In our well-known account of the Transfiguration, Peter simply says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” Of course, he could mean Mount Tabor all in and of itself. It has an amazing 360-degree view of the Jezreel Valley, the mountains of Samaria, Mount Carmel, the Golan Heights, Mt Gilead, Mt Horeb, the whole of Galilee, all as far as the eye can see. On a clear day it is where heaven and earth meet. There atop a mountain, the place where man has gone to meet God, where human and divine touch, the meeting place of the temporal and the eternal. Matthew, Mark and Luke describe the miraculous event of the Transfiguration, as does 2 Peter 1. We celebrate the event that was the revelation of Jesus’s divine nature, exalting him above the Law/Moses and all the prophets/Elijah, foreshadowing his death, and prefiguring his Resurrection. Maybe Peter understood what was unfolding or maybe he was flummoxed and all he could come up with was “…it is good for us to be here.” I am not sure I would have understood what I was seeing much less think of something to say. Continue reading
It’s good to be here
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“After Jesus was baptized, he came up from the water and behold, the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove coming upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’” Turn the page and we hear the opening verses of today’s gospel: “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil.” This passage is famously known as the Temptation in the Desert (or the Wilderness) 
There is a picture in my office. It is in a place only I can see it. I didn’t plan it that way, it was just the only place to hang it when I moved in. It has been there almost thirteen years. I should probably move it, but I kind of’ like it there. I just have to glance up – and it is there. It is a picture of Jeff Pierce. 
“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment. But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment” (Matthew 5:21-22). Yikes! What are we supposed to do with such dire warnings? Where is the unconditional love we’d much rather hear about? This sounds like it’s chock full of threats by a God that expected too much of us. I mean, come on, I haven’t murdered anyone! Sure, I have experienced anger at times and with even with people I love. But, hey, it happens. “It’s not like anyone has died!” 
My friends, associates, strangers on the street, heck, just about anyone has probably heard me babble on about a book written by Mark Kurlansky: 
I remember when I was a kid, I was fascinated with a place of mystery called Timbuktu. I loved the sound of the name and the possibility of being as far away from home as Timbuktu. No doubt it was a place of mystery, intrigue, and stories. There were tales of gold, riches, and the place where East Africa and Saharan Africa met. The stories abounded so much that in 1855, the French Geographic Society offered a major prize to the first European to go there and report back. What amazing, fantastic stories could be in Timbuktu! 
In helping couples prepare for the Sacrament of Marriage, one of the questions I ask is, “Do you know what each other prayers for?” I am not asking if they can infer, deduce, guess or just have a “pretty good idea” – but do they know? And in this case that probably means, to have direct knowledge because their fiancé told them. The overwhelming response is “No, but….” This is but one example from our everyday life of how private we are about our life in faith. 
Over the Christmas season, the gospels we proclaim are so familiar, so memorable, that perhaps we a prone to listen to the other readings as but prelude to the story of the Christ Child. Prelude they are indeed, but they in themselves are also the powerful Word of God come to us. Perhaps none more powerful than the Prophet Isaiah or St. Paul. This week we hear Isaiah mightily proclaim: “I, the LORD, have called you for the victory of justice, I have grasped you by the hand; I formed you, and set you as a covenant of the people.” (Is 42:6) While they are indeed prophecy pointing to Jesus and his mission, they are also words proclaimed to us, to the baptized, those thus commissioned and sent into the world for the victory of justice. 
“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” (Matthew 2:2)
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family. We’re not celebrating “perfect family Sunday.” Offered as a point of humor, let us remember Jesus was without sin and Mary, by God’s grace was kept free from sin – not such claim was made for Joseph. He wasn’t perfect, but he was holy. And so celebrate and consider holiness this Sunday as we are all called to remember that it was into a family that God sent his Son. A family that has its ups and downs, joys and sorrows, agreements and disputes, and all the things that are tossed into the cauldron called family life. A family like yours in many ways. A family that was holy, not perfect. My point being, that holiness lives and grows apart from perfection and perhaps even thrives best among the flawed and messy. And in family life, that means something far different than a Norman Rockwell painting. 
friarmusings 