Every second Sunday in Lent, we hear an account of the Transfiguration of the Lord. In this event, Jesus revealed his glorified body to Peter, James, and John. The disciples’ response seems rather puzzling, though: “Let us build three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” It seems disciples were seeking a moment to rest in this amazing encounter and have a place—a destination—where they and others could come to see the Lord and these revered prophets. In a way, this was a first step in ’capturing’ or ‘localizing’ the religious experience to a specific place or a specific time so that they could come back and draw strength from it later. In a way, the disciples were asking Jesus if they could build the first Christian church on that mountaintop site.
Our church buildings and structures are the places where heaven and earth unite. A church building is the nexus point of for the Church militant, the Church suffering, and the Church victorious, where all gather, singing the unending angelic hymn of Holy, Holy, Holy is God Almighty. (see Rev. 4:8) We hold special regard for these places where the Christian community gathers by anointing its walls, consecrating its altars, and reserving its spaces for the exclusive use of sacred rites. In many old churches, one can vaguely sense the decades of burnt incense and beeswax candles lingering in the air and on its walls. One can see the effects of generations of feet which have tread the steps or the hands which have opened the doors or the knees that have knelt on its kneelers. There is something special about our church buildings, but they do more than give shelter or simply mark the location of events in a family’s or community’s history. They are the places where we encounter the Glorified Body of Christ in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Here, too, we encounter the reality of the Christian people gathered as the Mystical Body of Christ.
The disciples did not build a church on that site the day that Jesus was transfigured before them. In fact, all the Gospel accounts tell us that they were silenced until after the Resurrection. Is there something we might learn from this? I wonder if the disciples still had more to learn about the resurrection before they could be ready to commemorate the sights and sounds of that amazing day with a Church or pilgrimage site? I wonder if they were halted because they were not yet in full possession of the mystery which Jesus wanted them to have a glimpse of? I wonder if Jesus thought they were getting ahead of themselves in trying to commemorate in buildings an event that had not yet fully marked their hearts and minds and souls?
Whatever the reason, the Transfiguration reminds us that our faith is more than history, buildings, institutions, politics, customs, locations, cultic practices, people, saints, visions, hopes, and dreams—as good as these things may be. The Transfiguration reminds us of the absolute centrality of Jesus Christ—the Risen Lord whom we encounter in the Eucharist—as the center and the summit of our faith.
Our church buildings and structures are the places where heaven and earth unite. A church building is the nexus point of for the Church militant, the Church suffering, and the Church victorious, where all gather, singing the unending angelic hymn of Holy, Holy, Holy is God Almighty. (see Rev. 4:8) We hold special regard for these places where the Christian community gathers by anointing its walls, consecrating its altars, and reserving its spaces for the exclusive use of sacred rites. In many old churches, one can vaguely sense the decades of burnt incense and beeswax candles lingering in the air and on its walls. One can see the effects of generations of feet which have tread the steps or the hands which have opened the doors or the knees that have knelt on its kneelers. There is something special about our church buildings, but they do more than give shelter or simply mark the location of events in a family’s or community’s history. They are the places where we encounter the Glorified Body of Christ in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Here, too, we encounter the reality of the Christian people gathered as the Mystical Body of Christ.
The disciples did not build a church on that site the day that Jesus was transfigured before them. In fact, all the Gospel accounts tell us that they were silenced until after the Resurrection. Is there something we might learn from this? I wonder if the disciples still had more to learn about the resurrection before they could be ready to commemorate the sights and sounds of that amazing day with a Church or pilgrimage site? I wonder if they were halted because they were not yet in full possession of the mystery which Jesus wanted them to have a glimpse of? I wonder if Jesus thought they were getting ahead of themselves in trying to commemorate in buildings an event that had not yet fully marked their hearts and minds and souls?
Whatever the reason, the Transfiguration reminds us that our faith is more than history, buildings, institutions, politics, customs, locations, cultic practices, people, saints, visions, hopes, and dreams—as good as these things may be. The Transfiguration reminds us of the absolute centrality of Jesus Christ—the Risen Lord whom we encounter in the Eucharist—as the center and the summit of our faith.
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