Monday of the Third Week of Lent

Lectionary: 237

Athirst is my soul for the living God.
When shall I go and behold the face of God?
As the hind longs for the running waters,
so my soul longs for you, O God.

Today's responsorial psalm calls our attention to the baptismal signs in the story of Naaman the Leper. He was reluctant to obey the prophet's instruction that he should bathe in the Jordan River. First, he expected the man to come rushing out of his hovel and greet the foreign dignitary with every form of obsequious gesture. And then he expected some mystic rites and magical words to wave away his skin disease. 

When the prophet didn't bother to come out of his hut, but sent word that he should wade into the muddy Jordan River, the great commander of armies refused. He had to think about it first, and about all the trouble he and his soldiers had gone to in their trip from Assyria. So he finally went down, washed, and was healed. How about that? 

Our sacraments are like that, especially since we conduct them in familiar languages. (By the way, Rome permitted Americans to celebrate baptisms, weddings, and graveside services in the vernacular several years before the great changes of the Second Vatican Council.) 

Our sacramental signs are common materials like the muddy Jordan river: water, bread, wine, and olive oil. They're accompanied by routine gestures like blessings with the sign of the cross, and familiar words of prayer. The presiders ordinarily dress in liturgical vestments, but the priestly people wear clothes to fit the occasion and the season. 

As Saint Paul said, "We walk by faith and not by sight." We pay attention to the Word  -- the readings and prayers -- and we sense God's presence as we celebrate our sacraments. 

The story of Naaman recalls our baptism and the challenge faith represents in a distracted world. Rabbi Heschel, reflecting on his Jewish faith, wrote,

 

Most of all, man is in need of a sense of the unconditional. Otherwise, he will perish. "Without relating himself to the unconditional," Kierkegaard says, "man cannot in the deepest sense be said to live... that is it may be said he continues to live, but spiritlessly."  

Kierkegaard... felt that man's gravest danger lurked in the loss of his sense of the unconditional, the absolute. We conduct our lives according to conditionals, compromises, and concessions, all relatives.

In faith an individual commits everything to the Absoluteness of God. But the Absolute is cruel; it demands all. (Abraham Joshua Heschel, A Passion for Truth, Jewish Lights Publishing, 1995, page 112)

As we participate in the fasting, almsgiving, and prayers of Lent, we sharpen our attentiveness. We want to hone that ability to recognize God's absolute presence -- Your Presence! -- in our daily life; in a foreign river as well as the strange ideas of a slave girl. No one truly lives if they cannot sense God's spirit. They may be powerful people, like the Syrian general, but their life is more the Egyptian pharaoh's -- foolish, without purpose or direction. 

We know that You are with us, attentive, concerned, and caring. You never forget us although we often forget you. You do not hide yourself although we'd sometimes like to hide from you. We practice gratitude -- Eucharist -- for your loving kindness as you turn us away from sin and back to mercy.