Lenten Reflection : Second Sunday of Lent
Praying for those involved in cinema and theatre
In the Office of Readings in the Liturgy of the Hours during these weeks of Lent, we read from the Book of Exodus the story of the liberation of the Hebrews from Egypt and their preparation by God to enter into the Promised Land. The Church has always seen the relevance of the Hebrews’ forty years wandering in the desert understanding it to be not only another image for the season of Lent, but an image for human life in general and the quest for God in particular. As this newly liberated people crossed the Red Sea and entered the wilderness of the Sinai Peninsula, God led them to the foot of the great mountain of Sinai, and as they rested there, he called Moses, their leader, to ascend the mountain. We are told early in Exodus that Moses first encountered God in the burning bush on a mountain - Horeb, the mountain of God; now he finds himself on another sacred mountain. There, in this meeting with God, Moses receives the Decalogue - the Ten Commandments, together with the Law which is to regulate the life of the people of Israel. On that mountain God would enter into a covenant with the Hebrew people, fulfilling his promise to Abraham while preparing the way for the coming of the Messiah. The mountain, then, was the place of meeting, the holy place, where God revealed himself to a man and a people. As we read Scripture’s account of Moses’ time on that mountain with the Lord we hear of his desire to see God and this desire is fulfilled, although not completely: he may see God only from behind as he passes - the sight of God’s face is the beatific vision and that is reserved for the blessed in heaven. On the mountain Moses and those elders chosen to govern Israel with him have a banquet with God. Blessed are those who meet, eat and drink with God, so say many religious traditions for whom the image of feasting with the divine stands as the epitome of the afterlife. For Moses and his people this banquet took place while they were still on earth, on the mountain of Sinai.
For the people of the time it was not so strange for events such as these to take place on a mountain for mountains played an important role in religion. Mountains were places which were both revered and feared. Often identified as the abode of the gods, as sacred places, many had major roles to play in the rituals of various religions. In the pagan religion of the ancient Greeks, for example, Mount Olympus in Greece was the place where the gods lived, from which they ruled the earth and interfered in the lives of mortals. This idea of the sacred mountain is not unique to religions in the west, but is also an aspect of eastern religions: Mount Fuji, for example, in Japan is strongly associated with the deities of the Shinto religion. For the religious sensibility it seems the mountain rising up from the earth to heaven is an appropriate place to worship the gods and perform sacred rites. Many saw mountains as gateways to the other world and so were considered to be places of encounter with the divine. We might read the story of the tower of Babel in the light of sacred mountains: instead of waiting for the call of God, humanity decides to construct its own ‘sacred mountain’ as a ladder to heaven to escape the will and power of the Lord: this attempt is, of course, doomed to failure: we cannot presume, we cannot take it upon oneself to enter into the realm of the divine, we must be called.
In our Judeo-Christian faith we believe that God does indeed call us into a meeting with him, and so, God in his wisdom chooses to call Moses on to the mountain; and today we read in our Gospel of how Jesus also called three of his apostles on to a mountain, this time onto Tabor. Quite interestingly, as the fruit of the Incarnation, he does not call them up as God called Moses, but rather, already in their midst, he leads them up. The apostles follow in Jesus’ footsteps as he himself climbs to the summit: he is bringing them up himself to encounter the living God and what a surprise is waiting for them! How do we read this beautiful piece of Scripture, and why does the Church offer it to us for reflection in these days of Lent? Does this vision of the Transfiguration have anything to do with Lent? Yes, it does; it has everything to do with Lent and it has everything to do with the passion and death of Jesus. Mount Tabor, which tradition holds as the mountain on which Jesus was transfigured, is the new Sinai: the place where Jesus is revealed in his divinity and where his mission is once again proclaimed by the Father.
And so we read the Gospel: Jesus took with him Peter, James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. We are told at once that Jesus is leading the three into a contemplative experience. St Mark, our evangelist, is economic in his description; he does not describe the climb but moves quickly to the destination. This is very interesting. While we can be sure the climb was difficult and perhaps even eventful (were there any complaints?), Mark wants us to focus on what is waiting because the destination not only provides the reason for the climb, but also helps the climber endure and face the difficulties of the arduous journey up the mountain. That climb, of course, is mentioned in many ways in Scripture which provides the map and advises on the way we must climb. We also find advice in the writings of the Saints: St John of the Cross, for example, provides us with a profound ‘map’ and explanation of the journey in his Ascent of Mount Carmel. The destination, however, is paramount. I remember as a seminarian going on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock, our National Shrine in Ireland, for the Jubilee Year. On a wet evening in August 1879 Our Lady, St Joseph, St John and the Lamb of God appeared to a number of poor villagers, inspiring them with a message of hope in difficult times. On our way to Knock we were told that the destination did not matter: it was the journey, ‘pilgrimage’, which was important. Nothing was said of Our Lady, or the vision or the message, not even when we were at the shrine - it was all about pilgrimage, journey, travelling. This was very disconcerting because in every journey, spiritual or otherwise we felt there must be a destination; if there is no destination, or we do not know where we are going then our pilgrimage, our journey, is aimless, literally as much as spiritually; there is no context and it is hard to endure the difficulties. In his account St Mark is not leading us on an aimless journey - Jesus is leading his disciples resolutely up the mountain.
But the journey is not finished when they reach the summit - almost in the same breath St Mark immediately tells us that “There in their presence he was transfigured” - the destination is the vision. Mark then tarries a moment and describes what they saw: Jesus’ clothes were dazzlingly white - no bleacher on earth could make them as white as they were. But there is no mention of Jesus’ face. St Luke will tell us his face was changed; St Matthew says it shone like the sun: but Mark says nothing. Why? We are reminded, perhaps, of Dante’s dilemma at the end of his Divine Comedy: as he leads his readers into the vision of God in the Paradiso, he does not go on to describe that vision - he cannot. For one thing words fail him: he can only suggest, give an impression and then bring his work to an end hoping that we will hunger for the sight ourselves and so orient our lives to the ways of Christ in order to achieve that vision. Perhaps St Mark is doing the same thing: we must enter into the journey in order to reach the destination - the vision of God. Here, then, we can understand why the Church give us this Gospel for our Lenten journey - and so early in our Lenten observance. The vision of the transfiguration is given to us as the destination of the journey we have begun, of our penances and spiritual exercises. It provides us with the context: we do not do these things for the sake of it; we enter into Lent so we may be made holy and allowed enter into the vision of God. While we feel the climb towards Easter is difficult, this vision helps us keep our spirits up. But this vision is not for one Lent only: we must see every Lent in the context of our whole lives, and see our lives as the ascent of the mountain of God, to the place where we will not only encounter him and see him as he really is, but come to live with him - the place of eternal union: this is what St John of the Cross is teaching us in his Ascent of Mount Carmel. We learn through the image of Lent and, yes, in the concept of pilgrimage, that our lives are not aimless: there is a destination and we must keep our eyes focused on that.
Climbing the mountain, then, is the image for the spiritual life - the road to perfection which Lent symbolises. In this light we can see the Hebrews’ forty years in the desert as a significant image for own lives. In the midst of this climb there is also an encounter with the Lord since Jesus is with us as we climb the mountain: thanks to the Mystery of the Incarnation and his grace, he is walking with us, leading us to the vision, to the moment when we will see him in all his glory. In the Fraternity, our Dedicated Members pray the Hidden Years each day and they do so in order to reflect on Jesus in our midst now, today, leading us and guiding us, living with us - the Emmanuel. Christ in the midst of his people shares their joys and sorrows as he shares in their humanity, and he sanctifies his people and the world through his presence. Thanks to the Incarnation this is our encounter with the God-made-Man: though we cannot see him, as the apostles could not see his glory as he led them up the mountain, as they followed to the summit where they would see him Jesus urges each one of us to follow their example: we also must trust and follow him, always keeping our eyes fixed on him.
In our Judeo-Christian faith we believe that God does indeed call us into a meeting with him, and so, God in his wisdom chooses to call Moses on to the mountain; and today we read in our Gospel of how Jesus also called three of his apostles on to a mountain, this time onto Tabor. Quite interestingly, as the fruit of the Incarnation, he does not call them up as God called Moses, but rather, already in their midst, he leads them up. The apostles follow in Jesus’ footsteps as he himself climbs to the summit: he is bringing them up himself to encounter the living God and what a surprise is waiting for them! How do we read this beautiful piece of Scripture, and why does the Church offer it to us for reflection in these days of Lent? Does this vision of the Transfiguration have anything to do with Lent? Yes, it does; it has everything to do with Lent and it has everything to do with the passion and death of Jesus. Mount Tabor, which tradition holds as the mountain on which Jesus was transfigured, is the new Sinai: the place where Jesus is revealed in his divinity and where his mission is once again proclaimed by the Father.
And so we read the Gospel: Jesus took with him Peter, James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. We are told at once that Jesus is leading the three into a contemplative experience. St Mark, our evangelist, is economic in his description; he does not describe the climb but moves quickly to the destination. This is very interesting. While we can be sure the climb was difficult and perhaps even eventful (were there any complaints?), Mark wants us to focus on what is waiting because the destination not only provides the reason for the climb, but also helps the climber endure and face the difficulties of the arduous journey up the mountain. That climb, of course, is mentioned in many ways in Scripture which provides the map and advises on the way we must climb. We also find advice in the writings of the Saints: St John of the Cross, for example, provides us with a profound ‘map’ and explanation of the journey in his Ascent of Mount Carmel. The destination, however, is paramount. I remember as a seminarian going on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock, our National Shrine in Ireland, for the Jubilee Year. On a wet evening in August 1879 Our Lady, St Joseph, St John and the Lamb of God appeared to a number of poor villagers, inspiring them with a message of hope in difficult times. On our way to Knock we were told that the destination did not matter: it was the journey, ‘pilgrimage’, which was important. Nothing was said of Our Lady, or the vision or the message, not even when we were at the shrine - it was all about pilgrimage, journey, travelling. This was very disconcerting because in every journey, spiritual or otherwise we felt there must be a destination; if there is no destination, or we do not know where we are going then our pilgrimage, our journey, is aimless, literally as much as spiritually; there is no context and it is hard to endure the difficulties. In his account St Mark is not leading us on an aimless journey - Jesus is leading his disciples resolutely up the mountain.
But the journey is not finished when they reach the summit - almost in the same breath St Mark immediately tells us that “There in their presence he was transfigured” - the destination is the vision. Mark then tarries a moment and describes what they saw: Jesus’ clothes were dazzlingly white - no bleacher on earth could make them as white as they were. But there is no mention of Jesus’ face. St Luke will tell us his face was changed; St Matthew says it shone like the sun: but Mark says nothing. Why? We are reminded, perhaps, of Dante’s dilemma at the end of his Divine Comedy: as he leads his readers into the vision of God in the Paradiso, he does not go on to describe that vision - he cannot. For one thing words fail him: he can only suggest, give an impression and then bring his work to an end hoping that we will hunger for the sight ourselves and so orient our lives to the ways of Christ in order to achieve that vision. Perhaps St Mark is doing the same thing: we must enter into the journey in order to reach the destination - the vision of God. Here, then, we can understand why the Church give us this Gospel for our Lenten journey - and so early in our Lenten observance. The vision of the transfiguration is given to us as the destination of the journey we have begun, of our penances and spiritual exercises. It provides us with the context: we do not do these things for the sake of it; we enter into Lent so we may be made holy and allowed enter into the vision of God. While we feel the climb towards Easter is difficult, this vision helps us keep our spirits up. But this vision is not for one Lent only: we must see every Lent in the context of our whole lives, and see our lives as the ascent of the mountain of God, to the place where we will not only encounter him and see him as he really is, but come to live with him - the place of eternal union: this is what St John of the Cross is teaching us in his Ascent of Mount Carmel. We learn through the image of Lent and, yes, in the concept of pilgrimage, that our lives are not aimless: there is a destination and we must keep our eyes focused on that.
Climbing the mountain, then, is the image for the spiritual life - the road to perfection which Lent symbolises. In this light we can see the Hebrews’ forty years in the desert as a significant image for own lives. In the midst of this climb there is also an encounter with the Lord since Jesus is with us as we climb the mountain: thanks to the Mystery of the Incarnation and his grace, he is walking with us, leading us to the vision, to the moment when we will see him in all his glory. In the Fraternity, our Dedicated Members pray the Hidden Years each day and they do so in order to reflect on Jesus in our midst now, today, leading us and guiding us, living with us - the Emmanuel. Christ in the midst of his people shares their joys and sorrows as he shares in their humanity, and he sanctifies his people and the world through his presence. Thanks to the Incarnation this is our encounter with the God-made-Man: though we cannot see him, as the apostles could not see his glory as he led them up the mountain, as they followed to the summit where they would see him Jesus urges each one of us to follow their example: we also must trust and follow him, always keeping our eyes fixed on him.
In our reflection last week we looked at two meanings of Lent - the penitential and the way of transformation: today our Gospel leads us also to reflect on the third - the preparation for the celebration of Easter - the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus: the paschal mystery is at the heart of Lent because Lent is that sacred time in which we are renewed and prepared to celebrate this great mystery. The words uttered by the Father on Tabor, “This is my Beloved Son”, quite apart from revealing who Jesus of Nazareth is, also proclaims the context of our observance - Christ Jesus himself, the Son of the Living God; and the purpose of our observance: to be open to “Listen to him!” This proclamation also announces that Jesus is the Saviour, the Anointed, the Messiah sent to redeem us. They are the same words uttered by the Father at the baptism in the Jordan when Jesus endured the baptism of repentance “for righteousness sake” so as to identify with us completely even to be taken for a sinner. The baptism in the river leads to the cross on the mountain, for on the cross he was condemned as a sinner, as a blasphemer.
To help us reflect on the third dimension of Lent, the Church gives us the story of the Ageda - the Sacrifice of Isaac, from the Book of Genesis. Isaac, as the promised child, prefigures Jesus; much more so in the sacrifice. In this story we hear of Abraham taking his only son onto the mount in the land of Moriah and there preparing to sacrifice him to the Lord in obedience to his command. God spares Isaac, sending a ram instead for the sacrifice; he rewards Abraham’s obedience while pointing to the day when his only Son would be sacrificed as the Lamb for our sins. Jesus, we are told in the Gospel, has been preparing his disciples for this sacrifice and as he leads them up the mountain he means to give them a glimpse of the vision which is to sustain them in the midst of the confusion, sorrow and darkness which was to come. The Preface of the Mass for the Second Sunday of Lent reflects on this as it prays:
On your holy mountain he revealed himself in glory
in the presence of his disciples.
He had already prepared them for his approaching death.
He wanted to teach them through the Law and the Prophets
that the promised Christ had first to suffer
and so come to the glory of his resurrection.
The vision of the Transfiguration is also given to us to sustain us and carry us forward to the Resurrection: in that context, then, we understand the Transfiguration to be a Lenten vision and the Church offers us that vision in these early days of the season.
As we reflect on this third meaning of Lent, the anticipation of the Easter events, we see that it has two dimensions: the first is, of course, our preparation as disciples of Jesus to commemorate his salvific actions - to relive them, enter more deeply into them and be renewed by them. But also, secondly, to prepare to receive the effects of them - to prepare for our own death and be found worthy to enter into the vision of God ourselves: Tabor is a sign of encouragement and a restatement of the promise of God, as it is the first, distant glimpse of what is to come for those who are faithful. The Transfiguration of Jesus is a vision preserved in the memory of the Church to help us on the road to holiness.
The three chosen to receive this vision, and to pass it on to the Church, are interesting. Jesus often took Peter, James and John apart from the others to witness particular events. They were present as he raised Jairus’ daughter from the dead; they would also be asked to accompany him in his last agony in Gethsemane. Why did he pick these three in particular? Why not all twelve? Perhaps they were chosen to be the ministers to the other apostles and disciples. Certainly in this experience they are to share it with the others after the Resurrection as a means of inspiring hope. But there is another reason: these three have been singled out for particular roles within the Church.
St Peter, as we know, was chosen as the leader of the apostles and future first leader of the Church. He would be the one who was to guide the infant Church - to strengthen the brothers and sisters and to feed the flock. This onerous task required a greater faith: he is given the vision to sustain him personally and allow him open himself more to the Spirit to be led in his ministry as the Rock.
St John was Jesus’ closest apostle, the Beloved - his best friend we might say; but also the one who understood him best. We could say that John was rewarded for his openness to the Lord. The depth of friendship he shared with Christ is open to all but it requires our abandonment. This abandonment leads to the vision, and so John stands as an example to the Church in this regard. We can also see that he is the model of the contemplative. That beautiful moment at the Last Supper, when John leans on the Lord’s breast has often been considered the symbol of contemplative prayer: today, St John the Contemplative, the Beloved, sees the vision of the Lover, his heart’s desire and he urges us to seek that vision also: to become contemplatives ourselves so might come to know and love the Lord in a deeper way.
Then we have St James - what is so remarkable about him? Was he not like the other apostles, why single him out? St James would be the first of the apostles to face martyrdom - the first of the chosen ones to shed his blood for Christ. In this he is one who would become an example for the early Church teaching the flock how to die for Christ. St Stephen was the first martyr, and of course he keeps that honour; but the martyrdom of the first apostle was also a significant event since, as a leader in the Church, his example above all others would prove to be influential. In the Church we look to our bishops, we expect them to be examples for us: ministers of the Gospel not just in words but in the conduct of their lives. Our bishops, we believe, must be above reproach and be attentive disciples of Christ particularly in the midst of suffering. St James, as he bowed his head to the sword, knew that as the first of the twelve to die for Christ, the shedding of his blood must not only bring blessings to the Church, but in the manner of his death provide the example which would inspire others. The vision of the Transfiguration may well indeed have sustained him in those last moments of his so he could sustain us. Perhaps today, as we reflect on St James on Tabor, we might remember our bishops today who must be faithful witnesses to Christ in these difficult times.
These three apostles and their experience of the Transfiguration may also serve as symbols for other aspects of our lives of faith. St Peter may represent our responsibilities in the various roles we must fulfil as men and women in the world, and as Christians in these difficult times. The vision seen through Peter may inspire us to take up our daily tasks and do them in the light of the Gospel in spite of our weaknesses and the secularising influences around us. St John, as mentioned above, may represent our prayer lives, our desire to deepen our relationship with Christ. We may, however, feel that contemplation is beyond us - St John the Contemplative may not be accessible to us at the moment. But then we remember that John was given this vision to help him stand with hope at the foot of the cross when darkness and aridity reigned. The vision seen through St John encourages us to remain faithful to prayer even when all seems dark and silent. Finally St James may serve to stand as one helps us see the light in our own suffering, to see the presence of the Crucified One who never abandons us and even help us carry our cross. The vision of the Transfiguration seen through St James serves as an invitation for all who are laboured and overburdened to approach the meek and gentle One who seeks to unite them with himself and give rest to their souls.
St Peter, as we know, was chosen as the leader of the apostles and future first leader of the Church. He would be the one who was to guide the infant Church - to strengthen the brothers and sisters and to feed the flock. This onerous task required a greater faith: he is given the vision to sustain him personally and allow him open himself more to the Spirit to be led in his ministry as the Rock.
St John was Jesus’ closest apostle, the Beloved - his best friend we might say; but also the one who understood him best. We could say that John was rewarded for his openness to the Lord. The depth of friendship he shared with Christ is open to all but it requires our abandonment. This abandonment leads to the vision, and so John stands as an example to the Church in this regard. We can also see that he is the model of the contemplative. That beautiful moment at the Last Supper, when John leans on the Lord’s breast has often been considered the symbol of contemplative prayer: today, St John the Contemplative, the Beloved, sees the vision of the Lover, his heart’s desire and he urges us to seek that vision also: to become contemplatives ourselves so might come to know and love the Lord in a deeper way.
Then we have St James - what is so remarkable about him? Was he not like the other apostles, why single him out? St James would be the first of the apostles to face martyrdom - the first of the chosen ones to shed his blood for Christ. In this he is one who would become an example for the early Church teaching the flock how to die for Christ. St Stephen was the first martyr, and of course he keeps that honour; but the martyrdom of the first apostle was also a significant event since, as a leader in the Church, his example above all others would prove to be influential. In the Church we look to our bishops, we expect them to be examples for us: ministers of the Gospel not just in words but in the conduct of their lives. Our bishops, we believe, must be above reproach and be attentive disciples of Christ particularly in the midst of suffering. St James, as he bowed his head to the sword, knew that as the first of the twelve to die for Christ, the shedding of his blood must not only bring blessings to the Church, but in the manner of his death provide the example which would inspire others. The vision of the Transfiguration may well indeed have sustained him in those last moments of his so he could sustain us. Perhaps today, as we reflect on St James on Tabor, we might remember our bishops today who must be faithful witnesses to Christ in these difficult times.
These three apostles and their experience of the Transfiguration may also serve as symbols for other aspects of our lives of faith. St Peter may represent our responsibilities in the various roles we must fulfil as men and women in the world, and as Christians in these difficult times. The vision seen through Peter may inspire us to take up our daily tasks and do them in the light of the Gospel in spite of our weaknesses and the secularising influences around us. St John, as mentioned above, may represent our prayer lives, our desire to deepen our relationship with Christ. We may, however, feel that contemplation is beyond us - St John the Contemplative may not be accessible to us at the moment. But then we remember that John was given this vision to help him stand with hope at the foot of the cross when darkness and aridity reigned. The vision seen through St John encourages us to remain faithful to prayer even when all seems dark and silent. Finally St James may serve to stand as one helps us see the light in our own suffering, to see the presence of the Crucified One who never abandons us and even help us carry our cross. The vision of the Transfiguration seen through St James serves as an invitation for all who are laboured and overburdened to approach the meek and gentle One who seeks to unite them with himself and give rest to their souls.
The vision of the Transfiguration is one which holds so many riches - there is still so much to be said. There is the presence of Moses and Elijah, for example, representatives of the Law and the Prophets. Their presence is of profound significance; quite apart from the fact that they represent the people of Israel as witnesses to Jesus as Messiah, they are also witnesses to his passion, death and resurrection in that their own lives and ministries prepared the way for his. Their lives and examples also speak of fidelity, of encounters with God, of the radical way of love, the joy of union and the power of sacrifice. But we do not have time nor space to go any further. For now, in these early weeks of Lent, as we look at the vision of Jesus transfigured on the mountain, inviting us to come forward to meet with him, we can pray the words of St Peter: “It is wonderful for us to be here”. In the midst of our penances and sacrifices, we might not feel like saying this, and yet we must. With our eyes set on the destination we ask for the grace to make those words our own because we must never forget that we are always in the presence of the Beloved Son, and it is he who wants to lead us up the mountain to the vision.
Mount Sinai
St Peter recieves the Keys from Jesus
Jesus and St John at the Last Supper
The beheading of St James the Great
The Transfiguration
Fr John Hogan,
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius