As I was preparing to stand up here and preach on the Second Sunday of Lent I was struck by the fact that all the things the church usually says about what to do during Lent seem all wrong this year. I mean, I feel like Lent has already been going on for a year — didn’t Lent start last March and just never stop? We didn’t have Easter last year, we didn’t really have summer, I don’t think there was Christmas really. The mood for all of us has been subdued at best, and for many people it has been worse than that, a time of real loss and tragedy, for us individually and seemingly for the whole world. So right now in Lent, do we really need more quiet time, more time by ourselves reflecting, more withdrawing? What do we need from Lent 2021 that maybe is just a little different?
What we have to hang onto is something like the vision in today’s gospel. We hear this story every single Lent, but this Lent especially, it’s what we need. This vision of Jesus transfigured into blinding light at the top of a mountain can be hard for us to accept. Nothing this spectacular or dramatic happens in real life except maybe in dreams. But what’s important about this vision is this: This was not a vision of something that wasn’t real, but a vision of what was truly real, underneath the mask of everyday life. Jesus was a very ordinary looking human being, he was the disciples’ everyday companion, their teacher, but now only for a moment, this moment, did they understand who he really was. They saw that he is the source of all light, the one who would ultimately suffer and then overcome death with light. And the disciples also understood something new about themselves: if this man is the Son of God, how overwhelming is it that we are here with him, and are called his friends?
What do we really want each year during Lent? We always seem to first think that it’s a time for some moderately painful surgery that we need to do on ourselves to make ourselves better or more worthy. But that’s not what we really want. What we want is closeness to God, a new sense of who God is and who we are. We want a moment of transfiguration, we want to be on the path that leads us to this mountain where we can see God the way God is, shining here and now, and experience who God says we now are.
It’s hard at times to imagine that an experience like this is something that people like us can ever have. Life does not seem very spectacular. But even now, God does appear, and sometimes isn’t subtle about it. Even now, there are moments for all of us, when we can see something or someone around us, near us, see it for what it really is. You have had these experiences when you see the real reality, God’s reality, and now is the time to remember those moments and remember what they mean for you. You have seen a person, an ordinary person, as a presence of God for you. You have seen someone suffering, and seen the patient suffering of Christ. You have received the eucharist and it looked suddenly like Christ, broken into pieces for all of us. We recognize in these brief moments the blinding white light of what God’s love looks like.
Lent is supposed to be for our conversion, and one writer says that conversion is changing where we are searching for happiness. So what do we do about that now, in this endless Lent we’re in? The mountain in this story is a reminder for us to be opened up and available for what God might like to show us right now. Sometimes it helps to go somewhere you can be a little more open to God, somewhere where God can show us what has been there all along somewhere we can remember what God has already done for us. If you need a break, some perspective, some quiet, somewhere with a view, this is the time to get one. Or you could see an old friend, or someone who needs you, even if it’s on Zoom. Whatever it is, go somewhere you haven’t been in a while and remember what moments have already shown you what God is and wants for us.
Above all, ask God for a sense of life transfigured, that is what we want, a reminder of that light that is always there. Even in a Lent that seems darker than usual, God’s light is there for anyone who is open to looking for it.