Third Sunday of Lent Year C

Year C; Lectionary: 30

God spoke further to Moses, “Thus shall you say to the Israelites: the LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob,
has sent me to you. “This is my name forever; thus am I to be remembered through all generations.”

Several years ago, Pope Saint John Paul II publicly apologized to the Jewish people:

"We cannot know how many Christians in countries occupied or ruled by the Nazi powers or their allies were horrified at the disappearance of their Jewish neighbors and yet were not strong enough to raise their voices in protest. For Christians, this heavy burden of conscience of their brothers and sisters during the Second World War must be a call to penitence." (We remember: A reflection on the Shoah)

The statement was controversial and not well accepted among both Jews and Christians. It seemed, at best, a half-way apology for endless historical violence against a minority people. It might be called a beginning, but much remains.

Yesterday, as I reflected on Saint Joseph, I scanned some recent documents that celebrated the Year of Saint Joseph. The second reading of the solemnity was taken from Saint Paul's epistle to the Roman and concerned Abraham, "our father in faith." Despite that direct liturgical link between Abraham and Joseph, I found no references to Joseph's Jewishness among the Church's laudatory remarks. What religion did the boy Jesus learn from Joseph and Mary; what scriptures did he read; what songs did he sing, whose dietary laws did he observe throughout his life except those of his Jewish ancestors? And yet that side of the Lord is politely ignored.

Every Sunday Catholics hear a reading from the Hebrew Scriptures; they remind us of Jesus's heritage and the deep roots of our Christian religion in Judaism. Without that "Old Testament" there could be no "New Testament." Without the knowledge of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob we could not know the God who led His Chosen People out of Egypt. As Saint Jerome said, "Ignorance of the Bible is ignorance of Christ."

Were the Jewish people to disappear altogether, Christianity would wither and die. Perhaps this is the threat we hear of in today's Gospel:

‘For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. So cut it down. Why should it exhaust the soil?’

Saint Paul explained our mysterious dependence upon the Jewish people as grafting, like an arborist who grafts the branch of one tree onto another. His metaphor also comes with a threat: 

Hence I ask, did they stumble so as to fall? Of course not! But through their transgression salvation has come to the Gentiles, so as to make them jealous. Now if their transgression is enrichment for the world, and if their diminished number is enrichment for the Gentiles, how much more their full number.

Now I am speaking to you Gentiles. Inasmuch then as I am the apostle to the Gentiles, I glory in my ministry in order to make my race jealous and thus save some of them. For if their rejection is the reconciliation of the world, what will their acceptance be but life from the dead? If the first fruits are holy, so is the whole batch of dough; and if the root is holy, so are the branches. But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, a wild olive shoot, were grafted in their place and have come to share in the rich root of the olive tree, do not boast against the branches. If you do boast, consider that you do not support the root; the root supports you.

Indeed you will say, “Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in.” That is so. They were broken off because of unbelief, but you are there because of faith. So do not become haughty, but stand in awe. For if God did not spare the natural branches, [perhaps] he will not spare you either.

"Do not boast against the branches!" Saint Paul warns. Christians who consider themselves better, more fortunate, or more blessed than Jews are fools, for they do not support the root; the root supports them.

During Lent the Church ponders her history of sin. This takes courage, willingness, and frank curiosity. We want to know the truth about ourselves and our ancestors. We want to correct and amend the injustices of the past. The Shoah has pointed to a very deep, terrifying truth about the world we have created. It is not in our nature to hate, and yet we do. No good can come of teaching children to despise Jews and yet Christians have done it since the Day of Pentecost. 

If faith in Jesus is better than observance of the Law of Moses, as we devoutly believe, we must prove it by our imitation of Jesus. We must demonstrate the humility of the Lamb of God. Our silent reverence for Jews and our remorse for criminal acts, beliefs, and traditions should be as startling as the ashes we wear on the first day of Lent. Our respect for their customs, beliefs, traditions, and history should grace every encounter with the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 

For their God is our God and he has witnessed our affliction and heard our cry.