Matthew 17:1 - 9
I envy the Saints. Not so much
because they are in heaven, where I hope to be someday, but because
while they lived on earth, God seemed to treat them differently than
he treats me. Sure, some got martyred and others spent their lives
fasting and wearing hair shirts; that doesn’t sound like much fun.
But some of those and some others had moments of direct encounter
with God. Saint Francis heard God tell him to rebuild his church.
Saint Bernadette and Saint Juan Diego and several other saints got to
speak directly to the Blessed Mother. Saint Joan of Arc was on
intimate terms with the Archangel Michael. And I look back on my
life, and I may have had one experience that even approached anything
like this. I was making a private retreat, trying to figure out what
God wanted me to do with my life. As I knelt beside my bed praying,
I heard inside my head the words, “Whatever you choose to do, I’ll
love you and help you”. And at that moment all my uncertainty and
inner turmoil disappeared. Was that God or wishful thinking? I
can’t tell.
So we can envy Peter and James and
John who were given the inestimable privilege of seeing Jesus
transfigured there on the mountaintop, seeing him speaking with the
giver of the law, Moses, and the greatest of prophets, Elijah.
Hearing the voice of God the Father as well. This was so devastating
that they collapsed on the ground, paralyzed, relieved only when
Jesus touched them and told them in the same words he used to raise
Peter’s mother in law, to bring the little girl to life, “Get
up”. And everything seemed back to normal.
Some people say that the
transfiguration strengthened Peter, James and John for the trial they
would soon be put through -- the terrible death of Jesus. But I have
two problems with this theory. One is that it didn’t seem to work,
because they along with the other apostles went and hid. The second
is that when Jesus returned from the dead, that’s when they took
courage and began to believe. Why the transfiguration?
I’ve met a few people in my life who
insist that they have the experience of God speaking to them all the
time. I’ve met a few Pentecostals and Charismatics who almost
measure their progress in holiness by how many vivid experiences of
the Spirit they have had. Sometimes it almost seems like an
addiction. I’ve met a few Catholics that get a high from traveling
to holy places; they have special experiences when they are in
Medjugorje or Lourdes or the Holy Land. I envy them as well. I
wish I could have such experiences.
But I see Peter up there on the
mountain -- “Let us build three tents” he says, or three booths,
or three dwellings -- clearly Peter wants to prolong the moment,
wants to have Jesus and the two great leaders of the Jewish people
stick around a while in their transfigured state. But after the
earth-shattering voice from heaven and the cloud that comes down,
they see only the Jesus who has been their teacher, their fellow
traveler, their friend -- and they have to descend from the mountain.
The challenge, you see, is not
primarily to seek out those moments when God seems especially near,
but rather, to find God in the ordinary moments. Because He is here,
he is present. As the poet Hopkins pointed out, “The word is
charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining
from shook foil. It gathers to a greatness like the ooze of oil
crushed”.
And I think we learn that from the
saints as well. Francis had the mystical insight to see that there
was a connectedness in all of nature, even including people, so much
so that he could call animals his brothers. Francis de Sales saw
something of Jesus in even his protestant opponents, and wrote
eloquently of finding God in ordinary life, in the little things we
do, the work we toil at every day.
And perhaps an even greater challenge
is to find God in suffering and death. I don’t think it’s a
coincidence that Matthew has Jesus transfigured on a mountaintop
between two of the greatest of his ancestors and in a little while he
is hanging on a cross between two thieves. On the mountaintop his
disciples want to remain with him; at the cross they run and hide.
On the mountaintop the Father himself declares that Jesus is the
beloved son; on the cross it’s a roman centurion -- not an apostle,
not a disciple, but a pagan -- who says “Truly this was the Son of
God!”.
William James, the psychologist, said
that there are people that seem built to have mystical experiences,
and others who can’t or have them really infrequently. And
sometimes it's related to aging. I knew an elderly nun who had gone
into the convent because of a mystical experience -- and she had no
others after that. She knew she had made the right choice in life,
but she always missed that moment of intimacy with God.
But all of us can find God in the
ordinary. So this lent, as winter turns into spring, try to see God
in ordinary life, in nature, in other people; and once you become
more able to do this, you will find the authentic life-long
experience of God.
