The Transfiguration is a unique event in the life of Jesus, and appears in all three of the Synoptic Gospels. I call it unique for a number of reasons: 1) It is the one event in Jesus’ earthly ministry in the Synoptic Gospels in which Jesus’ glory is made manifest visually (unless we include the later resurrection appearances); 2) He chooses an “inner circle” of three apostles to accompany him, though why these particular three are chosen is not made obvious (though Peter has been shown to be, in a number of ways, chief of the apostles); 3) The meaning of the event it is not exactly obvious, especially the presence of Moses and Elijah, though scholars have often seen in the presence of them Jesus’ continuity with the Law and the Prophets; 4) Peter blurts out, “I will make three tents here,” though it is not clear what purpose these might serve (see Mark 9:6 for a convincing motivation for Peter’s “blurting” aloud: “He did not know what to say, for they were terrified”). Some have seen in Peter’s remark an attempt to “routinize” or ground the divine or create an equality between the three prophets which he ought to know Jesus transcends. 5) Jesus tells them to say nothing of this to anyone, which is in fact a theme in the Synoptic Gospels, particularly in Mark, but notable in Matthew and Luke also. On the other hand, the Scriptures are not always “clear,” hence the need for interpretation. One reason I continue to come back to the Transfiguration and try to understand it, is that the feast day falls upon the birthday of my oldest son, Jacob, and so the day is indeed a Transfiguration for me, the day on which it was clear that I had entered into a mystery, parenthood, I could not comprehend until I had started to partake in it. I recall wondering as I left the hospital a few days after Jacob’s birth why they were even letting me be a father and whether they ought not to check my fitness or my papers or something that proved I was up to the immense challenge. I was scared. I wonder if this mystery of parenthood, shared by millions upon millions, does not begin to explain Peter’s response to the manifestation of Jesus’ glory: what have I gotten myself into? The mystical experience Peter shares with James and John overwhelms them, drives them to their knees when they hear the voice of God, and, one suspects, leaves them shaken in every sense. It is also the profound revelation of Jesus’ divinity, about which they are to say nothing, and the background against which their constant inability to grasp Jesus’ claim that he must suffer and die must be seen. Surely, it resounds for James and John when they ask of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel (10:35-45) that they sit one at his right and one at his left hand in glory immediately after Jesus has told them that the Son of Man must suffer and die. In Matthew’s account, it is their mother who makes the request, but the subsequent scene and response of Jesus and the other apostles is nearly identical (Matt. 20:17-28. Surely, it makes some sense of Peter’s claim that Jesus need not suffer and die (Matt. 16:21-24). They apostles grasp the glory, but why the need for suffering? In fact, the glory of God, made manifest in the divine being of Jesus in the Transfiguration, is the reality of who Jesus is, a glimpse of what he truly is and a foretaste of what we are to share, along with the apostles. But the desire to forego suffering, to sideline and marginalize it, to eradicate and get straight to the glory is a constant temptation for any follower of Jesus. On our behalf, the Messiah suffered and died so that we could share in the glory made visible to Peter, James and John. But, like parenthood, and life itself, there is a constant desire to think we have made it, that we know all we need to know, that we understand all there is to understand. Jesus’ constantly beckons us, to enter his mystery and to get to know him in his fullness. Sometimes it is terrifying and it is hard to know what to say. John W. Martens

John W. Martens is an associate professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minn,where he teaches early Christianity and Judaism. He also directs the Master of Arts in Theology program at the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity. He was born in Vancouver, B.C. into a Mennonite family that had decided to confront modernity in an urban setting. His post-secondary education began at Tabor College, Hillsboro, Kansas, came to an abrupt stop, then started again at Vancouver Community College, where his interest in Judaism and Christianity in the earliest centuries emerged. He then studied at St. Michael's College, University of Toronto, and McMaster University, with stops at University of Haifa and University of Tubingen. His writing often explores the intersection of Jewish, Christian and Greco-Roman culture and belief, such as in "let the little children come to me: Children and Childhood in Early Christianity" (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2009), but he is not beyond jumping into the intersection of modernity and ancient religion, as in "The End of the World: The Apocalyptic Imagination in Film and Television" (Winnipeg: J. Gordon Shillingford Press, 2003). He blogs at  www.biblejunkies.com and at www.americamagazine.org for "The Good Word." You can follow him on Twitter @biblejunkies, where he would be excited to welcome you to his random and obscure interests, which range from the Vancouver Canucks and Minnesota Timberwolves, to his dog, and 70s punk, pop and rock. When he can, he brings students to Greece, Turkey and Rome to explore the artifacts and landscape of the ancient world. He lives in St. Paul with his wife and has two sons. He is certain that the world will not end until the Vancouver Canucks have won the Stanley Cup, as evidence has emerged from the Revelation of John, 1 Enoch, 2 Baruch, and 4 Ezra which all point in this direction.