A doctor finally decides to tell his patient the truth. “Sir, your test results are very bad. You do not have much time left. Now that you have just a short time to live, is there anyone you would like to see?” The patient pauses, then replies, “Yes… another doctor.”
That brief exchange shows something deeply human: when reality becomes uncomfortable, we look for another voice, another interpretation, another way around the truth. The season of Lent confronts us with realities we would rather avoid. The Transfiguration confronts us with a truth we cannot edit.
In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain and is transfigured before them. His face shines, his clothes become dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appear, speaking with him. The timing of this event is very significant. It happens at a precise point in Jesus’ ministry, after Peter has correctly identified Jesus as the Messiah, and immediately after Peter has rejected what that identity truly means. Peter knew who Jesus was, but he did not yet understand what that would require. Just one chapter earlier, Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter answered correctly: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But moments later, when Jesus spoke of suffering, rejection, and death in Jerusalem, Peter rebuked him. The same mouth that confessed Christ tried to correct Christ. Peter wanted glory without the cross, resurrection without suffering, reward without sacrifice.
So Jesus takes him up the mountain. The Transfiguration is not meant to distract the disciples from the cross; it is meant to prepare them for it. Moses represents the Law. Elijah represents the Prophets. Their presence declares that Jesus is not violating Israel’s story; he is fulfilling it. When Moses and Elijah disappear and only Jesus remains, the message is unmistakable: the Law and the Prophets lead to him, not beyond him. Then the voice from heaven speaks: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”
This sounds like the voice that spoke at Jesus’ baptism, but with a difference. At the baptism, the voice identified him as God’s beloved Son. On the mountain, the voice adds an instruction to the disciples: “Listen to him.” Especially when what he says disturbs you. Especially when what he asks interrupts your plans.
The theme of interruption runs through all our readings today. Abram was doing fine in his father’s land. He had roots, security, and a future mapped out. God interrupted him: “Leave your country, your kindred, and your father’s house.” Nothing Abram was leaving was sinful. It was simply familiar. But God does not interrupt our lives to make us worse; he interrupts to enlarge us.
The same pattern repeats with Peter. Fishing was not sinful. It was successful. Predictable. Safe. Jesus interrupted it with a call that led not first to comfort, but to uncertainty. And now, just when Peter begins to feel settled following Jesus, Jerusalem enters the conversation, and with it, suffering. Another interruption. On the mountain, Peter wants to freeze the moment. “Lord, it is good that we are here. Let us build three tents.” He wants permanence without interruption, vision without obedience. But that is not how discipleship works. The mountain exists so that we can survive the valley.
This is why the Transfiguration occurs in Lent. Lent is not about suffering for its own sake. It is about learning to trust God when he interrupts what feels good, reasonable, and even religious. Abram left land and gained a promise. Peter left nets and gained a mission. Jesus descends the mountain and walks toward the cross, and through it, opens the way to resurrection.
St. Paul captures this when he tells Timothy that God “saved us and called us to a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own design.” God’s design often conflicts with our schedules, our expectations, and our comfort. That does not make it wrong. It makes it divine.
Some of us are praying for clarity while ignoring the interruption already in front of us. A door has closed. A plan has collapsed. A relationship has changed. A path you trusted no longer feels certain. Like Peter, we are tempted to say, “No, Lord. This is not how it should go.” And the Father responds gently but firmly: Listen to him.
Listening in Scripture is never passive. It means trust. It means obedience. It means movement. Abram listened, and went. Peter listened, and followed. The disciples listened, and came down the mountain. Lent trains us in this kind of listening. We give up things not because they are evil, but because they are not ultimate. We loosen our grip on what is good so that God can give us what is greater. The tragedy is not that God interrupts us. The tragedy is when we refuse to hear him and go looking for “another doctor.”
My brothers and sisters, the Transfiguration assures us that the road through Jerusalem is not the end of the story. The glory is real. Resurrection is promised. If God is interrupting you this Lent, do not panic. Do not cling to the mountain. Do not look for another voice. Do not give up! ”Listen to him.” Remember that “It is never over until it is over,” and “Success is often closest when discouragement is greatest. The One who leads you down the mountain is the same One who has already shown you what waits on the other side.
Homily for 2nd Sunday of Lent Year A 2026
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