March 8, 2009 - Second Sunday of Lent  - Fr. John Yonkovig
Mountains have a mystique about them. In the fall of 2007 about 100 of us from the parish went up to Alaska - we had a few days on Mt. McKinley or Denali - they were perfect fall days - blue sky - crisp air - some of us sat on the tundra just gazing at this mountain - it was a sacred moment. Mountain top experiences can best be described with the words Peter used in today's gospel, "Lord, it is good that we are here." These experiences don't have to be on a mountain.  They are times in our lives when we say, "it is good that we are here" - at your wedding or the wedding of someone you love - a new job that fulfills a dream, getting into your first choice college, retirement after years of hard work, holidays with the whole family around the table all getting along, watching a grandchild performing at a kindergarten play, having coffee with our best friends. These are moments when we feel we are on a mountain top and can say with Peter, "It is good that we are here."

Now for Jesus, what did this experience on Mount Tabor mean to him?  The film, Dead Man Walking tells the story of a nun, Sr. Helen Prejean, as she journeys with a prisoner by the name of Robert during the months leading up to his execution in Louisiana.  Noticing how Robert tries to win the confidence of one of the wardens, who was a kind and fatherly figure, Sr. Helen writes, "Robert never really had a father. His father spent 27 of his 53 years in prison. It makes me think of my own father. It has to be one of life's most precious feelings to know that your dad is proud of you. I was my daddy's scholar, his scribe who kept the travel diary on family vacations. He always had a special tone in his voice when he introduced me to friends and colleagues: "And this is my little daughter, Helen." In the presence of strangers I would fall silent, standing close against him, my hand holding on tightly to his. Afterwards I would squeeze his hand tighter than ever. A child can sail to the moon with that feeling of security from a father."

Those words from Sr. Helen Prejean about her father may help us to understand something of what the Tabor experience meant for Jesus.  It came at a very difficult time in his life, a time of uncertainty and fear of the future. He was headed for Jerusalem, where many prophets were put to death. Naturally he resisted that idea. So he goes to the top of Mount Tabor to reflect on and pray about his life.

We do not know exactly what happened on the mountain. But it seems that he had an intense experience of the presence of God. He heard those marvelous words: "You are my beloved Son." On Tabor Jesus felt himself comforted and affirmed. He knew that his father was pleased with him, and would give him the strength to face a dark and threatening future. With God on his side, he could face anything.  Peter, James and John heard the voice that directed them to listen to Jesus - to listen not just when on mountain tops but for the rest of their lives. Listen to what Jesus said about God's love for us; listen to Jesus when we need reassurance that we are forgiven; listen to Jesus on how we are to treat others, even those we call enemies; listen to Jesus about concern for the poor and the outsider.

At times life can become dark for all of us. Mountain top experiences are wonderful but our lives are not always lived on mountain tops. Life can be exceptionally difficult and rather than saying "It is good that we are here" we are more inclined to say "I want out." We would rather be anyplace else than without a job or sick or undergoing chemotherapy or going through a divorce - these are hardly mountain top experiences. But it is also in these moments when life seems so dark that if we listen closely there is a still small voice which whispers to us in our hearts: "You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter." This is the voice we need to pay attention to. We must recognize that we are God's beloved children and try to live our lives by the light of this truth.

Jean Vanier has set up communities for the mentally handicapped around the world. He tells how in one of these communities there is a man called Pierre who has a mental handicap. One day somebody asked Pierre, "Do you like praying?" "Yes," he answered. "And what do you do when you pray?" the questioner asked. "I listen," Pierre answered. "And what does God say to you?" "He says, "Pierre, you are my beloved son."