For the second Sunday of Lent the Gospel reading is always the story of the Transfiguration. Mark's version, which we are following today, reads as follows:

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."

He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean. (9:2-10)

It is unusual for Mark to provide a precise time reference. The six days echoes Exodus (24:16) and also serves as a link with the preceding episode, Peter's affirmation at Caesarea Philippi that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jesus' declaration that in his mind Messiahship will entail suffering and death. Last week it was the wilderness which provided the setting; this week it is a high mountain. In scripture mountains are places of prayer and of revelation, where the divine and the human touch. Dramatic and highly significant scenes take place on Sinai and Horeb, involving Moses and Elijah. Tabor is the mountain where pilgrims recall this event today, though Hermon, rising majestically to nine thousand feet, and located quite near Caesarea Philippi, is thought to be the more likely place. Jesus frequently heads for the hills to be alone with God. This time he selects a small group of three disciples, Peter, James and John, to accompany him, leaving the others behind. They had been with him when he raised Jairus' daughter from the dead, and will later witness his agony in the garden.

Here on the mountain God causes Jesus to be transfigured or transformed in their presence. His clothes become dazzlingly white, as white as white, a typical feature of descriptions of the heavenly and of eschatological salvation in Jewish apocalyptic literature. This event is an anticipation of the heavenly glory of the exalted Jesus after the resurrection. It is a sign that his messianic suffering will finally be vindicated.

At this point Elijah and Moses, whose stories formed part of the background in last week's reading, appear to the disciples, and hold Jesus in conversation. Mark provides no content to the discussion. They are clearly symbolic figures. Both were great prophets who experienced theophanies on mountains, and both were closely linked in the popular mind with the coming of the Messiah. Both were thought to have been translated into heaven. Peter gives expression to his wonder at what he is experiencing, and tells Jesus how good it is to be there. Strangely after his profession of faith at Caesarea Philippi, he addresses Jesus simply and inadequately as Rabbi. He comes up with the idea of constructing three shelters (booths or tabernacles), one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Such shelters made of plaited branches were originally erected in the fields at harvest time. Later they came to be associated with the tents used by the people on their wandering journey through the wilderness. They were a key feature of the annual week-long celebration of the feast of Tabernacles. One of the many expectations for the messianic age was that that folk would again live in tents, and that God would pitch tent with the people. Peter probably intends to honour the three figures, but seems to be putting them on a par. He is confused, overcome with awe, terrified. The disciples are being given a glimpse of Jesus true identity, but seem unable to grasp it.

At this point a cloud comes down upon the three, covering them in shadow, and obscuring them from the disciples' view. As often occurs in scripture, the cloud symbolises God's presence. Just as God spoke to Moses out of the cloud on Sinai, so now God's voice tells the disciples that Jesus is my Son, the Beloved, which recalls to the reader God's words to Jesus at the baptism. God's affirmation of Jesus' sonship fills out what was missing in Peter's confession of his messiahship earlier at Caesarea Philippi. The voice enjoins that the three should listen to him, (found only in Mark's version of the incident, and echoing the words of Moses in Deut 18:15), referring particularly to Jesus' words at Caesarea Philippi concerning what lies in store for him, and the nature of discipleship.

Suddenly it is all over; the other figures vanish from the scene and the three disciples see no one but Jesus, restored to his normal appearance. The experience cannot be prolonged. And they come down from the mountain to join the others and resume the mission. People in the plains and the valleys need Jesus. For the first time Jesus speaks, telling them to keep what has happened to themselves until later. For now the focus must be on the necessity of the cross.

Although the telling of the story is clearly influenced by Old Testament background, and the narrative shaped by Mark's overall theological design, I suspect that the historical nucleus has something to do with Jesus being caught up in the presence and love of God, which totally transforms his being so that the three disciples catch a glimpse of a deeper dimension to his identity. This would be Luke's suggestion. We are invited during Lent to ponder our suffering and risen Lord, the mystery of a suffering and death which erupt into resurrection and life, and to reflect on its implications for our living as disciples of Jesus.

The narrative also invites us to think about our own experience. Mountains have for me a powerful attraction. I'm fascinated by their shape, colour, rugged beauty. And I feel the urge to get to the top. On mountain heights there have been many wow moments, in snow, in dazzling sunshine, in bracing wind, in thick cloud. And in that wonder I've sometimes sensed the transforming presence of God, reassuring, affirming, challenging. For other people the mountain of revelation can be music, art or poetry, or water, the stars, the kitchen table, the look in a friend's eyes, the smile on a child's face... situations and settings where somehow God's presence gently or dramatically breaks through, revealing a deeper dimension embedded in the ordinary and the normal. For Salesian spirituality, the ordinary is far from ordinary. Though such transfiguration moments may be fleeting, their effect can be tenaciously lasting. It would be worth our while to spend a little time recalling these moments. It would also be interesting and instructive to reflect on how such moments can sustain us when we have returned to the plain and the valleys, and are struggling with our everyday problems and challenges.

The voice from the cloud invited the three disciples to listen to him. Lent is above all a time for listening, listening to the Father's love, listening to the message of Jesus, listening to needs of others, listening to our world, listening to what is deepest within us. The Greek verb implies a listening which leads to action. Such listening is also a call to respond in love.