Promises, Promises!

Scripture Reflection for The Second Sunday of Lent (February 24, 2013)

Scripture Reflections:
Genesis 15:5-12, 17-18
Psalm 27:1, 7-8, 8-9, 13-14
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Luke 9:28b-36

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All three readings for today make lavish promises.

In the first reading, God promises Abram, who has no heir, that he will not only have one, but that he will have descendents as numerous as the stars above. And God promises this in the most solemn way possible in the cultural context of the Ancient Near East—by making a covenant with him. The ceremony might seem a bit bizarre to us today, but the meaning of the covenant ritual was powerful: animals were slaughtered and cut in half, and the parties would walk through the halved animals swearing that, if they did not keep the promise they were making, they should have the same fate as the animals! As a result of this covenant, as we read two chapters later in Genesis, God even changes Abram’s name—to Abraham, which in Hebrew means “father of many peoples,” or “father of a great people.” Abraham was childless, but God promises transfiguration: that out of his and Sarai’s barrenness there would come abundant life—greater than Abram/Abraham could ever imagine!

It’s that same kind of lavishness that we read in Paul’s letter to the Philippians in our second reading. Imagine the situation of Christians at Paul’s time—a tiny minority in a vast Roman Empire, threatened on every side by persecution or suspicion. But Paul promises something beyond this world, if Christians would be faithful, imitating him in his complete dedication to the gospel. What we have to look forward to is the transfiguration of this world, the transfiguration of our bodies, since one day all will be subject to Christ. Yes, Paul says, we live in this world, but our real citizenship is in heaven, and he promises that one day that citizenship will be fully realized in the entire universe. It hardly seems possible now, but, Paul promises, it will come to be!

The promise that we read about in the gospel is a bit more subtle in the text, but it is just as lavish and, on the surface, rather outrageous. The incident we speak of as Jesus’ Transfiguration happens eight days after Peter’s confession of Jesus as “the Messiah of God” (9:20), and after Jesus’ words predicting his passion and laying down the conditions of discipleship: “If anyone wishes to come after me, they must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (9:23-24). Jesus has come to a realization that his mission on earth will end not with success, but with death, and that the path to life for him and his followers is certain suffering and apparent failure. This realization is perhaps why he takes those special disciples—Peter, James, and John—up to a mountain to pray, possibly to pray through this powerful but certainly disturbing understanding.

And while he was praying, he receives a promise. The text tells us how Moses and Elijah—the greatest of the prophets—came to him and “spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” This is why his face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. They spoke to him of what we call the “Paschal Mystery”—that what would happen in Jerusalem would be an “exodus,” a journey out of slavery to new freedom, that indeed what he has said eight days before was right: life does come from death, and life would come from his death. This was the promise of Moses and Elijah, and confirmed by the voice from the heart of the cloud: here is my son, my servant—listen to him! This is the most lavish promise of all!

The promise is to “Abraham and his descendants forever” as we pray in the song of Zachariah (you might remember singing that during morning prayer when you participated in the Catholics on Call conference). The promise is made to struggling Christians in Philippi. The promise is made to Jesus on the mountain of the Transfiguration. And through him the promise is made to us today, as we read these readings and listen to them in the liturgical assembly. Like Abraham, the Philippians, even Jesus, we struggle with uncertainty. We struggle with our families, our jobs, the world we are in, our sometimes-difficult and frustrating church. We struggle in our own personal discernment—will I ever understand what God is calling me to, what I really want to do with my life? Jesus makes the lavish, even outrageous promise: give yourself to God, give yourself to the service of people, give yourself to the service of our wounded planet, take up your daily cross, move out of your comfort zone. If you do this with your whole heart, Jesus promises, you will find life—meaning, relationships, purpose, love, dazzling insight. You will be transfigured. Jesus promises as God’s “chosen Son.” Listen to him!

Image: "Coronet Cluster: A Neighbor of Star Formation" from the Smithsonian Institute, 2000. No known copyright restrictions.
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