SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT

Verso L'Alto

One summer day many years ago when I was just out of high school, one of my brothers and I decided that climbing Mt. Hood sounded like a good idea. That we didn’t know a thing about mountain climbing didn’t bother us. Not only did we have no experience or plan, we had no gear: no ropes or ice axes, no helmets, no crampons, no gloves, no route in mind. Nothing. We just packed a sack lunch and drove up to Mt. Hood, wearing lightweight jackets (I wore my high school letterman’s jacket) and our everyday street clothes. Though we got as high as the sulfur-fuming Devil’s Kitchen (10,400 ft), the only smart thing we did that day was turn back after a baseball-sized rock hurtled down and bloodied my knuckles. 

In today’s readings we learn more about climbing mountains: one that Jesus, Peter, James and John climb, and another that Abraham and Isaac climb. The Bible often uses the language of landscapes and nature to help us see our relationship to God (garden, water, wilderness, birds and trees, sun and moon, snow and mist, stormy wind).  The created world and places in nature are highly significant in scripture. Mountains, for example, are places to meet God. They are places where God speaks to us and draws us near to him.

One person who used mountains to draw near to God was Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati (1901-1925), a young Italian man who combined his love for mountain-climbing with his love for the poor. He is remembered for the phrase "Verso L'Alto," which means "to the heights," a phrase which has come to sum up the way he united his love of mountaineering with his love for the adventure of his Catholic faith. He regularly went on climbing outings with his friends, where he blended summiting a mountain with prayer and conversations about faith. All the while he dedicated his short life to service to the poor and marginalized. Bl. Pier Giorgio offers us a hint of how we, too, can mature in our faith by facing the spiritual mountains we’re meant to climb. 

For all their beauty, there is a harshness about mountains. Mountain climbing is hard work. You have to be strong and fit. It’s not an effortless stroll up a gentle hill. You have to learn how to move on steep ground, how to “read” snow and rock conditions. And while you have to respect the mountain, you can’t be afraid of it. And it’s even more helpful to have a guide. Notice that Jesus led Peter, James and John up the high mountain.

Though in today’s Gospel we see Jesus transfigured in all his glory, we know the story will quickly change. Pilate will introduce himself soon, and Jesus is walking straight toward the agony of Calvary. In today’s responsorial psalm we’re reminded to continue our own transfiguring journey “walk[ing] before the Lord” (Ps 116:9). Yet doing so and reaching the summit of Easter requires the struggle of Lent. Lent is not a time to punish ourselves, but we are asked to be spiritually open to conversion through our personal Lenten commitments. As St. Therese of Lisieux wrote, “Living on love is not setting up one’s tent at the top of Tabor. It’s climbing Calvary with Jesus, it’s looking at the cross as a treasure!” 

Mountains are fascinating places. And God gave us a lot of them – both the physical and the personal kind  – so he must really want us to climb them. Our journey of traversing our own steep and rocky ground toward Easter can also be fascinating. But it takes the gear of spiritual discipline — and not just our everyday street clothes — to get there. Don’t be like me trying to climb Mt. Hood. Take some time on this Second Sunday of Lent to repack your Lenten gear: of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Don’t turn back before the heights.      

–Jim Healy

Send Us Forth are reflections written by St. Matthew parishioners and friends.