Homilies

When we reflect on this particular Gospel scene, we tend to focus on Peter’s confession of faith and the Lord’s response to it. But I think there is something interesting at the very beginning—when the Lord asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” What is the word on the street?

The disciples offer various answers. But, in a way, I believe this part of the Gospel serves as a warning: do not listen to the crowd. There are many opinions out there, and most of them are wrong. Faith is not something determined by opinion or consensus. It is not shaped by the majority view or the prevailing cultural sentiment. Rather, faith is something revealed directly by God. That is what the Church teaches us. She calls faith an infused virtue—“infused” meaning that it must be given by God. He places it directly into the minds and hearts of the faithful.

The Fathers of the Church see in the Transfiguration a prefiguring of the Resurrection. That is, when Jesus radiates light and his clothes become dazzling, what we behold in that moment is the world recreated after the Resurrection—a world God is going to give us in the life of heaven. And that is important, because what he is doing for three of his disciples—Peter, James, and John—is strengthening them. Knowing the journey to Jerusalem is beginning and that all these terrible events are about to unfold, he gives them a glimpse of glory to give them hope, the strength to keep going—even in the face of what is to come—so they might make it to the Resurrection.

It is striking how often isolation masquerades as independence. We live in a culture saturated by messages urging us to secure our futures—to plan diligently, save meticulously, and safeguard our comforts. These are not evil aspirations, but when detached from gratitude and divorced from relationship, they become a perilous illusion.

A voice in the Gospel today pleads with Jesus to mediate an inheritance dispute. Jesus answers, gently but firmly, and then warns: “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions.” This line is not just cautionary advice about wealth—it is a piercing revelation about the true nature of life itself. The parable Jesus shares features a successful farmer whose land yields an abundant harvest. His immediate instinct is not gratitude to God or generosity toward neighbors. Instead, his thoughts revolve solely around storing more for himself, building bigger barns, and celebrating his self-contained abundance. His critical error is not merely financial prudence or planning for future security; rather, his folly is believing himself utterly alone. He stands isolated, sealed off from God and neighbor, trapped within the solitary echo of his own desires.