2^nd Sunday of Lent; March 13, 2022

Gn 15:5-18.  Ps 27.  Phil 3:17-4:1.  Lk 9:28-36

Deacon Jim McFadden

            The readings for the Second Sunday of Lent awaken a sense of wonder to a world beyond our own—a mystical consciousness in which we encounter the glory of God.  So, in our first reading Abraham—the Father of Faith—enacts a strange, if not bizarre ritual that establishes a covenant between himself and God.  While the notion of covenant runs throughout the Old and New Testaments, this one is accompanied by mystical symbols.  First, the mountain, the deep terrifying darkness, the flaming torch; the voice from heaven.  There all symbols which signify that Abraham is not making some run-of-the-mill contract you’d make with an ordinary human being.  Rather, he is making a covenant with this strange, intriguing, and mysterious God that he cannot control and he knows it.  He is someone beyond this world of space and time.

            Then in our second reading, St. Paul talks about our citizenship in heaven, which implies that my true citizenship is not of this world.  Now, while we have duties and responsibilities as citizens of the USA, that’s not where our ultimate allegiance abides.  Where is it, then?  Paul responds that it exists in Heaven, which is our destiny and where we truly belong.  That’s why the Church Fathers would often describe Heaven as patria or homeland.  I’m going home when I’m going to Heaven.

            Then we have the more beguiling, intriguing Transfiguration of the Lord in today’s Gospel reading.  In both the Abraham story and the Gospel, we have similar elements: the mountain, the darkness, the voice, and the dazzling light—all spiritual symbols that speak of a breakthrough of a higher world.  The breakthrough is that Jesus is going to allow the disciples Peter, James, and John a foretaste of the Resurrection: a glimpse of Heaven here on earth.  Like Abraham, the Transfiguration of Jesus occurs on a mountain, which symbolically becomes the meeting place between the ordinary and the extraordinary.  It’s where heaven and earth come together in the transfigured presence of Jesus. 

            What about the darkness in both the Abrahamic and Transfiguration stories?  We live in the shadow and darkness is the only world that we know.  Despite our pretensions, in darkness we’re not in charge.  When it’s dark, we tentatively move about, bumping into the furniture of our lives. But, in the Light—who is Christ: Light from Light, true God from True God—we can move about with confidence because our lives are rightly ordered to the Father’s will and we see clearly as to what is Real and what is Fake. 

            The voice?  God is speaking to us and behooves us to listen.  We’re bombarded by so much white noise—the average young person spends 6-8 hours on her smartphone or computer—that it is difficult to be still and to listen.  But, the voice is breaking through into our ordinary experience, which will challenge us to re-examine our lives because as  God reminds us through the prophet Isaiah “My ways are not your ways; my thoughts are not your thoughts” (Is 55:8).

            The Transfiguration is not a discreet event, but occurs at a precise moment in Christ’s mission, which is important to know if we’re going to understand the full import of this event.  Previously, Jesus has just confided to his disciples that he would have to “suffer many things, …be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Lk 9:22).  Jesus knows that at this juncture they are not ready for this reality—it just doesn’t fit with their expectation of the Messiah.  The reality of the Cross—a gruesome instrument of Roman torture—is just too much and the reality of Jesus’ pending death is too much to bear.  But Jesus wants to prepare them for the reality of the Paschal Mystery so that they may know that this is the only way through which the heavenly Father will lead his Son to glory—by raising him from the dead. And this will be the way for this disciples: no one can reach eternal life except through the Cross. 

            That’s why Jesus laid down the conditions for discipleship immediately following the 1^st prediction of the Passion: “If anyone wishes to follow me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (v. 23).  If we’re going to follow Jesus, we’ve got to carry our own cross in this earthly life.  As someone once said, if you’re going to be a disciple, “you better look good in wood.”

            Therefore, the Transfiguration shows us the Christian perspective on suffering.  It’s not that Christians are into sadomasochism; rather, it is a necessary but transitory passage.  The endgame to which we are called is luminous like the face of Christ Transfigured: in him is salvation, Beatitude, Light, and the boundless love of God.  By revealing to us his glory in this way, Jesus assures us that the Cross, the trials, the difficulties with which we struggle are not the endpoint, but are resolved and overcome on Easter. 

            So, this Lent let us go up to the mountain with Jesus!  But, in what way?  With life hurling so many daunting challenges our way, we must climb the mountain with prayer: silent prayer, meditative prayer, contemplative prayer, communal prayer, heartfelt prayer from the very depths of our soul that always seeks the Lord Jesus.  Let us pause for some time in reflection, to go into the Quiet, and fix our gaze on his Transfigured countenance and let us always allow his Light shine in our life, especially when it seems so dark.  Amen.