2nd Sunday of Lent Year A the Transfiguration 2026

“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” (Mt 17,5)

I was only a young boy on that particular day, wandering after the travellers who often passed near our village. I liked to keep a little distance, close enough to see but far enough not to be noticed. That morning, Jesus went up a high mountain with three of his friends. Something in the way they walked made me curious, so I followed. I did not realise that my life was about to change radically.

When they reached the top, I hid behind a rock. I thought I was only watching a rabbi pray. But then it happened. A light brighter than the morning sun broke all around him. Jesus’ face shone like fire and peace all wrapped up together. His clothes became white, dazzlingly white, as if heaven itself had touched them. I could hardly breathe. I kept asking myself: Who is this man? Why would God show such glory through him? And why was I, of all people, allowed to see it?

Two figures stood beside him. I had never seen them before, yet somehow I knew they were Moses and Elijah, the great servants of God. They spoke with Jesus like old friends. I remembered the words spoken long ago to Abraham: “Go from your country... and I will bless you!”. It was as if that ancient promise was now shining before me.

Then a cloud wrapped itself around them, thick and bright. A voice came from it, filling the whole mountain: “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.” The three disciples fell to the ground. I wanted to run, yet something held me still. I felt both small yet safe, frightened yet filled with a strange and amazing joy.

Later I would hear one of Jesus followers speak of how Christ has destroyed death and brought life into the world as a light. I knew what he meant because I had seen that light with my own eyes.

St Augustine once wrote, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, for you made us for yourself, and only in returning to you do we find the peace, joy, and purpose that no earthly thing can give.” That day my heart found a rest it had never known before. Augustine also said, "God is always trying to give us good things, but our hands are too full to receive them." On that mountain I learned to open my hands.

I never spoke to Jesus. I never told the disciples I had been there. But from that day, everything changed. I walked home slowly, afraid that the wonder would fade, but it never has. I have carried the story all my life, telling it whenever someone is willing to listen.

And even now, whenever I remember that shining face and that gently enveloping voice from the cloud, I am filled again with awe and gratitude. I saw the glory of God in Jesus, and it has shaped every step I have taken since.

By Fr. Thomas O'Brien a.a.