No Grief, No Glory

A popular military (or sports) slogan goes, “No guts, no glory!” The point is that the glory of victory or at least a noble defeat demands bold, courageous action. Mark 9:2-13, our text this week (extending the account of Jesus’ transfiguration to include the conversation which follows it) argues that the divine glory itself is not merely a matter of courage but of a willingness to enter into suffering. No grief, no glory.

The transfiguration of course is a moment of supreme glory in the earthly life of Jesus. In the presence of His three closest disciples, His divinity breaks through His humanity in the form of dazzling light so bright that even His clothing is transfigured in appearance. Heaven seems to come to earth, so that Jesus enters into conversation with two of heaven’s most prominent citizens, Moses and Elijah.

There is much to learn from the whole account, and even some amusement as we watch Peter again befuddled by events surrounding his experience with Jesus. Yet it’s instructive to note that for Mark the Transfiguration is sandwiched between two separate predictions of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In our text in verse 10 we find the disciples very confused following the second prediction, wondering “what the rising from the dead could mean.”

The disciples are confused because it’s difficult for them to imagine any reason why the Messiah (and they are coming to believe Jesus is the Messiah) might have to die. Especially after the incredible experience of on the mountain, it’s difficult for them to imagine a person of such divine glory needing to suffer and die.

In their confusion, the disciples in verse 11 fix on one of the figures they’ve just encountered. Elijah was generally understood to be a precursor of the Messiah and of the great time of restoration of fortune to Israel, the Day of the Lord. They’ve just seen Elijah, so how can there now be any talk of suffering or dying?

Jesus’ answer in verses 12 and 13 is confusing yet today, even to us with much more of the picture in hand. But the gist is to affirm that the disciples are correct. Elijah’s coming does precede the great restoration. Yet even “Elijah,” who is understood by Jesus (and so by Mark, see chapter 1:2-4) to be John the Baptist, will have to suffer on the way to that glory, so “they did to him whatever they pleased.” I.e., John the Baptist was imprisoned and then beheaded by Herod.

If Mark, as some would argue, was written for an early Christian community suffering its own persecution, possibly under the emperor Nero, then the Gospel made it clear to them that their own situation was in no way a disappointment or a failure of their faith. Even the Lord, even “Elijah,” experienced a path of suffering on the road to a future glory.

As we stand on the edge of Lent, which begins next Wednesday, February 22, we remember that discipleship is the way of the Cross. Our faith in Christ does not lift us out of hardship, but promises a glory on the other side of it. The lenten discipline ahead invites us to seek ways to enter into ways to join our Lord and also the hurting and needy of the world on a path that brings us grief before it brings us glory.