehension” by identifying Jesus as the Son of God and telling the three apostles, “Listen to him.”
We can forgive Peter for his confusion. Who wouldn’t be confused in such a situation? There is also a visual analogue to his confusion: the cloud, which is often an image of the presence of God, similar to the one that enveloped Moses in the Book of Exodus (24:15-18). Just as you can’t see clearly in a cloud, the disciples cannot understand what is happening. And so, as the cloud “overshadows them,” they are “terrified.”
No matter how close we are to God, no matter how many experiences we have had in prayer, and no matter how firmly we believe in God, there are moments of confusion and, yes, even terror, as we wonder, “What is happening?”
This part of the story always moves me. What should be a moment of great wonder and even joy turns into one of terror. This mirrors our own experiences. No matter how close we are to God, no matter how many experiences we have had in prayer, and no matter how firmly we believe in God, there are moments of confusion and, yes, even terror, as we wonder in the face of what life presents to us, “What is happening?”
The key, as it was for the disciples, is always to trust in Jesus to bring them through the confusion and even the terror, and ultimately lead them to glory. Even in the face of confusion, we can focus on what Jesus asks us to do: to love, to be merciful, to have hope. Even in the face of overwhelming nature of life, we are invited to “Listen to him.”
