Well, it was “to pray” that Jesus led the three disciples up a mountain, in the Gospel today. So they hike up the mountain, they reach the summit, and Jesus then begins his time of prayer just as the three disciples had anticipated. But in the midst of that prayer, everything changed.
In the midst of that prayer, Jesus’ face “changed in appearance,” his clothing “became dazzling white.” And this “dazzling white” is the color that belongs to the End of Days.
It is the color of objects and animals in the Book of Revelations. In the midst of time, the disciples are given a glimpse of how the Lord will appear when he comes, at the end of time. Now appear the two figures who speak with Jesus—Moses and Elijah. And they bring all of Scripture, the Law and the Prophets, to this moment with the Christ of God. They are speaking with Jesus about his exodus, what he was to accomplish in Jerusalem.
They are speaking about the “Paschal mystery,” this exodus of Christ from death, to new and eternal life. At the Easter Vigil, as the Paschal candle is blessed the Exultet is sung, this ancient Christian hymn:
“This is the night…”“This is the night…you freed the people of Israel from their slavery and led them with dry feet through the sea.”“This is the night…when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin!”“This is the night…when Christians everywhere are washed clean of sin…”“This is the night…when Jesus broke the chains of death and rose triumphant from the grave.”“This is the night!”
So Moses and Elijah speak with Jesus about the exodus of Jesus.
Then Luke points us away from the three who are speaking of exodus, and toward the three who followed Jesus up the mountain. They are “overcome by sleep.” At first this seems such an odd response to this vision of glory. Yet one defense mechanism to overwhelming events is to fall asleep: ignore it, deny it.
This happened to the disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration. Seems like they go to sleep as a way to deal with profound changes and opportunities. The strategy doesn’t work, of course. Sooner or later, you have to wake up.
So Peter and James and John do wake up, and Peter blurts out his famous and awkward idea: “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents.” Let’s stay here, freeze the moment, never leave, never move, never grow.
Notice the opposition between what the disciples speak about—the three dwellings (staying)—and what Jesus speaks of—his exodus (moving). These are our choices—a deadly stop, trying to hold on to a past glory, or a Spirit-led journey with the Lord. Do you go with Peter and his three dwellings, or with the Lord in his exodus?
Jesus’ exodus, if we follow him, will lead us down off this mountain with its wondrous glory. It will lead us to Jerusalem, to Pontius Pilate, to the cross. We’ll be called to live out our baptism—the Paschal mystery. Stay or exodus, these are the choices.
Then a voice announces, “This is my chosen Son,” and adds “Listen to him.” This is the same voice about the Beloved Son as at Jesus’ baptism. But now, with this additional command: “Listen to him!” It seems odd though, since we have not heard directly from Jesus through all of the occurrences on this Mount of Transfiguration. It has been a vision, and what sights we have seen. But “Listen to him!”? So we think back, what was it that the Lord did say just before leading the three up on this mountain? Oh yes, it was this prophecy:
The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.
When we are told to listen to Jesus, this is what we hear.
So “Listen to him.” Listen to our Lord speak of the exodus he is about to accomplish in Jerusalem for us. Listen to him as he teaches us how to live out life, baptized into the Paschal mystery that brings us through death, to Life. Follow him. Listen to him. Don’t be tempted to stay on the mountain.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Temptation of Christ
If you look through old paintings that illustrate “The Temptation of Christ”, you will usually see “Temptation” pictured as a demon—a twisted, ugly figure with pointed horns, a beaked nose, and hooves. Sometimes, these paintings show the Tempter with claws instead of hands, leering at Christ and pointing to a pile of stones just waiting to become bread.
Now, in these paintings, there is no question about the presence of evil. It is obvious and obscene. The evil of temptation and the loneliness of sin are clearly shown and easily understood. But outside the world of a painting, it’s not always that simple, is it?
After all, it would be easy to resist temptation if temptation appeared as something ugly and grotesque—something so alien, so wild, that one glimpse—one look—would be enough to make us run, and make good choices and decisions.
If the urge to abuse power, an impulse to exploit the weak and vulnerable, betray a friend, or get just “a little” revenge suddenly took the shape of a monster before our eyes, then our choices might just become different. If all bad choices were pointed out to us by horns and hooves and grotesque faces, then our choices might soon become wiser. Unfortunately, it’s only in the movies that scary music announces the presence of evil.
There is modern illustration of the Temptation in the Desert, a painting filled with bright colors and soft golden light. It shows Christ walking with a companion—Temptation—on a cliff overlooking the desert. And the Tempter stands, his arm around the Lord’s shoulder, talking earnestly, eagerly, as one dear friend to another.
His face is like any other face—In fact, the face of the temptor looks a lot like Christ’s. Or yours. Or mine. For this artist, and for many of us, the problem with temptation is that it’s just so…well, tempting.
We justify our sinful choices: Just this once—it won’t hurt anything…It makes me so happy…It’s ok after all, look what "they" did to me!
Far from being ugly, or frightening, or filled with a sense of doom, temptation and sin is so often attractive, looks good—at least at the start. There are times even in our own prayer when it is difficult to separate the seduction of evil from the urgings of the Holy Spirit. I might even think that if I am filled with the Spirit of God from my baptism, God’s Spirit should empty me of temptation!
But, Jesus himself was anointed and filled by the Spirit at his baptism, and then driven into the desert to be tempted by power, by riches, by personal comfort. It hardly seems fair, does it? Yet, this time in the wilderness is important.
For Jesus, it was a time to reflect on his relationship with God and come face to face—not only with the idols that might tempt him, and the demons that might haunt him, but with the Spirit that stood ready to both challenge and comfort him.
Jesus didn’t try to avoid these trials, rather, he used them to define who he was…and was not. For Jesus, the time of temptation became a time of formation, a time of preparation for his mission into the world.
During this Lent, we have an opportunity to make that same journey through the desert. We have the same temptations to face, the same evil to confront, the same formation to experience, the same Spirit to encounter, the same Father to embrace.
Desert journey or no desert journey, bad choices will continue to look good and temptation will persist in being…well, very, very tempting.
But when Jesus met his own temptations head on, he transformed the wilderness, and our lives, forever. As we enter into this Lent, Jesus will journey with you, and your temptations and choices, if you only invite him in.
Now, in these paintings, there is no question about the presence of evil. It is obvious and obscene. The evil of temptation and the loneliness of sin are clearly shown and easily understood. But outside the world of a painting, it’s not always that simple, is it?
After all, it would be easy to resist temptation if temptation appeared as something ugly and grotesque—something so alien, so wild, that one glimpse—one look—would be enough to make us run, and make good choices and decisions.
If the urge to abuse power, an impulse to exploit the weak and vulnerable, betray a friend, or get just “a little” revenge suddenly took the shape of a monster before our eyes, then our choices might just become different. If all bad choices were pointed out to us by horns and hooves and grotesque faces, then our choices might soon become wiser. Unfortunately, it’s only in the movies that scary music announces the presence of evil.
There is modern illustration of the Temptation in the Desert, a painting filled with bright colors and soft golden light. It shows Christ walking with a companion—Temptation—on a cliff overlooking the desert. And the Tempter stands, his arm around the Lord’s shoulder, talking earnestly, eagerly, as one dear friend to another.
His face is like any other face—In fact, the face of the temptor looks a lot like Christ’s. Or yours. Or mine. For this artist, and for many of us, the problem with temptation is that it’s just so…well, tempting.
We justify our sinful choices: Just this once—it won’t hurt anything…It makes me so happy…It’s ok after all, look what "they" did to me!
Far from being ugly, or frightening, or filled with a sense of doom, temptation and sin is so often attractive, looks good—at least at the start. There are times even in our own prayer when it is difficult to separate the seduction of evil from the urgings of the Holy Spirit. I might even think that if I am filled with the Spirit of God from my baptism, God’s Spirit should empty me of temptation!
But, Jesus himself was anointed and filled by the Spirit at his baptism, and then driven into the desert to be tempted by power, by riches, by personal comfort. It hardly seems fair, does it? Yet, this time in the wilderness is important.
For Jesus, it was a time to reflect on his relationship with God and come face to face—not only with the idols that might tempt him, and the demons that might haunt him, but with the Spirit that stood ready to both challenge and comfort him.
Jesus didn’t try to avoid these trials, rather, he used them to define who he was…and was not. For Jesus, the time of temptation became a time of formation, a time of preparation for his mission into the world.
During this Lent, we have an opportunity to make that same journey through the desert. We have the same temptations to face, the same evil to confront, the same formation to experience, the same Spirit to encounter, the same Father to embrace.
Desert journey or no desert journey, bad choices will continue to look good and temptation will persist in being…well, very, very tempting.
But when Jesus met his own temptations head on, he transformed the wilderness, and our lives, forever. As we enter into this Lent, Jesus will journey with you, and your temptations and choices, if you only invite him in.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Leave Everything Behind
"When they brought their boats to the short, they left everything and followed him.” All three of the readings today have a similar theme. In the first reading, the Lord says to Isaiah, “Whom shall I send?” In the second reading, St Paul recounts how the Lord finally came to him after the resurrection. And finally in the gospel, Peter, James and John are convinced that something is special about this Jesus. “Leave everything behind” is a favourite theme with Jesus. He says it when he talks to those who want to know where he lives, to those who want to share more in the love of God, and to those who want to deepen their faith.
But the importance in Simon Peter’s response is not what he left behind, but what he picked up that day. He let go of himself and took up everyone else. His focus seemed to change from “me and mine” to “God and everyone else.” Peter did more that change his name and adopt a new lifestyle that day. He took Jesus’ challenge to love God and others as himself.
But what made this change possible? God spoke to him, God filled his life, God called him to action...and he responds. Are we in Peter’s position today? Perhaps, maybe, not quite as dramatic has Peter, but the truth is that this scene is happening every day. God is speaking to us. We hear God every time the Word is proclaimed. We hear God each time we gather to break the One Bread and share the One Cup. God speaks to us in the depths of our hearts, in the quiet moments of prayer. And we hear God speaking to us in and through each other. God is “recruiting” 365 days a year, but do we listen?
Even more difficult than believing God speaks to each one of us, is perhaps accepting that he fills our “nets.” Now for me, this is not God’s fault. He is doing plenty, but I seem to keep increasing the size of my net and the quality of the fish I want! More and more, rather than looking at what is, I keep on looking for more...
And be sure, God is constantly calling us to action. We tend to miss that or sometimes think he is talking to the person next to us, or the gospel is for someone like the next Mother Teresa, not someone like ourselves! God’s call to each of us is unwavering and clear, but its ultimate impact is determined by how we listen. You see, whether or not you choose to listen ...God is calling.
It seems to me that circumstances are perfect for us to respond just as positively as Peter did. God is speaking to us. God is filling our nets. God is challenging us. So how come we still find ourselves just “putting away the boat” at the end of the day instead of putting on our walking sandals and really following Him?
And it’s not like “fishing for people” is out of season either. In fact, even a simple glance reveals that our world needs the gospel more than ever. Our world is crying out for Good News...but do we listen?
Today’s Gospel is speaking to us. It is challenging us. We’re definitely in the same boat as Simon...the question is...are we willing to get out, like Peter?
But the importance in Simon Peter’s response is not what he left behind, but what he picked up that day. He let go of himself and took up everyone else. His focus seemed to change from “me and mine” to “God and everyone else.” Peter did more that change his name and adopt a new lifestyle that day. He took Jesus’ challenge to love God and others as himself.
But what made this change possible? God spoke to him, God filled his life, God called him to action...and he responds. Are we in Peter’s position today? Perhaps, maybe, not quite as dramatic has Peter, but the truth is that this scene is happening every day. God is speaking to us. We hear God every time the Word is proclaimed. We hear God each time we gather to break the One Bread and share the One Cup. God speaks to us in the depths of our hearts, in the quiet moments of prayer. And we hear God speaking to us in and through each other. God is “recruiting” 365 days a year, but do we listen?
Even more difficult than believing God speaks to each one of us, is perhaps accepting that he fills our “nets.” Now for me, this is not God’s fault. He is doing plenty, but I seem to keep increasing the size of my net and the quality of the fish I want! More and more, rather than looking at what is, I keep on looking for more...
And be sure, God is constantly calling us to action. We tend to miss that or sometimes think he is talking to the person next to us, or the gospel is for someone like the next Mother Teresa, not someone like ourselves! God’s call to each of us is unwavering and clear, but its ultimate impact is determined by how we listen. You see, whether or not you choose to listen ...God is calling.
It seems to me that circumstances are perfect for us to respond just as positively as Peter did. God is speaking to us. God is filling our nets. God is challenging us. So how come we still find ourselves just “putting away the boat” at the end of the day instead of putting on our walking sandals and really following Him?
And it’s not like “fishing for people” is out of season either. In fact, even a simple glance reveals that our world needs the gospel more than ever. Our world is crying out for Good News...but do we listen?
Today’s Gospel is speaking to us. It is challenging us. We’re definitely in the same boat as Simon...the question is...are we willing to get out, like Peter?
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