Lent II

The Second Sunday of Lent

Genesis 15:5-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 9: 28b-36-13

One of the most wonderful experiences of having four seasons was this past Thursday. It was 43 degrees out, a cloudless sky filled with brilliant sunlight and I was sitting outside McCarthy’s Tire Service basking in an experience that Floridians, Hawaiians and Californians can’t even begin to imagine. I was given a glimpse, “a tremor of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper”* of spring. And there will soon come that day when seemingly overnight the trees will bud and a hint of green will cover the grey earth and there will be no turning back for old man winter.

The previous evening could not have been more dramatically different. I saw the news report of a bombed maternity hospital in Mariupol, Ukraine. The monstrous gaping mouth of a crater. A pregnant woman being carried on a stretcher to safety. A place that normally burgeons with new life was transformed into a place of destruction, fear and death. I was filled with such intense sadness and helplessness. What could I do?

As in the past in the face of such evil and helplessness, I turn to my only source of solace. In the darkness, I listen. I listened to the choral setting of The Saint Matthew Passion of Johann Sebastian Bach. This deep expression of faith singing of human suffering with its betrayal, lies, and plotting; as shadows and darkness, fear and death play-off each other. You need not be a Christian to be moved by this masterpiece of faith and music. It is the same human story as the suffering of the Ukrainian people which is moving the world.

But there was a difference that evening. While I sat there listening, as I have many times throughout my life, I realized that this story of human torture and pain is set to such poignant and beautiful music. Suffering and beauty coinciding. Sorrow entwined with hope: a glimpse, “a tremor of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper” for the Ukrainian people – and for our impotent world.

In my helplessness and sadness I found in this beauty hope; hope in interlacing lines of music; in voices chasing each other; rich, often dissonant harmonies resolving into peace.

We need at times in our lives, just a glimpse, a foretaste, a peek, of the future to give us hope. The Book of Proverbs teaches, “Where there is no vision, the people perish” [Proverbs 29:18]. As we ask, “Where is God in the present suffering of our world;” Jesus gives us a glimpse…of the resurrection? …of eternity? …of an undreamed of future? …that we might not perish.

Look at the painting of the Transfiguration by Fr. Sieger Köder, the canvas is sharply divided between the vision of Jesus transfigured in egg yolk yellows and Peter, James and John in deep tones of blue, brown, green and red.

Notice how the three figures of Jesus, Moses and Elijah look at each other in such a way as to form a circle, a union. On the other hand, the three apostles have their eye closed. Are they asleep? Are they contemplating? Each set of closed eyes are as if a light were shining on them. The Transfiguration is a vision, a glimpse for the soul, the heart, and the mind.

In the Orthodox Christian tradition, it is not so much Christ who is transfigured, but the disciples. The Light of God continually shining through the cracks in life as Canadian Leonard Cohen sings in his song “Anthem”**. Thus the Light of God is fleeting, like a brilliant, brief, sunny, winter day giving us a glimpse of spring or a restful moment of beautiful music offering a whisper of hope.

Seldom do the disciples see Jesus for who is truly is. Seldom do we. But Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr believes that only two things in life are truly transformational: great love and great suffering.

The crucifixion of Jesus embraces and expresses both great suffering and great love at the same time.

Have we not been witnesses of such love in the midst of the suffering in Ukraine, of gay men caring for each other during the AIDS crisis in the ‘90s, of Yemeni mothers cradling their dying children? Where have you seen love and suffering embrace?

If the embrace of suffering and love is transformative, I guess, I will be experiencing many more glimpses of spring and hope. Sometimes where I least expect.

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_{*T.S. Eliot, “Murder in the Cathedral”.}                                                                                                    

_{** Leonard Cohen, Anthem: ”There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in”.}