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Let the Scriptures Speak
Second Sunday of Lent
Year B
February 25, 2024
Dennis Hamm, SJ

This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.(Mk 9:8)

Sign Language Spoken Here

I had seen it before, but it still fascinated me. Standing nearby in the St. Louis airport was a vibrant young woman in sweatshirt, jeans, and backpack, face aglow, hands dancing in sign language, as she projected whatever she was saying across forty yards of a crowded waiting room to a young man who was answering her with the same soundless animation. Clearly, there was communication going on here.

The meaning was perfectly lucid to at least two persons in this room, but I hadn't a clue. What a big part of being human, I thought. We are rational animals, yes (and tool-making animals, political animals, and—some of us—“party animals”), but especially we are communicating animals. And while we share with the other species messages about mating, turf, and danger, we get into even deeper stuff than that. We yearn for messages that go beyond information to meaning.

The newsstand at the end of the concourse displayed some examples from people hoping to make money off this human appetite, especially the how-to books, with titles like The Art of the Deaf, Winning through Intimidation, How to Organize Your Chaos.

The Transfiguration turns out to be lucid sign language to penetrate our deafness.
For the people of Israel, the fullest communication and the deepest how-to instruction of all was the body of literature they had come to recognize as the covenant message of God contained in the Law (Torah = instruction) and the Prophets—the story of their collective life with their saving God, the laws that defined how to live out that relationship, and the lives and words of the wild and contrary figures that called them back to the covenant when the people strayed. Who are we? What's life about? What does it mean to do the right thing? The answers to these questions were contained in the Law and the Prophets, and these components were personified especially in Moses and Elijah. The secret to life was to hear what Moses and Elijah stood for and to do it.

Getting in touch with that Jewish reality helps us enter this Sunday's Gospel, which is full of symbol and gesture as elusive to most contemporaries as that airport sign language conversation was to me. Indeed, that particular epiphany was more than even Peter, James, and John could fathom at the time. To the reader, if not to the inner three, clues to the meaning begin with Mark's reference to the interval of “six days,” recalling the six days Moses had spent in a cloud on Mount Sinai just before the heart of the Torah was revealed to him (Exod 24:16).

Here, on another “high mountain,” Jesus is transfigured before their eyes, and those premiere exponents of the Law and the Prophets—Moses and Elijah—are seen to join him in conversation. Overcome with awe and fear, Peter volunteers to set up tents for the three of them. A misguided burst of hospitality? A desire to somehow “package” an astounding “talk-show”?

Whatever the motive, Mark feels compelled to excuse the outburst (“He hardly knew what to say”) and the suggestion is ignored. Out of an overshadowing cloud comes the divine voice, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him” (Gospel). As if to visually illustrate the meaning of these words, the figures of Moses and Elijah disappear and the disciples “no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them” (Mk 9:8). In other words, all that they had sought to hear in the revelation through the Law and the Prophets is now fully accessible in the person of Jesus, there with them.

To ensure that we know what we are to listen for in Jesus, Mark has linked the Transfiguration firmly to what has just happened “six days” before—Jesus’ central teaching on discipleship: “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” (Mk 8:35).

We can perhaps hear afresh this voice from the cloud. This voice calls not in grief but still in profound urgency, as if to say: “I have sent you Moses and the prophets and you have heard them poorly; now here's the fullness of my communication to you, Jesus, my Son. Hear him—not only his teaching but the whole story of his self-giving life, death, and resurrection. He is still with you. Follow him.”

The Transfiguration turns out to be lucid sign language to penetrate our deafness. It undercuts all the how-to messages of our culture and encourages us on our Lenten journey toward the Easter renewal of baptism, where we first began our following of Jesus.

Dennis Hamm, SJ
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Fr. Hamm is emeritus professor of the New Testament at Creighton University in Omaha. He has published articles in The Catholic Biblical Quarterly, The Journal Of Biblical Literature, Biblica, The Journal for the Study of the New Testament, America, Church; and a number of encyclopedia entries, as well as the book, The Beatitudes in Context (Glazier, 1989), and three other books.

Art by Martin Erspamer, OSB
from Religious Clip Art for the Liturgical Year (A, B, and C).
This art may be reproduced only by parishes who purchase the collection in book or CD-ROM form. For more information go

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