Second Sunday of Lent 2026

 Last week, many of us watched or read about a moment that felt almost too good to let go. 

The U.S. men’s hockey team won Olympic gold for the first time in forty-six years. Overtime. Against Canada! 

And the image that stayed with so many people was not polished or perfect. 

It was player Jack Hughes—missing teeth, exhausted, laughing, barely able to speak—wrapped in the American flag and holding gold.

It was the kind of moment people wanted to freeze in time. Replay it. Talk about it. Hold onto how it felt. Say, “This is one for the ages.”

That instinct—to want to stay in a moment of joy, clarity, and victory—is deeply human. 

And it is the same instinct Peter has in today’s Gospel.

On the mountain, Peter finally sees clearly. 

Jesus is transfigured before him. His face shines. His clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear. 

Everything Peter has hoped and believed about Jesus is confirmed. And so he blurts out, “Lord, it is good that we are here. Let’s build three tents.”

Peter isn’t being selfish. He isn’t trying to control Jesus. 

He’s doing what any of us would do in a moment like that. He wants to hold onto it. He wants to preserve it. He wants to stay where faith feels clear and strong.

But while Peter is still speaking, God interrupts.

From the cloud comes the voice:
“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.”

God doesn’t say, “Build tents.”
God doesn’t say, “Stay here.”
God says, “Listen to him.”

Because the Transfiguration was never meant to be a destination. It was meant to be preparation.

Just before this moment, Jesus had begun to speak openly about suffering, rejection, and the cross. 

And just after this moment, He leads the disciples back down the mountain—toward Jerusalem. 

The glory strengthens them, but it does not replace the journey ahead.

That same pattern runs through all of today’s readings.

In the first reading, Abram is told, “Go forth.” 

God does not give him a map. He does not tell him where he will end up. 

He simply promises, “I will bless you… so that you will be a blessing.” 

Faith begins not by staying put, but by trusting enough to move.

Saint Paul reminds us that God has called us “not according to our works, but according to his own design and grace.” 

Grace comes first. Then comes the call to carry it forward—even when that means hardship.

And in the Gospel, the disciples learn that moments of light are given not so they can be kept to themselves, but so they can strengthen them for what comes next.

That is an important word for us in Lent.

Lent gives us moments of clarity—moments of repentance, prayer, and renewed faith. But Lent is not about freezing those moments. It is about letting them form us.

So what does it actually mean to listen to Christ and follow Him down the mountain?

First, we listen to Christ in prayer and Scripture. 

Listening doesn’t always mean hearing something dramatic. 

Often it means giving God some quiet space—turning down the noise, opening the Scriptures, and letting the words of the Gospel shape our hearts. 

Even a few minutes a day can begin to change the way we see and respond to the world.

Second, we listen by paying attention to how Christ is calling us to act. 

Jesus’ voice is often heard in simple invitations—to forgive, to be patient, to speak truth with kindness, or to let go of habits that pull us away from God. 

Lent helps us notice those invitations instead of ignoring them.

Third, we follow Christ in small, faithful ways. 

Most of us will never face dramatic moments of heroism. 

But we follow Christ in daily decisions—in our families, at work, in school, and in how we treat one another. 

We follow Him when we choose mercy over resentment, generosity over indifference, and humility over pride.

This is where our Lenten practices matter. 

Prayer teaches us to listen. 

Fasting reminds us that we do not live on bread alone. 

Almsgiving moves us beyond ourselves and toward others. 

These are not performances; they are training for discipleship.

This is how we live our call as ambassadors for Christ. 

Ambassadors don’t speak their own message. 

They carry the voice and values of the one they represent. 

When we listen to Christ and live His Gospel in ordinary, imperfect ways, God continues to speak to the world through us.

Peter wanted to preserve the experience.
Jesus wanted to prepare the disciples for the mission.

Faith is not about staying on the mountain. It is about listening to Christ—and then trusting Him enough to follow.

So as we continue this Lenten journey, may we allow the moments of grace God gives us to shape our hearts, guide our choices, and strengthen us for the road ahead.

Because the mountain is not the end of the story.

It is where we are changed—so that we can go back down and live as faithful ambassadors of Christ.