This congregation is in a pastoral transition. The end, each worship service in a circle proclaiming the blessing to one another and singing. I stayed after worship for their campership Shrove Tuesday pancake fundraiser grateful for their partnership with Luther Heights by Camp. I snapped a photo with Church member and synod ministry candidate Mary Riedl.

Feb. 15, 2026 – Transfiguration
Matt. 17:1-9
Thursday, I drove down from the Seattle Tacoma airport to Olympia with Bp Shelley Bryan Wee of Northwest Washington Synod and her Assistant the Bishop, Pastor Andy Yee. We joined many other people of faith for Interfaith Advocacy Day at the Washington capital. It was a beautiful clear day, and we left our hotel at 6:30am. Andy was sitting in the backseat and every so often I would turn back to look at him, as he and Shelley told me about their recent work trip to Chicago. At one moment I just stared at Andy, except it wasn’t really him I was staring at. You see, Mount Rainer was out in full glory and the sunrise pink, yellow, and orange hues were breathtaking. On the trip home, the same thing happened in reverse, so this time driver Shelley just kept saying, “Wow! The mountain is so beautiful today!” Like us, they have had plenty of cloudy days this winter. I tried to take a picture with her phone but finally said, “you may just have to take a photo in your mind.”
Of course, today’s festival has us celebrating on top of a mountain, not looking in awe at one from a distance. This being a Treasure Valley congregation, I assume some of here have climbed a peak, whether in the Sawtooths, White Clouds, Lost River Range, or a peak somewhere else in the world. When I climbed Mount Borah about ten years ago, I remember it being so cold on top that I just wanted to start back down. Fortunately, my hiking partners and I knew we needed to spend at least some time up there not just resting but taking in the view, the wonder, really the glory.
Our narrator today, the Gospel writer Matthew, refers to what occurred on the mountain as a vision. He does not mean an inner psychological experience. He does mean that the “seeing” is not a natural function of ordinary eyes but is God-given. God grants the disciples the power to see what otherwise would have been invisible to mortal perception.
The inside group, Peter, James, and John are asked to see before listening, to see past it all–Jesus’ words, his ministry, his teaching, his healing, his preaching, his friendships, his prayer, his wisdom. Jesus invites them now to see through and beyond all that. He invites them to see something that can be caught most accurately not by ear or eye, but by the heart and soul: his true identity. We read, “And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.”
This transfiguration comes at a critical point in Jesus’ life, a point of major transition. Here he shifts from his active ministry among the people and toward Jerusalem, the place of his death and resurrection, the place where human and divine will intersect. And knowing how hard it would be for his disciples to understand and witness this, Jesus takes his closest disciples and heads up a mountain.
There they come into the presence of God in a new way. Their hearts and souls are opened to see what their eyes can barely believe. Their friend and teacher, the very human Jesus, is transfigured. The appearance of his face changes. They sense the presence of Moses and Elijah. And God perceives their fear and responds by speaking to them. God wants them to begin to understand how this Jesus, fully human, is also fully divine.
The story of the transfiguration of Jesus functions, according to one writer [Henri Nouwen], as something of an icon. The transfiguration offers access through the gate of the visible to the mystery of the invisible. There, high on the mountain, the familiar face of their beloved friend and teacher is revealed in a new light, and in that light their hearts can hear the voice of God saying: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
Icons have long been important to the Orthodox churches of the Christian family. Painted in egg tempura on wood, these tools for prayer and liturgy most often depict scenes of Jesus, Mary and the saints. Created according to rules handed down from generation to generation, icons are venerated as representations of the divine, windows through which the soul can see the realities of the kingdom of heaven. Their purpose is to pull one into the image in order to see through it, and beyond it to the heart of God, to the reality of the great Mystery.
The story of the transfiguration becomes a luminous narrative icon, a painting in words that points beyond the text to the true reality of Jesus Christ, the light of the world. Its aim is to help us see beyond Jesus of Nazareth, the Galilean, to see him radically transformed into the Son of God, the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. Only then will we begin to take in the foreshadowing of his resurrection and future glory.
Transfiguration Sunday sits differently for me this year. It has something to do with Peter’s suggestion to build the three booths. With so much brokenness and injustice in the world right now, I find it ever harder to carve out times to just be, instead of to do. I’m more sympathetic to Peter this year than I normally am. Because of my own experiences taking campers up mountains in Montana and helping them experience their own epiphanies, I know the importance of Mountain Top experiences. But this year, I’m a bit more like Peter. Those experiences seem frivolous, unproductive, not a good use of time and energy.
But that’s a problem. I could miss a defining moment, like Peter almost did. One of my favorite New Testament scholars (Powell) explains that “Peter did not seem to understand that in order to be a witness for Jesus, he must first witness Jesus. He has been invited to the mountain to listen, not to speak; to receive something he needs, not to offer something he thinks others might need. The drive to be useful derives from a commendable desire to serve Jesus, but Jesus did not come to be served; he came to serve others, including Peter.” Including you and me.
Oh, that stings for me. There are so many times when I am busy accomplishing something and I am called to slow down, maybe not for a full-blown epiphany as on the Mount of Transfiguration, but to receive and to listen, to remember and behold that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God.
God’s gift is in the transfiguration icon, the intense light that allows vision and insight. God permits us from time to time to see through to the heart of the matter. God permits us to see purpose and future, hope and possibilities for meaningful action and participation. And God’s gift is that God is there, waiting to be seen. God is the reality behind the icon. The challenge to us is to be committed enough and bold enough to keep our eyes open. Will we dare to look, to pass through the gate of the visible to the mystery of the invisible, and then to accept responsibility for everything we see.
The truth is that every time we gather around the table for the Lord’s Supper, we enter into a bit of a mystery. I have studied scripture, church history, and numerous theologians, and still I am overwhelmed with the Lord’s Supper. How can these great gifts be given so freely through words and ordinary bread? Because Christ promised it would be so. God chooses to bestow God’s grace through these mysterious and marvelous sacraments. The table has already been set. You need only come with open hands and receive the gifts for you! Like the Transfiguration, this meal is a glimpse and then it is over. After Communion we give thanks for the healing that springs forth abundantly from this table and ask God to renew our strength to do justice, love kindness, and journey humbly with you.































