Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, February 14, 2021:

First reading
2 Kings 2:1-12

Psalm
Psalm 50:1-6

Second reading
2 Corinthians 4:3-6

Gospel
Mark 9:2-9

In past years, I would have thought about Transfiguration Sunday and the upcoming season of denial and penitence, Lent, that is fast approaching.  Frankly, this year it feels like we've had a whole year of lessons in Lenten denial.

This year, as we read the passage from Mark, we might understand Peter's response a bit better than we have in past years.  I see Peter yearning for time to process what he's seen, to try to make sense of it all, and of course, to prolong the good feeling of being one of the special ones, one of the ones who gets to go up the mountain with Jesus, one of the ones to witness this strange transfiguration.

This past year has been one of those hinge moments in history, where we will clearly see a before and an after.  Right now, we don't know what that after will look like.  Maybe we're scared we'll never get to a place of transfiguration.  Maybe we're scared of what that transfigured world will be.

Maybe we wish we could be like Peter, strong, like a rock, with that gusto and enthusiasm.  Maybe we know that we're just sand, hardly able to hold ourselves and our communities together. the former rock of faith abraded away by the difficulties of life. We know that a house built on sand will wash away with a big storm or with the daily movement of the waves.

But take heart: concrete mixed with sand will be stronger. And where do those of us who are sand find concrete? Often we don't even have to look. Often our family and friends are in their concrete phase when we're in our sand phase. We strengthen each other, even when we're unaware that we're doing it. But how much stronger we could be if we were more intentional.

We can do the work of strengthening each other, even when it's not safe to gather together in a room.  The past year has shown us many ways to be together in community.  The years after the virulence of COVID-19 dies down will be transfiguring too.  We're learning valuable lessons about how to be a community.

Jesus knew the value of community. He knew the human tendency to rush towards transfiguration. We yearn to be different, but so often, we shun the hard work involved. We might embrace transformation before we stop to consider the cost. But if we are surrounded by community, the work transforms into something more festive. If we stay on top of the mountain after the light fades, we may come to feel stranded.

Jesus reminds us again and again that the true work comes not from telling people what we’ve seen, but by letting what we’ve seen change the way that we live. Our true calling is not to be carnival barker, but to get on with the work of repair and building of the communities in which we find ourselves.

We can be the rock, the concrete, the sand. Christ's vision is big enough to transfigure us all.