2nd Sunday of Lent, C March 16, 2025
Fr. Alexander Albert St. Mary Magdalen, Abbeville
Perhaps you’ve heard this story from me before. If so, I hope you don’t mind hearing it again. One summer as boy, I got to trek through the mountains in northern New Mexico in a crew of mostly 14 and 15 year-old boys. For 10 days we wound through the mountains. The final leg of the trip brought us to back base camp by way of the mountain called the Tooth of Time. So, on that final night, we camped at the base of the mountain. The plan was simple: we were going to watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain.
What that meant, of course, was that we’d have to get to the top of the mountain before the sun came up. As you may know, teenage boys don’t often enjoy getting up two hours before sunrise, but the adults convinced us it would be worth it. So we got up at like 3:30 in the morning and groggily started the scramble upward. Half-awake and in the dark, we had to keep our eyes on the ground in front of us to avoid getting hurt. About three quarters of the way up, however, when we were catching our breath, a friend turned around and couldn’t help himself. In sheer wonder he exclaimed, “whoa, it’s like heaven.”
A good choice of words. Looking out, I saw nothing but a sea of clouds with the rising edge of the sun starting to turn them a golden red. Turns out that getting up 2 hours before dawn to climb a mountain was worth it. “Becoming fully awake, they saw his glory.” So St. Luke’s gospel describes the experience of Peter, James, and John on the mountain. If mere clouds and sunlight on a mountain could so fill me with awe, I can only imagine what those apostles experienced in their mountain-top awakening. “Glory” is certainly the best word I could use.
What is “glory,” though? A mountain-top sunrise might fittingly be called “glorious,” but what does that mean? And how does that compare to looking directly at God as the Apostles did? If you want a definition, glory is “the recognition and praise of someone’s excellence.” When we talk about God’s glory or the glory we see in nature, we’re talking about the way that something reveals goodness. A thing is glorious if it makes it easy to recognize the goodness of and praise the one responsible.
That sounds a bit too dry, though, doesn’t it? The mountaintop sunrise didn’t just make me want to say “that’s good and praise God for it.” It filled me with… something. It made me “fully awake” in a way beyond words. The Apostles didn’t just praise God’s goodness when they saw Jesus; they did praise him, but they were also overwhelmed and even frightened by the experience. “Glory” is our attempt to put words to the experience of coming into close contact with the very substance of goodness itself, when we dip below appearances and comparisons into the deepest parts of reality.
As you might imagine, that kind of thing is powerful. So powerful in fact that, later on when Jesus is explaining why the messiah had to be crucified, the reason he gives is so that he could “enter into his glory.” Think about that… an experience… a reality so powerful that it is enough motivation to be betrayed, slandered, tortured, and murdered in the most shameful way possible… to go through all of that and be able to look back and say, “worth it!” No mere mountaintop sunrise can do that. No amount of public approval or money or physical pleasure can do that. Glory, however? Apparently it can.
And that’s exactly why Jesus does it. It’s also why the Church has us read this same story every year on the Second Sunday of Lent… and again on the feast of the Transfiguration on August 6 every year. Some stories are worth repeating, after all, especially ones that remind us of what truly matters. And the Glory of God? It matters most of all.
I actually mean that, you know. God’s glory matters more than anything and everything else. It’s why the world was created, why we were made in God’s image and likeness, why God has redeemed us, why we are offered eternal life. The Glory of God, the fundamental goodness of God which is the very source of existence. Anything that is good is good inasmuch as it flows from, points back to, or reveals that goodness.
So, like any good teacher or coach or leader, Jesus sets a goal before us. Giving his apostles this glimpse of the goal, he prepares them for the brutal reality of Holy Week. Though the Apostles do falter, it is thanks to this foretaste of glory that Peter is able to repent and gather the apostles together again. It is thanks to this foretaste of glory that John is able to stay by the cross to the end.
So, a week and a half into the trials of Lent and four weeks before the grim finale of holy week, do you have a grasp of why you’re doing this? Or are you even doing anything? In the noise of news alerts, the attractions of sports and games, the distraction of a dozen screens, the daily hunger and tiredness and unending flows of things to get done… are we actually bothering to climb the mountain? To plan ahead long enough to even put the sunrise of Easter on the list of things to plan for, to prepare for? Of all the things I’ve listed, of all the things you did this week, how many of them have any connection to this idea of “glory?”
Or do we need to consider how St. Paul’s words today might apply to us? “Many, as I have often told you and now tell you even in tears, conduct themselves as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction. Their God is their stomach; their glory is in their ‘shame.’ Their minds are occupied with earthly things.” Do we get what he’s saying? It’s easy to see how his warning applies to people who take pride in their “body count” or the “freakiness” of their experiences, but St. Paul lumps in there everyone whose “minds are occupied with earthly things.” It doesn’t have to be outright sin, simply too much focus on earthly things like money, appearances, popularity, comfort… to make our stomach into a god simply means they worry more about our next meal than about the glory of God.
We’re not called to just avoid debauchery – though that is essential – we are called to positively live for something more. “Our citizenship is in heaven.” And what does a citizen of heaven live for? The glory of God. St. Luke tells us the apostles became fully awake to see Jesus’ glory; he means that literally – they were napping – but he also means it figuratively. They “woke up” from the drowsiness of worldly distraction to see that the point of life in this world is not in this world. That’s the point of Lent and the reason for this early reminder. As your penances or lack thereof start to weigh on you, avoid the trap of focusing too much on what not to aim for. The goal is not to beat up our bodies or shun them, but to remind ourselves that our bodies – like Jesus on the mountain and after the Cross – will be transformed into glorified bodies. Anchor your penances, your prayers, and every other aspect of your life in the one thing that matters most: the glory of God.
“This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Listen to him when he says “do this in memory of me.” Listen to him when he says “blessed are the poor in spirit.” Listen to him when he says “forgive one another” and “love your enemies.” Listen to him not because he’ll hurt if you don’t but because he has already gone the way before us. He lived a heavenly life while on earth – eating, drinking, working, resting, celebrating, suffering, teaching, sleeping on boats in the storm, climbing mountains, and dying on the Cross – all done for the glory of God. This story of Jesus Christ entering his glory is true and it’s worth repeating! Not just in words, but in our very lives. We are the retelling of the story of God’s glory, told in as many ways are there are human beings to live it.