Second Sunday of Lent Year A
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 33:4-5, 18-19, 20, 22
2 Timothy 1:8b-10
Matthew 17:1-9
A universal and perennial struggle is who gets the front seat spot next to the driver, “riding shotgun.” Of course, that place has symbolic value as the sidekick, the right-hand man, the best friend, and even more: the first mate, the vice president, the heir apparent. When Christ is revealed as the Father’s “beloved Son” at the Transfiguration, “the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate, and were very much afraid.” Certainly, any dramatic revelation of God is tremendous … but to realize the presence of God’s progeny, the guarantor of His line of grace, must have been overwhelming.
There’s an historical pattern here. When God calls Abram, merely the first step would rattle any of the ancients: “Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father’s house.” How could a Middle-Easterner leave the family inheritance, forsake his birthright and hazard out into the dangerous unknown? Too dangerous, very scary and completely dishonorable. He would rather have that coveted spot as it was prepared and promised in advance for him, with the comfort and safety it secured in society. Instead, God is calling Abram to a risky and unfathomable destination from his rather plain origins: “a great nation” and “a blessing” before “all the communities of the earth.” Just like when “Abram went as the Lord directed him,” the followers of Christ descend Mt. Tabor on a much wider-scope mission than they had expected before encountering the All-Holy.
The Psalmist speaks generally of these bold figures of faith as “those who fear Him … those who hope for His kindness.” Yet the upshot is incommensurate to their original sacrifice: The Lord will “deliver them from death and preserve them.” Clearly, there is a divine methodology in effect to elevate human efforts, what St. Paul terms “our works,” higher into “His own design and the grace bestowed upon us.” Such greatness could never have been accomplished on our own accord or unto own ends; it is only “with the strength that comes from God” that our Redemer “saved us and called us to a holy life.” Thus, when we hear the exhortation, “Bear your share of hardship for the Gospel,” we know that we have a parallel offering to make of our lives as Christians, each according to our vocation, and the identical noble goal.
With all this in mind, we can consider the magnitude of the moment when Christ rouses His trembling apostles: “Rise, and do not be afraid.” They are being summoned far beyond their expectations. The plan of God is becoming clear, inscrutable as it may be: They are to serve in this line of chosen delegates of the Almighty Himself. They have seen Him “transfigured before them” like when the Patriarchs of old met God, in illustrious company when “Moses and Elijah appeared.” Understandably, it took some time before “the disciples raised their eyes” but still unflaggingly, “The eyes of the Lord are upon those who fear Him.”
That’s key: We are not in ourselves fit for this extraordinary endeavor. The Psalm emphasizes His preeminence: “All His works are trustworthy.” Lent gives us an opportunity to examine our lives with all our motivations, shortcomings, gifts, challenges and dreams. They have not always proven so righteous. We are beckoned out of the familiar ease of our routines with their emptiness and therefore our identities in their insufficiency, and by taking part in history’s unfolding of grace, to hazard the adventure of the Christian life.
We might get overawed by the immensity of the call to be a Christian when we insert ourselves into this holy storyline. But we didn’t first come to faith on our own. With astonishing simplicity, the Gospel says “Jesus took” those Apostles, in the long line of conscripted representatives like Patriarchs, prophets, lawgivers, and psalmists. We didn’t fashion the master plan for the salvation of souls. The world has a Messiah for that. Although He has entrusted us with sacred work far beyond our abilities, He makes us personal beneficiaries of His power. Scripture relates that God instructs us to head “to a land that I will show you.” The initiative was from Above; the objective is likewise Heavenly; why would the means in between not be equally supernatural? In the end, there’s much more to it all than anyone could have anticipated. The example of St. Peter and all the others demonstrates our need to trust in Him, too. The Lord is in the driver’s seat, but we’re hardly just along for the joyride.