Promise, Covenant, and Glory: Reading the Transfiguration Through Abraham, Moses, and Elijah

The Transfiguration is not an isolated miracle. It is a moment in which the architecture of salvation history becomes briefly transparent.

In Genesis 12, God makes three promises to Abram: blessing, a great name, and a great nation. Yet embedded within those promises is something universal: “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” Israel’s election was therefore never tribal favoritism. It was teleological. God chose one people for the sake of all peoples.

That structure matters when we ascend the mountain of the Transfiguration.

There, Jesus is revealed in glory. His face shines like the sun. His garments become radiant. Standing beside him are Moses and Elijah.

The pairing is deliberate. Moses embodies the Law. Elijah represents the prophetic witness. Together they signify the covenantal history of Israel. The Law ordered Israel’s life. The Prophets recalled her to fidelity when she strayed. Both were oriented toward fulfillment.

Moses once ascended Sinai and entered the cloud. In the tent of meeting he spoke with God and dared to ask, “Show me your glory.” He was told that no one could see the Lord’s face and live. What he received was partial. The glory passed by. The fullness remained veiled.

On the mountain of the Transfiguration, that veil is lifted. The glory does not pass behind him. It stands before him. The radiance shines not from a cleft in the rock but from the face of Christ. What was once inaccessible becomes visible.

One detail sharpens the connection. Peter proposes building three tents.

This is not mere enthusiasm. The word evokes the tabernacle of the wilderness, the place where the cloud descended and the glory dwelt. Peter’s instinct is revealing. If the glory has returned, perhaps the tent must return as well.

Yet before he can finish speaking, the bright cloud overshadows them and the Father declares, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.”

The implication is decisive. The true tabernacle is not a structure but a Person.

John’s Gospel makes this explicit. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The verb means to tabernacle. The glory that once filled the tent now dwells bodily in Christ. God’s presence is no longer housed in fabric and wood. It has assumed human nature.

Moses once entered a tent and asked to see divine glory. On this mountain he stands outside no tent at all and beholds that glory unveiled in the incarnate Son. What was mediated becomes immediate. What was partial becomes personal.

Elijah’s presence completes the convergence. He too encountered God on Horeb, not in wind, earthquake, or fire, but in a still voice. He defended the covenant against idolatry and was associated with the coming Day of the Lord. Now he stands before the definitive Word, the one who will establish the new covenant not through spectacle but through sacrificial love. The prophet of zeal beholds the fulfillment of his hope.

Behind Moses and Elijah stands Abraham. Jesus himself interprets the patriarch this way: “Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day; he saw it and was glad.” Abraham saw in promise what Moses glimpsed in shadow and Elijah proclaimed in expectation. On this mountain the promise flowers.

The Father speaks again: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Sinai’s thunder gives way to clarity. The Law and the Prophets are not silenced but subordinated. Their authority is real, yet ordered toward the Son.

Importantly, the Transfiguration precedes the Passion. Glory is revealed before suffering unfolds. The vision prepares the disciples for scandal. Without the mountain, the Cross would appear defeat. With the mountain, the Cross is revealed as the path of divine love.

The promises to Abraham, the covenant through Moses, and the prophetic witness of Elijah converge in Christ. Through him the blessing extends to the nations. Through him death is overcome. Through him the covenant reaches its telos.

If Israel was chosen for the world, and if Christ fulfills Israel, then those united to Christ inherit that vocation. The Church does not exist for herself. She exists as a sign and instrument of blessing for the nations.

Yet the story does not end on the mountain.

If Christ is the true tabernacle, then his presence does not vanish with the cloud. The glory revealed there continues in a different mode. The same Lord who shone before the disciples now gives himself under humble signs. The dwelling of God among men persists sacramentally. The Church becomes, in Christ, the place where heaven and earth meet.

But the Church is not given that glory to contain it.

Israel was chosen for the sake of the nations. Christ fulfills Israel. And those united to Christ inherit that same outward movement. The blessing given to Abraham was never meant to stop. It was meant to spread.

The Transfiguration therefore does more than reveal who Jesus is. It clarifies who we are.

We are not spectators of divine glory. We are participants in a covenant that moves outward. Having beheld Christ, we are sent from the mountain into the world. The light that once shone from his face must now be reflected in lives shaped by fidelity, sacrifice, and hope. And because the mountain always gives way to the Cross, that mission will often require suffering before it bears fruit.

The promise has matured into fulfillment. Fulfillment becomes mission. And the blessing continues to extend, until all families of the earth are gathered into the light first revealed to Abraham in promise and to the disciples in glory.