Dear brothers and sisters, Today’s celebration takes us to the mystery of heavenly glory – to the end of Mary’s earthly pilgrimage. The liturgy directs our gaze to her, taken up body and soul to heaven, united forever with her Risen Son in the glory of heaven. Let us look to the fulfillment of her journey, to the moment of the final encounter with God. At the same time, today’s Gospel, read a moment ago, takes us back to its beginning – to the moment of the Annunciation. There we see the young Mary, who suddenly sets out on a journey to visit Elizabeth. She already carries Jesus within her, although the world does not yet know about it. Her long journey through the Judean mountains shows us the beginning of the same journey that today finds its fulfillment in the glory of the Assumption. Thus, the liturgy, by contrasting the glory of heaven with the daily fidelity of Mary, shows us the fullness of the journey of faith. On the one hand, we see the goal – heaven, glory, union with God. On the other – the path that leads to it: obedience, faith, service. The goal and the path belong to Mary, but they are also our predestination. Mary was taken up to heaven not only for herself. She goes before us so that we can follow her path. Mary teaches us how to travel the same path so that we can reach where she already is.

Brothers and sisters, we confess in the Creed: I await the resurrection of the dead and eternal life in the world to come. In Mary assumed into heaven, we see a foreshadowing of the world to come – the world of God, the world of the redeemed. God does not desire to save only the soul. He desires to save man in all his fullness, soul and body. In Mary, who fully participates in Christ’s victory over sin and death, we discover the beauty of God’s plan for each of us.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that at the end of time the Kingdom of God will reach its fullness. After the Last Judgment, the just will reign with Christ, glorified in body and soul (CCC, 1042). And further: “The visible universe will also be transformed so that the world, freed from every obstacle, may serve the just, who share in the glory of the Risen Jesus” (CCC, 1047). In Mary, full of glory, we can see a foreshadowing of this transformed reality.

Let us note that all those to whom Mary appears, and I am thinking here of private apparitions, describe her beauty. Fatima. The children of Fatima call Mary “the Lady brighter than the sun”. Lourdes. St. Bernadette confessed that the Mother of God was so beautiful that “once we had seen her, it was impossible not to desire to die and see her again”. La Salette. The children describe the “Beautiful Lady”. The beauty of Mary derives from the beauty of God’s glory, a foretaste of which is given to those who have seen her. Yes, in Mary our future is revealed: the beauty of the saved man, the glory of creation renewed in God.

Brothers and sisters, today’s celebration is very joyful. The source of that joy is that one of us, a woman, a mother, was taken up to heaven. In Mary, heaven opened for the entire human race. In her, God shows where faith leads, where everyone who trusts in Him goes. And what path does one take to that glory? The Gospel clearly says – it is the path of faith, obedience to the word of God and readiness to allow Him to act. Mary uttered her Fiat – “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word!” (Luke 1:38). This is not just a sentence from Holy Scripture. It is the attitude of a whole life – of full trust and devotion to God. Elizabeth, moved by the inspiration of the Spirit, recognizes in Mary a woman of faith. She cries out: “Blessed are you who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to you by the Lord” (Luke 1:45). This is the heart of Mary’s journey – the trust that God will fulfill his promise, even if it means leading through mystery and the cross. She allows God to work in her in things that seem humanly impossible. For Mary knows that nothing is impossible for God.

Today, when we look to the Assumption, we learn two things from her: hope and trust. Mary shows that our life has meaning, that the goal of human history does not end in the grave, but leads to the glory of the Resurrection. She also teaches us that this journey can only be traveled in an attitude of listening to the word of God and humble trust. In Mary we find not only a model, but also a companion on the journey. She never ceases to be with us – just as a mother does not abandon her children. In her, heaven becomes close, and God appears not as a distant ruler, but as a Father who longs to receive us into his arms.

Brothers and sisters, may today’s celebration ignite in us a desire for heaven. May our daily lives become a journey of faith—the path that Mary has already traveled and that she shows us. For if we follow in her footsteps, we will arrive where she leads us – to the Father’s house.

Today’s Gospel of St. Matthew presents a woman from the vicinity of the port city of Tire, in present-day Lebanon, where Jesus went, not by chance. Many say that he actually went north to meet the woman and heal his daughter. Because he recognized the woman’s deep faith before she appeared and began to cry: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is terribly troubled by an evil spirit.”

The Canaanite mother must have heard a lot of good things about Jesus when she decided to find Him and ask for help. The motive for her search for Jesus, the Son of David, was her love for her daughter, who was suffering terribly. The meeting therefore does not seem to be a matter of chance, although Jesus’s behavior after hearing the woman’s fervent plea is unpleasantly surprising. Jesus did not say a word to her, which does not mean that he ignored her. The woman called out her plea many times, disturbing the disciples, who advised him to let her go for the sake of holy peace. They wanted to avoid the crowd of curious people; perhaps they felt insecure beyond the borders of Galilee. On the other hand, we don’t know what they meant by that dismissal. The motive for their intervention was an effort to avoid possible problems of their own. They didn’t really care about the woman’s worries.

Jesus told the disciples that he was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. However, the woman continued to beg Him, falling on her knees before Him. There was an exchange of sentences between Jesus and the woman that today does not sound good to the Christian ear, but it looks like something from the test of faith of a mother from the vicinity of Tire. The woman passed the test perfectly when Jesus said, with recognition and as if surprised: “Woman, great is your faith; let it be done to you as you wish.”

The evangelist further states that the daughter of the Canaanite woman regained health in one moment. Jesus went back to the Sea of ​​Galilee, which allows us to admit that the short trip from Syrophenicia – today’s Lebanon – was actually provoked by a desperate mother who had great faith in the power of Jesus, the Son of David. The basis and essential condition of religious life is faith. The crisis of the Church, authentic religious life, prayer, and morality is always the result of a crisis of faith.

Richard Rohr, an American Franciscan, says: “Until one accepts faith, hope, and love as the foundations of his life, his religiosity is a facade, an excuse, or a waste of time. Such an attitude is more part of the problem than part of the solution.”

Faith is a mysterious process of meeting God’s grace with human freedom. God bestows his infinite love on man and expects reciprocation. True, evangelical love is more an act of reason and will than of feelings. In evangelical love, feeling can be an accompanying element, but it does not play a fundamental role. Creative cooperation with God’s grace begins with its acceptance; it always takes place, and above all in those structures of the soul where relative human freedom functions.

The first three commandments from the stone tablets of the Decalogue show, among other things, the responsibility of man for the development, non-development, or complete disappearance of faith, hope and love. Man really cannot earn God’s love, but he can ask for it and express his consent to receive it in many ways. This is his fruitful collaboration with God’s gift of faith, hope, and love.

Two men who started as bitter enemies and ended as saints together. That’s the story of St. Pontianus and St. Hippolytus—celebrated together every year on August 13.

1. St. Pontianus — the Pope who resigned to save the Church

Pontian was Roman by birth and became the 18th Pope on July 21, 230, succeeding Pope Urban I. 

It was a chaotic time. The Empire was unstable, and the young Church debated how strict it should be with those who had denied the faith during persecutions.

In 235, Emperor Maximinus Thrax began a new persecution of Christians. One of its first victims was Pontian, who was arrested and exiled to the deadly mines on the island of Sardinia—the “unhealthy island” where prisoners rarely survived. 

Seeing that the Church in Rome could not be left without a leader, Pontian did something almost unheard of at the time: he resigned. On September 28, 235, he stepped down—making him the first pope in history to resign — so a successor could be elected. He died shortly after from exhaustion and ill treatment in the mines in 235.

2. St. Hippolytus — the brilliant rival

Hippolytus was the opposite of a simple administrator. He was a priest in Rome, one of the most important theologians and writers before the 4th century, a scholar who wrote in Greek at a time when the Roman Church was switching to Latin. 

He was also fierce and rigorous. He had opposed Pope Callixtus I for being too merciful to sinners and then opposed Callixtus’ successors. His followers went so far as to elect Hippolytus himself as a rival bishop of Rome — making him the first antipope in history. He held that position for about 18 years. 

He wasn’t a heretic in doctrine, but he believed the Church was being too soft. And for that, he split from communion with Rome.

3. The reconciliation in the mines

In 235, the same imperial order that condemned Pope Pontian also condemned Hippolytus. Soldiers took them both, together, to Sardinia to work as enslaved people in the mines. 

There, facing the same chains, the same darkness, and the same death sentence, the rivalry ended.

Hippolytus was reconciled to the Church and to Pontian. Pontian helped Hippolytus make peace with Rome before he died. Tradition says Hippolytus urged his own followers to return to the one Church and to choose the legitimate pope. 

Both died as martyrs from cruel treatment and fatigue in the mines. 

The persecutions eased, and Pope Fabian (236-250) had their bodies brought back to Rome. On August 13, probably in the year 236, both were solemnly buried in Rome — Pontian in the papal crypt in the Catacombs of Callixtus, Hippolytus in a cemetery on the Via Tiburtina. That is why they share the same feast day. 

4. Why we remember them together

They are not remembered for their power or their arguments, but for what happened at the end.

They are the patron saints of reconciliation in division. The Church holds them up as proof that no schism has to be final.

Hippolytus also had a long afterlife in popular devotion. Because his name was confused with the Greek hippos (horse), he became a patron of horses, correctional officers, and prison workers. And very close to you: the Austrian city St. Pölten is named after him — St. Hippolyt became St. Pölten. He is its patron.

In short:
Pontian = the pastor who loved unity more than his office.
Hippolytus = the intellectual who loved truth enough to admit he was wrong.

Together, they show that sanctity isn’t about never being in conflict — it’s about how you end it.

Would you like me to write this as a short homily/feast-day reflection for August 13th, or as a more historical fact sheet you can use for a presentation?

The Order of Poor Ladies — Ordo Pauperum Dominarum — is what the world now calls the Poor Clares. Officially the Order of Saint Clare, they are the Second Order of St. Francis: Franciscans, but contemplative, enclosed, and women.

1. A midnight escape

It began on Palm Sunday night, 1212. In Assisi, 18-year-old Clare Offreduccio, the loveliest debutante of a wealthy noble family, slipped out of her family’s palazzo. She ran to the little chapel of the Portiuncula, where Francis of Assisi was waiting.

He cut off her long fair hair, clothed her in a poor grey habit, and she vowed herself to Christ in absolute poverty. 

Her family tried to drag her back by force. Francis moved her to the rough, half-ruined church of San Damiano just outside the walls. There, her younger sister Agnes joined her, followed by their mother and then other women from Assisi’s well-to-do families. It was unusual — not peasants seeking security, but noblewomen deliberately choosing destitution. 

Clare called them simply the Poor Ladies.

2. What made them different

Every other women’s monastery in medieval Europe had endowments. Land, rents, dowries — guarantees you would not starve.

Francis and Clare refused them. Their rule was sine proprio—without property, either personal or communal. They would live by the work of their hands and by alms, day by day.

Clare wrote her own Form of Life, the first rule for a religious order ever written by a woman. Its heart is what she called the Privilege of Poverty. In 1216, Pope Innocent III granted it as an exception: the Poor Ladies of San Damiano alone were allowed to own nothing at all. Later popes tried to give them property for security. Clare fought them for 40 years, even on her deathbed in 1253. Two days before she died, Pope Innocent IV finally confirmed her Rule.

That is why, after her death, the Order she founded was renamed in her honor as the Order of Saint Clare, commonly referred to today as the Poor Clares. 

3. The charism

If the First Order (Friars Minor) preached poverty in the world, the Second Order lived it behind walls.

Three pillars:

1. Poverty as mirror. For Clare, poverty wasn’t asceticism for its own sake. Christ was the poor mirror, speculum, in which she saw herself. To be poor was to be free to love without owning.

2. Enclosure. Unlike the male Franciscans, Clare and her sisters led enclosed lives in monasteries. The cloister wasn’t punishment — it was a chosen garden. Francis told her: “Go to San Damiano and live there.” It became a place of intense sisterhood, prayer, and manual labor. 

3. Joyful contemplation. They are not social workers in the usual sense. Their work is prayer — the Liturgy of the Hours, long silent prayer, and what later centuries called perpetual adoration. The Church calls them contemplatives: their hidden life is offered for the world.

A typical day even now: rising before dawn for Vigils, Lauds, work (making altar breads, vestments, icons, supporting themselves), study, community recreation, Vespers, and Compline.

4. A turbulent history

The Order spread like fire. By 1260 there were more than 100 monasteries from Spain to Bohemia. Agnes of Prague, a Bohemian princess, built one of the most famous. In 1263 Pope Urban IV imposed a new rule that allowed communal property — many houses accepted it for survival. Those became known as Urbanist Poor Clares.

The ideal of radical poverty kept resurfacing:

• In 15th-century France, St. Colette of Corbie reformed the Order back to Clare’s original severity — the Colettine Poor Clares, still the strictest.

• In the 16th century, the Capuchin Poor Clares emerged alongside the Capuchin friars.

• In 1854 in France, the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration were founded, centered entirely on adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. 

They have been suppressed, exiled, bombed, and restored. The Gravelines convent in the Spanish Netherlands, for example, was founded in 1607 by English women who had to leave England to live as Catholics. That story repeated in every revolution. 

5. Where they are today

There are now about 20,000 Poor Clares in more than 70 countries, in over 600 autonomous monasteries. Each monastery is independent — there is no generalate, no motherhouse. Each abbess answers directly to the Pope.

They still call themselves officially OSC — Order of Saint Clare — but also Clarisses, Minoresses, or Second Order Franciscans. 

If you walk into Assisi today, you can still visit San Damiano. The choir where Clare and her first sisters prayed is tiny, stone-cold in winter, blazing in summer. The fresco in the chapel shows her surrounded by her sisters — women who chose to have nothing so they could have everything.

Today, on the feast of the martyr Saint Lawrence, we heard the words of Jesus: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces much fruit. Above all, the grain of wheat represents Jesus himself. As a grain of wheat, he fell to the ground in his suffering and death, and with his resurrection he sprouted and bore fruit. The great harvest he bore is his mystical body, the Church, which was born from the Paschal mystery (suffering and resurrection).

But the story of the little grain of wheat also helps us better to understand ourselves and the meaning of our existence. After the words about the grain of wheat, Jesus continues: Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. (Jn 12:25).

“Hate” is a Semitic way of expressing it and means “to love less” (Deut. 21:15-17). Indeed, whoever wants to live only for himself and look only at himself is the one who loses his life. Only by giving ourselves up to others, only by saying “yes” to the richer life of God, only then will our life become great and sublime.

Ultimately, these grains of wheat that fall to the ground and die are us: our bodies will inevitably return to the ground one day. But Jesus guarantees that a new spring awaits us too. We will rise from death, and this time so that we will not die again. Lawrence succeeded in this task perfectly. He intercedes for us so that we too can succeed.

Pope Saint Xystus II (Sixtus II) – The Martyr Pope

Pope Saint Sixtus II, also written in the older Greek form Xystus II, was the 24th Pope of the Catholic Church. He led the Church for less than a year, but his brief pontificate and his heroic death made him one of the most venerated martyrs of the early Church.

1. Who was he?

• Papacy: 31 August 257 to 6 August 258 

• Predecessor: Pope Stephen I. Successor: Pope Dionysius.

• Origin: The Liber Pontificalis says he was Greek by birth and formerly a philosopher. Modern historians note this is uncertain and may come from confusion with a contemporary Greek Pythagorean philosopher of the same name, author of the “Sentences of Xystus”. 

• Name: In the Roman Canon of the Mass, the “Xystus” mentioned is Xystus II, not Xystus I.

He became pope during a relatively peaceful interlude, but that peace was about to end violently.

2. What did he do as Pope?

His predecessor, Stephen I, had broken relations with the African and Eastern Churches over a fierce theological dispute: whether baptisms performed by heretics (especially followers of Novatian) were valid.

Xystus II was more conciliatory. While he upheld the Roman position, he restored communion with Cyprian of Carthage and the Eastern churches. A letter of St. Cyprian (Ep. 80) confirms his pontificate and shows the restored friendship. 

He is also thought by some scholars to be the author of the pseudo-Cyprianic writing Ad Novatianum.

3. Martyrdom under Valerian

In 257-258, Emperor Valerian issued one of the most severe persecutions of Christians. His edict ordered that bishops, priests and deacons should be executed immediately.

On 6 August 258, soldiers found Pope Xystus celebrating the liturgy in the Catacomb of St. Callixtus on the Appian Way, seated on his episcopal chair.

He was beheaded on the spot along with six of his deacons: Januarius, Vincentius, Magnus, Stephanus, Felicissimus and Agapitus. 

His most famous deacon was not there that day: St. Lawrence (Laurence) of Rome. According to tradition, Xystus told Lawrence, who wanted to die with him, “You will follow me in three days.” Lawrence was indeed martyred four days later, on 10 August. 

Pope Damasus I later placed a moving inscription on Xystus’s tomb in the Catacomb of Callixtus:

“At the time when the sword pierced the bowels of the Mother, I, buried here, taught as Pastor the Word of God; when suddenly the soldiers rushed in and dragged me from the chair. The faithful offered their necks to the sword, but as soon as the Pastor saw the ones who wished to rob him of the palm (of martyrdom) he was the first to offer himself and his own head, not tolerating that the pagan frenzy should harm the others.” 

4. Legacy

• He is venerated in the Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Church, and Oriental Orthodoxy. 

• In the Liturgy: He is named in the Roman Canon (Eucharistic Prayer I).

• Feast Day: 6 August (day of martyrdom), with his companions commemorated on 7 August in the General Roman Calendar since 1969. His fresco by Sandro Botticelli appears in the Sistine Chapel. 

• Patronage: He is invoked as a protector of the Church in times of persecution.

Xystus II is the model of the Pastor Bonus—the Good Shepherd who offers his head so that his flock might be spared. Though his reign lasted less than 12 months, he healed a schism and sealed his faith with blood.

But in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the lake” (Mt 14:25). Who can walk on the lake? After all, it is contrary to nature. In the world we live in, with the laws of physics that apply to everyone, it is impossible to walk on the surface of the water. We know this perfectly, and the fishermen who worked on the Sea of ​​Galilee knew it even better. And yet Jesus of Nazareth acted against nature and came to the disciples walking on the surface of the water. Christ walking on the lake is an image of God acting against nature. Much of what the Son of God did was against nature.

Naturally, everyone who is born leaves this world. Jesus rose from the dead and conquered death. He acted against nature. Previously, he performed miraculous healings of people who were incurably ill. In the same way, Christ acted against nature. He raised the dead, brought them back to temporary life, which is without a doubt an act against nature. He multiplied bread, distributed 5 loaves among 5,000 men, not counting women and children. It cannot be denied that even then he acted against nature. Captured in Gethsemane, he knocked the mercenaries to the ground with his word: “I am” (John 18:6). Jesus acted against nature many times.

But even more contrary to human nature is the Good News. The teaching of Jesus Christ contradicted the human inclination to sin, revenge, and anger. “You have heard that it was said to the fathers, ‘You shall not kill.’ Whoever kills will be subject to judgment. But I say to you, everyone who is angry with his brother will be in danger of judgment” (Mt 5:21-22). The anger of human nature so often bears fruit in the wrong done to his neighbor. We say that aggression is dormant in our nature. And Jesus asks us to act against that nature and strive for harmony and kindness, to tame stormy emotions. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Mt 5:27-28). Carnal desires and passions are often too strong for us to control. Yet we say: “Blood is not water.” And Jesus says that we should control not only our actions, but also our thoughts. Jesus does not accept compromise in his teaching. This recalls the indissolubility of marriage, and not the divorce of a wife, which was permitted by the Mosaic Law: “Moses, because of the hardness of your hearts, permitted you to divorce your wives; but from the beginning it was not so” (Mt 19:8). The fickleness of human nature has borne the fruit of divorce. But Jesus asks that we rise above what is imperfect and persevere in the marriage vow we have made.

Man by nature seeks his own good. Jesus, on the other hand, teaches us to act against that nature. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn to him the other also.” (Mt 5:38-39). It is also natural that we seek our own good through the work of our own hands. But Jesus asks us to know how to share with others. “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you” (Mt 5:42). Above all, the gift of mercy, that is, the generous forgiveness of the wrongs we have suffered, is a breaking of the nature of our life, which calls and demands justice. “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Mt 5:44). If we look more closely at the teaching of the Gospel, we will see that its fulfillment is like walking on a lake. It is contrary to nature. However, if we make an even deeper analysis of the teaching of the Lord Jesus, we will have to admit that only when we act according to the instructions of Christ can our life be good and honest.

On the one hand, we experience the weaknesses of our human nature, which is angry, lustful, vengeful, and violent. But at the same time, we want to live in harmony, peace, fidelity, and kindness. It is so easy for us to arouse unnecessary passions, and we dream of harmony and reconciliation. We want fidelity, and we allow ourselves to have passions. Lying is abhorrent to everyone, but we cannot deny that it inclines us to the truth. We are sensitive to honesty, but it happens that we deceive. We can say with St. Paul: “For I know that in me, that is, in my flesh, dwells no good thing; for to will is present with me, but to do what is good is not. For the good that I would, I do not do, but the evil that I would not, that I do” (Rom 7:18-19).

Lord Irwin, the former viceroy of India, originally from England, visited Mahatma Gandhi after returning from the Round Table Conference in London. During the meeting, Irwin asked Gandhi: “Mahatma, tell me, as a man to a man, what do you see as the solution to the problems of my country and yours?” In response, Gandhi slowly and attentively reached for a book lying on the table. It was the Gospel according to St. Matthew. He opened it to chapter 5 and said: “When your brother and mine together put into practice the teachings of Christ from the Mount of Beatitudes, we will solve not only the problems of our countries, but also of the whole world.”

Walking on the lake, that is, acting against nature, is possible only in cooperation with the Lord God. St. Peter was perfectly convinced of this. He got out of the boat and, invited by Jesus, walked on the lake until he lost sight of Christ. “Peter got out of the boat, walked on the water, and came to Jesus. But when he saw the strong wind, he was afraid. He began to sink, and cried out, “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:29-30). Looking at Jesus, that is, remaining in union with God, Peter was able to walk on the lake. But when he doubted the power of Christ, he immediately began to sink, because he himself had separated himself from the divine care of his Master.

Without God, man is dependent on his nature. This is reminded by the history of the first people, who separated themselves from God through sin and became slaves to their passions. Adam and Eve wanted to be like God. Cain killed his brother Abel out of envy. His descendant Lamech, in his recklessness and uncontrolled, wild nature, went even further: “I will kill the man who hurts me, and the boy who strikes me” (Gen 4:23). The history of humanity and each of us shows that a person who separates himself from God and trusts exclusively in his own strength is unable to master his sinful nature. In other words, without God we will do nothing against our nature, and we will become its slaves.

Without a sacramental life, prayer, and God’s grace, it is difficult to persevere in an inseparable marriage. Without God’s help, it is no less difficult to forgive the wrongs suffered and to show mercy. Without the support of God’s grace, how difficult it will be to demonstrate love to another person selflessly. At the same time, with God’s help, we can truly move mountains. With God’s help, a person can forgive offenses that seem unforgivable. With God’s help, a person deeply wounded by offenses and betrayal can be healed with love. With God’s help, a person can sacrifice his life in service to another person.

Jesus, denying nature, walked on the lake because He is God. Peter walked on the lake when He was with God. Again, when he lost sight of Jesus, he began to drown. With God’s help, a person can accomplish such works that he would not have expected even in his boldest dreams and plans. We need to persevere with Jesus. Otherwise, we will drown.

His face shone like the sun.”

My dear brothers and sisters,

Tomorrow the Church pauses in the green of Ordinary Time to climb a mountain. Every year, on August 6th, in the middle of summer, we are given a glimpse of Easter glory. Why? Because we need it. We need to remember where we are going.

Look at where Matthew places this story. Just six days before, in Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter confessed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And immediately after that triumph, Jesus said something terrible: that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly and be killed.

Can you imagine the shock? Peter even rebuked him: “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.”

And so Jesus does something profoundly merciful. Before He shows them the Cross, He shows them the glory of the Cross. Before He asks them to walk through darkness, He gives them light to remember in the darkness.

He takes three of them—Peter, James, and John – the same three who will later see him sweating blood in Gethsemane—and leads them up a high mountain apart.

And there, He was transfigured before them.

Three things happen on that mountain that are for us today.

1. Jesus reveals who He truly is.

Matthew says his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. This is not Jesus putting on a costume. This is the opposite – for a moment, He stops hiding. The glory that was always inside Him shines out.

And Moses and Elijah appear. This is no accident. Moses represents the Law, Elijah the Prophets. The whole Old Testament – all of Israel’s longing, all of its law and promise – stands beside Jesus and speaks with Him. He is the fulfillment. He is what it was all pointing to.

Then the Father speaks, as He did at the Baptism: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”

In moments of confusion, when our faith feels thin, the Father gives us the one command we need: Listen to him.

2. Peter reveals who we are.

I love Peter on this mountain. He is overwhelmed. He is terrified. And so he starts talking, as we all do when we are terrified.

“Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents…”

Peter wants to stay. He wants to freeze the moment, build a tabernacle, and never go down again. Who can blame him? Up there it is beautiful, clear, and safe. Down below there are arguments, sick people, Roman soldiers, and a cross waiting in Jerusalem.

We all know that temptation. We want faith to be only Tabor, never Calvary. We want a Christianity of spiritual highs, of beautiful moments, without the difficult descent into ordinary life, into our families, our work, our struggles.

But you cannot stay on Tabor. The tents Peter wanted to build were not the plan. The true tabernacle God wanted to build was not a tent on a mountain but a human heart transformed by grace.

3. The mountain is given to us for the valley.

Why does God grant us moments of transfiguration? Perhaps you have had them – a moment at prayer when God felt undeniably close, a moment at a retreat, at the birth of a child, or at Adoration, when for a second everything was bright.

He does not give them to us so we can escape the valley. He gives them to us so we can endure the valley.

Jesus and the three come down the mountain immediately. And what do they find at the bottom? A boy possessed, disciples who failed to heal him, a crowd arguing straight back into the mess.

But they come down differently. They now know, even if they do not fully understand, that the One who walks into suffering is the Son of glory. That the Cross is not a failure, but a passage.

My brothers and sisters, perhaps you are in a valley right now. A diagnosis, a broken relationship, a child who has left the Church, a weariness in your own faith. This feast tells you: the glory is still true, even when you cannot see it.

The Transfiguration was not meant only for Jesus. St. Leo the Great said: “In the transfiguration, the principal aim was to remove the scandal of the Cross from the disciples’ hearts.”

And the principal aim for us is the same. God wants to transfigure you, too. St. Paul says in Romans that we are being transformed from one degree of glory to another. Your daily faithfulness, your hidden sacrifices, your listening to Him – this is how your face, too, will slowly begin to shine like the sun.

So today, let us climb with Him. In silence, in prayer, let us listen to Him.

And then, strengthened, let us have the courage to come back down the mountain with Him.

Amen.