The Transfiguration - a stunning manifestation that this is truly the Son of God. What difference did the Transfiguration make, for them, those standing by, and for us, standing by.

In some ways not much, not much that can be seen, in some ways so very much, so much that remains unseen to so many. The disciples before, and even after, were still a fairly miscellaneous lot, by turns inept and insightful, at times wrangling for position, prestige and inclusion in the Master's inner circle, but at times wrestling with a kind of human majesty with the implications of the presence of God among them, with the living out and coming to terms with the coming of the Kingdom of God into their lives.

At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, when at thirty he emerged from the quiet obscurity of Nazareth and the carpenter's shop, everything was well begun. When the call went forth to each new disciple, to follow him, to confess him as Lord and Savior, everything seemed possible and good and wonderful - couldn't have been better, in fact. It was all dazzling. But like good beginnings, even great beginnings, things changed, continually went off course, men and women, when tested and challenged, fell short of the mark, genuine men and women, tend to do that. Some of what we do turns out so well, some of what we do turns out so badly. We do not always bring to pass what we intended, things we never intended simply happen.

But just when things are going terribly well, or not well at all, the grace of God in all his glory appears in our midst, and we see and share in that transfiguring splendor.

In the unremarkable plains and in the plateaus of our lives just as much as in the sordid valleys of death, there will occasionally arise the occasional mountain, and for a brief moment when we get a glimpse. Often not more than that, a quick. brief glimpse, but that is enough, a moment of clarity, just a moment when one saw, when one knew. And all was changed. Probably not really right to say we too are transfigured - that seems a bit a grand, but changed, genuinely and deeply and dramatically.

And we know, for a moment, know, that the promises are true, and will be fulfilled, and are being accomplished

The event will not last, the feeling will not last, but the consequence of grace will last, the inclination to listen to him, the beloved Son, the willingness and ache to hear the voice again, now that will last.

Peter hoped to make it last, to prolong it, to capture it forever, to make three booths to contain it and preserve it. But that was not to be, that would not have been right. That was not what God intended.

And like so very much in our own lives, where joy and sorrow so often mix, even at the same moment, so it does at the Transfiguration. Moses and Elijah, dazzling figures, speak with Jesus on the mountain, about what will happen to him in Jerusalem shortly.

Despite the radiant glory and joy, they are darkly discussing the problems and the pain ahead, all that must be accomplished, all that must be endured.

The great journey Jesus followed, from the waters of baptism and the sun-filled radiant days of the short, spectacular ministry will now be followed by the journey up to Jerusalem, to the hurt and pain - all that will face him, and frankly, those who believe and hope and trust in him.

There are for us, from God, no less than for the disciples, these moments in our lives which are suffused with splendor and light, illuminated by the Holy Spirit - and they do not last for ever, so often they do not last so very long - but long enough, these grace-filled moments do last long enough to fill us with his grace, to sustain and encourage us and help us along, to guarantee our faith, to safeguard our hope, to insure our love, to draw us nearer to the presence of God and to the fulfillment of what we ourselves, in our turn, are called to endure and accomplish. and to more nearly perfect our worship and our praise.

It is then that Jesus himself comes and touches us and tells us what he told the disciples: "Rise, and have no fear."

There will be these moments when the God of grace and glory shows himself to us, in his all his luster and his love - and these moments, by our reckoning will be brief, and we will long for them to last, we will hope, perhaps to capture and keep them when we know that we cannot not.

The way of the Christian is not nostalgic longing, or a worried wondering about what if, the timid laments of a people who look back, who keep glancing over their shoulder in a sorrowful remembrance. St. Paul, for one, over and over in his Epistles, will have none of that wistfulness about former days and happier times, instead of just boldly living the Christian life: "One thing I do," he writes in one of his Epistles, "forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

The Transfiguration is brief, and it cannot be prolonged beyond its appointed time. But brief or not, we, like Peter and James and John, have caught the glimpse, we have seen enough, seen and known and shared enough to now go on, until all is accomplished as intended by God.