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July 30, 2020In My Father’s House
Recently, our Pastor Father Greg related how he had been invited to share in the summertime tradition of a backyard bonfire at a nearby parishioner’s house. As the fire was getting started, a mouse ran out from beneath the twigs and branches.
The mouse then did the oddest thing: it ran back in—and that was the end of the mouse. God rest his little rodent soul.
Father speculated the mouse’s attraction to the light had momentarily overwhelmed its common sense. He offered this mouse tale as part of his homily on the Feast of the Transfiguration. On that occasion, Jesus took Peter, James and John up a high mountain, “…and he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as snow.” (Matthew 17:2)
The difference is that running toward the Light of Christ does not usher in an end for us, but a beginning.
As a kid, of all the feasts I liked Christmas best. I couldn’t believe Easter was more important. Eggs were ok, but presents were bigger. I matured (a bit) over time, and saw each feast had its glory.
In recent years, I must admit the Transfiguration has snuck up on me. It’s not on the order of Christmas or Easter—those two great bookends of the Christian calendar marking the beginning of Christ’s earthly mission and the start of his heavenly one. Still, the Transfiguration provides a glimpse of heaven that’s really quite extraordinary, even in the context of Four Gospels that are chock full of extraordinary goings-on.
All the other miracles are about altering earthly realities: healing, feeding, or my personal favorite…saving the wedding party by changing water to wine. As well, they are instant and you don’t see what’s happening in the middle. One moment things are one way—for instance, Jairus’s daughter is on her deathbed—and the next, “Little girl, I say to you, arise! The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around.” (Mark 2: 41-42)
That, for me, is why the Transfiguration is a hidden gem. Christ lets us in on the plan. Here, we see the unearthly mystery and glory of his Resurrection and our redemption mid-miracle.
It’s that moment when you see what someone is really like. I recall one night when I was young, foolish, and had too much to drink—a bad combination all around. To make it worse, I was still healing from a badly broken leg from high school football and it was blowing a winter blizzard.
It was bitterly cold and hard to walk with my bum leg, and the snow was piling up. I was freezing, and oh so tired. At one point, I fell down, and just wanted to sleep in the snow. A football buddy of mine, not a big talker on the “feelings” front, basically picked me up and carried me home—blocks out of his way. His heart was revealed to me.
In the same way the Transfiguration was a revelation of Christ’s glory—in home improvement show parlance, the ultimate “Big Reveal” of what he was really like underneath.
It would be a vision for the disciples to hold onto when things got tough: for John at the foot of the cross, and Peter, the rock, before the empty tomb.
Jesus meant his Transfiguration to be something we too can hold onto when things look bad. He wanted to show us that “things” may not always be as they seem, and that he is the way, the truth and the life—the same yesterday, today, and forever.
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Paul Thomas Moore is a Catholic commentator and singer-songwriter. He and wife Marilou attend St. Mary of Lourdes in Germantown Hills, Illinois. Write to him at [email protected]
