Saturday of the Second Week of Lent

Lectionary: 235

Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance;
Who does not persist in anger forever,
but delights rather in clemency,
And will again have compassion on us,
treading underfoot our guilt?

 A  mechanized world likes mechanized justice. We've come to believe that the universe, and our Earth within it, is an enormous machine that operates like clockwork. We know the sun doesn't rise of its own volition; it neither has volition nor is it rising.  

And justice should be mechanized also! Three strikes and you're out. Don't let some softhearted judge who might happen to be the criminal's second cousin have any freedom in the matter. He might know the young fellow to have come from a good family and that his third felony was driven by politics. Lock him up anyway! Throw away the key. If there's no room in prison for another felon, he should have thought of that beforehand. 

But, in fact, the universe and our Earth are governed by a God who is not a machine; he may not be exactly a male, despite our use of male pronouns. And our saying that God is a person is analogous, since no one can think of a better word. He is certainly not a machine or a mindless principle. If we thought he were, we'd ask, "Who made the machine or defined the principle?'

Moreover, Christians believe that God is both merciful and just, which is an impossible combination for human institutions. We can be just at times, or we can be merciful. But no government, business, or church has ever discovered a standard operating procedure that is both merciful and just. 

Pope Francis has urged us to err on the side of mercy, especially as we face the combined challenge of climate change and immigration. There is little doubt that climate change, driven by the wasteful ways of mechanized nations, is driving equatorial nations into deeper poverty and instability. If young individuals in those nations can buy American guns and fend for themselves amid the uncertainty, families with children and old people must migrate to survive. They deserve our mercy and, if the Bible can be believed, already have God's sympathy. 

The Lord's parable describes the mercy of our God. It concerns a motherless family, a soft headed patriarch, and his two sons. The elder is hard working and scrupulously obedient; the younger is a screw up ne'er-do-well. 

The story is typical of the Bible. From the story of Cain and Abel, through Esau and Jacob, Jacob's twelve sons and Joseph; Jesse's seven sons and David, we hear of the LORD's preference for the younger, lesser son. Because she is second-named, we may also suppose that Ruth was younger than her sister-in-law Oprah. 

Saint Paul invokes a similar tradition in reminding the Corinthians that God has not set them apart because they were particularly... 

...wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.

Rather, God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong,

and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something,

so that no human being might boast before God.

And that was of the same pattern as God had delivered the Hebrews from Egypt: 

It was not because you are more numerous than all the peoples that the LORD set his heart on you and chose you; for you are really the smallest of all peoples.

It was because the LORD loved you and because of his fidelity to the oath he had sworn to your ancestors, that the LORD brought you out with a strong hand and redeemed you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh, king of Egypt.

If God's choices of Abraham's descendants and Jesus's disciples are not entirely arbitrary, they are just and merciful. Machines and standard operating procedures cannot do that. Only persons familiar with the Spirit and Wisdom of God can do that. In the light of these stories only a fool would despise weaker men and women.

Jesus told another parable about a Samaritan. This good man was unfortunately born of a despised race but he showed more mercy than his distinguished fellow travelers, and won universal approval. Jesus finished the story with, "Go and do likewise!"

Friday of the Second Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 234

Israel loved Joseph best of all his sons,

for he was the child of his old age;
and he had made him a long tunic.
When his brothers saw that their father loved him best of all his sons,
they hated him so much that they would not even greet him.

 J oseph was the child of Jacob-Israel's old age and his favorite wife's first born son. Genesis 29 recalls how he had been tricked by his kinsman Laban into marrying Leah; and only after promising another seven years of servitude, received beloved Rachel as his second wife. 

Unfortunately, "...when the LORD saw that Leah was unloved, he made her fruitful, while Rachel was barren." It didn't help that the patriarch preferred Rachel and Joseph to Leah and her four sons, not to mention his two concubines and their sons. (And we thought our families were dysfunctional!) 

As the Evangelists recalled the opposition to Jesus and his gospel, they naturally recalled the resentment of the men who, "saw that their father loved [Joseph] best of all his sons, and they hated him so much that they would not even greet him." Was not Jesus the preferred Son of God, and had he not met the same jealous opposition? Had they not plotted the death of Jesus as the brothers plotted the death of Joseph? The resemblances could not be coincidental. 

The story must remind us of the Lord's sovereign right to govern by his own wisdom and according to his own plan; and that we who have little understanding of such matters should only wait and trust in his mercy. We'll often be uncomfortable. Our suspicious minds will raise many questions and fabricate outlandish explanations for the way things are. We can hardly prevent our uneasiness from spawning weird ideas about the God who speaks his Word to us but rarely answers questions. 

We insist we must understand and will not accept God's truth without a full and comprehensive explanation! As a young associate pastor, I tried to answer the questions of seventh graders about the stories of the Bible. But they could not begin to understand the hermeneutics I so carefully explained, and were totally unaware of its sitz im leben. I had as much to learn as they did.

But that curiosity is only a pretext for not seeing the rot of jealousy, suspicion, and unhappiness which eats at our hearts. We think we're superior to our ancient prescientific ancestors; and so -- we're good.

Matthew tells us that the Pharisees got the point of the Lord's parable, 

"When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they knew that he was speaking about them." 

There was no doubt about the Galilean's wit! His parabolic scalpel cut to the heart but they would not permit the poison to be drawn out of them. 

As we approach the drama of Holy Week, we examine our attitudes, biases, hesitations, and fears. How much comprehension do our uncomprehending minds demand? 

We must ask the Lord to show us our sins as clearly as he revealed the sins of Pharisees, Levites, and Herodians. It's fascinating that he never attacked the Romans and those who had ultimate authority in this world. He met Roman authorities, especially centurions, but he confronted only Pontius Pilate with his blunt reminder of his irrelevant nothingness: 

"You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above."

This is not the time to question the Lord's authority to judge, nor insist upon our right to judge him. We have seen where that led. Rather, it is time to do penance.  

Thursday of the Second Week of Lent

Lectionary: 233

More tortuous than all else is the human heart,
beyond remedy; who can understand it?
I, the LORD, alone probe the mind
and test the heart,
To reward everyone according to his ways,
according to the merit of his deeds.

 I have often reflected upon Jeremiah's complaint about the tortuous human heart, and have only recently looked up the actual definition of the word and its usage: "full of twists and turns;" as in "the route is remote and tortuous:" and, 

"James Bond drove up a mountain road that was tortuous in its twists and turns. He had to stop the evil madman's plan for world domination, a plan so tortuous that even 007 himself could not understand it." 

In medical language, it can mean twisted or complicated, and can refer to blood vessels, the colon, or other passageways. And so Jeremiah's remark -- "More tortuous than all else is the human heart" -- finds an echo in today's medical language! Who knew? But while the medics are talking about the veins and arteries of the heart, the Prophet alludes to the mysterious ways that humans make their decisions.

Very often, perhaps more often than anyone will ever admit, we do not know why we think as we do, or decide and act as we do. When we think we are fully in charge and acting both wisely and responsibly, we are probably following a very predictable path that has been laid out by another, or others, or by the Supreme Other who...

alone probes the mind

and tests the heart,

To reward everyone according to his ways,

according to the merit of his deeds.

If Rene Descartes was quite sure of the self he discovered and gave the world that same self-assurance, Sigmund Freud raised serious doubts about everything we think we know about ourselves and the world around us. Our thoughts and decisions are more tortuous than we can imagine. 

And so we look at the Lord's parable of Lazarus and Dives. We would surely think the rich man is unfortunate for finding himself in an overheated place of torment; but Father Abraham thinks otherwise. He is only suffering the consequences of the lifestyle he chose. Perhaps he didn't so much choose it as accept it; but in a million ways he embraced a life style of the rich and famous. Repeatedly, over the course of many years, he enhanced this fabulous mode despite the plain sight presence of Lazarus, his dogs, and his many companions. 

Perhaps Dives should have expected his torment but, if the thought ever occurred to him, he did not give it a second thought. He could not be bothered. He could not afford to be bothered. 

There is nothing in the parable to indicate he made himself rich; he simply accepted it as the way things are, and the suffering of the poor as the way things are. 

He saw the chasm between himself and Lazarus but would not cross it when he could have. Perhaps he conned himself by thinking that Lazarus was responsible for his own poverty, or that he deserved it, or that God willed it. He did not think it could be changed, nor did he suppose he had any responsibility for the ever-widening gap and its impassability.

In the end, he thought about it in his own tortuous way. He thought he'd been given a raw deal. He thought God should have warned him. And failing that, he thought a dead man should warn his brothers who are living with precisely the same careless abandon. Again, Abraham is unmoved. "They have Moses and the prophets [just as you did.] Let them listen to them."  

The Lord's parable reminds us that we also feel stuck with the world and the life that's been given to us. We are also disinclined to change anything. He reminds us that the chasm is still there, and there is time to change something. It will be too late too soon. 

Solemnity of Saint Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 543

When your time comes and you rest with your ancestors,
I will raise up your heir after you, sprung from your loins,
and I will make his kingdom firm.
It is he who shall build a house for my name.
And I will make his royal throne firm forever.
I will be a father to him,
and he shall be a son to me.

 S aint Joseph, the spouse of Mary, played a critical role in Salvation History in order for the prophecies to be fulfilled. Jesus should be born of the House of David. To be the Mother of God, Mary's Immaculate Conception and perpetual virginity also required that she should wed a descendant of David.

But I am sure there are some persnickety people who might cavil that, because Mary was a virgin as two Evangelists insist, Jesus was not technically a direct descendant of David. Joseph was the "foster father" or adopted father of Jesus. They might be the same persons who distance themselves from Jews, and deny their own adoption into the family of Abraham.  

As Saint Paul struggled with his disappointment that all Jews did not embrace the saving passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, he had to admit that his beloved gentiles had no claim on the salvation which which had been promised to Jews. But God had promised Abraham, 

"I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you. All the families of the earth will find blessing in you." (Gen 12:2-3)

and Jesus had confirmed, "...salvation is from the Jews." (John 4:22)

Clearly, as Saint Paul and his fellow Apostles saw, gentiles were being gathered to the Lord by the Holy Spirit. Some of them were praying in tongues like the Twelve on that Pentecost in Jerusalem; they were evangelizing, healing, and raising the dead to life. There was no doubt about their salvation. Gentiles were being adopted into the Body of Christ by Baptism and Eucharist! If no one had expected it, it was happening anyway. 

The superabundant, overflowing grace of God cannot be constrained by human expectations. It often goes where the jealous, scrupulous, and persnickety dare not. As Saint Mark tells the story, the Lord's disciples thought they had a claim on him and the power of his Holy Name: 

John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.”

Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us. Anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ, amen, I say to you, will surely not lose his reward. (Mark 9:38-41)

So we can hardly be surprised to find that unexpected mystery of adoption as Jesus comes before us. He was certainly of the House of David, and adoption was just as common in the ancient world as it is today. We remember Moses being adopted into the royal household by Pharaoh's daughter, and Esther was raised by her uncle Mordecai. To get ahead in the Roman empire, skilled artists and engineers sought adoption by wealthy patrons. They sometimes displaced the legitimate sons of the wealthy! Natural generation, as many parents can attest, doesn't always prove itself in a child's abilities, talents, interests, or behavior.  

As we celebrate Joseph, the just man who proved himself worthy to be the Spouse of Mary and the Foster Father of Jesus, we thank God that he has adopted us into the family of Abraham and the house of David. And, especially during Lent, we embrace the tragic fate of the Jews as our own. If they should disappear from the earth, Christianity would lose its foundation in the promises to Abraham and David, and our baptism would be worthless. 

Tuesday of the Second Week of Lent

Lectionary: 231

If you are willing, and obey,
you shall eat the good things of the land;
But if you refuse and resist,
the sword shall consume you:
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken!

 L ent reminds us of the most ancient insight of all the major religions from Protestantism to Judaism to Zoastrianism. Some historians say this doctrine appeared as merchants carried goods, technologies, and ideas from city to city and continent to continent: there are two ways, good and evil. The ways of a nation, a people, or an individual may be good or evil; and, unlike other animals, the human being has a choice. Because we can remember the past and foresee the future with some accuracy we know there are consequences to human actions. And they too may be assessed as good or bad. 

All religions agree that a good God prefers good choices; and those same religions with their spiritual depth and insight have brought meaning and purpose to human civilizations. Without a vision the people perish. 

When we hear Isaiah's warning about a consuming sword we should recognize the ever-present threat of war. Traditionally, most people have believed that if their swords are sharp, strong, and ready the swords of their enemies will not come near them. That belief supposes that a good God supports stability and prosperity with a strong military. 

But the Judaeo-Christian tradition goes further. The Hebrews prophets also insisted that God will not support our way of life if our policies toward "widows, orphans, and aliens" are not merciful. Given our memory of enslavement in Egypt -- and later, the Babylonian exile -- plus the memory of innumerable empires which have risen with a good spirit and descended into civil war and chaos as they neglected their own moral and ethical principles, we should take the warnings of Lent to heart. 

I once heard a Lutheran minister speaking to his colleagues. He told them, "You can ask any Catholic and they will tell you, 'The United States is 200 hundred years old; and the Catholic Church is 2000 years old." I replied, "Guilty! We've seen 'em come and we've seen 'em go." But many Americans do not share that doctrine of God's fidelity to the least among us. Their us is limited to a people like us. 

Lent reawakens our memories of the consuming sword, both of wars between nations and of civil war. We must repent or face the consequences.  

Come now, let us set things right,

says the LORD:

Though your sins be like scarlet,

they may become white as snow;

Though they be crimson red,

they may become white as wool.

If you are willing, and obey,

you shall eat the good things of the land;

But if you refuse and resist,

the sword shall consume you:

for the mouth of the LORD has spoken!

Monday of the Second Week in Lent

Firemen burn grass at Mount Saint Francis
to revive the prairie.

Lectionary: 230

We have sinned, been wicked and done evil;
we have rebelled and departed from your commandments and your laws.
We have not obeyed your servants the prophets,
who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes,
our fathers, and all the people of the land.
Justice, O Lord, is on your side....

 P  ious sinners that we are, we are continually tempted to stand with God and against our fellow men and women. We might not go as far as the Pharisee who prayed, "I thank you God that I am not like the rest of men...." But we might not say, "There is my brother. There is my sister." 

Adam tried to weasel his way out of guilt by first blaming his wife and then implying it was God's fault to start with! "The woman you gave me...!" 

Jesus took his stand not on God's side but with us, and would pray like the Prophet Daniel, "Justice, O Lord, is on your side....

As we practice the virtue of Penance, and undertake its practices, we begin not by trying to isolate ourselves from others, and our sins from theirs. Rather, we pray;

We have sinned, been wicked and done evil;

we have rebelled and departed from your commandments and your laws.

We have not obeyed your servants the prophets,

who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes,

our fathers, and all the people of the land.

We do penance together; it's not an isolated exercise. As Catholics we should pray daily, practice works of Charity, and abstain from meat on Fridays during Lent, and abstain from excessive food on Wednesdays and Friday. It may not seem like much but if we're doing this together no one has to stand apart from others. If they do they're liable to that secret prayer of the Pharisee. 

Have mercy on us, O Lord.
Parce Domine. Parce Populo tuo. Ne in aeternum, irascaris nobis. 
"Spare, Lord, spare your people: Be not angry with us forever"

Second Sunday of Lent

Lectionary: 27

Our citizenship is in heaven,
and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.
He will change our lowly body
to conform with his glorified body....

 F ather Vincent has recently brought to the Mount’s galleria a collection of new icons written by several religious women in Kentucky and Indiana. We have seen in the last century a reawakening of devotion to these extraordinary images, and their power to reintroduce us to the Lord and his saints. Although they come from the eastern rites of the Catholic communion with their mysticism and ancient majesty, icons appeal to the western world. We have been overwhelmed and sated  by mundane, ugly pictures both secular and religious. They have little depth, meaning, or authority; we should not even glance at some of them. Icons invite us to gaze into them with a sense of wonder which becomes sorrow for our sins, gratitude for the gift of heavenly love, and joy in the Sacred Presence of Mystery.

They have been described as windows into eternity. Gazing upon an icon we find the Lord, his Mother Mary, or one of their fellow citizens gazing back at us with understanding, compassion, and intense love. We might also hear within our hearts the icon's invitation to come in through its narrow gate, and enter that eternal city. We are no longer aliens there, but citizens. 

Today's story of the Lord's conversation with two citizens of heaven, Moses and Elijah, has inspired thousands of icons; and may be the original inspiration of all icons. The disciples suddenly found themselves in the presence of three transcendent visitors from another dimension within God's created universe. They had apparently fallen asleep at the very window of heaven, or perhaps at the foot of Jacob's stairway to heaven. 

We can forgive them for thinking they should capture the moment and establish a shrine with three tents. Perhaps the whole world could come to this place to encounter the holiness, mystery, and wonderful joy of eternal life. 

It is a rush for the Lord's hapless disciples as they awaken, not from a sleep, but a trance, an Abrahamic rapture. You remember that...

As the sun was about to set, a trance fell upon Abram, and a deep, terrifying darkness enveloped him.

Perhaps the Father of faith and the disciples of Jesus had to fall asleep to our world before they could have even a momentary glimpse of eternity. Christians also must periodically turn away from the things of this world – or fall asleep to them – to contemplate heavenly glory. Without that vision of eternity, without the memory of our past and the promise of our future, we have no reason to call ourselves Christian, and nothing to say to the citizens of this world. If we are citizens only of this world and not of the Kingdom of God we are salt that has lost its taste, and might be thrown out and trampled underfoot. 

Every year, on the second Sunday of Lent, we hear this story of the Lord’s transfiguration; and it's always accompanied by a story about Abraham, our founder in faith.  After the startling sign of Ash Wednesday and the mark of sorrow, grief, and penance on our foreheads; after the reminders that we should fast, pray, and give alms, the transfiguration gives us a sweeping vision of all time: from beginning to end; from Abraham's vision to the Exodus from Egypt, to the Lord's crucifixion in Jerusalem – which Saint Luke calls an exodus –  to that day... 

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, to sit upon his glorious throne, with all the nations assembled before him.

On that day, every citizens of earth will recognize God’s beloved son and and they will listen to his voice. They will eagerly hear his judgment; some will be overwhelmed with joy, gratitude, and relief; others will be stricken with horror.

The transfiguration reminds us that we are not citizens of this world, despite whatever patriotic feelings we might have for this or any particular nation. As Saint Paul said, We have our citizenship in heaven and we look with longing through Icons to see our homeland. 

Because we do not aspire to be wealthy in this world we don't pore over the Conde Nast Traveler or Global Living Magazine. Because we do not dream of glory in the Wonderful World of Sports we have no need to gaze through the pixels to learn about March Madness, or who’s playing for the Cincinnati Reds. Because we do not dream of keg parties and orgies, we purge and purify our imaginations of pornography and pray that icons might heal its scars.

Pope Saint Gregory the Great described a citizen of heaven: 

The blameless and upright one fears God and turns away from evil. Those who seek the eternal country surely live a blameless and upright life. They are blameless in their deeds, upright in their faith; blameless in the good actions they perform here on earth, upright in the lofty ideals they perceive deep within themselves.

We have heard Our Father in heaven demand that we know and recognize his beloved son. Jesus is the new Moses who gives us our new law of life; he is the prophet Elijah who speaks a fiery word of judgment and purges a nation of tyranny and idolatry.  We have heard the Father command us to listen to Jesus as we make our pilgrimage toward Holy Week, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter.