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If you’re anything like me, you started Lent with a bang, but the reality of six long weeks may have begun to set in and your initial fervor may have begun to flag. The Church had this in mind when it came up with today’s readings. They encourage us by giving us a glimpse of the finish line or, if you prefer, they ‘fast-forward’ us to the awards ceremony -- to the winners’ podium: to the gold, the bronze, the silver! Christ gloriously transfigured on the mountaintop is the finish line: he’s there to fire our imaginations and strengthen our weak knees for the journey that lies ahead. And in case that vision of glory is not enough, the church reinforces it by reaching back even further to the vision God once gave to Abraham, our father in faith, in the midst of his long journey – a journey that took him far from home, a journey on which, at one point, he nearly lost his beloved son. When all was uncertainty for Abraham, and God’s promise to make him the father of a great nation must have seemed almost silly, God led him outside and opened his eyes to a magnificent vision. The great dark vault of the heavens studded with stars beyond number would be the measure of his progeny, God told him. And that was enough for Abraham. He could continue the journey. It’s good for us, early in our Lenten journey, to see star-studded skies and to see a vision of Christ brilliant as the sun. It’s especially good for our Elect, preparing for Baptism and the Easter sacraments. Their Lenten journey will end beneath a starry sky out in front of the cathedral at the Easter Vigil as the new fire is lit and they are led into the Cathedral by the great Easter candle, the sign of Christ risen and gloriously transfigured. Visions. We all need them to help us find our way and to sustain us along the way. And God is generous in giving them (although we don’t always see them). Moses and Elijah, those two companions of the transfigured Jesus on the mountaintop, were favored with visions when they needed them. When God called Moses to stand down the great Pharaoh and lead his people from slavery to freedom, he appeared to him and called out to him from the mysterious burning bush. And when Elijah, weary from running for his life and discouraged about life in general, hid in a cave on the mountainside, God passed by the entrance of the cave and spoke to him in a “still, small voice,” the sound of a gentle breeze. What would Moses and Elijah have done without those visions?! But visions don’t come to the unaware, and the great visions almost always come during prayer. That is clear from today’s readings. Luke is alone among the evangelists in telling us the reason why Jesus went up the mountain: it was to pray, and it was while he was praying that the appearance of his face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. Prayer is the climate for visions -- the climate God uses to break through our human darkness and reveal the divine face. And what a helpful reminder that is early in the season of Lent, this season that is defined by prayer. We are being told today that if we will but slow down a bit, idle our racing engines, seek quiet, peaceful corners in the midst of our noisy and demanding lives, the vision will come. It may not be dramatic but it will be real, and we will meet God. But a warning: visions can be a mixed blessing. They almost always take us to new places and not always to places we would choose to go. That was true for Abraham, Moses, and Elijah, and it was also true for Peter, James, and John on the mountain of transfiguration. They not only saw the Lord in glory, they also heard him engaged in conversation with Moses and Elijah. And what were they conversing about? Luke tells us they were speaking about his “departure” which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem. Now the word for departure which Luke uses is a word Moses knew very well, and Elijah, too. It’s the word “exodus.” These two great heroes of the Jewish faith were speaking to Jesus about yet another “exodus” – his own exodus -- his crucifixion, death, and resurrection. Like Moses, Jesus was about to undertake a painful exodus through death to life. Like Elijah, he was going to pay a high price for his prophetic fidelity. Peter, James, and John would probably just as soon have not heard that conversation. It was out of keeping with the transfigured, glorious Christ and it certainly didn’t match the exalted expectations they had for their master. No wonder they became afraid and fell silent. But we can be happy they did. Thanks to them, there’s hope for us. We don’t relish talk of suffering and death any more than they did, yet deal with them we must. And face them. And Lent is the ideal time to do so. For Lent, my friends, is “exodus time” -— time for leaving the old behind, time for going to new places. Those friends on the mountaintop assure us that we do not make our exodus alone. Nor do we make it in the dark. The brief but brilliant vision of Christ in glory can light the path of our exodus all the way to Easter. Father Michael G. Ryan |
The
Second Sunday of Lent