An Ear to the Wood: Homily for the Second Sunday of Lent – Year C

March is a restless month.
One day it feels like spring,
the next, winter comes roaring back
with a sudden snowstorm, like this weekend.
Across the country, the weather has been wild:
tornadoes, windstorms, wildfires.

In many ways our world feels like a storm right now.
The headlines change by the hour—
inflation on the rise, financial markets dropping,
people being detained,
protests in the streets, arguments online.
Some are afraid of what’s happening,
others don’t mind so much,
and still others just feel exhausted by it all.

And in the middle of this storm,
we gather here, in this church,
on this Second Sunday of Lent,
and we hear this Gospel—
this mysterious moment on the mountaintop
when Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John.

At first, this scene might not seem to have much to say
about our world today.
But actually it speaks to us precisely because we are feeling shaken,
uncertain, and divided.
Because in the middle of all the dazzling light
and the appearance of Moses and Elijah,
there is one voice that breaks through the noise,
through the dark cloud.
The voice of the Father, saying:
“This is my chosen Son; listen to him.”

The world is very loud right now.
There are voices from every side telling us what to believe,
what to fear, who to blame.
Some voices say we should be outraged.
Others say we should be celebrating.
Some voices cry out in pain and fear.
Others dismiss those concerns.
And if we’re honest with ourselves, really honest,
most of us don’t just hear the noise—we add to it.
We argue, we react, we post, we judge.

It’s easy to get caught up in the storm,
to pick our side, to raise our voice,
to believe that if we shout loud enough,
we can fix the world or win the argument.

But today, on this mountain,
God the Father speaks through the noise and tells us:
Listen.
Not to the politicians.
Not to the media.
Not to the voices of fear or anger or division.
Listen to Him.
Listen to Jesus.

And what does Jesus say?
A quick review of the Gospel reminds us:
He tells us to love our enemies.
To welcome the stranger.
To care for the poor.
To seek the lost.
To be peacemakers.
To take up our cross.

That is not the voice of the world.
That is not the voice of social media.
That is not the voice of power or ideology.
But it is the only voice that will lead us through this storm.
Listen to Him.

Listening sounds simple.
But it is not.
Because real listening changes us.
It forces us to put aside our own assumptions.
It humbles us.
It makes us slow down when we want to react.

We see this in Peter today.
Peter, who always has something to say.
Peter, who, at this moment, is so overwhelmed
that he just starts talking:
“Let’s build three tents! Let’s stay here!”
He’s doing what we all do
when we don’t know what to do—
he fills the silence with words.
But God the Father interrupts him.
“This is my Son. Listen to Him.”
Stop talking.
Stop reacting.
Just listen.

That’s a hard thing to do.
Because sometimes listening to Jesus
means hearing things we don’t want to hear.
Forgive that person.
Let go of that resentment.
Trust me even when you’re afraid.
Speak truth even when it costs you something.
Choose love when anger feels easier.
This is hard to hear.
But this is the Gospel.

And the only way to hear those things
the only way to listen to Jesus
is if we make space for silence.
For prayer.
For reflection.
If we’re constantly filling every moment with noise—
scrolling, talking, reacting—
we may never hear the voice of Jesus at all.

This moment on the mountaintop
is a glimpse of clarity before the road gets dark.
The disciples don’t know it yet,
but soon Jesus will lead them down from the mountain
and begin his journey to the cross.
The Transfiguration is not an escape from suffering—
it is a preparation for it.
Jesus gives Peter, James, and John this moment of light
so they can hold onto it when the darkness comes.

And we need that, too.
Because no matter where you stand politically,
no matter how the headlines make you feel,
the truth is that we are all walking forward into an uncertain world.
And we have a choice.
We can let the noise and the fear and the division define us.
Or we can listen to Him.
We can listen to the one who calls us to be different.

To be people of peace in a world of anger.
To be people of compassion in a world of cruelty.
To be people of mercy when the world only offers justice without love.

There’s a story about the great composer Beethoven.
Near the end of his life,
he was completely deaf.
He could no longer hear the music he wrote.
But he would sit at the piano and press his ear to the wood,
feeling the vibrations of the notes as he played.
He couldn’t hear the music with his ears,
but he could still sense it.
Think of how much time and effort and energy and patience that took.

Do we have that kind of commitment to hearing the voice of God,
that kind of time and effort and energy and patience?
Because the world is loud,
and it is easy to let all the other voices drown out the voice of Jesus.

This week, can we take an honest look at what voices we listen to?
Who gets our attention?
How much time do we spend scrolling through the news,
social media, podcasts, TV?
How many hours do we give to voices that make us anxious,
angry, distracted, or just numb?
And then,
How much time do I give to Jesus?
Not only in church,
but in dedicated, quiet moments of listening.
Beethoven longed so much to hear his music
that he pressed his ear to the wood of the piano.
Can we press our ear to the wood of the Cross?
Because if we focus our hearts on Him,
if we listen—
not only in church but all throughout out days—
then even while the storm rages,
we will still hear His voice.

So that’s the challenge this Lent.
Not only to give up chocolate.
Not only to pray more.
But to listen.
To listen in Scripture.
To listen in prayer.
To listen to the voice of Christ
in the people who are hurting, afraid, or in need.

And then, to come down from the mountain—
not to stay sheltered, not to isolate ourselves,
but to carry what we’ve heard into the world.
Because the world doesn’t need more noise.
It needs people who have truly listened to Jesus.