Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 255

Then they tried again to arrest him; but he escaped from their power.

Timing, as every comedian knows, is the key to success. No joke, story, or pratfall  is funny without close attention to its timing. Stan Laurel, in the earliest days of talky films, studied the reactions of theater audiences as he took his act with Oliver Hardy from burlesque to the big screen. Every remark, gesture, and scene -- which in cinema is about eight seconds -- was calibrated to meet the mysterious standards of timing. 

Learning that art is one of the most difficult chores of young adults. Which of us hasn't suffered awful embarrassment when a quip, jest, or gag fell flat because of its poor timing. A serious conversation with one's beloved should not be sabotaged by an adolescent joke. Poor timing betrays immaturity; and may cause a permanent loss of friendship. If there are no country western songs to tell that story, there should be.

In today's Gospel, Jesus's opponents, acting on impulse and without the guidance of the Holy Spirit, attempted to arrest Jesus. They wanted to stone him but his hour had not yet come. They would act against him, but not yet. 

We first heard of that hour in John 2, in Jesus's cryptic reply to his mother, "Woman, what is that to me? My hour has not yet come." But she seemed to know more than he did for she immediately turned to the servants -- and to us -- and said, "Do whatever he tells you." It was time to respond to the joylessness of our celebrations. 

There are other suggestions of the coming hour in the Fourth Gospel that lead to Chapter 17 and the Lord's prayer,  "Father, the hour has come. Give glory to your son, so that your son may glorify you." They sound like distant church bells reminding us of both the passage of time and a moment that is coming. 

Finally, Saint John will tell us, "...from that hour the disciple took her into his home." This is the hour of the Church, comprised in that moment of the Beloved Disciple and the Mother of Jesus. In its time it gathers you and me to the Lord, to his passion, death, and resurrection, and to salvation. 

Now is the acceptable time. Now is the day of salvation.

Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 254

Abraham your father rejoiced to see my day;
he saw it and was glad."

A week before Holy Thursday and the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper, Jesus reminds us of Abraham's gladness as "he rejoiced to see my day!" 

Predictably, the Lord's opponents are baffled by this young man. He cannot be fifty years old but declares he knew Abraham. He may be speaking metaphorically, or in poetry, but it still makes no sense. Nor, for that matter, had they considered Abraham's gladness. 

There was certainly privilege in being the Patriarch's descendant. There was ample mention of happiness in the stories of their ancestors; the Pharisees could claim ancient victories as their own; and history boasted of their artistic and intellectual accomplishments. They owned the confident boast that, "We know the One God, and there is no other."  

But "gladness" implied a certain satisfaction and neither God nor the Law of Moses were ever satisfied with the people. The prophets were never happy with the crime and corruption they saw in the Temple and the streets of Jerusalem. And besides, joy goes hand in hand with revelry, as when Moses and Joshua discovered the people dancing lewdly around Aaron's golden calves. 

No, joy is too risky right now. It wanders into the risque! Later, maybe. When the Romans are gone. When the Messiah destroys all our enemies and rules the world.

In this third millennium, as apocalyptic wars threaten and the economy insanely soars and sinks, as future shock becomes continual distress and even teenagers remember simpler times, we might ask, "Are we happy yet?" 

What is Jesus talking about when he says, "Abraham your father rejoiced to see my day; he saw it and was glad?" Glad about what, exactly?  

When I told a young fellow I was a hospital chaplain, he asked if it was fun. Astonished by such a question, I replied, "It is good." 

There is pleasure in knowing the good and satisfaction in doing it. They might be called joy or gladness and occasionally, fun. Goodness offers a kind of pleasure despite its jealous demands. 

There is pleasure in knowing the Lord, for God is good. He is Good, Truth, Beauty, Joy, Justice, and Mercy; and yet God is utter Simplicity. They are all names of God and the same thing. God is one, and knowing the One comes with joy. 

This gladness is nothing to boast about. It's hardly to be whispered to one's closest companions. Saint Paul would boast only of knowing the cross of Jesus Christ. It is unalloyed goodness and pure joy. If you know that, you are not far from the kingdom of God. 

Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 253

Jesus said to those Jews who believed in him,
"If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples,
and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
They answered him, "We are descendants of Abraham
and have never been enslaved to anyone.
How can you say, 'You will become free'?"

Father Raymond Brown, the great American scripture scholar, author of the commentary on Saint John's Gospel in the Anchor Bible, believed the Fourth Gospel was written amid terrible tension between the emerging Christian church, probably in Ephesus, and the wealthy, well-established Jewish synagogue. 

The Christians had the singular advantage of great scholars with intense devotion who created this document. But otherwise they were a poor minority and harassed by the friends, families, and associates they'd abandoned when they were baptized. 

Like the synoptic gospels, John is written with an apocalyptic either/or. No one could belong to  both church and synagogue; there could be no bipartisan fellowship or cooperation in worthwhile projects. 

Christians described their former way of life as enslaved. They urged their Jewish critics, "A slave does not remain in a household forever..." Converts to the new religion leave the old house and find themselves living in the new house, their Father's house, which is also the house of the eternal Son of God. Their conversion has not taken them out of God's house, though it had initially seemed like that. 

Because a son always remains... the Son may free you, and then you will truly be free. 

This freedom is peace of mind, relief, and joy without the shackles of legal anxiety. They need not worry if they're observing the Law of God with all its commandments, rules, precepts, regulations, prohibitions, and ordinances. The Spirit of the Messiah has all the elation of Psalm 119 without the fearful worry of God's overbearing judgments. 

Where Pharisaic Judaism had fallen into dread of violating taboos -- which were like mines eternally triggered to destroy the careful and careless alike -- faith in Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of Mary (who was born not long ago in the familiar town of Bethlehem), sets one free. Believers can laugh, love, give, receive, work, sleep and breathe without fear of a nitpicking deity eager to catch them in sin and send them plunging into the eternal darkness. 

In fact, taboos have no place in Judaism or Christianity, but both -- now eternally separated -- will always struggle to retain the freedom of God's Spirit. They remain to challenge the other's integrity, and neither can remain faithful without hearing the other's critique. If neither wins the contest it's because neither demonstrates the freedom of God's children. Their members and their institutions are too often driven by pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth. As God's blessings fall on the good and the bad, the just and unjust, so do his judgments, for no one is without sin. 

During these days of Lent we search our hearts for those attitudes which blind us from seeing their evil effects and roots. We hear the Lord's pronouncement of doom, "You are doing the works of your father!" and pray it does not fall on us. 

 

Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 252

So they said to him, "Who are you?"
Jesus said to them, "What I told you from the beginning.
I have much to say about you in condemnation.
But the one who sent me is true,
and what I heard from him I tell the world."
They did not realize that he was speaking to them of the Father.

Baffled Pharisees ask Jesus, "Who are you?" They are not the Herodians, Sadducees, and Levites who will plot with the high priests and have him crucified. But neither are allies to oppose the conspiracy. They are curious enough to ask, "Who are you?" but not prepared for his answer, "What I told you from the beginning." 

Sometimes people have introduced themselves with the expression, "Here's the kind of person I am...." And sometimes they'll describe their several virtues. I don't put much stock in those self-assessments. I don't know that anyone would.

We know people by their actions, which invariably speak louder than words. And by their relationships, although they too might need verification. Some people shamelessly drop names they've never met. 

When Jesus declares, "The one who sent me is true." the Pharisees do not catch his allusion to "the Father." For that matter, they have not often thought of God as their Father; they're more familiar with Moses' Lawgiver and his seat in Jerusalem. 

We know Jesus, the Son of Mary, as the Son of God; and especially as "the only begotten Son of the Father." We cannot know him otherwise. His relationship with God is utterly unique. Denying his divinity denies his identity, his purpose, and his accomplishment of salvation of the world.  Like no other human being, his standing before God commands our attention, worship, and obedience, for he is the equal of the Father and the Holy Spirit. His human will is God's will; his desire is God's desire; his love is God's love for us. Those who have seen him have seen the Father. Anyone who would know God must know this man, born of Mary in Bethlehem, dying in Jerusalem, of two thousand years ago. 

When you lift up the Son of Man,
then you will realize that I AM,
and that I do nothing on my own,
but I say only what the Father taught me.
The one who sent me is with me.

Not many yet are willing to recognize the cross of Jesus, and that moment when he is lifted up. They see no glory in the macabre scene of public execution. They might see the tortured human body but they cannot honor his obedience, and that he does nothing on his own.

Much less can they take up their own crosses and follow in his steps. And that is the only way to wholeness, fulfillment, satisfaction, or redemption. The invitation remains: 

Enter, let us bow down in worship;
let us kneel before the LORD who made us.
For he is our God,
we are the people he shepherds,
the sheep in his hands.

Oh, that today you would hear his voice:
Do not harden your hearts as at Meribah,
as on the day of Massah in the desert. Psalm 95

Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 251

 He guides me in right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk in the dark valley
I fear no evil; for you are at my side
With your rod and your staff
that give me courage.

Our scriptures today about women accused of adultery remind us of the mystery of sexuality. If it's true that every word of the Bible was written amid conflict and controversy, then we can understand why God's decree appears so early in Genesis, 

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, and the two of them become one body.

Given that humans have no instincts and every attitude, idea, decision, and action must be deliberate and acknowledged, the differences of male and female have always been difficult. We're born not knowing how to relate to one another. 

Throughout most of human history we assigned different roles to men and women, and men received the more powerful positions. Their bodies are generally larger, and they have assigned to themselves the heavier chores and larger decisions. But that unjust arrangement has never been entirely comfortable for everyone. Often violent, it has seen constant revision. 

In our day, while many men fear that women are gaining the ascendancy, there is a more insidious impulse to deny sexual differences altogether. With machines handling our heavy labor and women managing machines as well as men, many believe that role assignments are totally arbitrary; and, in fact, individuals can choose whichever "gender" they prefer: male, female, both, or neither. 

The new hypothesis is that sexual difference is not gender difference; and that one's physical body might not agree with one's spiritual orientation. Some boys are actually girls; and some girls, boys. But no one noticed it until quite recently. (Or perhaps it never happened that way until recently.)  

This brave new age promises young people, who are understandably confused by a world of options, they can switch their sexuality with chemicals and surgery; it will cost them nothing more than their fertility. Given the challenges of parenting in an uncertain future, many girls would eschew womanhood and the burdens of motherhood and opt for maleness, both physical and spiritual. Given the opportunities of single parenting, homosexual parenting, adoption as spiritual parenting, and the future possibilities of cloning: the less reliable "traditional way" of reproduction is entirely optional. The otherness of engagement between different sexes can be avoided entirely, along with the challenges, pleasure and beautiful mystery of being other than one's spouse.

Gay marriage, we're told, is like the marriage of "black" and "white" persons in a bipolar America. And denying "sexual preference" to gay persons is as violent and irrational as forcing left-handed children to prefer their right hands. These unexpected analogies make sense to the thoughtless, the indifferent, and those with an ulterior motive.

The homosexual ideology has led inevitably to transsexualism and the belief that everything about the human being is interchangeable, plastic, and malleable. Rather than recognize how arbitrary the role assignments have been, it would entrench them permanently by altering the sacred bodies of young, confused, and vulnerable people for the sake of a massive social experiment. Boys will finally be masculine, and girls will be permanently, definitively feminine! 

The human race can be reshaped into something stronger, more intelligent, and less vulnerable to diseases. Its sexual energies can be sanitized and potential problems can be aborted. 

Eugenics has arisen from its grave at Auschwitz.

But the failure of Communist and Nazi attempts to alter the human race in the twentieth century augurs badly for this one. 

Aldous Huxley foresaw our dystopian dilemma in his 1932 novel, Brave New World, when pregnancy might be jobbed out to human females who are bred for high fertility and low intelligence. Ordinary men and women would not have the capacity for parenting, nor would they want it. 

Agustin Fuentes, in his book, The Creative Spark, describes the evolution of the human race from carnivorous scavenger through hunting and cooking into the Anthropocene Age. By our choices of food and lifestyle, he says, we created ourselves and our world. Because human evolution is never finished, I suppose, homosexuality and transsexuality have appeared. They are disorders created by both nature and nurture.   

The Catholic Church's response to this resurgence of eugenics began with the encyclical Humanae Vitae, by Pope Paul VI in July, 1968. Prophetically, he reminded us that the sexual act is both unitive and generative. It is ordered toward marriage, a sacred commitment of one man and one woman to lifelong fidelity. Denying or frustrating either the unitive or generative impulse violates human dignity and human nature. 

This teaching promoting marriage and against frustrating our reproductive energies was furthered in March 1987 by "Instruction on Respect for Human Life in Its Origin and on the Dignity of Procreation." If we should not frustrate our productivity with "birth control," neither should we manipulate it. We dare not turn our sexuality into an industry to control and manufacture human beings and satisfy the impulses of a consumer economy. 

These pronouncement of 1968 or 1987 were not greeted with joy by the secular press. They are ignored by civil laws which recognize marriage as a temporary arrangement between consenting adults, regardless of their identity or intentions. 

God did not create these strange notions; we did. The recent drive to promote transsexualism has given the lie to homosexuality. It was never natural. If this is a critical evolutionary moment when we must decide what kind of creature we would become, the faithful turn to the Church for guidance. We have the assurance that the gates of hell cannot prevail against us, and we need that assurance today. 

The truths of sexuality, otherness, and mystery are often unwelcome. But they will set you free. 

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Lectionary: 34

If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, 
through his Spirit dwelling in you.

After I totaled my car a few weeks ago, and suffered another compression fracture of a vertebra, I would gladly trade in this old body for a new, smaller model. In early morning, when I do much of my writing, it feels already half "dead because of sin," even as I hope "the spirit is alive because of righteousness." I think I keep going out of pride, anger, and fear of the Lord. The doctor said I'd be better in six to eight weeks. But we're not half way there yet. 

Today the Church celebrates the Lord's promise to those who hear his word and abide in his Spirit. I see the corpse of Lazarus, moldering in the tomb after four quiet days, suddenly hearing the Voice and stirring. 

"I know that Voice!" he might say. It's familiar from conversation and prayer, from listening and singing. He's heard it in church and synagogue, in silence and in shouts. It has the familiar resonance of a mother's voice, something heard, recognized, and welcomed even before we emerge from her body.  

Hearing the commanding Voice he has no choice but to sit up and stumble toward the light that shines unexpectedly where a stone had been. Hearing that beloved Voice calling his name, he remembers who he was and everything he knew and loved, and to whom he belongs. "I am Lazarus; I am his friend; I am the brother of Martha and Mary!" he says. He does not hesitate to obey despite the tightly-wrapped linen around his ankles and legs. 

Even as he stand blindly in the brilliant light of day, he hears another command. This time it's for his friends and loved ones, "Untie his and let him go free!" 

In the coming days, as he settles back into the routines of family life, he surely remembers the familiar words of Ezekiel.   

O my people, I will open your graves 
and have you rise from them, 
and bring you back to the land of Israel.
Then you shall know that I am the LORD, 
when I open your graves and have you rise from them, 
O my people!

How many times has he asked the rabbis what they might mean to him? Is it possible that Death itself will obey the Voice of our God? That graves will surrender their captives and the dead will live?

Our scriptures remind us that a vague belief in "life after death" is no guarantee of eternal bliss. A culture committed to skepticism and scientific certainty knows nothing of such an uncertain and insubstantial notion. It sells no merchandise, offers no vacation tours, and appears on no one's bucket list.

Rather, our scriptures tell us that the Spirit which drove Jesus into the desert, back to Galilee, and onto the highway toward Jerusalem and Calvary; that same Spirit which compelled us to pray and make sacrifice for the love God and neighbor will call us out of the dust of death. It will refresh our memories of love, hope, and trust, and drive us into his Eternal Kingdom. 

We believe in the promise because we believe in Our Lord. We hold to the promise because know his Voice; it is already so familiar, so lovely, and so good. 

Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

 Lectionary: 545

It is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats take away sins.
For this reason, when Christ came into the world, he said:
    "Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me...."

Deep in the season of Lent, we pause to remember the Christmas cycle. The Yule feast is nine months from today and human gestation typically takes nine months. 

As I understand, the human baby's body is not nearly as well formed as that of mammals of comparable size and weight, but a human baby's head is enormous and must pass through the birth canal sooner. Nine months is barely enough. Quadrupeds are born more mature; they can walk within a few minutes of birth. But the human baby only begins to crawl on hands and feet several months after birth, and later to walk on two legs. 

This underdeveloped infant needs more attentive care than similar infants; but, ironically, is born of an animal with no instincts. (Nor does the baby come with a manual on the care and feeding of....) The human mother must be taught what to do! She can only follow the customs of her people as she feeds, clothes, cleans, and protects her child. 

Nevertheless, we praise God that we are fearfully, wonderfully made. 

It is good that the Church, interrupting the darker rites of Lent, celebrates this feast when so many wives and husbands have forgotten, or never learned, the reproductive nature of sexuality. Many regard the rite of conception as only a physical exercise, and compare their companions to athletes who are good, better, or best. Others regard marriage as a friendship thing but dismiss and sabotage its reproductive and religious dimensions. They prefer a disembodied "spirituality" without the risks, costs, disappointments, and messiness of human reproduction. 

Today we celebrate the Woman betrothed to a man named Joseph who eagerly set out on a journey of motherhood. Along the way she found her own redemption and that of the whole world. Christian parents follow that mysterious, marital path to salvation in the same grateful, joyful spirit. 

Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 248

"For if the just one be the son of God, he will defend him and deliver him from the hand of his foes...."
These were their thoughts, but they erred; for their wickedness blinded them, and they knew not the hidden counsels of God....

Revelation comes to us as a long hidden mystery; but it is also a truth apparent to reasonable people since the foundation of the world. 

It is so obvious that wicked people often think they know it. Like the foolish in today's first reading, they might even tell us what God thinks, what God knows, and how God acts. Even the faithful will adopt that insolence occasionally, as when someone says, "I don't think God cares what you do here." or, "It surely doesn't matter to God."

Maybe it does and maybe it doesn't, but I do not dare to say what God thinks about anything. And I'm pretty sure the statement, "God thinks" as if God's brain is like yours or mine, is blasphemous. As the Prophet says, 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways....
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways,
my thoughts higher than your thoughts. Is 55:8

Let's be careful about how we speak of God, and not imitate the ways of the wicked. 

Saint Paul says of this deep mystery:

Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church,
of which I am a minister in accordance with God’s stewardship given to me to bring to completion for you the word of God, the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past. But now it has been manifested to his holy ones,
to whom God chose to make known the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; it is Christ in you, the hope for glory. Colossians 1: 24-27

We have to notice the context of this passage: Saint Paul is speaking out of his suffering in a Roman jail someplace.  What we know of God costs us more than memorizing catechism lessons or attending a Bible class. What we know of God comes from our sharing in "the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church."

It is also born of that willingness to suffer with Christ. Not all suffering is redemptive, as Saint Peter warns us in his First Letter: "But let no one among you be made to suffer as a murderer, a thief, an evildoer, or as an intriguer." 

Though it's true that some hardened criminals have found redemption in the penitentiary, it came with the honest admission that they belong there, and the government had exercised mercy with its justice.

We should we not go in search of pain; it comes in search of us soon enough. Aging, the loss of loved ones, disappointments, failures, accidents, sickness: life is generous that way. In the Spirit of Jesus we make something useful of sorrow. We turn it to prayer; we remember our sins and regard the misery as just punishment. We offer it for those who suffer the same afflictions without the comforts we are offered amid this distress. 

We do not heed the advice of Job's importunate wife, "Curse God and die!" Rather, we wait on that vindication that is promised to all God's people. It will be revealed to the wicked and the righteous, who will receive the Good News quite differently. 

Thursday of the Fourth Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 247

If I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is not true.
But there is another who testifies on my behalf, and I know that the testimony he gives on my behalf is true.

Jesus offers his "letters of reference" in today's gospel, those "witnesses" who can testify to his authenticity as a prophet and messiah. 

The Second and Third Letters of Saint John, and Paul's Letter to Philemon were also letters certifying their bearers. They carried not only the signature of the writers, but also the sound of their voice as their choice of words and their cadence sounded like the trusted authors.

Jesus refers to three witnesses: John the Baptist, the "works that I do," and "the Father who sent me." Those who know the sender will know the one who is sent. Concerning his third reference, we will hear that voice in John 12:27-30. 

The crowd heard thunder though some thought "an angel spoke to him." Jesus and his faithful disciples hear the Voice of the Father assuring him, "I have glorified (my name) and will glorify it again!" 

When I first studied the Gospel of John, I was intellectually immersed in the skeptical rationalism of twentieth century culture. The sciences of that day demanded proofs and refused to believe any assertions that weren't founded on obvious assumptions like "a straight line is the shortest distance between two points." From there one aligned statements and conclusions that seemed logical and rational. These conclusions were tested in laboratory experiments and proven trustworthy. One should never take anyone's word for it. And if authorities should not be trusted, the least reliable were religious authorities! 

In that rationalist spirit, the news media purported to report only "the facts." The news was not confused with entertainment or editorial remarks, and the reporter's opinions never colored their reporting. Consumers of news in the "free world" were assured they were not hearing propaganda, like those unfortunates who lived behind the "iron curtain." 

In those days, as I read John's Gospel, Jesus's insistence on his authority seemed hard to take. Why did he never go halfway with his opponents and explain himself more clearly? I didn't understand when a biblical scholar insisted that the Lord's teaching was very reasonable, and his witnesses were credible. 

It's taken me a while to grow suspicious of scientific evidence and rational proofs and more reliant on authority. I've begun to see the hidden agenda of the most objective reporters. The louder they claim to speak only the truth the more suspicious they become. "Liberals" and "conservatives" are programmed to disagree with one another; and regard the public as wise, intelligent, and loyal followers, or as gullible dupes of their opponents.

Our Catholic faith, on the contrary, is built upon our willingness to trust worthy authorities and the God who speaks through them. When religious faith is violated, we pray for healing and reconciliation, and work to restore trust with a studied awareness of sin and potential abuse. Because we cannot turn anywhere else for spiritual direction, we do not dismiss the divine authority of our Church. We pray for them and remember worse times of opposition and persecution. 

Our faith in the Son of Man teaches us to believe in the Church of men and women, not as naïve children but as confident adults. Our leaders are sinners like us, and we are saints like them. Always we listen for the spirit of Jesus who teaches what to say and when to say it:

When they lead you away and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say. But say whatever will be given to you at that hour. For it will not be you who are speaking but the holy Spirit.

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 246

In a time of favor I answer you,

on the day of salvation I help you;

and I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people,

To restore the land

and allot the desolate heritages,

Saying to the prisoners: Come out!

To those in darkness: Show yourselves!

These words from the Prophet Isaiah introduce today's gospel about Jesus and his father. He is the favored Son, kept and given as a covenant to us. And we in our turn are the favored people. The Lord has kept us and given us as a covenant to the Earth and all its peoples. 

The blessings given to the Son are recognized as gifts to the Church. We can protest about our unworthiness -- there's no harm in that -- but our insistent demurral doesn't change our standing in God's presence. His favor is more persistent than our resistance. If he says we're worthy, we are worthy. No more discussion!

I find the coupling of this Isaian passage with John 5:17-30 very comforting. Often during Lent, I don't expect much comfort for myself or the Lord. He is marching toward Jerusalem and he looks to neither right or left as he goes; and we want to go with him.

Somewhere during my theological studies, 1971-74, I read an essay by Walter Brueggemann about King David. He believed that the story of the Patriarch Joseph in Genesis was shaped by the more recent example of the once and future king, the shepherd king who was destined to return as messiah. David was a legendary warrior, national champion, and model king. More importantly, he was faithful to the Lord who had called him from shepherding sheep to leading the nation. 

A man of decision when the disparate tribes of Israel needed to form a single nation or be consumed by threatening neighbors, David took the reins first as general of an army, and then as king. He legislated, governed, and judged without hesitation or apology. 

He believed the Lord had chosen him over Saul. If he made mistakes, he accepted the Lord's rebuke. Even when his sin -- the murder of Uriah -- was a severe violation of the warriors' code of honor and a national scandal, he repented sincerely, accepted his punishment (the death of his and Bathsheba's son), and continued to govern. 

Brueggemann described David liked the son of a businessman who has built his company from the ground up. When the senior retires, he hands the corporation to his son with every confidence the son will do well. The two often meet to discuss current developments and challenges, and how to continue building the business; but the father does not second-guess his son, nor does the son raise issues about the mistakes his father might have made during those early years. 

Finally, if memory serves me correctly for I cannot find the essay fifty years later, Brueggemann suggests that Jesus is the Son of God in the mode of David and his predecessor, Joseph. We hear of that supremely beautiful relationship in today's reading from John 5. 

Like his Father, Jesus gives and restores life, rules, and judges in the manner of biblical judges. Later, in the twelfth chapter of John, we "overhear" their conversation:

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.”

This word, of course, is for everyone who belongs to the Lord, for we must all grow into the maturity of Joseph the Patriarch, David the King, Joseph the husband of Mary, Mary the Mother of God, and Jesus. As the Son of God explains, 

“This voice did not come for my sake but for yours. Now is the time of judgment on this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.”

The Father is more than satisfied with his Son; he is delighted. And, in his Son, God is also deeply pleased with us. 

In us God is glorified; in him we are saved. 

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Lectionary: 245

One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.
When Jesus saw him lying there
and knew that he had been ill for a long time, he said to him,
"Do you want to be well?"
The sick man answered him,
"Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up....

Much of the New Testament is written in an apocalyptic tone. That is: all or none, yes or no, hate or love, dark or light, blessing or curse, life or death. There is not much room for maybe, and less for excuses, like that of the paralyzed man in today's gospel. When Jesus asks a direct question, as he is wont to do, the reply is anything but direct. 

On the First Sunday of Lent I cited a passage from Abraham Joshua Heschel's A Passion for Justice. It is worth hearing again: 

Kierkegaard... felt that man's gravest danger lurked in the loss of his sense of the unconditional, the absolute. We conduct our lives according to conditionals, compromises, and concessions, all relatives. In faith an individual commits everything to the Absoluteness of God. But the Absolute is cruel; it demands all.

That demand for all is typically apocalyptic. Meeting the Lord is no time for maybe, and less for excuses. 

When strangers meet, the first thing they do is exchange names; but this nameless man did not know the name of Jesus. Questioned about who healed him, he could not answer. Despite his healing, they had no relationship and no covenant. He remained in that unsubstantial place of conditionals, compromises, and concessions. When the Absolute demanded his all, he disappeared into the crowd.

Perhaps because it is so inconclusive, the story introduces a doctrine about naming Jesus's relationship to the LORD, and the Holy Trinity. He is the Son of the Father and we know him as "the Only Begotten Son of God." 

I heard an invocation recently where the minister modified the prescribed prayer, preferring "God" to the name, "Father." He retained "the Son" in the prayer. But god is not God's name. Humans have believed in millions of gods throughout our long, sad history. The minister followed his preference for political correctness at the cost of leaving the Son fatherless, and the Trinity ill-defined. 

Words matter, as radical feminists have said, but we cannot cede the use of words to one ideological party without the give-and-take of serious conversation. The Fathers of the Church knew that centuries ago as they hammered out the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed.  

Tomorrow's gospel will lead us deeper into this revelation of the Father and Son and their unity of love and will. 

Solemnity of Saint Joseph, spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 Lectionary: 543

And I will make his royal throne firm forever.
I will be a father to him,
and he shall be a son to me.
Your house and your kingdom shall endure forever before me;
your throne shall stand firm forever.

Amid our Lenten preparations for Easter we pause to remember Christmas, a mystery which also pervades our entire year. Today's feast, of course, anticipates the Annunciation on Saturday when the Angel Gabriel approaches "a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David." 

Within the mechanics of the scriptures and the fulfillment of prophecy, Joseph supplies the legitimacy "of the house of David" to Mary's child, the Messiah. Without descent from that Jewish king no one could save the Jewish race, much less the world. 

We often like to believe everything happens according to a plan, and the Gospels especially remind us that the entire life of Jesus, from his birth in Bethlehem, his sojourn in Egypt, to his death and resurrection in Jerusalem happen according to God's mysterious plan. It is a plan hidden since the beginning of the world, which was suggested in "many and sundry ways through the prophets," but now revealed. 

Saint Paul's explanation is especially relevant this morning: 

Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church, of which I am a minister in accordance with God’s stewardship given to me to bring to completion for you the word of God, the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past. But now it has been manifested to his holy ones, to whom God chose to make known the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; it is Christ in you, the hope for glory. Colossians 1:24-27

Like Saint Joseph, Saint Paul found his place in "the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past." Despite the brevity of his "hour upon the stage" as compared to the history of the world, he had a role -- to make known to the gentiles their place in God's plan -- and he played it proudly. 

The Lord invites every Christian to find their part in Salvation History and scripture gives us innumerable examples. I think of the little Hebrew slave child who told her mistress, 

“If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” 

We don't know her name or any more of her story, but she lives forever with us in 2 Kings 5, and we rediscover her whenever we check out Jesus's reference to Naaman the Syrian. 

No one should expect to be remembered very long by their friends or families despite the promises we make of everlasting remembrance during our funerals. But when the Lord places us within his plan of salvation we know we shall live, and be remembered, forever. We have only to find ourselves within the Gospel. 

Fourth Sunday of Lent

 Lectionary: 31

His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"

....Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, 'We see,' so your sin remains.

Today's gospel begins with a question about sin, and ends with an unexpected answer. 

Close to the heart of our religion is the doctrine of sin. I'm told that not every religion teaches about sin and guilt. Millions of people know their gods with neither intense love and self-sacrificing loyalty nor betrayal, sin, and guilt. These concepts belong to the Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. 

It may be possible for a Christian, in their mind, to separate the pluses love and loyalty from the negatives betrayal, sin, and guilt. It would be a "spirituality without consequences" or "religion for airheads;" something like romance novels for the lonely. But anyone who reads the scriptures or thinks seriously on the matter would dismiss such nonsense. A love, whether human or divine, which does not require sacrifice and intense loyalty is not worthy of the name.  

So long as we believe in a God who has chosen us and loved us, who has set us apart from all other nations to be a people peculiarly his own, we consider our attitudes, thoughts, words, and deeds, and their consequences. We live in the light of God's love and cannot refuse the blessing. 

Jesus's opponents are profoundly aware of evil in the world. They worry about the sins and guilt of others, but they ignore their own. They're eager to identify, sort, rank, and document the sins of others but are not so willing to inventory their own. 

But, in their defense, their understanding of sin is more realistic than ours. Sin, in the scriptures, is something wrong. It might be a wrongful word or deed or attitude; but it might also be an unacceptable condition, a situation that must be corrected. Someone is responsible for that situation and someone must correct it. 

I'm told that US Marines in basic training are punished severely if someone in the unit screws up. These young men and women have to learn that they're responsible to and for one another. Any mistake, oversight, or miscalculation in combat may cost many lives. There is no room for error and no patience with excuses. 

If the Lord of History can use an occupying army like Rome to punish his Chosen People, the Pharisees reasoned, then we should be very careful. With a similar belief, the first born child of a dysfunctional family may try to discipline younger siblings. However, the elder's punishment may be more severe and less reasonable than their abusive parents.  

Given the legitimate teaching authority of the Pharisees at that time, and the self-righteousness of many in the party, Jesus could only oppose them. Despite their good intentions, they were not speaking for God. In fact, as today's gospel points out, they were blind to their own sins. They were straining at gnats to swallow a camel.

Were all the Pharisees like that? We should not suppose so. The party is credited with the Jewish survival when Rome destroyed Jerusalem in 70AD. When the Essenes, Sadducees, and Herodians disappeared, the Pharisees survived to carry the faith of the Patriarchs to future generations. As we're seeing in today's Catholicism, a conservative religion survives while its liberal counterpart, too eager to make accommodations to the passing scene, perishes. 

Given that the Pharisees were law-abiding, decent citizens, we should have some sympathy for them. Their sins were ours. Unwilling to rock a sinking boat, many respected Jesus's teaching authority but could not abide the messianic claims of his disciples. Nor would they accept the Church's worship of him as the Only-Begotten Son of God. 

Can anyone see their own blindness? Can eyeball see itself? A prophet may point it out. A docile spirit may be willing to hear it. A friend or loved one, a good counselor or respected pastor might sit us down and say what everyone knows, if we're willing to hear.  

During Lent, we should pray for that docile spirit. No one can comprehend the full range of their sins, its depth, height, and breadth. That's because no one can conceive the depth, height, and breadth of God's love. We have seen it in Christ Crucified, but our gaze is sadly distracted. 

Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

Lectionary: 242

What can I do with you, Ephraim? What can I do with you, Judah? Your piety is like a morning cloud, Like the dew that early passes away.  For this reason I smote them through the prophets, I slew them by the words of my mouth; For it is love that I desire, not sacrifice; Knowledge of God rather than holocausts. 

Pretenses of piety stink, and there are few words more fetid than fake apologies. The Prophet Hosea complains about the penitential practices of his country; they seem to believe God is like the weather. “He’ll come around and forgive us just like the change of the seasons from winter to spring and summer to fall. Don’t worry about God; he’ll be okay. Aren’t we his people? Does he have any choice but to forgive us?” 

Not that they would say these remarks out loud. They’re silent, like the winks and nods of the congregation when the preacher fumes and his harangue descends into rant. Didn’t our parents do the same? And their parents before that? It’ll be okay. 

Their piety reeks like corrupted meat.

If the ancients supposed God is as predictable as the climate with its stately procession from season to season, our contemporaries suppose God is like a gumball machine. Say the right words, make the right gestures, and he’ll give you what you want. It’s like turning the ignition or flipping a light switch. Isn’t the universe one vast machine? Isn’t the Earth with its tides, weather, and continental drift predictable? Aren’t we getting better and better at predicting its moods? 

We don’ really need to believe in a creator God who’s got the whole world in his hands; we’re pretty adept at making it work for ourselves! As the physicist said when Napoleon asked him, “Where does God fit into your theories?” 

“I have no need of that hypothesis.” Laplace replied. 

And in truth, many who piously nod their heads when God is mentioned conduct their lives as if he’s is no where to be found. 

I once heard a group of senior high school students planning a weekend jaunt into Chicago. I asked, “Won’t your parents have something to say about this?” And one of them replied, “They don’t care.” 

What a dreadful expression, I thought. Does it mean the children are free to plan as they like and their parents implicitly trust them? Or perhaps they just don’t give a damned? I’ve known teens who were given twenty bucks and told to get out of the house tonight. “My boyfriend is coming over.” Perhaps they really didn't care.

Is God like that? Does he not care what we do or how we live?

“I smote them through the prophets!” Hosea say as he speaks for God. In other words, they’ll have no word of comfort, encouragement, or direction from the Lord. If they want to act as if God doesn’t exist, he’ll withdraw and let them think so. 

For most of my adult life, churches Catholic and Protestant have been locked. How many times have I stopped like the gentlemen in today’s parable, to pay a visit to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and found I couldn’t get in? 

That surely is God’s judgment upon us. The grieving, the confused, the weary, the grateful, the devout: they cannot spend time in God’s presence. The church is locked and disappearing from public life, and no one misses it. But still they want peace and prosperity.

Dear God, have pity upon us. 

Friday of the Third Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 241

And when Jesus saw that he answered with understanding,
he said to him, 
"You are not far from the Kingdom of God."
And no one dared to ask him any more questions.

Following today's exchange between Jesus and the scribe, Saint Mark describes the Lord's attack on his opponents; they refuse to recognize him as a prophet. A second teaching mocks their hypocrisy as they love the recognition and honors they're given in public. The chapter ends when he describes the widow's mite as greater than the wealthiest donation.

Their attacks cease because his teachings have summarized their ethical code and his own. Every Jew, Christian, and human being should love the Lord God, the creator of heaven and earth with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. What more is there to say? Who could argue with that? 

Jesus's teaching fulfills the Law, the Prophets, and the psalms. Despite their hesitation, doubt, and fears they cannot accuse him of changing a letter, or the smallest part of a letter of the Law. Nor should Christians suppose his critique of the Jewish religion in the Jerusalem of his day was a reform. His attacks echoed the complaints of innumerable prophets from Moses to this day, among Jews and Christians of every time and place. 

The Catholic Church and most Christian denominations have been reconsidering their attitudes, teachings, and behavior about Jews since the revelations of World War II. Whatever they might have suspected before the Allied invasion, neither the western governments nor the press knew of 44,000 death camps and their liquidation of human beings. No one could comprehend murder on an industrial scale; the word genocide had not yet been coined. Was this the aim of all Christian hopes and dreams? Was this, in an irreligious world, the final solution to differing religions? 

Some Christians claim a difference between antisemitism and anti-Jewishness, but it seems a difference without a distinction, and convinces no one. We must look deeper.

How does one fulfill the Law and Prophets and Psalms? Who would compare themself to another and say they're more accomplished and nearer to the kingdom of God than anyone? They might argue that their particular religious practices, after a thorough examination of innumerable Jewish sects, Islamic divisions, Christian denominations, and Catholic factions, theirs is the truest. They might point to themselves, a half-dozen pious persons, and say. "We fulfill the Law!" But they'd be laughed off the dais. 

At their best, Christians and Jews might stand as prophetic reminders of the other's failure, with Jesus standing between us as both prophet and reconciler. He alone fulfills the Law and the Prophets, but he was not sent to change a word, letter, or smallest part of a letter of the Law. And anyone who claims they're on his side, as opposed to those who are not, is only a fool. 

One time, as a young adult friar, I attended a "Vocation Week" of potential seminarians here at Mount Saint Francis. Being young and frisky a half-dozen or more adolescent boys ganged up on me, attempting to bring me to ground. Standing head and shoulders over them, and pretty strong despite my skinny frame, I tossed them about like rag dolls. Eventually one boy decided he was on my side, and would fight with me, I threw him on the pile with the others. 

Blessings on your day!

Were today's Christian to stand with Jesus, claiming to be on his side against the Jews, Jesus would certainly lay into him more severely than anyone else. In the Gospels, his criticism of his own disciples is relentless. He needs no allies in his quarrel with us, and has none. 

Lent calls us to repentance. We must consider our sins and those of our ancestors. How have I inherited and practiced the antisemitism, racism, sexism, and despicable attitudes of my parents, relatives, teachers, neighbors, and friends? Where should I begin to atone? How can I make reparation for our sins against God's providence, justice, and mercy?