Recently I was invited to give a paper at an international conference in Paris (obviously, a tough assignment) on the meaning of time from different scientific and theological perspectives. My paper was on the notion of time in Matthew’s Gospel. One common theme among many of the papers presented was that human literature often views significant historical events or significant historical leaders as reflecting a merger of past, present and future. For example, the other day I saw the results of a survey of the most admired U.S. presidents. Number one this year — as in every year the survey has been taken — was Abraham Lincoln. Commentators on the results noted that in the view of most people, he embodied the best of American ideals from the past and a sign of hope for the country’s future. At the same time, in his own day, Lincoln helped the nation heal from a profound national wound that had broken the unity of the country. That is certainly true of the way Matthew’s Gospel portrays Jesus, particularly in the blockbuster scene of the Transfiguration found in this Sunday’s readings. This haunting Gospel passage has always been part of the Lenten readings. Jesus takes his most trusted disciples up a high mountain and there is “transfigured” before their eyes. Jesus’ face “shines like the sun” and his clothes become “white as light.” Great figures from Israel’s past join him: Moses, who led the people out of Egypt to the Promised Land; Elijah, the great prophet. More astounding yet, the scene evokes the glorious moment in the desert on Mount Sinai when God appeared to forge a covenant with his people, with a bright cloud enshrouding the mountain and God’s voice heard from on high. Jesus embodies the best of Israel’s past history. Now that voice speaks of Jesus, “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” Peter and the disciples are overwhelmed and fall prostrate on the ground. But, the vision over, Jesus himself comes to them and touches them, telling them “do not be afraid.” What is the meaning of this passage? Especially coming to us in the midst of Lent? There is no doubt this remarkable scene reveals the profound identity of Jesus. He embodies the past promises of God to Israel. His transfigured face shining like the sun and the brilliant light shining from his clothes are signs of Jesus’ resurrection to come and the basis for Christian hope in the power of life over death. But this scene is also immersed in the middle of the Gospel drama on the road to Jerusalem. In the previous scene Jesus had alerted his disciples to his destiny there, that he would give his life in order that others might live. They, too, would have to follow him in this journey from death to life. Only in giving their lives in loving service to others would they themselves find true and lasting life. This is the heart of the Gospel message — thus God’s words to the disciples: “Listen to him.” Lent is a time when we are invited to sink deep within ourselves and renew our Christian faith. Understandably, most of the time other things absorb our attention: our families, our jobs, our finances, our health. But we also need time to reach deeper into the ultimate meaning of our lives and discover again the foundation that holds everything together. This seems to be true now more than ever, with a lot of our world in turmoil and a lot of people searching in vain for a meaningful life. For us as Christians that foundation is our faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and his teaching. As Paul tells Timothy in our second reading today: Jesus Christ our savior is the one “who destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.” In him all of our best ideals from our past and all our hopes for a future of unending life rest.
About the Author Donald Senior was president emeritus, chancellor and professor of New Testament studies at Catholic Theological Union, 5401 S. Cornell Ave., until his death on Nov. 8, 2022.