Not long ago I thought my wife’s hearing might not be what it used to be, so I decided to conduct a little test. I stood some distance behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me.” Getting no answer, I moved closer and again asked, “Diane, can you hear me?” Again having received no answer, I moved right up behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me?” And that’s when I finally heard her say, “For the third time, Yes.”
Well, that’s pretty much how you and I often communicate with God. We’re so intent on making sure He’s listening to us, that He doesn’t miss all those needs and wants we’re always placing before Him, that we neglect the more important task: We fail to listen to Him. We forget, or simply can’t believe, that God hears our every prayer, that He knows our every need. Not only does God hear us, but He also speaks to us; and He does so conclusively and with clarity, but only if we have a well-developed prayer life.
We need only listen, listen as the Father commanded us. That’s right, twice in the gospels the Father speaks aloud regarding Jesus.
At Jesus’ Baptism the Father said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” [Mt 3:17]. And so, as Jesus begins His ministry that culminates in His death and resurrection, and in our salvation, we learn that the Father sent Him to become one of us; that He is Emmanuel, God with us. Yes, the Father states unequivocally, that He is well pleased with His Son: This Jesus, My Son, has met all My demands for holiness, for righteousness, for goodness. What greater statement could God have made about His Son?
And then, in today’s Gospel passage, the Father again speaks aloud: “This is my beloved Son; listen to him” [Mk 9:7].
With these words we are given our primary responsibility as disciples of Jesus. “Listen to Him.” It’s a simple message, for God never complicates, He always simplifies. Simple but profound, God’s message isn’t obscured by some long to-do list of responsibilities and behavioral expectations; rather, it consists of one, simple command, “Listen to him.” This is the essence of discipleship, and it hasn’t changed since the days of Abraham.
I can remember as a child being fascinated by our family Bible. Every week my father would open it up, read aloud whatever passage happened to interest him that day, and then discuss it with us. To be honest, I was probably more interested in the remarkable illustrations in our Bible.
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| Ready |
I remember thinking, ready for what? And so I asked my father, and he said, “Ready to sacrifice his son.” Well, that didn’t help; nor was it very reassuring. And so I asked more questions and received more puzzling answers that pretty much boiled down to: “Because God asked Abraham to do it, and because Abraham loved God.” It was all very confusing. I also found myself looking at my father a little differently, wondering if God might ask him to do what He’d asked Abraham.
Eventually, though, I came to realize that Abraham and Isaac were a kind of special case. God might not test us as He tested Abraham, but He still wanted us to listen, to obey, to be ready. Yes, Abraham loved and trusted God so deeply, He believed in God so faithfully, that he was ready to do whatever God asked of him. And God, seeing Abraham’s readiness, provided the ram to be sacrificed in place of Isaac. Years later, I learned that this readiness to do God’s will is the mark of the true disciple.
In today’s Gospel passage, we find ourselves generations away from Abraham, on another mountain where we encounter another who is ready. Peter, James and John follow their Master up its slopes, separating themselves from the world. And on that mountaintop Jesus gives them a glimpse of what is to come, a glimpse of the promise they don’t yet understand, a glimpse of God, of eternity – and they see it all through Jesus. Standing in His glory with Moses and Elijah, Jesus is fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets.
There was no caption explaining that scene for the apostles, but maybe Peter was starting to get the picture. Maybe deep down he’d come to realize another Biblical sacrifice was about to be offered. Like Isaac, another Son would carry his own wood of sacrifice up yet another hill. Unable to grasp this fully, Peter is overwhelmed by the moment: Let’s build tents and just stay here forever. It’s so good to be here. But to be content with the present is not a statement of readiness, is it? It’s a statement of complacency. And complacency isn’t the mark of the disciple. To help Peter and the others understand this, God speaks, and Peter hears the voice of God, the voice that causes a healthy fear: This is my beloved Son – listen.
In this Lenten season, as we page through our history as a people, as we are presented each week with the stories of God’s faithfulness, as we picture the scenes and try to understand the captions God writes beneath them, as we do all these things, let’s remember what we’re called to do: to listen and to be ready to act.
Will we listen to Jesus as he speaks to us in so many ways: through the Gospel; through the Church; through each other? Are we ready, ready to act, ready to sacrifice? We’re asked to make only one sacrifice: total dedication to God – to be ready to serve Him always.
Ready to listen and respond to His call.
Ready to put sin behind us.
Ready to name grace when we see it.
Ready to love the unloved.
Ready to defend Christ and His Church in the public square.
Ready to challenge the world when it turns its back on Christ, when it embraces not life but death.
Here lies the very essence of our Christian spirituality: having hearts and minds spiritually tuned to hear what God is telling us. These days of Lent should be our listening time.
Days begun with a moment of quietness, a moment when we pray young Samuel’s simple prayer: Speak Lord, your servant is listening.
Days when we look for God and His message in life’s simple experiences and our encounters with others.
Days that end with a moment of thanksgiving.
Do we thank God for the love that gave us our very being? Do we thank Him for the sacrifice that promises us eternal life? Do we thank Him for each other?
Brothers and sisters, the Father who spared Isaac’s life, spared nothing in sacrificing His own Son. You and I are asked to do no less. But are we ready?
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