“Come, Lord,” says the ancient Christian prayer, the Maranatha. But what might happen when he does? Such is the question Abram (later Abraham) must have asked when receiving a solemn covenant from the Lord, ratified in the blood of animal sacrifices. When God’s glory appeared, Abram fell into a trance and “a deep, terrifying darkness” as the Lord passed among the sacrifices and swore a binding oath to him and his descendants. Peter, John, and James might have asked a similar question in today’s Gospel, when they woke from their sleep to find Jesus in glory with “two men standing with him”—Moses and Elijah. In their astonishment, Peter attempted to find words to capture the experience but ultimately fell silent when “a cloud came and cast a shadow over them.” Like Abraham, the disciples’ response to the overshadowing presence of the Holy Spirit was silence and fear. But what kind of fear? Was this a fear that caused Abraham and, later, the apostles to draw away from Jesus and run for safety?  Does this “holy terror” result only in distrust and distance from God? Far from it! Instead of generating fear, the beautiful and terrible presence of the Lord brings hope and courage. “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” (Ps. 27:1). In his letter to the Philippians, St. Paul writes that it is actually those who have never experienced the glory of God that are destined for destruction, since their only glory is found in shameful behaviors and worldly pleasures. By contrast, the Philippian Christians should look forward to the glorious return of Jesus, when our lowly bodies, made of dust, will be changed “to conform with his glorified body,” and all our fears will be swept away. It is this beautiful, terrible, and glorious Jesus that is truly present with us at every Mass, at every hour spent in Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament. By drawing close to him, even amid our fears and weaknesses, we are given strength and hope to continue the journey. So come, Lord Jesus! Maranatha! 

Reflection by Parishioner Kathryn Wilmotte