Justin Appel

Dear Friends,

As I write this, it is still the feast of the Transfiguration, and there is a great connection running through my mind from this feast to today’s remembrance of John Mason Neale (October 7), to one of the Greek liturgical texts the latter translated into English, a bit of that “Cherubic Hymn” in the earliest extant Christian liturgy:

Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and stand with fear and trembling, and lift itself above all earthly thought. For the King of kings and Lord of lords, Christ our God, cometh forth to be our oblation, and to be given for food to the faithful. Before him come the choirs of angels, with every principality and power; the Cherubim with many eyes, and winged Seraphim, who veil their faces as they shout exultingly the hymn: Alleluia.

This Transfiguration of Jesus was clearly fearful to those that beheld it (notice the Apostles in the icon) and we too, if the early Church’s experience is to be believed (as mediated through the Liturgy of St James), might find an actual exposure to Jesus to be an awesome, appalling experience.

But do we, really? Does our approach to communion convey the gravity of meeting Jesus? Does our experience of Jesus in prayer leave open the possibility of this blinding totality, whether we see it or not? Do we approach him with the experience of the early Church in our minds and ears? Do we think we already understand Jesus? Do we comfortably assume he stands for our pet projects, whatever those may be?

The Transfiguration and texts like the above suggest to me that I’ve likely barely begun to know Jesus—and that if I really want to know him (and I do want this!) that reality will probably be uncomfortable, and not what I expect it to be.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence from Passion Week, Maximilian Steinberg

Yours in Christ,

—Justin