Homily for the Second Sunday of Lent — Year C

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, each year, we also hear Saint Peter say, “Lord, 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 a few who would truly feel that “it’s good to be here,” but I think that many experience something closer to dread: the fasting and abstaining… the disciplines… the penance. I suppose we might grant a grudging, “it’s good to be here,” just as we might face up to taking some nasty medicine, or beginning a new regimen of diet and exercise, knowing that Lent, like these other things, 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 experiencing the Lord’s Transfiguration. We will only be able to say them upon experiencing the Lord’s Transfiguration in our own life by way of participating in this event through a transfiguration of our own, so to speak: 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. Good Friday is what Jesus was discussing with Moses and Elijah: the Gospel 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 Jews from slavery in Egypt to the new life of freedom in the Promised Land. In Jerusalem, 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 today atop Mount Tabor.

The original exodus of Israel from the bondage of slavery stands as an anticipatory sign of the passage which Jesus is about to make. The Cross, then, becomes more than a mere symbol, but our own true passage from slavery to freedom, that is, from sinfulness to holiness.

Whereas the Apostles experienced a dazzling light, Abraham, we are told, experienced a deep and terrifying darkness. It is this terrifying darkness which we face each Lent as we admit, and do penance for, our sin. 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 do something creative to get us to break the pattern of sin.

We begin this transformation from terrifying darkness to dazzling light by heeding the voice from heaven: “This is my chosen Son; listen to Him.” Listening to the Word of God rather than to the word on the street will begin our own ascent of Mount Tabor. This ascent, a euphemism for prayer and openness to God, will awaken our own identity as the “chosen,” and renew the Covenant first made with Abraham, and now extended to us.

But look at the shift in focus in that which God promises as the fulfillment of the Covenant: God says to Abraham, “To your descendants I give this land.” But then Saint Paul says to us, “Our citizenship is in heaven.” This suggests that Sons of Abraham are given an earthly realm, while Brothers of Christ are given a heavenly realm. 

To get there, we must make our own Exodus, a personal passage, by way of the Cross. The forty days of Lent recall the forty years of wandering in the desert. Those who went into the desert were not the those who came out the other side: forty years had passed, meaning that those who eventually entered the Promised Land were their grandchildren, formed by the desert experience into a new identity: no longer slaves to the Egyptians, but now a free people.

These forty days of Lent might seem like a long time, but they might well be hardly enough to effect the change in identity we need as we come out the other side of the season as a free people, that is, free from our former identity as slaves of sin.

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 Lent is to move toward holiness before God and charity toward others, leading to an eventual citizenship in heaven. So, if you wish to get to heaven, begin living here as though you were already there. It is because of our hope one day to be there that we can say in this Lent, with Saint Peter, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”