2nd Sunday of Lent
March 1, 2026
Paying attention to Jesus/Up and down the mountain with Jesus during Lent
Matthew 17:1-9
Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up to a high mountain by themselves. And He was transfigured before them; His face shone like the sun and His clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with Him. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Lord it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to Him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone. As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL
Genesis 12:1-4; 2 Timothy 1:8-10; Matthew 17:1-9
In order to understand today’s Gospel, we need to put it into context. Peter had just, in the name of the other disciples, recognised their Teacher, Jesus, as the expected Messiah of Israel: You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God. (Matt 16:15) It was a climactic moment in Jesus’ relationship with his disciples. But this was immediately followed by Jesus’ explanation to them of exactly what being Messiah was going to mean for him. Far from being a mighty warrior-king who would crush all the enemies of God’s people, he was going to be rejected by the leaders of his own people, arrested, tried, condemned, tortured and eventually executed—not by them, but by the very hated enemies they expected the Messiah to overthrow. This was too much for Peter (undoubtedly speaking in the name of all his companions) and he objected strongly. In turn, he was severely scolded for obstructing God’s way of doing things. Even more, Jesus had said that if anyone wanted to be his follower, then they would have to be prepared to walk the same road of rejection, oppression, and even death.
Morale boost
All of this must have seemed like a large bucket of cold water landing on the heads of the disciples. What Jesus had said was totally against all they had ever heard about the expected Messiah. It is in this perhaps depressed mood that today’s experience takes place. Perhaps to give a boost to their morale, to help them see that the way of Jesus would lead to victory and triumph, Jesus takes Peter, James and John to a high mountain. They are the inner circle of the Twelve, and are found with Jesus at other times of crucial importance, like at the raising of Jairus’ daughter and during Jesus’ agony in the garden. This happened “six days” after the declaration of Jesus as Messiah. It is perhaps a reminder that it was after six days that God called Moses into the cloud of glory on Mount Sinai. Also in biblical times, revelations often took place on mountain tops. There has been much speculation about which mountain in Palestine was the ‘Mount of the Transfiguration’, but it does not really matter. It is the divine significance of a mountain, any mountain, that is being emphasised.
Transformation
As the disciples watched, Jesus was suddenly transformed (Greek, metamorphoo, a rare word in the New Testament, from which our English word ‘metamorphosis’ comes): …his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. Again, it reminds one of the radiance on Moses’ face after he came down from the mountain where he had spoken face to face with God. Then, suddenly, Moses and Elijah are seen talking with Jesus. Their presence is very significant as they represent the two great traditions of the Old Testament: Moses personified the Law of God’s people, and Elijah, the traditions of the great prophets. Their presence and their talking with Jesus indicate their total endorsement of all that Jesus is doing, and also of all that he will experience in the days to come. Jesus is the natural continuation of their Jewish tradition and is fully part of it. Therefore, the disciples need have no misgivings about anything they have heard from Jesus about his coming destiny.
A good place to be
Peter, with his usual impulsiveness, enthusiastically suggests building three tents or shrines for Jesus, Moses and Elijah so they could stay on the mountain. It was a wonderful place to be just then. Often, when things are good, we would like them to stay that way forever. Unfortunately, life is seldom like that and we have to move on. When we are in the cinema watching a film, we can’t shout to the projection room and say, “Stop the movie right there! I like this bit.” Life moves on. It is true of Jesus and it is true of his followers. We have to keep moving forward, and come to terms with the happenings in our lives. In the First Reading, Abram too is told to leave his country and his family home, and go to where God will lead him. God is telling us the same every day of our lives. As Peter spoke a “bright cloud” covered them. It was no ordinary cloud, but a luminous cloud. It both concealed the unbearable brightness and revealed the very presence of God himself (it reminds one of the cloud which covered Mount Sinai when Moses spoke with God there). From the cloud comes a voice, the voice, of course, of God himself: This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him! These are the exact words spoken at the baptism of Jesus. Again, they are an endorsement of Jesus and of all that he will experience, including his rejection by his people and his suffering and death on the way to life and victory.
“Listen to him”
This is directed at Peter and the others. To listen to Jesus is:
to hear what he says,
to accept what he says,
to make it one’s own,
to identify with it fully.
So far, the disciples have not been doing this; they have been hearing, but not accepting.
Only Jesus
At the sound of God’s voice, the disciples prostrate themselves on the ground, terrified. They hear the gentle voice of Jesus, “Get up [rise up] and do not be afraid.” Jesus’ words point to resurrection to a new life and the abolition of fear and anxiety. They look up and see Jesus standing there alone; the Father is gone; Moses and Elijah are gone. From now on they will see ‘only’ Jesus, but after this experience, they know that he is not alone, that he has the full backing of his Father and of the Jewish tradition of the Law and the Prophets. They were learning the lesson that, though Jesus the Messiah would be rejected, suffer and die at the hands of his own people and their enemies, glory and victory would follow. They were learning that, if they wanted to be truly his followers, they must accept this fully, and that they themselves must be ready to go the same way. If they stay with Jesus, victory, his victory, will be theirs too. If they stay with Jesus, they will have nothing to fear.
Back with the people
Then they came down from the mountain. Being with Jesus means not staying up on a mountain. Being on the mountain was a wonderful experience: “It is good for us to be here,” said Peter. But Jesus came down from the mountain to be with the people in their pains and sorrows, in their fears and anxieties, in their sicknesses and disabilities and in their sinfulness. Jesus’ other name in Matthew’s Gospel is Emmanuel, “God with us”. Jesus’ place is to be with his people, and his followers have to do the same. It is nice to spend quiet days at a lovely retreat house deep in the countryside. It is nice to have a really good Mass with good homily, lovely choir, candles and incense. But most of the time our Christian life is to be spent sharing in the joys and sorrows of our brothers and sisters. We are to be the salt of the earth, the leaven in the dough, the candle on the lamp stand, helping people to know, understand and experience the love of their God for them. Most of the time we meet Jesus especially in those in need: the hungry and thirsty (in every sense of the word), the sick and disabled and those in prison: …as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ We are to find Jesus in them and they are to find Jesus in us.
First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP
Genesis 12: 1-4a; Psalm 33; 2 Timothy 1: 8b-10; Matthew 17: 1-9
The scriptural readings for Sundays are chosen with purpose. The first reading (usually from the Hebrew Scriptures) relates to the gospel of the day. This relationship is not accidental but reflects a theological and pastoral plan designed by the Church after the Second Vatican Council. The gospel is primary, the “theological anchor.” Each Sunday the first reading is chosen because it illuminates, foreshadows or prepares for the Gospel. So, for example, the first reading from the Hebrew Scriptures contains figures, events, or promises that prefigure Christ. The Gospel reveals the fulfillment of what the Hebrew Scriptures anticipate. So, on this second Sunday of Lent our first reading presents the patriarch Abram, who begins the journey of faith. The gospel presents the Son who will complete that journey through his faith, suffering and glory. Abram steps into the unknown because he trusts God’s Word. On the mountaintop the disciples are directed by the voice coming from the cloud, “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased, listen to him.” The pattern for us disciples is presented to Abram. Here’s how it is suggested to us today. Like Abram: we are called, we did not self-initiate that call. Abram did not invent his mission, God summoned him. In the gospel the disciples do not engineer the Transfiguration, they are led up the mountain. Likewise, our Christian life does not begin with our own designs for self-improvement. God has taken the initiative to call us through our Baptism, particular vocation, graced-conversion, showing us the way we are to serve. This is contrary to modern cues which tell us we are in control and can design our own destiny. Abram hears and responds to a promise without seeing is fulfillment. So too with the disciples. On the mountain they get a view of glory before they can understand the Cross. So, it is with us. We are called to trust. Before we see, we commit ourselves without yet experiencing promised outcomes and we follow Christ without a detailed map, or GPS. It is Lent, a time not only for fasting and self-denial, but for reflection. Today’s readings ask for a Lenten response. What is God asking me to leave? What promise am I clinging to? What feels uncertain and scary to me in my daily journey? Prompted by the disciples’ mountaintop experience, have I ever had a glimpse of Christ’s glory that sustains me in times of doubt and testing? Our lives don’t re-create exactly the biblical events, but they are shaped by that same divine rhythm and pattern: Call... Promise... Journey... Fulfillment. But before all this comes grace.
If we are in a time of our upheaval – then we are in the “ Call.”
Waiting for something to unfold – we are in the “Promise.”
Struggling through difficulty – we are in the “Journey.”
And... experiencing deep peace, or clarity, we have a glimpse of “Fulfillment.” Christian life seems to move through these stages repeatedly. Our modern world prizes control, speed, efficiency and measurable results. While our faith, revealed again to us in our biblical readings today, prizes trust, patience and listening. We hear the call today to trust our faithful God over long stretches of time; to stay trusting as Revelation unfolds gradually. We are reminded that glory and suffering coexist; That our story is not unique but is part of a much larger story. Like the disciples we too have “mountain moments” – times of deep prayer, clarity, peace in the sense of God near and real. Such moments are not escapes but strengthening for when we come down the mountain and returned to live faithfully the valley. Lent is not about dramatic heroics. It is about trusting the promise we have heard and the courage to take the next step. We are like Abram: we walk without seeing the whole future. Like the disciples on the mountain, we listen to God’s Word through the Beloved Son which encourages and strengthens us to keep walking through whatever daily uncertainties we must face. We remember that it is God who calls us and God who is faithful. With that Lenten hope we are carried towards Easter strengthened and encouraged by God’s Spirit. Today’s Scriptures reveal the heart of Lent. Like Abram we are asked you to step away from what secures us. Through prayer fasting and almsgiving we turn in trust to God even before we see results. Faith is not having clarity; it is walking anyway. Abram dared to trust and so began salvation history. Notice too that the promise is not just for him. “All the communities of the earth shall find a blessing in you.” God blesses us so that others may be blessed through us. In Lent we make our yearly journey out of comfort into promise, trusting that if we walk with God, even though we have not been given a map, we are walking toward blessing.
Quotable
“Abraham represents the possibility of a new beginning – the courage to answer a call.” –Elie Wiesel
Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral Raleigh, NC
“He saved us and called us to a holy life.” —2 Timothy 1:9
Here, near the beginning of Lent, we are reminded as Christians, to turn or return completely to Christian commitment. It is so easy to get caught up in the humdrum of our lives, to fill our space with noise, to drown out the still small voice of God calling us to greater life. Our lives should be a consistent exercise in letting go of things that keep us from being transfigured. Yet we linger in what we think are safe and secure ruts. The gift of Lent can be for us an intense period of purification and enlightenment, a time of transformation, a time of deepening our life with Christ. How do we do this? During the papal conclave of his election to become Pope Francis, then Cardinal Bergoglio gave a three-minute speech “in which he said the Church, in order to survive, must stop ‘living within herself, of herself, for herself’” (Rolling Stone, Binelli 2/13/14). Well, here’s a news flash—we are the Church! Each one of us must stop living within ourselves, of ourselves, for ourselves. We must be love to a hurting world. Pope Leo concludes his exhortation, Dilexi Te, with these words: “ Christian love breaks down every barrier, brings close those who were distant, unites strangers, and reconciles enemies. . .Love is above all a way of looking at life and a way of living it. A Church that sets no limits to love, that knows no enemies to fight but only men and women to love, is the Church that the world needs today (120). Through your work, your efforts to change unjust social structures or your simple, heartfelt gesture of closeness and support, the poor will come to realize that Jesus’ words are addressed personally to each of them: “I have loved you” (Rev 3:9) (121). For the next three weekends, please stop by to “Join in the Joy of Just Service” at our Works of Mercy tables in the narthex. Our devoted coordinators need YOU to be counted to help spread love. You can deepen your life with Christ by walking with others, especially the poor. If we implement even a small portion of what our popes say, we will see ourselves changing, like a butterfly shaking free from its cocoon. By living a holy life of love, we will change our world as well.
Faith Book
Mini-reflections on the Sunday scripture readings designed for persons on the run. “Faith Book” is also brief enough to be posted in the Sunday parish bulletins people take home.
From today’s Gospel reading: “As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
Reflection: Jesus teaches patience. Let the experience sink in. Let it be tested by daily fidelity. The deepest witness is not excited talk, but steady discipleship shaped by the cross and illuminated by hope.
So, we ask ourselves:
What “mountain moments” have strengthened my faith, and how have they shaped my daily life afterward?
Do I seek glory without accepting the cross that gives it meaning?
How is Christ asking me to live quiet, patient faith right now, even without dramatic experiences?
LENTEN POETRY COMPANION WEEK 2: AN INVITATION TO AWAKEN
SUNDAY — Sunday Prayer by Jessica Powers
Prayer is the trap-door out of sin.
Prayer is a mystic entering in
to secret places full of light.
It is a passage through the night.
Heaven is reached, the blessed say,
by prayer and by no other way.
One may kneel down and make a plea
with words from book or breviary,
or one may enter in and find
a home-made message in the mind.
But true prayer travels further still,
to seek God’s presence and God’s will.
To pray can be to push a door
and snatch some crumbs of evermore,
or (likelier by far) to wait,
head bowed, before a fastened gate,
helpless and miserable and dumb,
yet hopeful that the Lord will come.
Here is the prayer of grace and good
most proper to our creaturehood.
God’s window shows his humble one
more to the likeness of His Son.
He sees, though thought and senses stray,
the will is resolute to stay
and feed, in weathers sweet or grim,
on any word that speaks of Him.
He beams on the humility
that keeps it peace in misery
and, save for glimmerings, never knows
how beautiful with light it grows.
He smiles on faith that seems to know
it has no other place to go.
But some day, hidden by His will,
if this meek child is waiting still,
God will take out His mercy-key
and open up felicity,
where saltiest tears are given right
to seas where sapphire marries light,
where by each woe the soul can span
new orbits for the utter man,
where even the flesh, so seldom prized,
would blind the less than divinized.
Source: “Prayer” from The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, edited by Regina Siegfried, ASC, and Robert F. Morneau. Kansas City, MO: Sheed & Ward, 1989.
MONDAY — To Live in the Mercy of God by Denise Levertov
To lie back under the tallest
oldest trees. How far the stems
rise, rise
before ribs of shelter
open!
To live in the mercy of God. The complete
sentence too adequate, has no give.
Awe, not comfort. Stone, elbows of
stony wood beneath lenient
moss bed.
And awe suddenly
passing beyond itself. Becomes
a form of comfort.
Becomes the steady
air you glide on, arms
stretched like the wings of flying foxes.
To hear the multiple silence
of trees, the rainy
forest depths of their listening.
To float, upheld,
as salt water
would hold you,
once you dared.
To live in the mercy of God.
To feel vibrate the enraptured
waterfall flinging itself
unabating down and down
to clenched fists of rock.
Swiftness of plunge,
hour after year after century,
O or Ah
uninterrupted, voice
many-stranded.
To breathe
spray. The smoke of it.
Arcs
of steelwhite foam, glissades
of fugitive jade barely perceptible. Such passion—
rage or joy?
Thus, not mild, not temperate,
God’s love for the world. Vast
flood of mercy
flung on resistance.
Source: “To Live in the Mercy of God” from Sands from the Well, by Denise Levertov. New York: New Directions, 1996.
TUESDAY — The Rowing Endeth by Anne Sexton
I’m mooring my rowboat
at the dock of the island called God.
This dock is made in the shape of a fish
and there are many boats moored
at many different docks.
“It’s okay,” I say to myself,
with blisters that broke and healed
and broke and headed—saving
themselves over and over.
And salt sticking to my face and arms like
a glue-skin pocked with grains of tapioca.
I empty myself from my wooden boat
and onto the flesh of The Island.
“On with it!” He says and thus
we squat on the rocks by the sea
and play—can it be true—a
game of poker.
He calls me.
I win because I hold a royal straight flush.
He wins because He holds five aces.
A wild card had been announced
but I had not beard it
being in such a state of awe
when He took out the cards and dealt.
As he plunks down His five aces
and I sit grinning at my royal flush,
He starts to laugh,
the laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth
and into mine,
and such laughter that He doubles right over me
laughing a Rejoice Chores at our two triumphs.
Then I laugh, the fishy dock laughs
the sea laughs. The Island laughs.
The Absurd laughs.
Dearest dealer,
I with my royal straight flush,
love yon so for your wild card,
that untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha
and lucky love.
Source: “The Rowing Endeth” from The Awful Rowing Toward God by Anne Sexton. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1975.
WEDNESDAY — In Praise of Self-Deprecation by Wislawa Szymborsk
The buzzard has nothing to fault himself with.
Scruples are alien to the black panther.
Piranhas do not doubt the rightness of their actions.
The rattlesnake approves of himself without reservations.
The self-critical jackal does not exist.
The locust, alligator, trichina, horsefly
live as they live and are glad of it.
The killer whale’s heart weighs one hundred kilos
but in other respects it is light.
There is nothing more animal-like
than a clear conscience
on the third planet of the Sun.
Source: “In Praise of Self-Deprecation” from A Book of Luminous Things: And International Anthology of Poetry, by Milosz Czelslaw, ed. New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1998.
THURSDAY — Alone by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Source: “Alone” from Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well, by Maya Angelou. New York: Random House, Inc., 1975.
FRIDAY — Think Not How Far by Harold Macdonald
Think not how far we have to go,
how far we’ve come; it saps the strength,
melts the will. It’s better not to know
the breadth and height and length
of all that’s still ahead.
Who wants to learn one’s end?
What will be, what would have been - weigh like lead.
Past offenses change not, cannot mend.
Better to proceed by little steps
within your range; no sweat, regret, no strain;
blanking out dramatic heights and depths
the thought of chasms, rough terrain.
Time then to see God’s downward bending
to share the journey and the ending.
Source: “Think Not How Far” from Poems from the Eighth Decade, by Harold Macdonald. 2004.
SATURDAY — Open Your Eyes by Richard Guy Miller
We never really die.
We just open our eyes.
When they have seen
Their last limitation,
We turn and weep,
Or we awake from our dream,
Open our eyes and know...
We never really die.
We just open our eyes.
When we have seen
Our last limitation,
We turn and weep,
Or we awake from our dream,
Open our eyes and know...
We never really lived.
We just closed our eyes.
Source: “Open Your Eyes” by Richard Guy Miller. Meditate with Poetry, 2003. http://www.explorefaith.org/oasis/poetry/openEyes.html.
PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION
Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)
Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)
Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)
OPENING PRAYER
Jesus, there is a time for silence and a time to speak. Help me, during this Lenten season, to cultivate a silence that is free from distractions and obligations, and truly open to your word. Help me to see you as God’s beloved, and help me to see myself as God’s beloved. Help me to hear you and see you in ways I have never been able to do. Especially help me to see you in those around me—in those who love me and those who don’t; in those whom I find admirable and those whom I don’t.
COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY
From “First Impressions” by Jude Siciliano (Second Sunday of Lent A 2011)
As I’ve traveled over the years, I’ve been to mountains: tall ones, like the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada mountains in the West; lesser, but still magnificent ones in Vermont, North Carolina, West Virginia and upper New York State. I’ve always been thrilled at the top of these mountains by the clear air, strong wind and spectacular views. Standing on a mountaintop also gives me a sense of security because of the solid mass beneath my feet. It’s a religious experience, it seems to me, to climb a mountain and let your mind and emotions flow with the experience. Did the three apostles Peter, James and John have some of those feelings when they got to the top of that “high mountain” with Jesus? After they got there, as if being on the mountain with him weren’t enough, they had the experience of the Transfiguration! It’s a dramatic story and appears at a key moment in Matthew’s Gospel. Some people, after a conversion experience, or when they come to a deeper awareness of the joys and peace that accompany a life centered on Christ, have a “mountaintop experience,” similar to the one Peter, James and John had. But sooner or later we need to come back down to earth and face the cross that comes with living out the life of discipleship. An authentic Christian life involves choices: will we accept the standards of living proposed by the world in its insatiable appetite for success, power, possessions, fame, etc? Or, will we choose Jesus’ way of service, peace-making, self-denial, etc.? If we accept Jesus’ way, we will also be accepting the suffering that accompanies it. Jesus invites us to take up his cross and the suffering that inevitably come with it. But he isn’t glorifying suffering just for the sake of suffering. There is a kind of suffering that is redemptive. For example, the suffering that comes with a commitment to justice for others. In this redemptive suffering comes the power to love even when resistance and hate are directed our way. With redemptive suffering also comes strength and perseverance as we work to help others who are unfairly treated by our society. Like Peter, we like to live in a fantasy world where everything is exciting and upbeat. We want to hold on to good times and happy feelings. The downside is that we tend to deny bad news, if we can. Jesus asks us to take up his cross: to live in loving relationships with others, even when opposed and taken advantage of; to respond in love to enemies; to serve and embrace, as our sisters and brothers, the poor and outcasts; to practice peacemaking in a world of violence, etc. In other words, to give our lives as Jesus gave his, for the sake of new life. Jesus was transfigured on the mountain and his disciples saw his glory. Through his death and resurrection, he transfigured the cross by revealing it as the means to new life for those who would take it up to follow him. There is one small and tender moment in today’s gospel that should give hope to us this Lent; we who are trying to pick up our cross to follow Jesus. When the disciples heard the voice from the cloud they, “fell prostrate and were very much afraid.” Then, Matthew tells us, “Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Rise and do not be afraid.’” This is a detail only Matthew tells. In the gospel Jesus’ words and touch have been healing, empowering and life-giving. The Transfiguration depicts the disciples, weak humans like us, falling prostrate and afraid before the divine revelation about Christ. But Jesus’ touch and encouraging words give us all the courage, desire and ability to renew our commitment to follow him this Lent. Jesus tells us this Lent, “Rise up and do not be afraid.”
LIVING THE GOOD NEWS
What action can you take in the next week as a response to today's reading and discussion? Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions which follow.
Reflection Questions:
Have you ever had a “mountaintop” experience that left a deep impression on you?
Have you ever heard yourself being called “my beloved son”, or my beloved daughter?
Have you ever had a religious experience that left a deep impression on you?
How did it affect your daily life?
Did it cause you to make any significant change?
What have been some “events of grace” in your own life?
Did you recognize them at the time?
Is it hard, in everyday lives, to hear Jesus?
Where do you go to get away from noise and distractions?
We can ask ourselves in Lent: What is Jesus saying to me in the people and events of today?
Do we understand what discipleship asks of us?
Do I really believe his words: “Do not be afraid”?
For some people, God and religion inspire a lot of fear. Why is that?
When you have had glorious, “mountaintop” experiences, how hard was it to come back to “real” life?
Did you try to prolong or memorialize the experience as the disciples did?
Like the disciples, we are attracted by what we see of Jesus on the mountain and resistant to what he says about the cross. Going up the mountain to get a glimpse of glory is one thing; going up on the cross is quite another! Are we willing to include in following Jesus both realities: the glory of the Transfiguration and the glory of the cross?
We identify any situation that brings pain and loss to our lives as our “cross.”
What has been a particular "cross" I have had to deal with or bear in life?
What are the risks involved in listening to Jesus?
Do we often, using such stories at the transfiguration, emphasize the divinity of Jesus at the expense of recognizing his humanity? What is the danger in that?
In my own spirituality, which image do I prefer?
What holds me back from more fully responding to God’s call for me?
What can I do this Lent to begin to respond to that call?
Do I listen to Christ by listening to other people in my life---really listening?
Do I listen to Christ in the scriptures, more often than once a week?
CLOSING PRAYER
Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.
Adapted from Sacred Space 23, a Service of Irish Jesuits: Jesus, transfiguration is about you and about us. When we are with you, we are with the divine; when you are with us, you are with the human. Your love, grace, sacraments, and compassion can transfigure us. And when we look around us and see as you see, we find there are others in our loves capable of transfiguration. Help me to be present in prayer to your light and brightness; allow me to know that the light given to me at Baptism is never extinguished. Help me to light the lives of others.
FOR THE WEEK AHEAD:
Weekly Memorization
(Taken from the gospel for today’s session)
This is my beloved Son in whom I am well-pleased. Listen to him.
Meditations
A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination: Read Matthew 17: 1-9 (The Transfiguration). Imagine that you are Peter, and you have been invited by Jesus to accompany him to the top of this mountain for prayer. Put yourself completely in his shoes for this entire experience, trying to be present in the event as he was. Take time to sit with each question as you insert yourself into the events of that day with Jesus: What are you expecting as you set out on this experience? At what time of day do you start out? What is the weather like? What do you see? Smell? Hear? Is the journey easy or tiring? What do you four chat about along the way? How long after you all reach the top do you see something happening to Jesus? How do you react when you see Jesus transformed right in front of your eyes? Are you frightened? Exhilarated? Confused? What expressions or reactions do you see on the faces of James and John? What do you think when you see Jesus conversing with Moses and Elijah? How do you know that is who they are? Why do you suggest building three tents? When a cloud envelops all three of them and you hear a voice, do you know who is speaking? Is it because in your Jewish culture no one looked directly on the face of God, and because your stories of Moses tell you that God spoke to him from within a cloud? Why are you afraid when God speaks the words telling you that Jesus is God’s son and you are to listen to him? In what instances up until now have you been too dismissive of what Jesus was telling you about what his mission is, what his fate will be, and how you are to be conducting your life--about your mission? How do you react when Jesus quietly comes upon you and touches you, telling you not to be afraid? Are you less afraid? Have you recovered and reverted to your first sense of wonder and awe? Are you apprehensive? Why do you think Jesus tells you to speak of this event to no one until after his resurrection from the dead? Do you even get what he means by talking of being raised from the dead? Has he spoken of his death before now? Did you believe him? Sit with this experience for a few moments, then imagine a transformative or exceptional experience in your own life. Recall if you fully understood what was happening while it was happening, and what you have learned about yourself and about life after having some time to digest the meaning of the experience. T.S. Eliot, in “Four Quartets, writes: “We had the experience, but missed the meaning.” Have you taken time in your own life to process an event which was pivotal in some way? Try to recall such an event, and see if you can hear Christ speaking to you in the aftermath of that experience. Were you listening? Are you listening now?
A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Consideration: From Bishop Robert Barron 2026. “Friends, today’s Gospel (Matthew 17:1–9) celebrates the Transfiguration. Christ came not just to make us nice people or morally upright folks, but rather to give us a share in his divine life, to make us denizens of heaven, people capable of living in that new environment. What gave the first Christians this conviction? The answer is the Resurrection—and the great anticipation of the Resurrection, which is the Transfiguration. This ordinary Jesus somehow became transformed, elevated, enhanced in his manner of being. The first thing we notice is that his appearance becomes more beautiful. These somewhat grubby bodies of ours are destined for a transfigured, elevated beauty. Secondly, in his transfigured state, Jesus transcends space and time, since he is talking with Moses and Elijah. In this world, we are caught in one moment of space and time, but in heaven, we will live in the eternal now of God’s life. Have you ever noticed that even as we appreciate all that is wonderful about this life, we are never really at home? There is a permanent restlessness about human life. But a higher, richer, more beautiful and spiritually fulfilling life awaits us.”
A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:
Read Isaiah 42:1-9.
Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
In his teaching the islands will put their hope.
This is what God the Lord says—
the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out,
who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it,
who gives breath to its people,
and life to those who walk on it:
“I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness;
I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
to be a covenant for the people
and a light for the Gentiles,
to open eyes that are blind,
to free captives from prison
and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.
“I am the Lord; that is my name!
I will not yield my glory to another
or my praise to idols.
See, the former things have taken place,
and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
I announce them to you.”
We all know that this passage is taken by Christians as a reference to Jesus. But if we are followers of Jesus, if we Listen to Him, then it should apply to us as well. In your journal, write your own response to the Lord who calls you “my chosen” and says that the Lord’s spirit is upon YOU, that YOU have been given as a covenant to God’s people. How do you respond to this awesome honor/task? Speak from your heart about your desire to follow in Jesus’ footsteps.
POETIC REFLECTION
Thomas Merton, OSCO, a monk, mystic and poet, saw transfiguration everywhere. In this following meditation from Thomas Merton, A Book of Hours, edited by Kathleen Degnan, Psalm, adapted from Merton’s book New Seeds of Contemplation,( pp 30-31 excerpted) reflects the joy and total exuberance of God’s presence in our natural world.
Psalm/ transfiguration/transformation/Nature
The forms and individual characters of living
and growing things
of inanimate beings, of animals and flowers and all nature,
constitute their holiness in the sight of God.
Their inscape is their sanctity.
It is the imprint of His wisdom and His reality in them.
The special clumsy beauty of this particular
colt on this day in this field under these clouds
is a holiness consecrated by God by His own
creative wisdom
and it declares the glory of God.
The pale flowers of the dogwood outside this window
are saints
The little yellow flowers that nobody notices on the side of
that road are saints
looking up into the face of God.
This leaf has its own texture and its own pattern of veins and
Its own holy shape,
and the bass and the trout hiding in the deep pools of the river
are canonized by their beauty and their strength.
The lakes hidden among the hills are saints.
and the sea too is a saint who praises God
without interruption
in her majestic dance.
The great, gashed, half naked mountain is another
Of God’s saints.
There is no other like him.
He is alone in His own character;
Nothing else in the world ever did or ever will imitate God
In quite the same way.
That is his sanctity.
But what about you? What about me?
