The
few verses (15:1-4) preceding today’s Genesis reading narrate an exchange
between God and Abram. God has promised that Abram and Sarai will have an heir,
but Abram challenges God, protesting that they are still childless. Abram—later
Abraham—has always been a model of biblical faith; in fact, today’s passage
states, “Abram put his faith in the Lord....” However, his faith was not the
reason for God’s blessing. Rather, God took the initiative, freely promising
descendants to Abraham and Sarai. God is quick to give gifts, while we humans
often hesitate to trust. We seem like sleepwalkers who need to be awakened to
God’s constant love and presence.The fact is, Abraham’s faith was awakened by God’s persistence. The stars serve as a sign of the aged couple’s innumerable descendants. Abram surrenders to God’s plan and trusts in God’s power. He is “right” with God; we are told that God “credited it to him as an act of righteousness.” If we were asked to articulate our faith, we might list the things we believe. But Abraham’s story reveals that faith is not just about doctrine—it is about a relationship. Abraham believed that God would do what God said, and that is the invitation extended to all believers. What proof did God give Abraham to confirm his faith? Nothing concrete or immediate—just a promise. God made a covenant with him.
Animal rights advocates may shudder at the description of how this covenant was ratified—a selection of animals was slaughtered. But we must remember we are in ancient times, and our faith ancestors understood the symbolism. Traditionally, when such a covenant was made, both parties would pass between the split animals, signifying: “May what happened to these animals happen to me if I break this covenant.”
Night falls, and Abraham enters a deep sleep, enveloped in “a deep, terrifying darkness.” We are in the realm of mystery. Then a smoking pot and flaming torch pass between the split animals—symbols of God. What is Abraham’s role in all of this? He is merely an observer of the mystery. He has no active part in sealing the covenant. God alone passes between the animals. This is a recurring biblical theme: in the divine-human exchange, God always acts first. Abraham is not tested in faith and then rewarded with a covenant. Instead, God takes the first step, makes a binding promise, and invites Abraham to respond with trust. And that is what Abraham does—what we are invited to do as well.
But what proof does Abraham have when challenges arise? Can he pull out a tangible sign of reassurance? Does he receive a magical object to strengthen his faith when life becomes difficult? No—he has only God’s word. And that must be enough. Like Abraham and Sarai, we, too, must keep listening and trusting in that word. That is our part in the covenant.
This is the very message given to the frightened disciples at the Transfiguration: “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Jesus’ life—what he says and does—is the word God gives them to trust. They must keep their eyes and ears open, their hearts ready to respond. Like Abraham, they must wake up to the presence of the divine.
Lent is wake-up time. At first glance, we may not think we are asleep—quite the contrary! Modern life demands so much of us. We work hard to balance time and energy among family, work, friends, church, and community needs. The days of spontaneous visits from friends dropping by for coffee are long gone. Who has the time? If we want to visit, we must schedule it in advance. Outwardly, we are wide awake—though often sleep-deprived. But how often do we take even a brief pause to truly awaken—to reflect on what matters?
For instance, do we ask ourselves: Does my spirit need refreshing? Where is God present in my daily life? Do I need to rekindle friendships or tend to a fading one? How do I respond to those in need? What or whom have I been avoiding? We say, “Life is full,” but in truth, our spirits may be like the disciples on the mountain—“overcome by sleep.”
Before today’s Transfiguration account, Jesus told his disciples that he would be rejected, suffer, and die in Jerusalem (Luke 9:18–22). Peter had just proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah but misunderstood how Jesus would fulfill that role. Not only would Jesus suffer, but he also told his disciples that they, too, must take up their cross and follow him (9:23). The Transfiguration immediately follows this revelation, and the voice from the cloud affirms Jesus' identity while directing the awestruck and fearful disciples to listen to him.
The disciples’ fear and confusion do not end there. They descend from the mountain, and their illusions of success and glory crumble as Jesus faces growing opposition. They could have used reassurance, and they had it—if only they had remembered their experience on Mount Tabor. The voice told them what to do: “Listen to Jesus.” But they forgot the hope they witnessed in his glory. They became spiritual amnesiacs.
Being a disciple means remembering whom we follow. As the voice declares, Jesus is “the chosen Son.” He was glorified not only on the mountain but also in his suffering, death, and resurrection. The Transfiguration already echoes the Resurrection. We disciples must remember that the Risen Christ—the glorified One—continues to act and speak in our lives. He is the one we listen to. Lent is a time to recommit to that listening—through prayer, Scripture, and the Eucharist.
It is hard to stay focused on Christ when life is chaotic. Crises and distractions throw us off balance, and we forget to “listen to him.” We forget his presence in both the struggles and the joys of our lives.
Luke’s Gospel emphasizes Jesus’ prayer life more than any other. He prays before making important decisions and frequently retreats to be alone with God. Today, Luke tells us that Jesus was transfigured “while he was praying.” His openness to God and his mission was nurtured in prayer. The disciples, on the other hand, were asleep—both in Gethsemane and on the mountain. Luke reminds us that we must remain awake to discern God’s presence and purpose in our lives. Jesus understood who God was and trusted in God’s plan because he met God in prayer. And so must we.
The Transfiguration is a Lenten reminder that we are called to prayer—not just to ask for things or make small talk with God, but to open ourselves to transformation. In prayer, we hear Christ anew and discover what he is saying to us in our lives today. The voice from the mountain was not speaking only to those disciples long ago—it speaks to us now. We are called to be constant listeners as we journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem.
Mountain climbing is supposed to be an exhilarating sport—not that I would know, as I’m afraid of heights! But I do know that mountains can be dangerous places. People have died on them. In the Bible, mountains are places where people encounter God, but such encounters can be life-threatening.
Meeting Christ is a kind of mountain experience. In him, we encounter God, and that encounter can be dangerous—it can change our lives. Truly listening to Christ may mean letting go of false securities and accepting his way. It requires daily choices that run counter to what the world tells us leads to success and happiness. He calls us to take up our crosses and follow him.
Abraham and Sarai had no lucky charm to reassure them when their journey grew difficult. They had only God’s covenant and promise. And what do we have? We have Jesus—our covenant with God—an unbroken word that God has not and will not abandon us.
So, what should we do this Lent? Find ways and places to listen to Christ—just as the voice on the mountain commands us to do today.