Could the authorities have realized that he is the Christ? But we know where he is from. When the Christ comes, no one will know where he is from."
So Jesus cried out in the temple area as he was teaching and said, "You know me and also know where I am from. Yet I did not come on my own, but the one who sent me, whom you do not know, is true. I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me."
Our politically polarized society is often confronted by the mystery in today's gospel and we ask, or should ask, one another, "Where are you coming from?"
The question of Jesus's origin is especially troubling because we -- and the Jews of his time -- should know where he comes from. He is the Incarnate Word of God; he is everything we should know and believe about the God who has been speaking to us, leading us, and saving us these many centuries. He is the Friend of Abraham, the Law of Moses, the Champion of David, the Word of the Prophets, and the Wisdom of the Sages. He is the Courage of Martyrs, the Inspiration of Confessors and the Purity of Virgins. How can we not recognize him?
The Lord coming to the Holy City of Jerusalem should find immediate welcome. And he does in some ways. The devout old man Simeon and his friend Anna, inspired by the Holy Spirit saw the Child in his Mother's arms and welcomed him with great joy. Saint Luke makes a point of that; this elderly, pious couple represented the God's beloved city.
He would also be welcomed by the mobs of Palm Sunday, but, despite their enthusiasm they did not know him.
[Fortunately, there was one who knew him. one who had been formed by the Sacred Tradition of many hundred years. She pondered the Word daily and studied it intensely. The finest flower of our race welcomed him, and was worthy to be the Mother of God.]In today's Gospel Jesus handily resolves the mystery. They do not know him because they do not know the One who sent him.
"I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me."
With two weeks left until Good Friday, our attention is riveted on Jesus. We must be seeing the light which he shines in our heart, a light which comes like the approaching dawn. It does not suddenly burst like a flashbulb, like a light in your bedroom, thrown on in the middle of the night.
This light comes stealthily, quietly. It's suddenness is in the transformation of our lives which, in retrospect, seemed so unexpected and frankly implausible. "Who could believe what we have heard?" we might say to our uncomprehending neighbors when the Word finally arrives in our hearts. These hearts were stone; they have become flesh. Who could expect it?
But when that day comes our neighbors will wonder, and they'll try to make sense of it by declaring, "But we know where you're from!"
They won't.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.