We tend to believe good times will last forever. (Just look at what happened before the Great Recession of 2008.) While it's nice to be optimistic in that respect, we tend to worry that the bad times will last forever as well. The truth is that life is a series of contrasts—mountaintop experiences followed by deep valleys.
This week’s Gospel, about the Transfiguration, clearly shows us that we all live amid contrasts. The disciples are so excited by what they have witnessed that they want to build tents to commemorate the event, and then, almost immediately, they are nearly paralyzed by fear. The same is true for us, especially when it comes to our faith. At times we have bright moments when all seems so clear and obvious, and then we begin to experience doubts and uncertainty. Sometimes it even seems as if God himself has withdrawn from us.
We must not be surprised by these contrasting experiences, but instead we should use this week’s reading as preparation for what we will do when the contrasts occur. For us, as for Abraham in the first reading, the disciples, and all who have gone before us in faith, it is only when we listen attentively to God’s beloved Son that we will have the courage and grace to deal with all that life is sure to hand us
This reading for the Second Sunday of Lent continues our tour of the peaks of salvation history. One could say that this passage represents God’s mission statement. The general intent expressed is to provide Abraham—and through him, “all the communities of the earth”—with a land, blessing, and a great name. All of this depends, of course, on his generating an heir. Without the birth of Isaac, there could be no nation, land, blessing, or the passing on of his name.
Abraham does receive these promises. That we’re still reading about Abraham four thousand years after the events recounted here is largely due to the fact that these promises made to him in Genesis 12 were fulfilled. Our faith is that they were fulfilled in a far more fantastic way than Abraham could’ve ever imagined. The land promised has been extended, by the mission of the Church received from Christ, to include the whole world. The blessing is given to all who come to her sacraments. The name is that of Jesus, the only name under heaven by which we’re saved.
Hardship is something we naturally seek to avoid, but St. Paul has given us some reason for embracing the thing our natural inclinations reject. God has saved us, he says, “and called us to a holy life.” To be holy is to do what we see Christ doing. If he suffered for the sake of the Gospel, then so should we. The salvation which comes to us as a consequence of the suffering of Christ is the fruit of the Father’s plan, which included (even required) suffering. In other words, our hardship is part of the plan of our salvation, won by Christ through suffering and appropriated by us through our share of his suffering in and for the Body of Christ—the Church. What was unredeemed before Christ has become a tool in the hand of God to shape us in conformity with his plan for the kingdom.
In this way, he has "destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." One of the revolutions that the Gospel brings about is this reversal of fortunes in which the greatest misfortunes—even death itself—is made an instrument of eternal life.
Gospel Reading
This Gospel reading represents a confluence of themes from the Old Testament. Mt. Tabor has been spoken of as a second Mt. Sinai—where the Ten Commandments and the ceremonial law of the Old Covenant were received. This fits nicely into Matthew’s theme of Jesus as the new Moses.
Several elements in this narrative also suggest a connection with the Jewish Feast of Booths (Sukkot). It’s significant that Jesus’ coming to Mt. Tabor also results in a manifestation of God’s glory and the presence of a cloud, both of which are associated with the Feast of Booths. Jesus is thereby simultaneously portrayed as the new Law, the new manifestation of God, and the new Temple; all of which were elements of importance in the Jewish celebration of the Feast of Booths. It’s sometimes overlooked that Moses and Elijah were the only two figures in the Old Testament who spoke directly with God, both on Mt. Horeb (another name for Mt. Sinai). If Tabor is intended to represent a new Sinai, then we ought to consider the possibility that Matthew is showing us that Jesus is more than simply a new Moses or Elijah; he’s also the God who spoke to Moses and Elijah on Mt. Horeb—as he’s now shown doing on Mt. Tabor.