Did you ever wonder how the image of God as an elderly man with white hair got started? The Book of Daniel has probably inspired lots of artists, the most influential being Michelangelo. Interestingly, while a seeming majority depict God as European, Daniel suggests a more African image. Definitively gendered and ethnocentric religious art can cripple our imaginations.

To be fair, the author of today's first reading was not trying to say what God looks like in the description of the ancient one. The point of this passage was to assure a persecuted people that God outranked any earthly ruler and that God's kingdom would eventually triumph over all evil. The focus of this reading is the image of the son of man, leading us to contemplate Christ who used that title for himself (Matthew 16:27-28).

Son of Man is a mysterious term. Jesus used the term in at least three ways: as a simple description of his humanity, in reference to his upcoming passion, and finally anticipating his resurrected, eternal destiny. (For examples, see Matthew 8:20; 11:19; 16:13; 12:32; 17:22; and 17:9 and 25:31.) Son of Man seemed to be Jesus' preferred title, pointing to all he was and would be. Seeing this title as Jesus' description of his vocation prepares us to accompany him and the disciples up the mountain of the Transfiguration. 

The Transfiguration scene echoes the Hebrew Scriptures at almost every turn. Most obviously, it features Moses, the one to whom God's law was revealed, and Elijah, the father of the prophets. Additionally, Jesus' ascent with two disciples evokes the memory of Moses leading his disciples to a mountain encounter with God (Exodus 24:9-11). Finally, and most strikingly, Matthew situates this incident six days after Jesus had spoken about his coming passion. That seemingly subtle detail situated the Transfiguration on the seventh day, referring to the fulfillment of creation (Matthew 17:1, Genesis 2:1-3). Matthew gives us these details as if they were background music to what is about to happen — even if the disciples weren't aware of it. (Imagine "How Great Thou Art.") 

Jesus' disciples were probably not expecting much to happen on that mountain. They had been with Jesus and seen him pray before. But this time was different. Without any preamble, Jesus became transfigured (metamorphized) before them. Matthew tells us that Jesus' garments were white as light and his face shone like the sun. Symbolically, the light, the first thing God created, indicates that Jesus was clothed in God's presence. Jesus' shining face suggests something more. 

The Hebrew word for praise is tehillah, which means to shine, indicating that a prayer of praise leads one to reflect the glory of God. Jesus' shining face revealed God. His prayer made him a mirror of God. Standing with Moses, God's lawgiver, and Elijah the prophet, Jesus reflected God's glory. This underlines Matthew's theology of Jesus as Emmanuel, God in our midst. (See Matthew 1:23 and 28:20.)

Peter embodied the disciples' response to this epiphany. They were glimpsing something more than they had previously perceived about Jesus and, like people concentrating on cameras at a wedding, their first response was to freeze it in time rather than let it affect them in the moment. Suddenly they were swept beyond their wonder and enveloped in a cloud, a sign that there was more to this moment than they could grasp. 

Beyond the symbolism of Moses and Elijah, the mountain and the light, the crux of the experience was the word of God: "This is my beloved Son … listen to him." That proclamation, echoing what Jesus had heard at his baptism (Matthew 3:16-17), confirmed Jesus as God's own and voiced the one command necessary: "Listen to him."

"Listen to him." That's all. If we want to know what God is like, listen to him. If we want to hear God's voice in our own time, if we want to know the will of God, listen to him. 

Hidden in that command is the invitation to praise him — for what else would we do if we really recognize him? Then, like Jesus before God, our praise will begin to transform us into his image. 

The wonder of the Transfiguration was not a light show but an invitation. If we want to know what God really looks like, we will gaze on those who love God — they come with curly hair and gray buns. They're old and young, Christian, Muslim, Jew and more. Not even Michelangelo could imagine all the variations in which God chooses to appear among us. 

Just listen and our world will be transfigured.

One of the divisions of the Hebrew Bible is the Ketuvim, the Writings, or otherwise called Wisdom literature. The wisdom tradition is an ancient one, originating in Mesopotamia, Canaan and Egypt. Ancient Egyptian wisdom consisted of formal instructions and lessons taught by parents and elders to children in their communities and societies. 

In the ancient cultures, of which Israel is a part, wisdom was oftentimes understood as either practical or speculative. Practical wisdom dealt with everyday attitudes, beliefs, customs, manners, forms of behavior, and economic, social, and ethical issues. This kind of wisdom was passed down from generation to generation through families, clans and tribes.

Speculative wisdom was more philosophical as people tried to make sense of natural disasters, untimely deaths, the dilemma of innocent suffering, and the irony of why injustice continued to prosper. The biblical cultures maintained that wisdom could be found in daily life, in the community, in the "marketplace," in all creation. The Hebrew word for wisdom is chokmah, a feminine noun, and sophia in Greek. The question for 21st-century readers is this: Do ancient stories and poems have any wisdom for us today, or are they merely dusty relics of past times that need to be buried? This Sunday's readings from the book of Kings and the Gospel of Matthew offers some perspectives on this question.

In 1 Kings 3:5, 7-12, the contents of a dream unfolds. Significant here is the role that dreams can play in the communication between humans and the divine. In the Bible, dreams may be symbolic, associated with invitations as in the call narratives, or serve as guidance from the divine to the human. Oftentimes, intuition, the highest form of intelligence, comes into play. In today's story from the Book of Kings, God and Solomon dialogue in a dream. The all-wise one extends an invitation: "Ask something of me and I will give it to you." The self-aware, reflective young leader, realizing his own inadequacies and sensing the gifts needed for leadership, asks for an understanding heart.

In a time of political strife, with empires jockeying for positions in the global arena, Solomon asks not for an increase of power, prestige, wealth or longevity. He asks instead for an understanding heart so that he can exercise proper judgment. This deed would likely include justice tempered with compassion and empathy, three virtues essential for good governance. 

In essence, Solomon is asking for wisdom, and the all-wise one bestows the gift fully and deeply. This young leader, with a lot of self-knowledge, possesses the humility to ask for the gift most needed to be of service to the people without ruling "over" them. This dialogue that we readers are privileged to share showcases the internal character of Solomon. Some today might see him as an "old soul."

Unfortunately, this self-aware, reflective person who desires to do right by others cannot lead with his heart because the political structures of his day, together with the patriarchal and hierarchical cultures in place, would annihilate him. Hence, he falls prey to the cultural attitudes and leadership models of his day. For Solomon and the people to maintain their autonomy and independence among empires, he has to embrace hegemonic power, and thus Israel's power-driven monarchical leadership model persists until destroyed by the Babylonian empire that, in turn, continued to fuel hegemonic leadership. This leadership model continues because the wisdom inscribed in the dream story of Solomon has yet to be re-inscribed fully into the lives of leaders today, both young and old.

The story in Matthew's Gospel describes two people searching, one for a treasure buried in a field, and the other, a merchant, looking for fine pearls. The search is cast in a parable, a type of story found in Wisdom literature. The desired treasure is identified with the kingdom of heaven, better understood as the realm of the divine. "Kingdom" language reflects imperialism embedded in both the Old and New Testaments. What the three people are searching for is wisdom, the all-wise one, within us and all around us. The only requirement needed to discover wisdom is to be a seeker, like Solomon and the two Gospel characters.

In sum, today's readings offer the following wise lessons. Wisdom is a divine gift already given that can be deepened. Wisdom is a virtue necessary for astute governance and leadership. Models of leadership that do not function wisely, justly and compassionately to serve both human and non-human life need to be deconstructed and either transformed or dismantled altogether. Finally, are we seeking the pearl of great price or have we settled for "all that glitters"?