“Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents…”
Dear brothers and sisters, these are Peter’s words as he experiences a unique moment in Jesus’ revelation, a glimpse of his glory. We remember that at Caesarea Philippi, in the chapter immediately before this, Peter is confronted with a turning point in understanding Jesus. There, he confesses Jesus as the Christ but immediately struggles when Jesus announces his upcoming suffering and death, reacting with rebuke as if trying to instruct the Lord about what he should or should not do. The Gospel records Jesus’ response in these exact words: “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” (Matthew 16:23). Peter’s human concern clashes with God’s plan.
Today, on the mountain, the same Peter witnesses the glory of Jesus, his person revealed in radiant light, speaking with Moses and Elijah. Peter’s instinctive response is again to act, to suggest building tents, to preserve the moment in human terms. Yet the voice from the cloud interrupts him and commands attention: “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” This both confirms what was revealed at Caesarea Philippi and issues a direct command to listen. Peter may speak, but he must first listen; he is never to try to instruct Jesus on how to carry out what he must do.
Dear brothers and sisters, as we can see, Peter’s reactions and words reveal a natural human desire to keep the presence of God accessible and controllable. He tries to preserve the moment of Jesus’ glory, avoiding what he already does not want to hear about his passion and death.
Peter struggles because he cannot yet realize that this event on the mountain prepares him and the other disciples to be strong for the long and difficult journey ahead, which passes through Gethsemane, arrest, judgment, humiliation, and torture, and finally to Calvary. There they will see the same Lord who now stands in radiant light, standing in silence before his accusers. The One whose face shines like the sun will now appear disfigured. His garments will no longer be white with light, for even they will no longer belong to him. As Isaiah foretold, he will have no form or majesty to attract attention, no beauty to draw anyone to him, one acquainted with grief and bearing suffering in his own flesh. He will be a man spurned and avoided by others. People will turn their faces from him. He will sweat in anxiety and fear, struggle to carry his cross, and die upon it between two criminals, with no Moses or Elijah to stand beside him and no voice to comfort him.
My dear brothers and sisters, we may never have seen the Transfigured Christ as the apostles did, yet we experience moments in faith that feel like a taste of peace: in prayer, insight, service, work, encounters, acts of love, or moments of intense joy when God answers our prayers. These moments are gifts, signs of God’s care, but none become permanent dwellings. It is good to remember them and draw strength from their memory. Yet life moves forward, and we learn, little by little, to live in faith and hope, remembering that the One who fills us with joy awaits our response so that we may rise and bring that same joy to others. We learn to carry God’s will without trying to control his plans or gifts, without seeking signs on demand. In this perspective, Abraham remains a perfect example. We have heard how beautiful were the promises he received in the first reading. He learned to walk in faith without possessing them, fixing his gaze not on what he hoped to have, but on the One who gives every good thing. He bears witness that being with God, the source of every blessing and richness, is far greater than owning all the lands and gold of the world.
Dear brothers and sisters, what the apostles see on the mountain is only a beginning, a glimpse of what is to come. They must continue the journey. As Saint Paul reminds us, they are called to bear their share of hardship for the sake of the Gospel, relying on the strength that comes from God. In time, they will receive the endurance needed to face all trials, so that they may live forever in the fullness of the light and glory they now experience on this mountain.
Let us ask the Lord, as the Lenten season advances, for the grace to learn from Peter on the mountain, who saw Christ’s glory and had to overcome his desire to hold the moment for himself, so that we too may listen and trust. May he lead us to rejoice in the joy of his Resurrection and to live in the light of his eternal glory.