In a few moments Pamela will speak to us about listening, but before that, I wanted to share some thoughts about the Feast of the Transfiguration, that we celebrate today.

This morning I took part in the life-commitment of two sisters of the Community of Grandchamp, in Switzerland, one from Latvia and the other from Sweden, whom I had known before they became sisters. It was a great joy to witness them saying yes to Christ to live their whole lives in community.

During the service I had to speak, and I wondered what I could possibly say that was even a little original about the Transfiguration. Last Thursday, talking with a mother of a family who is also a theologian, I asked if she had any ideas. She threw the question back: "What is it in the text that touches you?" I answered immediately: "The words: Listen to him!"

One of the Fathers of the Church said that, in the end, it is the three disciples who are transformed on the mountain—perhaps because they discover, in a particular way, the importance of listening, above all to Jesus.

Listening is an act of love, at the heart of any relationship of trust. Without it, little can grow. When we listen to the other selflessly, we give them space to be, to express even what cannot be said through words.

And at the heart of listening is silence. Elijah meets God in the gentle breeze, not in the earthquake, wind or fire (1 Kings 19:11-13). Today we often think whoever shouts loudest succeeds, and violence seems to be everywhere. But God is never the author of violence and never imposes. "Let me hear what the Lord will speak, for God will speak peace to his people" (Psalm 85:8).

Is not the way forward to try to listen and understand the other? Far from making us docile, a "listening heart" (1 Kings 3:9) enables us to make courageous, creative decisions rooted in our deepest convictions, where God is closer to us than we dare hope.

Listening draws us into becoming beloved daughters and sons of God through Christ, and sisters and brothers to one another—a sign of God's love and a ferment of peace in the human family.

You have all experienced what it can mean to listen this week. Continue on that path as you prepare to return home: listening to Christ through his Word, to the people and events of each day, and in prayer to what dwells deepest within us, where the Holy Spirit lives.

It is this daily faithfulness in listening that, little by little, transfigures us. And if fear comes, remember how Jesus came close to the three disciples on the mountain, touched them, and told them to get up.

We cannot remain on the mountain. Christ invites us down into the plain, where listening becomes service, faithfulness, and hope. What you have lived this week will not be erased—you will carry it as "a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts" (2 Peter 1:19).

Pamela speaks:

I come from Lebanon, a beautiful country marked by war, fear, and uncertainty. For a long time, those wounds also lived in my heart. There are days when the noise of violence makes it difficult to hear God’s voice. Yet on Mount Tabor, when the disciples were afraid and the cloud overshadowed them, the Father did not tell them to look at their fear—He said, “Listen to Him.” Choosing to listen to Christ means trusting His voice above the chaos and believing that love is stronger than hatred.

Listening to Jesus also means coming down the mountain and entering the reality of human suffering. During the war, I visited the sick, displaced families, and those grieving unimaginable losses. In every wounded face, I encountered the crucified Christ. A shared prayer, a listening ear, or a simple act of kindness became powerful signs that darkness does not have the final word.

As a teacher, I continued teaching while air raids threatened our daily lives. Our classroom became a place of peace, where learning, laughter, and prayer brought the Light of Tabor directly into the dark shadows of war. By teaching them to choose love over bitterness, we showed these children that the darkness does not have the final word, and that through small acts of love, we all become living witnesses of His transfiguring hope.

So wherever we come from, whatever wounds we carry, we can leave with this one certainty: if we choose to listen to Christ, we too can become a small light for someone else.