Last Sunday we stayed with Jesus in the desert. On this second Sunday of Lent we are transported to the top of a mountain.
A mountain is a vivid symbol. One who climbs the mountain leaves behind the valley, the stir of everyday life. To climb a mountain demands an effort, but it is worthwhile; the vista from the top is breathtaking. One who climbs a mountain widens his or her horizon, opening new perspectives. On top of a mountain one also feels closer to God. This is why many peoples belonging to different religions build their sanctuaries on mountains and hills.
For the first Christians too the symbolism of the mountain was evident. On Mount Moriah, Abraham’s faith was purified (Genesis 22:1-2); on Mount Sinai Moses received the Law from God’s hand; on Mount Horeb Elijah encountered God in the rustle of a light breeze; on a mountain Jesus, like a new Moses, promulgated the law of the new covenant; Jesus withdrew into the mountains when he wanted to pray.
Now that Jesus feels the end of his life approaching, he again goes up a mountain. He allows only three disciples to accompany him: Peter, James and John, the three strongest of his apostles; they will also stay closer to Jesus at the end of his life. Here, on top of another mountain, they can see a glimpse of the divine mystery of their Lord. Here words fail.
The apostles are given here on the mountain a brief glimpse of the end. The vision of Jesus’ glorification has to help them accept the road of suffering and even death in following Him. They must realize that suffering precedes this glory. In this story that anticipates Easter, Moses and Elijah come to witness how much sense there is in such passing through suffering and death.
It means that followers of Christ must go back to plain level ground and to where the people are, and to follow Jesus on his way to Jerusalem, the way of the Cross. One who has been on top of the mountain has to come down to the plain of everyday life. But we go down carrying with us the memory of His Love.
Six weeks before his violent death, Bishop Romero said: “I am afraid to return to El Salvador. I know that they are out to take my life. Yet, I will go back. My place is there, with my people”.
Do we have the courage to follow in these footsteps? Do we treasure enough the vision of the Kingdom of God to commit ourselves to it, that Kingdom of peace and justice, where God will be everything to all? Do we have the courage to choose radically God’s way that the Gospel maps out for us?