2d Sunday of Lent
Feb. 21, 2016
Luke 9: 28-36
St. Vincent’s Hospital, Harrison, N.Y.
“Two
men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke
of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem” (Luke 9: 30-31).
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| The Transfiguration, by Perugino |
Last
Sunday’s New York Times had an
opinion piece titled “Death, the Prosperity Gospel and Me.”[1] The author is a historian of the so-called
“American prosperity gospel,” which she describes as “the belief that God
grants health and wealth to those with the right kind of faith.” She attended closely to its tenets and its
adherents and apparently accepted its truthfulness—until she was suddenly
diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer at the age of 35.
It’s
something of an echo of a book that a rabbi wrote about 20 years ago that asked
why bad things happen to good people. We
all ask those kinds of questions: Why is
there suffering? Why is there evil in
the world? Why do evil people prosper?
On
the 2d Sunday of Lent every year, we read the gospel of Jesus’ transfiguration from
either Matthew, Mark, or Luke. It’s a
rather strange episode in his life, in which he transcends his normal earthly
existence; he and his 3 closest disciples are transported to another level of
existence, another world.
That’s
the world of glory, of heaven, of eternal life, of the very presence of
God. God’s presence is indicated by the
blinding light, by the cloud that overshadows the scene, and of course by the
Father’s voice. Peter doesn’t want to
leave (v. 33), and we can’t blame him.
Many people who’ve had near-death experiences are truly disappointed
when they’re revived by EMTs or doctors, recalled from a glorious light and
deeply comforting feelings of warmth.
Two
heroic figures from Israel’s past appear alongside Jesus—appear “in glory,” in
heavenly light. Moses is the lawgiver,
the liaison of the covenant between God and Israel; he’s the one who leads
Israel from foreign slavery into freedom and a homeland—the leader of Israel’s
exodus journey from Egypt to the Promised Land.
Elijah is the model of all the prophets who constantly recall Israel to
their covenant responsibilities, their relationship with God, challenging the
grievous infidelities of kings, nobles, priests, and people, and who are made
to suffer on account of their prophesying.
Elijah, e.g., had to flee for his life and go into hiding in the
desert. Neither Moses nor Elijah
volunteered for the roles that God assigned to them or for the hardships involved. But now, after all their trials on earth,
after all the opposition that they met from human authorities and even from
their own people, they enjoy eternal life and heavenly glory.
As
we read the story in the gospels, Jesus has yet to enter that glory. He has already been warning his apostles that
he will suffer and die, and after 3 days rise from the dead. That is the exodus, the passage, the journey
that lies ahead of him, which Moses and Elijah speak with him about. His transfiguration, his keeping company with
Moses and Elijah, shows not only that he’s the fulfillment of the Law and the
Prophets, i.e., of the entire history of Israel, of the entire Old Testament,
but also that by going thru his own exodus he’ll reach the glory of eternal
life that they already enjoy—the “promised land” where God welcomes all his
people, all his sons and daughters.
The
voice of God the Father coming out of the cloud—“This is my chosen Son; listen
to him” (v. 35)—isn’t addressed to Jesus, however. He’s not the one who needs a reminder of the
road that he’s on, the destination he’s heading toward. It would be Peter, James, and John who need
that reminder, that advice, that encouragement.
Those
words, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him,” are addressed also to us. God’s chosen Son, his beloved Son, his only Son,
is on an exodus, a passage, a journey of pain and suffering and death that will
be the price for his fidelity and goodness.
Beyond the pain and suffering and death lies glory—eternal life, a place
in God’s kingdom.
Do
you know anyone who doesn’t have pain in his or her life? who doesn’t suffer heartache or physical pain
or loss or anxiety, etc.? Do you know
people who have more than their fair share of pain? Do you know anyone who isn’t going to
die? Have you known people who suffered
a death they didn’t deserve, by our way of reckoning such things? Of course.
Are we afraid of suffering and of how we might die? Probably.
Jesus
suffered those anxieties too, most notably in his agony in the Garden of
Gethsemane, and he faced them down. The
apostles were, blatantly, looking for earthly glory without suffering, without
the cross. But life’s not like that for
anyone, and we disciples of Jesus know now—after his passion, death, and
resurrection—life’s certainly not like that for us. There’s a transfiguration ahead for us, as
there was for Jesus; but 1st comes the exodus, the Passover journey with Jesus,
walking thru what the prayer “Hail, Holy Queen” calls “this vale of tears,”
this earthly life with its mix of joy and sorrow, of pleasure and pain, of
happiness and disappointment, where we’re constantly challenged to “listen to”
God’s chosen Son, listen to Jesus, follow Jesus, be faithful to Jesus: to love and forgive others even when it’s
difficult, to be honest, to be pure, to be patient, to pray, to share our goods
and talents, to be faithful to our spouses and our friends, etc.
If
we listen to Jesus, bravely carrying a share of his cross, then, as the psalm
says today, we “shall see the bounty of the Lord in the land of the living” (Ps
27:13). We’ll join Moses, Elijah, and
Jesus in heavenly glory.
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