The First Steps on a Journey to Glory
It was just on Sunday morning that we were reminded of the glory of the Transfiguration of Christ atop the mountain. Peter, James, and John were all taken up to witness the appearance of Moses and Elijah, to see the shining, glorious face of Christ, and to hear the voice of God declare that Jesus is the well-beloved Son, to whom we must listen.
Faced with this incredible scene, Peter, true to form, is the first to respond. He suggests that they ought to build shrines on the mountaintop so that these holy figures might remain and, of course, the disciples remain with them. Surely this mountaintop moment is meant to last forever. Not for the first or last time, Jesus gently breaks Peter's heart and ushers the small group of disciples down the mountain. There, they regroup and begin the long journey toward Jerusalem and the ascent to Calvary.
Peter might have built his shrines, but to what end? This is the kind of question that Ash Wednesday puts before us. All human endeavours are but dust and will return to dust. Our creations are beautiful, we delight in making them, but we must also remember that they are no more permanent than our own lives.
For all of our efforts, it is only when we see ourselves illuminated in the light of Christ that we become something more. Something truly glorious. Something immortal. To paraphrase St Athanasius, Christ became like us so that we might become like Christ. And with this in mind, we must go where Christ goes. We, too, must set our faces toward Jerusalem.
But if it's about following Christ, why all of the emphasis in Lent about repentance, fasting, and discipline? These seem terribly inward-looking if we're meant to be following Christ on the journey toward Good Friday and Easter morning.
It is possible that you have been told, or given the impression, that Lent is a season of punishment. We give up things that we enjoy to remind ourselves that we never deserved them in the first place. We fast to punish our bodies for being repositories of sin. We undertake discipline as a prolonged scolding for all of the mistakes of the year. So many of us have been told that when we hold up the mirror of Lent, we ought to be disgusted by what we see.
This is not what the light of Christ reveals. Nor is it what Lent, this holy season of healing, is meant to be about.
Rather, Lent is meant to be a time of calm, reflection, and examination. It is an opportunity to remove distractions from our lives so that we can see Christ more clearly. Repentance is the process of recognizing how past choices, behaviours, and habits have come between us and our journey to follow Christ. We turn away from these distractions and centre ourselves once again on the eternal Word made flesh. In Lent we are reminded that we can make different choices and instill new habits which bring us closer to Christ.
St Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, reveals something important about this process of repentance. Not only do we examine ourselves and make changes for ourselves, but also for one another. After all, we are called to love our neighbour as we love ourselves. If godly habits are worth taking up for ourselves, then they are also worth taking up for our neighbour.
Let us not forget that Peter, in his excitement at his nearness to the glory of God, wanted to keep Moses, Elijah, and the transfigured Christ there while he, James, and John dwelt with them. Peter had, for a moment, entirely forgotten his friends—even his brother—at the base of the mountain. To say nothing of the multitudes of other people who need to see the glory of Christ revealed. This is the light to which nations will stream, it is the light by which all see without need for sun nor moon. This is the light of hope to a troubled world. It must descend the mountain so that it might be lifted high upon a cross for all the world to see.
As you begin this holy season, consider what it is in your life that is a distraction from Christ. Consider those things that separate you from knowing God more fully. But consider not only your own relationship to Jesus, but those things which distract and prevent you from loving your neighbour more fully. This Lent, perhaps it is not coffee or wine or chocolate that needs to be left behind. Perhaps it is gossip, judgement, assumptions, or your temper that could be offered up to God. Perhaps it is the sacrifice of pride, keeping you from making an apology long overdue, that is your Lenten discipline. Perhaps this year you give up a long-held grievance, not because the wrong done to you has been made right, but because it is time to heal from the hurt as best you can to better share this journey with Jesus.
The journey from here to Jerusalem is not an easy one. It is full of temptation, distractions, and hard truths. So pack light, leave behind what will only weigh you down, and fix your sight on Christ making the slow ascent to Calvary. When the journey feels hard, remember that you do not make it alone; you travel sharing the road with these neighbours who do their utmost to love you as they love God and themselves. Remember what we have been shown and promised: the glory of the mountaintop that will greet us once again on Easter morning.
May your Lent be a season of healing and holiness.
