Luke 9:28 - 36
I'm convinced that there are different
kinds of minds. I have friends who can get lost in music; I
appreciate music, but can take it or leave it. Same with art; some
people can't live without it. And I guess I envy the passion in
these people. But the ones I envy the most are the mystics. I've
known a few in my life, people who seem to have an intimate
connection with something beyond ordinary experience. I knew a woman
when I lived in Buffalo – the wife of a physician, mother of eight,
an ardent Catholic, and very very smart. She confided in us that
after one of her children was born, she nearly died, and had one of
those near death experiences. It was more real to her than her
ordinary life, and she found that she could get glimpses of that
world beyond when she was in prayer or meditating. She, by the way,
had absolutely no fear of death, but contrary to what you might have
thought, she enjoyed every minute of life. I envy mystics; they've
seen something I never have.
I don't know if Peter, James and John
were mystics – probably not. It's hard to be a mystic when you fish
for a living. On the other hand, maybe out there on the water far
from shore, far from noise, they may have felt something of the
divine. I know that there are moments like that in my life, although
never as intense as the experiences of real mystics.
Some of you may have read the book
“Proof of heaven: a neurosurgeon's journey into the afterlife.”
by Eben Alexander. He suffered an infection of the spinal cord and
the surface of his brain that rendered him comatose – by EEG, all
brain activity was gone, and he was being kept alive by machinery and
his family was told that there was no hope and probably it would be
best to turn off the machinery. Gradually, however, he recovered,
and remembered the experience when there was, as he put it, no filter
between himself and reality. He said that normally our brains filter
out most of our experience. And previously a skeptic, he is now
convinced that we live on after our bodies die.
I believe that the transfiguration was
something like that. The apostles didn't see Jesus transfigured into
some sort of god-like being, they saw Jesus unfiltered through their
ordinary minds their ordinary experiences. And that was so shocking
to them that even Peter was momentarily at a loss for words until he
proposed building tents – but Luke tells us he did not know what he
was saying. The moment was quickly over, but I suspect that the
memory of this carried Peter through the rest of his life and even
through his martyrdom. Did he long to once again see Jesus
unfiltered?
I don't know if I'll ever have a
profound mystical experience. Maybe God gives them to some people
and not to others. But I would like to experience reality
unfiltered. And I think if someone wants to develop a skill, you
have to practice. If I wanted to learn a language, I'd need to
memorize vocabulary, practice speaking with others – it would take
effort. And perhaps seeing the world unfiltered, experiencing the
presence of God in a more powerful way, takes practice as well.
That's one of the things we are supposed to do during Lent by the way
– become more aware of how God permeates everything. How our
experiences are somehow knitted up into God's continued creation of
the universe. And Jesus, John tells us, is the word, the Logos, the
blueprint of what God has planned for the universe. And the apostle
Paul tells us something similar: “... there is one God, the Father,
from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord Jesus
Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.”
So what should we do, as Catholic
Christians? How should we practice knowing Jesus? How should we open
ourselves up so that we see reality unfiltered – or at least less
filtered than when we start out? It does take work – on our part
and on God's. But God always stands ready in the person of the Holy
Spirit to point us in the right direction, to help us develop a
supernatural sense.
First, we need to go where we know
Jesus is. The Blessed Sacrament is where Jesus is most truly present
in our world. If I want to really know someone, I don't hit the
internet or start a long-distance correspondence. I try to be in the
presence of the other and that's possible for you and I. Second, our
Church teaches us that Jesus is present in scripture. Catholics as a
rule aren't very literate in scripture. Over the course of three
years if you listen to the readings on Sunday, you will hear about
seventy percent of the bible. But unless you spend some time
thinking about what you've read and relating it to your own life, it
isn't much use. And sometimes you can find out interesting things by
reading more than the passage you hear in church. Today's gospel is
a case in point. While the three apostles are up on the mountain
hearing the Father acknowledge his Son, the other nine are down in
the valley trying to deal with another son – a boy who is the only
son of his father, the father who is begging the apostles to drive
out a demon, and they can't do it. Did Luke put these stories
together to make a point? I don't know, but I'm going to think about
it.
The third place to find Jesus is in
each other. Jesus said, “Where two or three are gathered together,
there I am.” And “Whatever you do for the least of my brothers
that you do for me.” Every Catholic should be in seeking Jesus
among others – whether it is being involved in Food for the Soul,
Faith formation, the Knights of Columbus, the St. Joseph's society,
the St. Mary's Guild, a bible study group, cursillo – you name it,
there's something for everyone, and if you can't find it, start your
own. Jesus made a promise, hold him to it.
The Transfiguration reminds us that
there is a greater reality out there, and we don't appreciate it
because of our filters. Jesus is that reality. This Lent resolve to
go where we know He is and practice knowing Jesus.
