"When Thou wast transfigured, O Christ God, upon the mountain, Thou didst show Thy glory to the disciples, so far as they were able…"
What wonder is this? How can clay behold the light? How can human eyes bear the blaze of divine glory? But You, O Lord, condescended, as is Your custom, and did not appear to them in all Your glory, but "so far as they were able." So even in Your transfiguration You remained humble, merciful, not imposing Your glory, but giving it in the measure of what we can bear.
On that mountain, You did not merely change Your appearance. You revealed what You had been hiding behind the veil of the flesh. You revealed the splendour of the Godhead. You revealed the light of truth, and revealed the presence of the Father who bore witness to You, saying: "This is my beloved Son; listen to Him."
The Transfiguration is not a passing moment.
The Transfiguration is a present invitation.
We too are called to ascend with You to the mountain — the mountain of prayer, the mountain of purity, the mountain of withdrawal from the noise of the world — to see, if only for moments, a glimpse of Your glory, and to learn to praise You as is due.
But can we bear the light?
Have we become pure enough to hear the voice of the Father within us?
Have we surrendered our faces to the sun, that it may burn away the shadows of fear in us?
Teach us, O Lord, not to be content with contemplating You on the mountain.
Teach us to carry You with us down to the plain, to the world, to the wounds of humanity.
Let Your crucified face light the nights of our souls, that the world may know that You are the incarnate glory, the light that is not extinguished.