The Feast of the Transfiguration, August 6

From Full Homely Divinity's "The Feasts of August":

The Feast of the Transfiguration is of great antiquity, though it was not established as a feast of universal observance in the West until 1457 in the pontificate of Callistus III. It is, perhaps, for this reason, that there are few special customs associated with the feast. The feast always seems to have been observed on August 6th in the East. It is likely that this is the date of the fourth century dedication of a church on Mount Tabor, the traditional site of the biblical event. However, the earliest Western liturgical reference to the feast is found in the fifth century, when Matthew's account of the Transfiguration was the Gospel for the Ember Saturday in Lent. To make a long story short, it was the 15th century before English Benedictines were keeping it as a major feast in its own right on August 6th and it finally made its way into the Sarum Kalendar. Even so, it had not caught on too strongly since, in spite of its clear biblical warrant, it was dropped in 1549. It appears in some subsequent Prayer Book Kalendars, but without a proper collect and readings. Its full restoration in the American revision of The Book of Common Prayer in 1892 may be attributed to the influence William Reed Huntington. In addition to its celebration on August 6th, the Transfiguration is also commemorated on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday in some recent Prayer Books, such as the 1979.

The feast commemorates a truly startling event, shortly before Jesus went up to Jerusalem to enter into his Passion. Going up to the top of a mountain with Jesus, the inner circle of the disciples, Peter, James, and John, are overwhelmed with a brilliant and unearthly manifestation of their Lord in glory as he converses with Moses and Elijah about the things that are to come. For a moment, the humanity of Jesus is infused with light and it is as if his divinity has become palpable. In fact, the disciples are dumbfounded,  and can barely find words with which to respond. Although they have been with Jesus constantly for three years, they still do not really understand who he is, but a voice from heaven removes any uncertainty when it proclaims, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"

Orthodox Christians have focused on the light that was manifest on this occasion. The thirteenth century Archbishop of Thessalonica, St. Gregory Palamas, taught that the light which infused this scene was not natural, created, or material light, but was the uncreated light of God who is unapproachable in his Essence, but who can be perceived by his energies. St. Gregory taught that the light of Tabor was a particular manifestation of those energies which are also sometimes perceived by those who are deeply immersed in a particular method of prayer known as hesychastic prayer. Hesychastic prayer has evoked some interest among Western Christians in recent years as a result of interest in the Jesus Prayer ("Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner"), which is at the heart of hesychast ascetical practice. The Russian spiritual classic, The Way of the Pilgrim, has popularized the Jesus Prayer among many Western Christians who seek new ways of entering more deeply into the spiritual life.

This extraordinary approach to the light of Tabor is one way of understanding the Transfiguration, but it is dependent on a theology with which most Westerners are not particularly at home. Dr. Marianne Dorman, an Anglican educator offers this meditation on the light of Tabor. Noting that the Orthodox do indeed seem to take this feast more seriously than the Western Church does, she draws on Orthodox liturgical texts and goes on to explore other aspects of this event which can both trouble and transform us in deep and powerful ways. For in the Transfiguration we are taken back in time to creation when God was the only Light, as well as forward to the City of the Lamb where, once again, God is the only Light. The Transfiguration reveals in an unmistakable way the "true light that enlightens everyone coming into the world" (John 1:9) and also foreshows the light of the Resurrection, by which all believers are raised to the light and life of the Kingdom in the Day when he shall come again in glory. Occurring as it does on the way to Jerusalem, the Transfiguration centers all of this in the Cross when even death itself is unable to quench the Light. In short, we may say that the Transfiguration is the Gospel in sum: manifesting the glory and power of God as he renews the whole creation and redeems his people from darkness and sin.

William Reed Huntington was one of the giants of the 19th century Episcopal Church. A leader and a reconciler in critical times, rector of Grace Church, New York City, and a member of the House of Deputies of the General Convention for 36 years, he was known, unofficially of course, as "first presbyter of the Church." Summers usually found Dr. Huntington on Mount Desert Island, Maine, where he was active in the church of St. Mary-by-the-Sea, which had been founded by William Croswell Doane, the Bishop of Albany, who also summered there. It was Dr. Huntington who proposed to revise the Prayer Book and he contributed two collects: the Collect for Monday in Holy Week, and the Collect for the Feast of the Transfiguration. That feast was first observed at St. Mary's in 1887 and it was while climbing nearby Sargent Mountain that he found the inspiration for the Collect, which originally read:

O God, who on the mount didst reveal to chosen witnesses thine only-begotten Son wonderfully transfigured, in raiment white and glistering; Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may be permitted to behold the King in his beauty, who with thee, O Father, and thee, O Holy Ghost, liveth and reigneth, one God, world without end. Amen.

Like Jesus, Dr. Huntington sought out a lonely mountaintop for prayer. It can hardly be imagined that Peter and James and John found the experience anything but disquieting, and Jesus himself, speaking with Moses and Elijah about the trials to come, must also have had some ambivalence about the experience. Nevertheless, it is through such a transforming experience that we are at last permitted to see the vision glorious--the uncreated Light of Tabor which is the King himself in all his beauty. In view of this, time apart, on a mountaintop if possible, but wherever we may withdraw for undisturbed prayer and meditation, is surely the most suitable way of extending this feast beyond the Liturgy into our personal and family festal observances.

Just as Lammas Day marks the beginning of the wheat harvest with a special blessing of bread, the Transfiguration has traditionally marked the beginning of the harvest of fruit, particularly the fruit of the vine. The transformation which takes place as fruit develops from the bud, to flower, to ripened fruit is a natural transfiguration. The symbolism here is even more pointed with grapes which continue to be transformed from fruit, to juice, to wine, and then, sacramentally, to the Blood of Christ received in the Eucharist. In the East, it is customary to bless a variety of fruits at the conclusion of the Liturgy on the Feast of the Transfiguration. In the West, however, only grapes are blessed and it was the custom, at one time, for a handful of grapes to be squeezed directly into the Chalice, mingling the fresh juice with the already consecrated Wine of the Eucharist. Here is a blessing that may be used to bless grapes for distribution at the conclusion of the Eucharist.

Blessing of Grapes on Transfiguration

Bless, O Father, this new fruit of the vine, which has grown and ripened through good weather, warm sunshine, and drops of rain and dew: may it bring refreshment and joy to us who partake of it. As the buds of the vine have been transformed into ripe and delicious fruit, and as the juice of the fruit is transformed by thy grace into the pure Blood of Christ, so may we be transformed into the mature likeness of him who shed his Blood for us and quenches our thirst with the Cup of Salvation, the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

While Full Homely Divinity is not a political website, it would be unthinkable to omit mention of the fact that on August 6th, 1945, the first nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. However one chooses to characterize the reasons for that act, it is unarguable that the world was transformed for ever by its blinding light. As we reflect on the meaning of the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ, surely this is a day when, each year, we must give thought to the stark contrast between those two transforming events, between the power that is now in our hands and the ways in which we use it, and the power that belongs to God alone and the ways in which he uses it.

The icon above is a depiction of the Transfiguration of Christ, part of an iconostasis in Constantinople style, from the middle of the 12th century.

Trinity Sunday

From the website Full Homely Divinity:

St. Patrick's Breastplate is a prayer for protection from the perils of both the visible and the invisible worlds. While it has traditionally been attributed to St. Patrick himself in the fifth century, many scholars believe that it more likely dates to the eighth century. Whatever its date, this ancient prayer witnesses to a deeply embedded trinitarian consciousness in British Christianity. It is written in the style of a traditional Celtic prayer for protection on a journey. The Celts of pre-Christian Britain, who were pushed west and north, to Wales, Ireland, and Scotland by the Romans, perceived both the natural world and divinity in trinitarian terms: the threefold cycle of life (birth, death, and rebirth), the three elements of the cosmos (earth, air, and water), and the triple goddess (maiden, mother, and crone). Furthermore, this trinitarian perspective was maintained within a sense of friendship, even intimacy, between the natural world and the divine. The ancient Celt was confident that the gods cared about creation and creatures and were involved in day to day life at every level. Thus, there were prayers for every activity, invoking the assistance and the blessing of the gods on everything from starting a fire to going on a journey, from shearing sheep to weaving cloth, from birth to death. In that context, it was only natural that St. Patrick would use the familiar shamrock as an illustration in his preaching. For the three-thinking Celts of Ireland, the leap from three-in-one in creation to the Three-in-One Creator, must have been relatively natural. There was certainly skepticism about leaving behind the old gods, but once the transition had been made, translation was not at all difficult. In the nineteenth century, Alexander Carmichael traveled around Scotland collecting folklore which he published as Carmina Gadelica. For the most part, the prayers and blessings in his collection are clearly Christian, but the cadences and the concerns of the prayers appear to rise seamlessly out of the old religion and find a perfect home in the new. Here are a few examples.

The image above at right is Andrei Rublev's icon of the Trinity, dating from about 1400.

The Day of Pentecost

From the website "Full Homely Divinity":

Liturgy is drama. It is not playacting, but it is a dramatic presentation of the Gospel, replete with script, costumes, choreography, and a stage. Every Eucharist is a presentation of the essential drama of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That service enacts his Incarnation at Christmas (and throughout the year). That service enacts his Resurrection presence at Easter (and throughout the year). That service enacts the indwelling of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost (and throughout the year). Whether the ceremonial is simple or elaborate, humble or grand, that service enacts the drama of salvation through the year. Often, the essential drama is enriched with action that calls to mind a particular occasion or theme: the procession to the crèche at Christmas, the imposition of ashes at the beginning of Lent, the Palm Sunday procession, the lighting of the Paschal Candle at Easter, and so forth. Pentecost, too, has had its unique liturgical expressions.

The particular events of Pentecost are described in the Acts of the Apostles: When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. (Acts 2:1-4) This is a story full of action and symbol, and one with tremendous potential for dramatic expression.

In some ways, the technology of the middle ages may seem primitive to us--until we stop and think for a moment about the tremendous accomplishments of medieval architects, building massive stone edifices without the benefit of modern machinery. Liturgists were equally ingenious in their use of these buildings. Visitors to medieval churches will be familiar with the elaborately carved keystones (or "bosses"), such as this Green Man from Canterbury Cathedral, that look down from the center of the stone vaulting of the church ceiling. The observant visitor may also be aware that sometimes, near the east end of the church, there is a large hole where a carved boss would normally be. This is the "Holy Ghost hole" which had a special function on Whitsunday. In the middle ages, a dove descended from this hole as the story of the first Pentecost was read. The dove could be either live or a model lowered by ropes. As it appeared, the sound of the rushing wind was imitated either by the choristers shuffling their feet or by the blast of trumpets. And the show did not end there, for next there would shower down from the Holy Ghost hole, "tongues of fire"--either red rose petals or pieces of burning straw.

The dove derives, not from the story of Pentecost, but from the story of the Baptism of Jesus. Its use in the liturgy of Pentecost makes a visual connection between two important stories about baptism, the Baptism of Jesus and the baptism on the first Christian Pentecost of some three thousand converts to the faith. The baptismal motif is the source of the traditional English name of the feast. On Whitsunday, literally "White Sunday," those who had  been baptized on Easter Day once again put on the white clothing which they had worn for the first time on the day they were baptized, thus ending the feast as they had begun it and reminding the whole congregation of their own baptisms. Traditionally, Whitsunday had a Vigil much like the Great Vigil of Easter. The Whitsun Vigil also celebrated the Sacrament of Holy Baptism, gathering into the membership of the Church those children who were born during the Great Fifty Days and those adult catechumens who may not have been ready for baptism at the beginning of Easter.

 

The tempera on wood piece below is by Duccio di Buoninsegna, from about 1310.  It's 37.5 x 42.5 cm, and was formerly housed in the Cathedral in Siena, Italy.  It's now in the collection of the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo there.

Ascension Day

The Feast of the Ascension in 2011 is celebrated on Thursday, June 2.  Ascension is 40 days after Easter, and commemorates Jesus' taking-leave of his friends after the Resurrection and his returning to the "right hand of the Father."  From the website "Full Homely Divinity":

Then he led them out as far as Bethany....  While he blessed them, he parted from them, and was carried up into heaven.  (Luke 24:50-51)

While Luke places the Ascension in Bethany, the tradition "on the ground" stops short of Bethany, on top of the Mount of Olives.  A stone inside the domed chapel there has traces of the footprints of Jesus before he ascended.  Although most modern Christians have long since foresworn the literal concept of a "three-storied universe," the notion of Ascension nevertheless directs us upwards, symbolically.  After all, no matter where one locates heaven, the biblical account still records that the last time the disciples saw the Risen Lord, he was going up.  So, for us, as well as for ancient Christians, this is the consummate "mountaintop experience" and, consequently, traditions associated with keeping this feast take us both out and up.

....

Traditionally, the Paschal Candle was extinguished following the reading of the Gospel on Ascension Day. The gentle ascent and disappearance of the smoke from the smoldering wick was a poignant symbol of the departure of the Risen Lord from the earth.

Below is Giotto di Bondone's Ascension, a fresco painted for the Scrovegni Chapel around 1305:

Return to top