«Teacher, it is good for us to be here» (Mt 17:4), exclaims Peter, amid amazement and wonder. This affirmation makes us understand how the disciple of Christ is marked by beauty. Not surprisingly, it will be the same apostle, in his first letter, to exhort Christians to have beautiful conduct (kalé) among the pagans, that is, conduct open to communion, that communion which appears on the mountain of Transfiguration when Moses and Elijah appear together with Jesus and converse with each other.  And if beauty is a promise of happiness, we are to understand that every single gesture, every word, every action inspired by its light is a prophecy of a new world.  Beauty thus becomes an announcement of salvation: «Mir spasët krasotà», “by beauty he will save the world”, we read, not by chance, in Dostoevsky’s novel, The Idiot.  So let’s ask ourselves: what have we done with beauty: that beauty that is to be established in our relationships, called gratuitousness, mercy and forgiveness? From that beauty that must animate our communities, manifesting them as a place of luminosity, and therefore of truth and not of falsehood; as a place of freedom and not of fear; as a fraternity in which every person feels welcomed and wanted, respected and

loved? What have we done with that beauty that must pervade our existences and lead to the overcoming of division, in unity, of peace in broken relationships, of serenity, where daily tension reigns? What have we done with beauty? What have we done with Christ and his Gospel? The beauty that shines from Tabor is not so much an event of light but an event of love that flows from Christ; an event that continually narrates and re-narrates the tragic beauty of the love with which God loved us to the point of delivering his Son on cross. And so we want to let ourselves be reached by this love, we want to welcome the Father’s invitation to listen to that Son who still today repeats for us the gesture of handing over himself: “Take and eat, this is my body for you”, an `unheard-of gesture that has caused vehement rejections and passionate loves throughout history, even as far as martyrdom. If in The Tropic of Cancer Miller gets engraved on the soles of his shoes the cross of Christ, so as to be able to trample on it at every step, a supreme genius like Dostoevsky does not hesitate to affirm this paradox: «If someone proves that Christ is outside the truth … well I would prefer to stay with Christ rather than with the truth”. In these troubled times, ecclesially and socially, we keep our gaze fixed on Christ, anchor of our faith, ultimate meaning of our days, and certain hope.

Commentary by b. Sandro Carotta, osb
Abbazia di Santa Maria – Praglia (Italy)

Translation by f. Mark Hargreaves,
Prinknash Abbey