2nd Sunday of Lent 2025 - More than a superficial faith

 There’s a story about a wealthy king who wanted to find a bride. And not just any bride, the king wished to marry a woman who would love him, not for his wealth and power, but for who he was as a man. He knew that if he rode through the streets in his royal robes, with trumpets announcing his intentions, his quest would be compromised. This would attract a superficial bride.

So, he set aside his crown and dressed as a simple peasant. He lived among his subjects, working alongside them, and shared in their struggles. And in time, he met a woman who loved him not for what he owned, but for who he was. Only then did he reveal his true identity.

In today’s Gospel, Peter, James, and John are given an extraordinary grace: they see Jesus transfigured in dazzling white, standing with Moses and Elijah. It is a revelation of His divine glory, a brief unveiling of who He truly is. And yet, Jesus does not remain in that state. He does not go back down the mountain glowing, proving to the crowds that He is the Son of God.

We might wonder: why not. If he wished to attract disciples, why didn’t Jesus appear like that all the time? Why doesn’t He display His full power to the whole world and remove all doubt?

While it seems logical that if Jesus displayed His divine glory all the time, people would believe, but the Scriptures repeatedly show that miracles and divine manifestations do not automatically lead to lasting faith, hope, or love.

The Israelites in the Wilderness saw the parting of the Red Sea, manna from heaven, and God's presence on Mount Sinai, yet they still doubted and turned to idolatry.

Many who witnessed Jesus healing the sick, feeding thousands, and even raising the dead still did not follow Him. In John chapter 11, the chief priests and Pharisees respond to the resurrection of Lazarus not with faith, but with a plot to kill both Jesus and Lazarus.

If people could witness these direct interventions of God and still reject Him, then even if Jesus appeared in transfigured glory to the whole world, many would still dismiss it as an illusion, exaggeration, or something that could be explained away.

God desires a relationship with each of us, not based on mere compulsion or overwhelming evidence, any way, but on our choice to believe, and hope, and love Him.  If God simply overpowered us with His glory, it might force knowledge of his existence, but we would lose our ability to have faith. "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" Jesus says after his resurrection.

The Transfiguration was a moment of divine revelation, but it was not the ultimate proof of Jesus' deepest identity. For ultimately, He is the one sent by God not to overpower humanity through undeniable proof of God’s existence, but rather to show the depths of God’s love to those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Jesus did not walk around permanently transfigured in dazzling light because that dazzling light would have veiled and obscured—his identity as incarnate love willing to undertake supreme suffering for his beloved. 

His identity is revealed most fully, not in the transfiguration, but in the crucifixion. His identity is love. God is love. And there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 

Notice that this was even the topic the Lord was discussing with Moses and Elijah while he was transfigured. He spoke of how he had to go to Jerusalem to suffer and die to deliver us from the slavery of sin and death. But he goes willingly because he loves us and wants to see us free.

If God’s goal was simply to make us believe in Him, he could have done so easily. Just like the king in the story could have easily found a bride through crown and treasury. But Jesus desired a bride who would love Him with true love. And he goes to the cross to show His love for us, his bride. 

And of course he goes to the cross to give us an example to follow—to in fact show us the road to heaven—the road we must follow. We must take up our cross and follow him in all things. 

To be Christian is not simply to walk around with the idea that God exists in our heads. Rather, to be Christian—to be heirs of the kingdom—is to conform ourselves in thought, word, deed, in obedience to God, to Jesus Christ—to love as he loves—to work for the good of others at cost to ourselves. True love is costly, as our Lord shows us. But we have been redeemed so that we may be transformed into love with Christ.

How are we to experience this transformation? Again, I stress the importance of our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving during this season. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving signal our openness to the transformation God wants for us.

Prayer: it’s not just about asking for things; it is about aligning our hearts with God’s will. Through prayer, we allow God to reveal Himself to us—not in overwhelming signs, but in the quiet of our hearts, where He gently calls us to trust Him.

Fasting: it’s not simply an act of self-denial or discipline; it is a concrete way of expressing our hunger for something greater than what the world offers. When we give up certain foods, comforts, or habits, we remind ourselves that our deepest satisfaction is found in God alone.

Almsgiving is not the cold fulfillment of a religious obligation, rather it shifts our focus from self to others. When we give to those in need—not just from our excess, but in a way that costs us something—we imitate Christ-like love. Our almsgiving signals that we are allowing Christ’s love to transform us into people who give of themselves as He did.

Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are not ends in themselves. They are signs of our willingness to be changed. Through them, we tell God: “I want to know You” “I want to be freed from what holds me back” “I want to love as You love”.

Again, it is not through some undeniable sight of Christ’s divinity that God transforms us. But choosing those actions to become like Jesus in his self-giving. By choosing to pray, fast, repent and engage in works of charity, our spiritual sight is made pure to know God’s presence with us in this life and to behold God’s glory in eternity for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

2nd Sunday of Lent 2021 - Tests of Faith

 
From the moment we are introduced to the character of Abraham in the book of Genesis, his faith is constantly being tested by God.  

The very first time in Scripture God speaks to Abraham, God gives Abraham a test, and a serious one.  God tells Abraham: Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and your father's house to a land that I will show you. “Leave your home, leave your father and kinsfolk, leave everything you have ever known…trust me, I’ll let you know where you are going when you get there.”

That would test anyone’s faith. But I think it’s a pretty relatable one. Because each one of us are asked by God to go to strange people in unknown places. It’s that feeling or sense we get that there is something we should do that is outside of our comfort zone. My neighbor just lost her husband, should I go and comfort her, should I shovel her driveway, volunteer to get her groceries? Or…for the season of Lent…well I allow God to take me deeper this Lent in prayer? Will I go to stations of the cross? Will I go to confession? Will I go to weekday Mass? Will I open up the bible more often or pickup the rosary beads? 

Authentic spiritual growth always involves a test of faith, trusting God to lead us to unknown places. I know that when I’ve failed to trust God, I’ve always been a little sadder for it.

Another test came when Abraham was traveling through the countryside with his nephew, Lot.  The two men were shepherds. And over time their flocks grew larger and larger.  It became clear that the land could not support both flocks of Abraham and Lot. So, Abraham gave Lot a choice.  The whole countryside is open to you. Take your choice of any section of the land you want. If you want the land to the left, then I’ll take the land on the right. If you prefer the land on the right, then I’ll go to the left.

Lot took a long look at the fertile plains of the Jordan Valley. The whole area was well watered, it was ideal for raising a flock.  So, Lot chose for himself the fertile plans of the Jordan leaving to Abraham the land to the west, the rocky, hard, land of Canaan. Canaan was clearly less desirable, especially since, at the time, it was filled with wicked people who would likely terrorize Abraham and steal his sheep.  

This was a test, too.  Would Abraham trust God, even when it seemed like he was receiving an unfair settlement.  It's hard to trust God normally, even harder when there might be some suffering involved or when we have a temptation to tip the scale in our own favor. 

There are about twelve such tests of Abraham in the book of Genesis—the most popular and most difficult test we heard today.  God had promised Abraham numerous posterity—God said that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars, and now he commands Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac.  

Why did God test Abraham’s faith, anyway? Didn’t God know the outcome? Didn’t he know Abraham’s heart? Well, yes, of course. God knows all things. God doesn’t test us to make sure that we really love Him. He tests us because it is by that test, that our faith is fortified and strengthened. God tested Abraham’s faith to increase his faith, that he might become the father of a nation of faithful people.

So, too with us, a Christian who trusts God in small matters—who passes those small tests—is able to be used as God’s instrument in great matters. For example, St. Theresa the Little Flower trusted God in the small obediences of her life—she was obedient to her parents, she was obedient to her religious superiors, she undertook small sufferings and small acts of love for the good of souls, and because of it, she became a doctor of the Church to which millions of people look for guidance in their spiritual lives. 

A good priest friend of mine would often say, “everything prepares us for something else.”  Our little sufferings, those little tests of faith, prepare us, to help others in their trials and sufferings. Again, I think of our Lenten penances. We make these spiritual commitments, we undergo these little spiritual tests, and when we are faithful to them—there is spiritual growth--- something good comes out of our faithfulness to these commitments. We are strengthened in fortitude, we build up our spiritual muscles against the powers of temptation and fear. I am less afraid of suffering for the Gospel because I know what suffering is like, I’ve willingly undergone suffering for the kingdom. 

In the Gospel, we see Peter, James, and John, undergoing a little test of faith—they need to follow the Lord up the mountain. Because they trusted the Lord, they are given this glimpse of the Lord in his transfigured glory. And this prepares them for a bigger test of faith. No?

Soon after witnessing his glorious transfiguration, Peter, James, and John would see Our Lord arrested, beaten, mocked, scourged, crucified, and killed.  They would need to remember the glory of the transfiguration when they witnessed the horror of the cross. 

God uses those transfiguration moments of our lives to prepare us for when His glory is hard to see. St. Ignatius of Loyola called these transfiguration moments, “consolations in the spiritual life.” Hopefully, everyone here has had transfiguration moments in their lives, spiritual consolations: maybe at a beautiful mass, or your wedding, or on a really good retreat or Lenten mission, or kneeling in gratitude after a really good confession, or praying with other prayer warriors: in this powerful moments, like at the transfiguration, God’s goodness is palpable and undeniable. In those mountain top experiences of God, we might even respond like St. Peter today, bursting out “Lord it is good that we are here!”  These powerful experience of God’s closeness, inflame our hearts with love. 

But just like with the apostles, those transfiguration times prepare us for future trials, what St. Ignatius of Loyola called the times of desolation, the desert times, when God’s goodness and presence is hard or impossible to detect. In those times, faith is tested—the crucifixion is encountered—the prospect of suffering—the reality of evil is encountered,  but again, in order that we may grow spiritually and be prepared for God’s work out in the world.

Personally, I think I’m in a mountain top period right now: my Lenten spiritual reading and prayer is nourishing my soul, the burden of my Lenten penances is not particularly onerous, I made a good confession right before lent, I’ve been surprised at how moving praying our stations of the cross has been the last two weeks. 

When we are in the period of consolation, we saver it, we thank God for it—it’s a foretaste of heavenly glory, but always with the knowledge that the consolation is likely going to proceed a period of trial. 

In this trial times—those desolate times—we recall the consolations of the past to give us some strength, we recall that the Lord is testing our faith that it may grow, that we may become more effective instruments of his goodness. 

If you haven’t really gotten serious about Lenten prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, it’s not too late to make some good spiritual commitments. For our God is so good that the transfiguration can be experienced even in times, maybe, particularly in times of penance.

If you’ve already found yourself failing in these matters, it’s not to late to recommit to them. And there’s an experience of God’s goodness, too—in his mercy and his patience.

Through our Lenten observances, may the Lord continue to lead us deeper into the Paschal Mystery for the glory of God and salvation of souls.