Sermon Text: 2 Corinthians 3:7–18
Date: March 2, 2025
Event: The Transfiguration of Our Lord, Year C
2 Corinthians 3:7–18 (EHV)
If the ministry that brought death (which was engraved in letters on stone) came with glory, so that the Israelites could not look directly at the face of Moses because of the glory of his face (though it was fading), 8how will the ministry of the spirit not be much more glorious? 9For if the ministry that brought condemnation has glory, the ministry that brought righteousness has even more glory. 10In fact, in this case, what was glorious is no longer very glorious, because of the greater glory of that which surpasses it. 11Indeed, if what is fading away was glorious, how much more glorious is that which is permanent!
12Therefore, since we have this kind of hope, we act with great boldness. 13We are not like Moses, who put a veil over his face, so that the Israelites could not continue to look at the end of the radiance, as it was fading away. 14In spite of this, their minds were hardened. Yes, up to the present day, the same veil remains when the Old Testament is read. It has not been removed because it is taken away only in Christ. 15Instead, to this day, whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their hearts. 16But whenever someone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. 17Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18But all of us who reflect the Lord’s glory with an unveiled face are being transformed into his own image, from one degree of glory to another. This too is from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
Behold God’s Glory!
Things that have been hidden can be quite surprising when they are revealed. The engagement ring that was waiting until just the right moment to appear might take someone by surprise—in a good way. A cancer diagnosis when the person feels otherwise healthy will absoultely take someone by surprise—in a bad way.
While “ignorance is bliss” at times, we often prefer to know things rather than stay in the dark. Some things may need to remain hidden, at least for a while: the surprise party or the bad news that could be completely destructive to someone already going through a tough time. A surprise can be enjoyable when it’s fun, but when it’s something important and concealed, it can be frustrating and harmful.
When it comes to spiritual matters, there are all sorts of hidden things. Think of how many times we ponder God’s Word and we get caught up in genuinely unanswerable questions based on what God has told us. While his message in the Bible is sufficient—more than sufficient, even!—it is not exhaustive. Not every question that crosses our mind will be clearly answered in the Scriptures and many decisions need to be made in our lives with only the most general of guiding principles from what God has said. Rarely do we have a passage telling us which choice in our lives is right and which is wrong.
This Sunday, Transfiguration Sunday, is a summary Sunday for the whole season of Epiphany. The season has been all about revealing hidden things. We’ve seen things about Jesus that were not obvious—his being true God hidden in the garment of his true humanity—and we’ve learned things about the reality of events in our lives that are not always clear, such as the good purposes behind suffering and how God wants us to treat those who are our enemies.
Today, the veil covering Jesus’ divine nature was mostly removed for a brief moment in our Gospel. Peter, James, and John could see Jesus almost completely as the God that he is: his face changed, and his clothing became dazzling white, a comparison with a flash of lightning. In Matthew’s Gospel, he compares Jesus’ appearance with the sun (Matthew 17:2). This was not just a glowing complexion on someone who is happy and content; Jesus looked wildly different than he usually did during his ministry.
But this is not the only time in the Bible that we hear of someone’s appearance being changed to something more dazzling. In our First Reading this morning we heard that after Moses met with God to receive the Law the skin of his face was shining because he had been speaking with the Lord (Exodus 34:29). Moses’ gleaming face was, of course, different than Jesus’ appearance at his transfiguration. Moses’ shine was a reflection of God’s glory where Jesus’ radiance was his own glory as God.
In our Second Reading, the apostle Paul takes the account of Moses and expounds on it for us. As the Holy Spirit adds some symbolic meaning to Moses’ gleaming face and as we see Jesus display his glory on the Mount of Transfiguration, we can spend time this morning appreciating the true glory of God—his mercy and compassion.
When Moses received the law from God, that interaction brought about his gleaming face, reflecting God’s glory. But the law is, as you well know, not good news. This was a covenant that God was establishing between himself and his people. It was a bilateral, two-directional covenant: if the people would keep up their side, God would keep up his side. But if the people did not follow what God directed, then his promises of blessings would end.
Of course, understanding that this was a nation of sinners indicates from the very beginning how this would play out: not well. Therefore, Paul describes this law as the ministry that brought death, because that’s all the law can do for sinners. It reveals where we have failed to perfectly follow God’s directions, leading to eternal punishment in hell. Yet, even this death-bringing message still carried God’s glory. Paul continues: How will the ministry of the Spirit not be much more glorious? For if the ministry that brought condemnation has glory, the ministry that brought righteousness has even more glory. If God’s glory shines in the law’s message of condemnation, how much more does his glory shine through the gospel message that brings forgiveness?
Moses had to cover his face, the reflection of God’s glory, because even that fading reflection was too much for the people of Israel to look at. We might remember Peter’s reaction to the gigantic catch of fish a few weeks ago in our Gospel; in terror he fell at Jesus’ feet and begged him to go away because Peter knew he was sinful. This is the same reaction all sinners—you and I included—have toward God’s glory.
But Jesus came to change that. He came so that we could stand in God’s presence, live in God’s presence not for a moment, but forever. For that to be possible, sin would have to be eliminated. Nothing would prevent us from living in God’s glory if all sins were gone. And not in a veiled, muted way or a disguised way as it was most often in Jesus during his ministry. No, without sin, we could bask in that full glory forever.
We see a very small preview of this on the Mount of Transfiguration. When Peter, James, and John saw Jesus’ glory, we don’t hear them begging for Jesus to go away from them in terror. No, quite the opposite, actually. Peter’s mind couldn’t quite process what was happening here, but he knew on a fundamental level that this was a place he wanted to stay—with these heroes of faith and his Savior in his revealed glory. Thus, he suggests that he put up some tents so that this moment wouldn’t have to end and could last as long as possible.
But it did have to end because the work of removing sins was not done. God could not just pretend like you and I had not sinned or that our sins didn’t matter. He had to solve this problem; he had to deal with sin. Jesus would deal with it in his own body, offering his own life in place of ours.
As we begin a new season of the church year this Wednesday, we will have ample time to dwell on the reality of our sin and the horrid price it cost Jesus to free us from it. But as we move through Lent’s darker and meditative days, let this scene with Peter, James, and John live in your mind. This is the goal. This is what Jesus is driving toward. This is what he wants for you, for me, and for all people.
And by God’s grace, we know how this all shakes out. We know that Jesus’ goal is not a pipe dream—it’s the reality he brought to completion. The trip down from this glorious mount will eventually lead elsewhere, a horrid and disgusting hilltop. As we sang in our hymn of the day, “Strange how his journey ended! In love that is his fame our Lord again ascended a mount—the hill of shame. Upon the cross he proffered himself to agony; his holy soul he offered to set the guilty free” (Christian Worship 388, s. 4). All of Jesus’ work, all of the promises that God had made for millennia before him, is leading to the cross. And the suffering at the cross leads to the victory of his empty tomb.
For us here today, this has all been accomplished. As was true for the apostle Paul, so it is true for us. There is no end to this glory brought about by the gospel. Indeed, if what is fading away was glorious, how much more glorious is that which is permanent! What is the result? All of us who reflect the Lord’s glory with an unveiled face are being transformed into his own image, from one degree of glory to another. We don’t shield our eyes or face from this glory. We look directly into God’s glory with unveiled faces and bask in it.
Soon enough, we will join Peter, James, John, Moses, and Elijah, not in tents on a dusty hilltop, but in the perfect courts of heaven, in the mansions prepared by our Savior, because of his victory for us. You, my brothers and sisters, have been changed from fear and death to joy and life. The glory of God—the gloria Dei, if you will—transforms us so that we reflect that very glory, not in a fading way, but in a permanent way. We no longer need to be given special dispensation like Moses or Peter, James, and John, but we will be in that glory forever because Jesus has taken away our sins. There we will behold God’s glory without end! Thanks be to God! Amen.