Thursday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

On the morning of the third day
there were peals of thunder and lightning,
and a heavy cloud over the mountain,
and a very loud trumpet blast,
so that all the people in the camp trembled.
But Moses led the people out of the camp to meet God,
and they stationed themselves at the foot of the mountain.
Mount Sinai was all wrapped in smoke,
for the LORD came down upon it in fire.
The smoke rose from it as though from a furnace,
and the whole mountain trembled violently.
The trumpet blast grew louder and louder, while Moses was speaking
and God answering him with thunder.

Did you ever notice how things happen on the third day? That is no accident. When you hear that Jesus was raised up on the third day it should trigger memories of God's appearance on Mount Sinai with all of the special effects. 

Our liturgies memorialize the experience with singers, bells, organs and other musical instruments. Incense recalls the smoke in which Mont Sinai was wrapped; the flickering candles represent lightning bolts and flames of fire; the lectors recall Moses speaking and God answering him with thunder. If we cannot shake building with an earthquake we can remember how our spiritual ancestors felt as God descended on Sinai and God arose on Easter. 

This spectacular display of God's terrifying, unapproachable proximity contrasts with the first words of today's gospel: The disciples approached Jesus and said, “Why do you speak to the crowd in parables?”

No one challenges the God of Mount Sinai, so Jesus makes himself vulnerable and available to us. As spiritual descendants of the Jews, despite our fear, we have questions and we must ask. And our gracious God will answer. Could we ever love a God who only frightens us? We might worship him for saving us but love requires a whole lot of reassurance. 

The poet Gerard Manley Hopkins celebrates Jesus' marvelous approachability in the following passage from The Blessed Virgin Compared to the Air We Breathe

…A mother came to mould 

Those limbs like ours which are 
What must make our daystar 
Much dearer to mankind; 
Whose glory bare would blind 
Or less would win man’s mind. 
Through her we may see him 
Made sweeter, not made dim, 
And her hand leaves his light 
Sifted to suit our sight. 
Be thou then, O thou dear 
Mother, my atmosphere;
My happier world, wherein 
To wend and meet no sin; 
Above me, round me lie 
Fronting my froward eye 
With sweet and scarless sky;
Stir in my ears, speak there 
Of God’s love, O live air, 
Of patience, penance, prayer: 
World-mothering air, air wild, 
Wound with thee, in thee isled,
Fold home, fast fold thy child.