It happens very seldom that in the three readings of a Sunday the outline or structure of all three of them is almost identical but, if you take your missalette and compare the three readings of today’s Mass, this is exactly what you’ll find: all three pericopes were composed according the same basic framework. It would be difficult to find out whether this correspondence is deliberate and intended or merely accidental (I’d rather prefer the adjective providential). But, whichever is the case, the three readings, by emphasizing three times the same central idea, give us a very useful teaching for Lent.

In the Old Testament reading we witnessed the call of Abraham. Last Sunday we read from Genesis the story of the creation of the first man and woman and their first sin of disobedience. Now a God whom the 75 years old Abraham has never heard of so far gives him an arduous, challenging task which goes to the core of his existence: "Leave your home, leave your family, leave your familiar surroundings and life style and go to a land I’m going to show you." But immediately God adds to the call beautiful promises: "I’ll make you the father of a great nation, I’ll be your friend, I’ll make you a blessing for the whole human race." Abraham, without asking any question, obeys: packs up a few belongings, and with his wife Sarah and nephew Lot sets out for a long journey. What a contrast to Adam and Eve’s rebellion! For what we see here is an absolute, unconditional obedience. This is indeed a new start, the beginning of God’s new people, a whole new creation.

The New Testament account of Transfiguration also consists of a journey: a tiring climb to the top of a high mountain, followed by an unexpected, unfathomable experience, a reward if you wish: the revelation of the heavenly glory of God in the mortal body of Jesus. The appearance of the two great Old Testament figures, Moses and Elijah, indicate the fulfillment of all the Old Testament promises in the person of Jesus, himself a descendant of Abraham who became the ultimate blessing for all the nations.

The words of St. Paul in the second reading stand between these two important events of the history of our salvation like the key, the solution, the common denominator of the two stories which is, at the same time, the practical application of the biblical pattern to our own lives: Take the hardships the gospel of Jesus entails: if you accept generously and carry courageously your share in the sufferings of Jesus, (here comes the reward:) you will share also the eternal life and immortality that Jesus purchased for us by His death and resurrection by His absolute and unconditional obedience, "robbing death of its power." In the short section (only 3 verses) taken from Paul’s second letter to Timothy not only the main topic is summarized but even words and phrases surface which we can take as hints of references to the two episodes:

1. God called us, just as He called Abraham, to what: to a holy life that is like a long journey, a difficult climbing higher and higher. This holy life, the daily, persevering walking in the journey (a) is in no way our personal merit: it is an honor and a privilege, a gift, a grace, God’s power working in us, and (b) is a grace not whimsically given to us by God like on the spur of the moment but has been planned, designed, prepared for us "before the world began": it has been a part of God’s eternal plan.

2. This grace, planned for all eternity, has been made manifest, visible, and perceptible "through the appearance of our Savior," just like the glory of God became visible through the human body of Jesus Christ.

As mentioned before, the teaching of today’s Mass, by repeating the same pattern three times in the three readings, gives us a clear program for Lent and (Lent being a mirror for our entire life span) indeed for our whole life. Lent (and our life here on earth) is for us what the journey into the unknown was for Abraham and what the slow climbing to the top of Mount Tabor with Jesus was for the three Apostles: sharing in the hardship that the gospel entails. The unquestioning, ready obedience of Abraham, and Jesus’ faithful following the will of God even into the death on the cross are the model for us: in human terms, persevering in the gospel way of life is not something very reasonable, as a matter of fact, it’s the greatest madness of all, but this is exactly the obedience and holy life we are called for: practicing the principles of the Sermon on the Mount in their very unreasonableness and sheer madness. But we don’t follow madness for madness’ sake: beyond all that is waiting for us the land God will show us, our new home (Jesus calls it a "mansion"!), the top of Mount Tabor where we’ll see Jesus in His glory. This is exactly the "madness" in obedience to God’s word: hope against hope for the simple reason because God made the promise. This hoping against hope makes our Lent and our daily lives beautiful: we discover in the repetitious drudgery of our days, in the many obstacles we encounter, in our daily tiredness and frustrations we endure - somehow, in a mysterious way we discover that the future glory is already present, through the dust, and dirt, and smog of our daily lives the eternal sun of God’s splendor shines through, just like in the Transfiguration event heaven’s glory was glowing through the mortal body of Jesus, a body destined for crucifixion, just like on Easter morning from the tomb, a place of death and decay and corruption the light of resurrection radiating. This is what is so confusing and (at the same time) exhilarating in Christian life: light and shadow, cross and resurrection, joy and grief, struggle and victory coexist, exist together, just like the first Christian Roman Emperor, Constantine the Great saw it at the bridge of Milvius before his decisive battle: he saw the Cross of Jesus shining gloriously on the sky with the message over it: "In hoc signo vinces," "In this sign you will conquer," "In this glorious sign of shame and defeat and death you will be victorious." Amen.