Leap of faith

It takes a giant leap of faith to understand the meaning of today’s Gospel incident, when Christ was transfigured before the very eyes of the apostles Peter, James, and John (Mk. 9: 2-10). No wonder those three apostles “kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant” (v. 10). More so did they not understand when Christ said further that the Son of Man “must suffer greatly and be treated with contempt” (v. 12).

“Must suffer greatly.” How can we accept this as a part of Christ’s life and still believe that He was the Son of God? And how, then, can we accept this as part of our own lives if we are to believe that God loves each one of us personally? It does not make sense at all, does it? Especially today, when we are constantly conditioned by the culture all around us to precisely avoid, nay, prevent hardships and pains, and instead keep working for self-pleasure, self-satisfaction, and self-fulfillment.

Indeed, God’s ways are not our ways. The more we try to understand His ways with our limited human intelligence, the more we fail to experience the mystery of God’s unconditional love. But the more we begin to simply let go and let God at the height and depth of our trials and sufferings, the more we gradually experience His loving presence within us. The power of powerlessness, the power of suffering. This is the deepest meaning of unconditional love. No logical explanations. No rational understanding. Call it blind faith if you wish, for that is the meaning of unconditional love, and the beginning of our own personal, individual transfiguration. We do not have to wait for our literal, mortal death. In fact, if we do, then we will not be transfigured at all. Unnoticed and ever so slowly but surely, we are being transfigured as Christ was, provided like Him, we live day by day in total loving surrender to the Almighty.

This is also what we see in today’s First Reading (Gn. 22; 1-2, 9-18). In his old age, Abraham was gifted by God with a son, Isaac, his one-and-only child. But at the height of Isaac’s youth, God asked Abraham to sacrifice this very son by offering him as a holocaust to God. You can just imagine what the deeply troubled and confused Abraham was thinking and feeling. Here again, a giant leap of faith, motivated by love of God, was needed, and he responded accordingly. He was preparing for this most irrational sacrifice, one step at a time, until God intervened just in time, and saved his son’s life.

But then, at times, God allows a son’s life to be taken prematurely, under the most tragic of circumstances. Just two weeks ago, a healthy, well-loved ten-year-old student from our Ateneo Grade School was accidentally run over by a vehicle driven by a mother who also has a son in the same school. The boy was rushed to the hospital, but was pronounced dead on arrival. And all this happened within the campus, at the Grade School parking lot at that! Upon investigation, it would seem that the woman-driver accidentally stepped on the accelerator instead of the breaks when she saw the boy and her nanny crossing in front of her van.

No amount of words can ever adequately describe the pain, agony, and grief that the boy’s parents and family are going through right now, and for all the days to come. What is the meaning of all this in God’s loving providence? How is all this related to the very life of Christ Himself? To the mystery of His Passion, Death, and Resurrection, as well as in our own lives as His loving disciples?

And what about the woman who accidentally caused the boy’s death? What is she going through at this point in time? You can just imagine the agony and pain that she, too, is experiencing. For both surviving families, that leap of faith we described above is what will gradually lead them to their own transfiguration.

It is in this context that I cannot but share about my own dear, youngest brother, who is in his mid-fifties. Less than a year ago, he suffered a major stroke, which rendered him speechless and paralyzed the right side of his body. His brain is not affected, so he thinks and feels normally. You can just imagine what agony and suffering he goes through from day to day. He is being given speech and physical therapy several times a week, and has shown some improvement. We are doing our human best, and the rest is in God’s hands. My brother’s faith is quiet, deep, and strong.

And my ever-devoted sister-in-law who takes care of him is simply amazing. I call her a living saint. Her love for God and my brother all throughout the years are beyond words to describe, and she suffers quietly, for the sake of that love.

In conclusion, then: The very meaning of our love for God is our readiness to bear the hardships and sufferings in life. Through all this will come about our own transfiguration. In God’s own time, in God’s own way. Amen.