From the Deacon's Desk

I am not preaching today, but if interested, the following is the homily I delivered BACK IN 2023 on the same readings we have today, the Second Sunday of Lent:

This May, Carol and I will be celebrating forty years (now 43) of marriage. That has led me to reflect upon our marriage quite a bit lately.

I remember our wedding day. I was so confident – so sure that getting married was what I wanted, that marrying Carol was the right thing to do. I was also confident that I knew what to expect. We had spent countless hours talking about our hopes and dreams, about having children, about building a future together.

I was as confident as a naïve 23-year-old could possibly be.

That confidence stayed with me as I watched Carol being escorted to the altar by her dad. It remained throughout the early part of the Mass as we waited anxiously. I was still confident when Fr. Jim invited us forward to state our vows in front of our family and friends.

I was confident right up until I heard Fr. Jim ask us if we would promise to love and honor each other as man and wife for THE REST OF OUR LIVES. Moments later, in case we didn’t understand what “the rest of our lives” meant, we had to say “until death do us part.”

That was when reality set in – the realization I was to going to be a part of something much bigger than myself. My “all about me” world was about to change.

Just seconds before, I felt prepared and confident. However, at that moment, I was afraid. I was suddenly unsure if I truly comprehended all that being married entailed and it was overwhelming.

I apparently said, “I do” and agreed to spending the rest of my life with Carol, but the fear in that moment was real.

This memory came to mind as I read today’s gospel, the familiar story of the Transfiguration. I have preached on this gospel several times over the years. However, as I read the passage this time, something different stood out.

The gospel reads, …behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son…listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid.

What stood out to me was not that the disciples were “very much afraid,” but rather, the timing of that fear.

Think about what happened right before the cloud and the voice. The gospel said, Jesus was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him.

The disciples were standing on a remote mountaintop when Jesus started glowing. Then, two prophets, one dead for approximately 1300 years and the other for nearly 900 years, were there with Jesus, engaging in conversation.

If there was a time to be “very much afraid,” it seems like that would have been the perfect time.  

However, the disciples had no fear. They didn’t fall to the ground; they were not afraid – at least not at that point.

As a matter of fact, Peter calmly took it all in and said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good that we are here.”

Similar to me on my wedding day, they were confident. They knew Jesus was special. They believed, or at least suspected, that he was the Messiah. They had seen him perform miracles and heard him speak of his Father in heaven. They assumed he was the Son of God. Why should they be afraid?

There was no fear until the voice came from cloud. That was when reality set in.

It was one thing to assume Jesus was the Son of God, quite another to have God TELL them Jesus was his Son. All doubt was removed. The gauntlet had been thrown down: Jesus was the Son of God – were the disciples ready to accept that? Were they ready to commit to what Jesus would ask of them?

It was the call to commit that led to their fear. It was now clear they were a part of something much bigger than themselves. It wasn’t all about them anymore.

The reality had set in for me when I heard the words, “for the rest of your life.” It was one thing to assume Carol and I would have a long and successful marriage, quite another to commit to it in front of everyone we knew.

Human beings prefer a life of straddling the fence. It is actually quite comfortable up there: the view is good; we can take in the best of what each side has to offer; and we don’t offend anyone by not choosing their side. There is no fear.

And so it is with our faith. If we don’t commit, we can come and go as we please. We can embrace the facets of our faith with which we are comfortable and ignore, or even reject, the ones that make us uncomfortable.

The gospel encourages us to reflect upon how we handle fear when it arises. When our confidence suddenly evaporates and we are staring reality in the face, where do we turn? When the time comes to COMMIT, what do we do?

When the disciples experienced fear and lay trembling on the ground, the gospel tells us, Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.”

The disciples were afraid when their reality set in, when it was time for them to commit to their belief in Jesus Christ. God offered them advice for overcoming that fear. He said, “This is my beloved Son…listen to him.”

Are we straddling the fence of our faith? While it may seem like a comfortable place to be, at some point reality will set in. We will be in desperate need of faith, in desperate need of the help and hope of a loving God. Ultimately, we will need to choose; we will need to commit.

It may very well cause us to drop to the ground in fear. However, the fear will be temporary. Jesus will reach out to us and say, “Rise, and do not be afraid.”

The words “do not be afraid” appear in the bible 365 times. I would guess that in most cases the source of the fear was commitment. I would also guess that the antidote for the fear in every case was turning to God.

Lent is a good time for us to acknowledge we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves. That requires both trust and humility. We are asked to commit ourselves to Jesus, or perhaps re-commit ourselves. It is time to stop straddling the fence, a time to not only face our fear, but to embrace it.

We must allow Jesus to help us up off the ground, and then – listen to him.