Homily: Listening to the Chosen Son
(Luke 9:28-36)
Second Sunday of Lent (Year C)
It’s the story of
the Transfiguration, where Jesus gives Peter, James, and John a glimpse of His
divine glory.
Let’s walk through
this together and see what it means for us.
Now, mountains in
Scripture are special places—think of Moses on Sinai or Elijah hearing God’s
still, small voice.
This mountain is no
different.
As Jesus prays,
something incredible happens:
His face changes,
His clothes turn dazzling white, and suddenly Moses and Elijah are there,
talking with Him about His “exodus”—His journey through suffering and death to
resurrection.
Then, a cloud
envelops them, and God’s voice declares, “This is my chosen Son; listen to
Him.”
Luke tells us they
were heavy with sleep—maybe exhausted from the climb or the whirlwind of
following Jesus.
But they wake up to
this!
Peter, ever
impulsive, says, “Master, it’s good that we’re here.
Let’s build three
tents!”
He wants to stay, to
preserve this glorious moment.
And who can blame
him?
When we encounter
God’s presence—whether in a powerful prayer, a kind act, or the peace of this Mass—don’t
we want to hold onto it too?
It’s a revelation.
Moses, the giver of
the Law, and Elijah, the great prophet, stand with Jesus, showing He’s the
fulfillment of all God promised.
The dazzling light
points to His divinity and the glory of the resurrection.
And that voice from
the cloud?
It’s a command for
them—and for us:
“Listen to Him.”
This isn’t just
about hearing words; it’s about letting Jesus shape our lives.
We might not see
Jesus transfigured in front of us, but we’re still part of this story.
Think about your own
“mountain moments”—times when God breaks through.
Maybe it’s when you
hold your child for the first time, or when you feel unexplainable peace amid
chaos, or when the Eucharist touches your soul in a new way.
These are echoes of
the Transfiguration, glimpses of God’s love and power.
After this vision,
Jesus leads them back down—back to the messiness of life, to the crowds, to the
road to the cross.
That’s our path too.
The glory we see
here at Mass isn’t meant to be hoarded; it’s meant to strengthen us for the
valleys—those places where we face hardship, doubt, or the daily grind.
The Transfiguration
reminds us that Jesus is with us, shining even when we can’t see it.
They’re sleepy,
stumbling, unsure what to say.
Sound familiar?
We can be
spiritually drowsy too—distracted by screens, worries, or busyness.
Yet God still
speaks.
Peter didn’t fully
understand the Transfiguration until later, after the resurrection.
Sometimes, we don’t
get it in the moment either.
But God is patient.
He keeps calling us
to wake up, to listen, to trust.
Maybe it’s carving
out time for prayer instead of rushing through our day.
Maybe it’s forgiving
someone when it’s hard, because Jesus calls us to mercy.
Or maybe it’s
trusting Him when the road ahead feels steep and uncertain.
Whatever it is, the
Father’s command is clear: Jesus is the Chosen Son, the one worth following.
The Transfiguration
isn’t just a story from long ago; it’s an invitation now.
So, let’s wake up,
listen to Him, and let His love transform us.
Amen.
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