Friday of the Second Week in Lent

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/030912.cfm

The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done and it is wonderful in our sight.

Few things hurt more than betrayal and yet it is a common feature of human life. It’s bad enough to misunderstand a friend or loved. When, for instance, “I thought you were coming home at five.” meets “I may have said five but I meant seven.” apologies and explanations and fence-mending are in order. 

But when the violation is deliberate and malicious, when a friendship, covenant or familial bond is ripped by willful betrayal the hurt can seem incurable and the rift irreconcilable. Why would I allow myself to be treated so badly again?

Today’s first reading describes the savage treatment Joseph met at the hands of his brothers. True he had revealed his dreams to them, dreams in which he saw himself ruling over them. And perhaps his father’s favoritism galled them and his manner was supercilious; but no one should be sold into slavery by his own family.  How does one recover from such treatment?

In today’s gospel Jesus’ parable predicts the welcome he will receive in Jerusalem. The city has despised, tormented and murdered God’s prophets; she will do the same to God’s son.

At this point the whole long history of Jerusalem is cast as a tormented love story about God and his people. God has built, protected, delivered and provided for his city and its people for a thousand years through innumerable crises and disturbances. But the Holy City will elect to crucify God’s only begotten son.

Lest this sound like an anti-Jewish harangue, I will remind my reader that the history of the Church is not much prettier. As Cardinal Dolan said, “You don’t have to tell me the Church sins; I am a church historian!” Any high school graduate can recall the wanton behavior of medieval popes, the savagery of Christian wars, or the recent scandal of priest pedophilia and the ensuing duplicity of some bishops.

Over all these appalling stories rises the Cross, and the bond which can never be broken. The seasons of Lent and Easter invite us to consider the Enormity of our sins, both personal and communal; and to contemplate the grace which flows from Jesus' wounded body. It floods the abyss of our sins like the tide that erases every trace of trenches, holes or sand castles on the beach where children played.