I came in the name of my Father,
but you do not accept me;
yet if another comes in his own name,
you will accept him.
How can you believe, when you accept praise from one another
and do not seek the praise that comes from the only God?
As the eddy of social, religious and political forces swirl around Jesus, inevitably to become a fatal vortex which will suck him into the emptiness of death, we hear him plead with his opponents to accept the Truth. He stands upon the rock of his identity, his Sonship in the presence of God the Father, the God they claim to worship.
In today's gospel he points to several witnesses that should reassure his critics that he is what he claims to be. He cites John the Baptist, his own works which recall the "great power" of God's works, and the Scriptures. In other words, our faith in Jesus is reasonable, traditional and verified both by personal experience and recognized authorities. Not to accept the Lord is irrational, it borders insanity.
In today's first reading, from the Book of Exodus, we hear another intense discussion; this time, between Moses and God. But its purpose is the same, the salvation of the people. Where Moses wants the Lord to forgive his people -- "whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with such great power and with so strong a hand" -- Jesus pleads with the same people to recognize him as the Son of God. Therein lies their hope.
Faced with the massive uncertainties of our own time -- perhaps the most bewildering is the confidence that we can solve our own problems with American know-how -- we must turn to Our Savior.
True, the expression rings of 19th century melodramas -- Nell Fenwick, Snidely Whiplash and Dudley Do Right -- but it hearkens to an earlier, more realistic understanding of our situation. We must work out our salvation with fear and trembling in an indifferent world which is deeply distressed by Original Sin. We cannot save ourselves. If God helps those who help themselves, he will not help those who think they can do it themselves.
We begin each day with prayer, anchoring our distracted attention in the merciful love of God. No one can reverse global warming or atone for our history of slavery but we can ask the Holy Spirit to direct our minds and hearts in the right direction. What difference we might make is beyond our responsibility. There are no metrics for measuring God's Kingdom. We hope that we do less harm by daily prayer. We descend with Jesus into the fatal vortex of Lent with a confident expectation of Easter.
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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.