If we only knew
Gn 12:1-4a; Ps 33:4-5, 18-19, 20, 22; 2 Tim 1:8b-10; Mt 17:1-9
A few years ago, I watched a remarkable video that depicted a typical day in a large urban medical center. There was no dialogue or sound, just the camera panning across the various floors and units. Whenever a new person emerged into the shot, a small caption appeared at the bottom of the screen giving a brief insight into what they were carrying in their hearts at that moment.
For example, a man walking the floor attached to an IV trolley was identified as “waiting to be discharged today after 4-week stay”; a doctor breezily chatting with a colleague had “two years cancer free” identifying her status; a middle-aged volunteer playing with children on the oncology ward had “always wanted a child of her own”; and so forth.
My description here hardly does justice to the powerfully poignant impact of the personal snapshots portrayed in the film. It served as a stark reminder that we mostly move through our lives totally oblivious to what the people around us are carrying within them. If we only knew, how would that affect how we treated others or how we viewed society as a whole?
I offer this experience as a point of entry into Matthew’s presentation of Jesus’ “transfiguration” in today’s Gospel. For one brief moment, it is as if the curtain of Jesus’ humanity is pulled aside and his fully divine status is revealed.
Peter, James and John are given an unforgettable insight into just who is in their midst, whether others are aware of it or not. If they had been aware, how might that influence the way they lived out their discipleship?
Perhaps we can glimpse what Jesus was attempting to teach Peter on the mountaintop by considering an encounter the two of them shared shortly before today’s scenario.
Jesus had revealed to Peter that, as the Messiah of Israel, he would be rejected and killed by the religious authorities of the people. Peter could not accept such an outcome and rebuked Jesus, which resulted in Jesus calling him “Satan” and accusing him of failing to “think as God does” (Mt 16:23). The extraordinary implication is that Peter actually could perceive the situation as God does, were he not blinded by his refusal to accept that a radically different type of messiah was present before him.
On more than one occasion Jesus adopts a “hidden persona.” For example, both the Samaritan woman at the well and the disciples on the road to Emmaus are initially prevented from recognizing Jesus’ true identity. In each instance, their moment of recognition signals a newfound capacity to envision a world transformed by Jesus’ life-giving, transformative love — a love that conquers the power of death and breathes new hope into lives that are deeply held in the grasp of despair.
If Peter could not conceive how Jesus’ death could possibly usher in the salvation of the world, perhaps getting a glimpse of his master’s true identity might begin to open his mind and heart to a new possibility that he would never have imagined on his own.
Jesus says to the Samaritan woman: “if you only knew” who is standing before you. That is a haunting accusation we should never stop presenting to ourselves. On the one hand, we do “know” that the love of Christ is always present and that it’s all that we will ever need to face life’s challenges. And yet …
One way to become more cognizant of the presence of Christ in our midst is to model the video I referred to above. As you go about your daily life, take some time to reflect on what the people you encounter may be holding close in their hearts. Say a quiet prayer for them, and for all those in your life whose situations you actually are familiar with.
By allowing the lives of those we encounter to be “transfigured” by the depth of truth that lies just beneath the surface of what we usually notice, we can be drawn into the heart of the Good Shepherd or Good Samaritan.
To love like Christ is to have him in your midst. That’s not a mountaintop miracle, it’s an everyday reality