No matter where we find ourselves in the three-year cycle of Readings, on the Second Sunday of Lent we always hear the story of the Lord’s Transfiguration… and, therefore, each year we hear Saint Peter say, “Master it is good that we are here.”
I wonder, however, how well this sentiment resonates with our annual facing-up-to the beginning of another Lenten season. Perhaps there are some who would, indeed, feel that “it is good to be here,” but I think there are more who experience something closer to dread:
+ the fasting and abstinence
+ the disciplines
+ giving up this or that of life’s little pleasures…
I suppose one might go along with Saint Peter, but only grudgingly, mumbling that “it is somehow good to be here…” not unlike taking some nasty medicine going for a root-canal, considering that Lent, like these other experiences, is good for us.
How, then, can we get to the other side of the experience, to the point where we can come to say sincerely that it is good for us to be here? Saint Peter uttered these words upon a mountaintop experience of the Lord’s Transfiguration. We will only be able to say the same upon experiencing something of the Lord’s Transfiguration
in our own lives by way of participating in this event through a Transfiguration of our own, so to speak, that is: a transformation of our own self-knowledge as the Chosen, the Beloved of God.
This is never easy, because you can’t get to Easter by doing an end-run around Good Friday.
This is what Jesus was discussing with Moses and Elijah: the Gospel story says that He “spoke of His exodus that He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” Surely, the use of this word “exodus” brings to mind the great Exodus — the passing of the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt to the new life of freedom in the Promised Land.
In Jerusalem, of course, Jesus will meet His Passion and Death, making an “exodus” or departure from the earth in His Resurrection, passing into His glory which the Apostles glimpse, if only dimly, in the Lord’s Transfiguration.
The original exodus of Israel from their bondage of slavery stands as an anticipatory symbol of the passage which Jesus is about to make. The Lord’s Holy Cross, then, becomes not merely a symbol, but a living, empowering, passage point for us
+ from slavery to freedom… that is…
+ from sinfulness to holiness.
Returning to the Apostles atop Mount Tabor, and considering Abraham having ascended Mount Moriah, we find that their experiences differ greatly:
+ the Apostles encounter a dazzling light
+ Abraham, a deep and terrifying darkness.
It is something like this terrifying darkness which we face each Lent as we ascend the mountain-climbing phenomenon we call “Lent,” admitting to, and doing penance for, our sins and failures. Never easy to do, our Lenten penances are meant to bring us the grace to overcome the darkness. The disciplines help us to address our sinful inclinations head-on, and actually to do something creative to get us to break the pattern of sin in our lives.
We begin this transformation from terrifying darkness to dazzling light by heeding the voice from heaven who says: “This is my Chosen Son; listen to Him.” Listening to the Word of God rather than to the word on the street will prompt us to begin our own ascent of Mount Tabor.
This ascent, a euphemism for prayer and openness to God, will re-awaken our own identity as the “Chosen,” and renew the Covenant first made with Abraham, and now given to us. But look at the shift in focus in that which God promises as the fulfillment of the Covenant:
+ In the original Covenant, God says to Abraham: “To your descendants I give this land.”
+ In the New Covenant, Saint Paul says to us: “ Our citizenship is in heaven.”
This means that:
+ Sons of Abraham are given an earthly realm wherein the Covenant has its beginnings.
+ Brothers of Christ are given a heavenly realm wherein the Covenant reaches its fulfillment.
To get there, we must make our own “exodus,” a personal Lenten -and lifetime - passage, by way of the Cross. The 40 days of Lent recall the 40 years of wandering in the desert: Those who went into the desert are not the same people as those who came out the other side. It would have been their grandchildren, formed by the experience in a new identity: no longer slaves, now they were free.
Forty days of Lent may seem like a long time, but may well be hardly enough to effect the change, the renewal, in identity we need. The proper goal in our observance of Lent is not stamina, perseverance, or suffering for their own sake, but as a means to an end.
The goal of our Lenten observance is holiness before God, and charity toward others, leading to our eventual citizenship in heaven. We should keep in mind that if we wish to get to heaven, we should live here as though we were already there. Finally, it is because of our hope to one day be there, that we can say, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”