Second Sunday of Lent, Year C, 13 March, 2022: Genesis 15:5-12, 17-18; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 9:28b-36
…Moses and Elijah…spoke of his exodus that [Jesus] was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.
Right in the midst of this incredible epiphany of glory, the mystery of Jesus’ Passover, from his last supper, through his arrest, trial, humiliation and horrific execution, is embedded.
Perhaps that is the inevitable translation of infinite, divine love into the narrow confines of time and mortality. It is as if the fragile vessel of our contingency cannot contain that potency: the vessel shatters and the contents fragment. For all that, in the Paschal Mystery we find the same, self-sacrificing, self-emptying, receptive love that is the relationship of the Son to the Father.
Is not the brokenness of the Christ the appropriate revelation of this divine kenotic love in time, even if our fear ridden culture has no stomach to embrace brokenness? But if I turn away from it, I also turn my back on the consequence of the painful shattering: transformation into risen glory.
No shattering, no fragmentation of the divine could be permanent or absolute in this contingent realm. God is not vanquished but energized; all the strength of divine creativity absorbs the shards of our experience into that same divinity.
Suffering and death will only be dead-ends when I freeze there and dare not take the next step. And I can stop there!
When I step through the fear and hopelessness, I do not fall into a void but into the hands of God, even if I feel as if I’m in free fall without a parachute. That’s just abandoning my self-reliance, being swept out of familiar limitations. But I must cross that awful threshold to cross over.
Let us go up to Jerusalem following in the Lord’s footsteps, even if we only go forward in fear and trembling. That is not an inappropriate way to approach our sacred destiny.