SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT

Cycle “A”: Gen 12, 1-4a; 2 Tim 1, 8b-10, Mt 17, 1-9

Introduction: When Pope John Paul II introduced the Five Mysteries of Light into the weekly cycle of the Rosary meditations, he filled what had long been missing from the existing fifteen decades: the public ministry of Jesus. In each mystery Jesus reveals himself, enlightening and illuminating our lives. On this second Sunday of Lent, the liturgy focuses on the fourth of these mysteries: the Transfiguration of the Lord, according to the tradition of Mathew. In his Transfiguration Jesus gave us a glimpse of his divinity, but also reminds us that his glory will be seen in the shame and shadow of the Cross. In the life of Jesus, shame and glory are the two sides of the same coin. And so it almost inevitably will be in ours, especially the shame of our sins. But if we offer ourselves with all our sinfulness to our Father, we shall hear him say to us as he said to Jesus, “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” So with great confidence in our most loving Father we entrust ourselves to him and confess our sins: “I confess…”

The Homily:On this beautiful second Sunday of Lent we recall the splendid Transfiguration of the Lord. We believers are witnesses to the true nature of Jesus Christ as Son of God, a nature that revealed itself in a burst of dazzling light, the pure transparency of divinity. Today Jesus tells us what God is like .Yet the picture is not complete unless you keep observing. The Son of God is not content to stay in a blaze of glory, but he begins to descend the mount in order to ascend another mount called Golgotha. And as he descends he says strange things like laying down his life as a sacrifice for all men and women. That’s the kind of God we have come to know - a God whose glory is spelled out in wounds, painful cries, darkness and death. A God pretty much like we are; worse off than we are. Every time we celebrate the holy sacrifice of the Mass we renew that mysterious word and sacrifice of Jesus, and in the process of our celebration we beseech God to take possession of our hearts and transfigure them.

Now let us listen to Peter as he blurts out that famous line, “Master, it is good for us to be here.” His words came tumbling out, the best he could muster in his wonderment and admiration at the splendour he witnessed. He could say no better: his words were the best expression of his intelligence and the exhilaration of his emotions, “Master, it good for us to be here.”

My dear friends, have we not sometimes said the same, when we felt the nearness of the Lord and were fain to leave his presence as he drew us closer to himself, and we sensed his irresistible attraction, the beauty of his Godhead? And we said something like what Peter said: “Lord, it feels so good to be with you.”

My dear friends, our Lord Jesus bids us to hunger for him. Faced with the insatiable desires of the marketplace, we are invited, not to repression, but to hunger for something more than the marketplace. We are passionate people, and to kill all passion would be to stunt our humanity and allow it to wither. That would make us preachers of death. Instead, we must be liberated into deeper desire for the boundless goodness of God. So we beg God to make himself irresistible; that our fascination for him may never wither away. Our desires go astray, not because we ask for too much, but because we have settled for too little, for tiny meaningless satisfactions. The ideal for us is not to control our appetite at all, but to allow them full rein in the wake of an uncontrolled appetite for God.  The advertisements that line our roads invite us to struggle against each other, to trample on each other in the competition to fulfil our endless desires. But our God offers us the satisfaction of infinite desire freely and as a gift, for God is the most beautiful, most attractive, most lovable and satisfying of all.  The glory of Jesus is our glory, too.

On the mountaintop, Peter, James and John saw Jesus as he really is, and as he would be after his resurrection. They had a glimpse of his true glory as Son of god. Yet after this they had to go back down the mountain and continue their lives. Later, they had to endure the suffering of seeing Jesus die on the cross before they experienced the joy of his resurrection. We may have experienced times when we feel especially close to God, when we seem to glimpse his glory and are filled with his life. But these feelings do not last. We have to live our own lives in a world full of evil and suffering, where God seems distant. It is then that we can recall the times when God was close to us. They remind us that God is real, and that we have the hope of future glory to strengthen us. For Jesus, his glory and suffering were intimately linked. We pray that in our suffering we may believe that his risen life is at work in our very pain.

Yes, indeed, we are all awkward customers, plagued by our own follies and by the very many difficulties of being human in a world that runs to so much inhumanity. We are not easy to work with or to work through.

It is important to handle every experience to the best of your ability now. You may have to practise more patience, strive that much harder, reach inside yourself for a little more strength, and muster a little more faith in God and yourself. If after you have given everything you have to give, you still come up short, you will have nothing to be ashamed of. You can experience the inner peace of those who know they gave their all. You will be a success regardless of the outcome. You will be better, not bitter, knowing that in God’s presence you did your best.

So, my dear friends, we can say, and with all others who bear witness to the work of God in the midst of us, we can say with thanksgiving and wonder:

“Lord, it is good to be here.”  “It’s good to be with you, Lord. May I be with you forever.”

PRAYER: One of the best-loved hymns written by Isaac Watts of Southampton (1674 – 1748: 74 years)

Lord of the worlds above,

How pleasant and how fair

The dwellings of thy love,

Thy earthly temples are!

To thine abode

My hearts aspires,

With warm desires

To see my God;

O happy souls that pray

Where God appoints to hear!

O happy men that pay

Their constant service there!

They praise thee still;

And happy they

That love the way

To Zion’s hill.

They go from strength to strength

Through this dark vale of tears,

Till each arrives at length,

Till each in heaven appears:

O glorious seat!

When God our King

Shall thither bring

Our willing feet.

from my Diary
How infinitely splendid you look, my glorious Lord Jesus Christ!
I am ecstatic in my wonderment.
Powerful, glorious, transcendent, ineffable.
And it is your nature as God the Son;
God, as He beholds himself, 
knows Himself in one eternally present act of self-possession.
But God-as-He-knows Himself is going to pass, "go across" ("trans")
from one self-knowledge to another:
an emptying, shattering, utterly crushing self-knowledge.
Here I break down and weep, and I raise my heart to you,
my dearest Lord, for the way you emptied and lowered Yourself
so that you could meet me in my brokenness and misery.