The Transfiguration

If I had to pick one major gap in my childhood Christian education, it would be the Transfiguration. I either didn’t hear about it at all or so little importance was placed on it, that I didn’t know what it was until I was 15. And then it struck me as, “This sounds like kind of a big deal. Why is no one talking about this?” I learned the story, but then never investigated any meaning behind it. It struck me as powerful and important and beautiful, yet I had no idea why. 

Later, I was still drawn to it, but explainations I found always seemed lacking. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain, where they watch him in a bright light of divinity. Moses and Elijah appear on either side of Jesus. Similar to his baptism, a voice from heaven announces, “This is my Son. Listen to him.” So it's a throwback to his baptism, a display of his place uniting the Law and the Prophets, and a showcase of his divinity. But it seems like so much more than just an indicator of other things. There is weight and significance on its own, surely. Yet, it seems to be treated as a footnote by many. I just know that if I were Peter or James or John, this is an experience that would alter my life (and I believe it did alter theirs). I feel like I'm missing the real point of it, and that maybe I'm not ready to understand it.

While in the midst of things, Peter suggests building tabernacles there to honor Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. And like always, a disciple gets it wrong. He wants to stay on the mountain and relish in this beautiful holy moment, but the moment is swift, and it points towards things to come (Christ’s Passion). They have to leave the mountain. I think I look at the Transfiguration the same way many of the disciples looked at Jesus. The meaning and theology isn’t all worked out, but the recognition of something super important is there. And I’m definitely one who wants to just stay on the mountain enjoying the radiance instead of coming back down and doing the dirty work.

St. Magnus and St. Ronald

The story of St. Magnus comes from two sagas. Magnus Erlendsson was born in 1075 to the Earl of Orkney, then under Norwegian rule. His father was a twin, which created complications with who was the rightful earl. Magnus and his first cousin, Haakon Paulsson, ruled jointly for some time, but eventually, their followers demanded that only one man be earl. In 1115, they agreed to meet unarmed on an island and discuss the matter.

Magnus arrived under the agreed upon conditions, but Haakon arrived with several men and seized Magnus. Haakon refused to kill his own cousin, who was known as a pious and honorable man, so he asked his standard bearer to do so, but he refused as well. Eventually, the cook was ordered to kill Magnus. Magnus prayed for his executioner, and his only request was that he not be beheaded, so the cook struck him through the skull with the axe.

St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall

Rumors grew of healings at his burial site on Birsay, gaining followers and pilgrims. Magnus’ nephew, St. Ronald, decided to build a cathedral in Magnus’ honor. In 1137, Magnus’ remains were moved to the cathedral in Kirkwall. In 1917, bones were found in one of the columns, including a damaged skull, lending proof that they were Magnus’ remains. Because the Reformation was not as dramatic or violent in Orkney as in other parts of the UK, St. Magnus is one of very few saints who still rests in his cathedral in the country.

Magnus’ nephew, Ronald, went on to become a saint himself. He became Earl of Orkney and Shetland in 1129. In 1151, he went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He died in 1158 in Scotland. His feast day is August 20.

It was fascinating putting together parts of St. Magnus’ and St. Ronald’s story as I traveled around Orkney. I went to Birsay, where Magnus grew up and was buried, and I saw the column in the cathedral where he rests now. I was surrounded by their history, and their stories continue to be remembered and play a role in the community’s identity. And suddenly, 900 years doesn’t feel that long ago. There is a connection that stretches across the barriers of time and death. Here we all are, sharing in the story.

7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 70)

1. I know, I know. I’ve been awful about writing this past month. I’ve been travelling a lot, and I only work well with a routine. But I’ve had a great time seeing lots of friends!

2. I’m 95% sure I have a job once school starts. The contract isn’t signed yet, but I have accepted a GA position. And it’s within my field and using skills I like using, so I’m really excited (which is why I’m sure something will go wrong).

3. I’ve been watching some King of the Hill this week, and I’m starting to think Hank Hill and I share a lot of thoughts on God and church. (I could probably make this its own post.) 

• On all the amenities of mega-churches: “If I wanted to go that route, I could just walk around the mall and think about Jesus.” (S10E11, pretty much all of “Church Hopping” is gold.)

• On praying before meals: “God appreciates the support, but I’m sure He doesn’t want the pot roast to get cold, so let’s wrap it up.” (S8E02)

• On Christian rock: “When I was young, you went to rock’n’roll concerts on Saturday night and asked for forgiveness on Sunday. Now it’s all mixed together.” (S8E02)

• On “hip” marketing of Christianity: I never thought that Members Only jacket would go out of style, but it did. I know you think stuff you’re doing now is cool, but in a few years you’re going to think it’s lame, and I don’t want the Lord to end up in this box.”(S8E02)

4. Some friends and I are planning some church visits this month, and I’m really looking forward to them. I’ve written up a grading scale and everything. I really want to be less judgmental of non-denominational churches and praise bands, so I’m really going to try to find the positive in each visit and write on it.

5. I’ve started reading Orthodoxy. Chesterton already had me hooked with the Table of Contents.

6. I’m also reading Around the World in 80 Days. I often think I was born 100 years too late. My love of late Victorian/Edwardian literature adds to that thought. But if I were born in the 1880s, I would probably have a weird affinity for the Enlightenment.

7. I miss Orkney. Everything else I do is just a back-up plan to marrying a Scotsman, raising sheep, and becoming a reclusive novelist.