I’m driving through the streets of Portland, Maine, searching for it. I have a paper map, but it’s in the days before smart phones and GPS. It’s a beautiful August evening. I was in the area for training, but after the day’s activities, I wanted to take in the sites, and I’ve seen so many pictures of this before. I had to find it. Numerous times I had to turn around and find another way. There did not seem to be many signs, at least not what I had assumed for a major landmark. I see a sign, and then I look on my tattered, folded map, and think, this is the way! Soon, I know I am on the right road, and again I see another sign – Portland Head Light Station. I follow the sign and there it is, in all its majesty, better than I had pictured it.
I get out of the car. I’m surprised at the lack of people around. The lighthouse sits on a patch of grass, on a rocky cliff, off Cape Elizabeth, jutting out into the Atlantic. I walk around the lighthouse, and I just stare. I stare out at the Atlantic Ocean, the first time I had seen it. I see the waves crashing against the rocks. I hear them. I feel the spray. All the power and energy of the ocean, traversing great distances and coming to this point, where it immediately hits land. The waves crash again. It’s loud, but it’s soothing.
I find a spot and I just sit, and I stare out at the sea. I listen to the waves. I close my eyes, and I just take it all in. I take a deep breath, and breathe the sea air into my lungs. I open my eyes and I think about what all this point of land has seen. I’m alone, but I’m not alone. There’s no talking. I’m not distracted by anything. No electronics, no phones, nor am I immersed in a book or some other reading material. I just look out at this great, amazing, and beautiful creation of God and I simply listen. I let the waves do the talking. I lost all track of time. I must have stayed there two hours, just taking it all in, but it felt like minutes. This was a time in my life when I was a lukewarm Catholic – but there was a spirituality there. I let God speak to me, and it’s a place that for years has stuck with me. The beauty. The smell. The sound.
Without saying a word, for two hours – I conversed with God. I was not transfigured, but I was transformed somewhat, because this experience, this memory has stuck with me for years. There is something about the coast that speaks to me. Whether it’s the sandy dunes of the Lake Michigan shore, or the white sand beaches of the Florida Gulf Coast, or the rocky cliffs of the North Atlantic – there is something mesmerizing, and spiritual, and transforming about hearing the waves, the sound of the water as it hits the land. The smell in the air. The sight of the horizon. Sunrises and sunsets.
It is the pinnacle. There is no transition. Land meets sea. It’s cut and dry. There is no question where one ends and the other begins. There’s no gray area. And maybe thats one reason why I love it so, because in a world that is so wrong, it is one place where it is so right. And it’s in that sound – the sound of the waves crashing against the shore where I have my best conversations with God. It’s ironic, I suppose that I live in the middle of the United States far away from water, but I think that’s what makes the times I’m on the water even more special.
Kind of like climbing a mountain to pray.
This is where we meet Jesus today in the Gospel reading. Its one of the most famous readings – The Transfiguration. Jesus climbs the mountain with Peter, James and John, and has a conversation with God. He talks with Moses and Elijah. His disciples see Him in all His glory. But they don’t know what to make of it. It must have truly been an amazing and dumbfounding experience, as we can gather from Peter’s response. And as we see at the end of the reading, they do not tell anyone. Jesus instructs them not to until a later time, until they can comprehend what they saw on the mountain. It stays with them, and at some point, they will be transformed and understand, and they will be able to explain it. But now is not the time.
Peter just wanted to take it all in. He didn’t know what to say, and didn’t know what he was seeing, but he knew it was special. I’m sure he, James and John didn’t want it to end, and then God spoke to them, telling them to do one thing – Listen to His Son. Listen to Him. Not look at Him. Not just to follow Him – but Listen to Him. As amazing as the signs and miracles were that Jesus had performed and were going to continue to do – the most important thing is to listen to him. Listen to Jesus and His message and His truth. And then take the initiative to do it. But we first have to listen. We have to listen to God and what He has to tell us. And to do that, we have to stop the noise in our lives.
Abram does just that in the first reading from Genesis. God tells him to count all the stars in the sky, if he can. Abram must have been mesmerized and amazed at the sheer number of them, and the beauty of them. Imagine how amazing the sky must have looked thousands of years ago, without all the light and air pollution of today. It must have been astonishing. Abram just sits there, and ponders. He’s listening to God, and he falls into a trance. God speaks to Abram and makes the covenant with him, giving this land to his descendants, which will number like the stars. Abram listens to God, in all His beauty.
We have to converse with God. We have to take time and stop – look up to the Heavens, climb the mountain, or look out at the sea and just marvel. We have to take the time, wherever we are at, and get away and go on a mini-retreat – and let Jesus speak to us. Let Him transform us. Maybe it’s walk in the city. Maybe it’s turning off the radio on your commute. Maybe it’s shutting the office door and closing your eyes. Maybe its taking time out of your day to sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Or perhaps it is climbing a mountain, or sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea.
Let God meet you where you are, and let Him speak to you, and let Him do all the talking. We have to put down the electronics and devices. Put down what you’re reading, there are other times for that. We have to put everything down and just listen to Him. Pray to Him. Have a conversation with Him. And let Him transform you, so you can be that light to others, that beacon that guides them to goodness.
Daily Mass Readings:
GN 15:5-12, 17-18; PS 27; PHIL 3:17—4:1; LK 9:28B-36
