Luke’s Gospel begins the ministry of Jesus with his rejection in his hometown of Nazareth. Rejection is an important part of the mystery of his death and resurrection. Jesus lived most of his life in Nazareth among “his own.” (Luke 4,24-30) Yet, as he begins his ministry he is rejected by ” his own” in their synagogue, a rejection Jesus must have carried with him; how could he forget it?
Crowds welcoming him to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday call him “the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee,” but not many from Nazareth accompanied him there. Some women from Galilee, most importantly his mother Mary, stand by his cross as he dies. Still, Jesus didn’t find much acceptance in Nazareth.. “He came to his own and his own received him not.”
The people of Nazareth reject Jesus because they see him as “the carpenter’s son.” He seems too small to be entrusted to a large mission. Our first reading, recalling the cure of the Syrian general Naaman, sees a humble Jewish servant girl as God’s instrument. Jesus takes the “form of a slave” to fulfill God’s plan.
The Cross on Calvary draws attention to the physical sufferings of Jesus in his passion–the scourging, the thorns, the crucifixion. But let’s not forget his interior sufferings, especially rejection from “his own, who knew him from the beginning and counted him too small. Only a few from Nazareth followed him to Jerusalem.
The lenten gospels tell us rejection doesn’t stop God’s mercy and love. On Calvary Jesus shows God’s love in his outstretched arms, arms outstretched even towards Nazareth.
We share in the great mystery of his death and resurrection. We may never be nailed to a cross as he was, but there are other ways to bear a cross. Rejection by “our own,” perhaps someone close to us, or perhaps its the world we live in, where we don’t fit in? There are more than one way we share in the sufferings of Jesus.
Lord, help me face the slights the come from those close by, from my Nazareth, from “my own.” The mystery of your Cross is not played out on Calvary alone, It’s played out in places and people close by, where we live now. Give me the grace to live in my Nazareth as you did in yours.
The story of Naaman the Syrian, which we read this week, is filled with interesting lessons. A little Jewish slave girl brings the great general with leprosy to Israel. She’s a wonderful apostle. Israel’s king terrified about the political consequences of the visit is a good example of how a political viewpoint can blind you to everything else. Good story for these days, immersed as we are in politics.
God works in sacraments that appear so small. Naaman was told to go and wash seven times in the Jordan. He didn’t think much of the waters of the Jordan, but they cured him.
Our lectionary reading omitted part of the story I like. Returning to the Prophet Elisha after he’s cured, Naaman wants to shower the prophet with gifts. The prophet won’t take anything. “Naaman said: “If you will not accept, please let me, your servant, have two mule-loads of earth, for your servant will no longer make burnt offerings or sacrifices to any other god except the LORD.”
“Two mule-loads of earth.” The Empress Helena brought earth from the site of Calvary to the church of the Holy Cross in Rome in the 4th century when she brought relics of the cross to be honored there. The earth is still there.
We’ve placed rocks from many countries of the world in our Mary Garden at the foot of the statue of Mary and her Child. (Above)
Earth itself is holy. So simple it can be ignored. Yet all life depends on 6 inches of soil. Of all the memorabilia Naaman could have taken from Israel, he took two mule-loads of earth. He learned to appreciate the gifts of God that appear so small. He got it right.
The story of the prodigal son is one of the longest in the gospel, but it’s also one of the most important. It’s not just about one boy who goes astray, of course, it’s about the whole human race. All of us are the subject of this story.
“Give me what’s mine,” the son says boldly to his father. We all tend to say that. And the boy takes off for a faraway country, a permissive paradise that promises power and pleasure, in fact, it promises him everything; he can do anything he wants.
But they’re empty promises, and so the boy who had so much ends up with nothing, in a pigsty feeding pigs, and they eat better than he does.
Then, he takes his first step back. He “comes to himself,” our story says; he realizes what he has done. “I have sinned.”
How straightforward that reaction! Not blaming anybody else for the mess he is in: not his father, or the prostitutes he spent so much of his money on, or the society that fooled him. No, he takes responsibility. That “coming to himself” was the first gift of God’s mercy.
He doesn’t wallow in his disappointment and his sins and his failures and what they’ve brought him. They don’t trap him. He looks beyond them to the place where he belongs, his father’s house. It wont be an easy road, but he starts back home.
There he’s surprised by the welcome he receives. More than he ever expected. The father takes into his arms and calls for feast.
This is our story too. The story of God’s mercy. Let’s ask for the gift to know ourselves. Let ask for the gift to keep going to our father’s house. Let’s ask for the gift to know God’s embrace, God’s warm embrace. The embrace of his love.
Our first reading from the Prophet Micah reminds us that nations stray as well as individuals. Let’s not forget God’s mercy falls on the world as well as each person. We pray too for a world that can wander far from God.
How easily we leave your side, Lord God, for a place far away. Send light into our darkness, and open our eyes to our sins. Unless you give us new hearts and strong spirits, we cannot make the journey home, to your welcoming arms and the music and the dancing. Father of mercies and giver of all gifts, guide us home and lead us back to you.
Joseph’s story from the Book of Genesis–our first reading today– leads to the story of Jesus. Joseph, his father’s favorite, was rejected by his jealous brothers and sold for twenty pieces of silver. Left for dead or to be enlaved, Joseph became a ruler in Egypt. Eventually, he saved his brothers and all their families from starvation.
Joseph felt a special kind of suffering – rejection by his brothers .Yet afterwards, merciful and forgiving, he embraced them and saved them.
In today’s reading from Matthew’s Gospel, a large crowd welcomes “the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee”. They spread their cloaks and cast branches before him. Then, Jesus is rejected by the chief priests and elders of the people. (Matthew 21:1-18)
You’re rejecting the Son of the Landowner, Jesus says in a parable directed to them. Their answer was death for the One proclaiming the coming of Kingdom of God.
Rejection by enemies, then by his own friends, was a large part of the suffering of Jesus in his Passion. Physical pain was not the only pain Jesus endured.
Is he rejected by us? As we follow his Passion we’re not distant observers with no part in the story. “Were you there?” the spiritual asks. Yes, we were there when they crucified my Lord. We share in his rejection, but also the mercy and forgiveness Jesus showed.
Like the story of Joseph, the story of Jesus does not end in rejection and death. “The stone rejected by the builders will become the cornerstone.” Risen from the dead, Jesus promises forgiveness and life for all.
You went to Jerusalem, Lord, to announce a kingdom come, a promise of God fulfilled. a hope beyond any we could conceive. Teach us to keep the dream of your Kingdom alive, even when we see it denied.
STATIONS OF THE CROSS: Fridays in Lent are good days to follow Jesus in the Stations of the Cross, and ancient devotion. Here are some online resources:
The readings for the 2nd Week of Lent are mainly about the mercy of God. On Monday we were told in Luke’s Gospel: “Be merciful as your heavenly Father is merciful.” (Luke 6: 36)
The man In Jesus’ parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, our reading today, is far from merciful, absorbed as he is in himself and his own good. He’s living in a bubble of luxury, a gated world where he sees nothing else, not the poor man at his door nor his own inevitable death. He sees nothing else but the “good life,” wealth and pleasure.
Scriptures, like Psalm 49, often point out the dangers of riches. “In his riches, man lacks wisdom; he is like the beasts that are destroyed.” The parable is obviously an example for the rich, but it’s also a warning for others besides.
Our first reading from Jeremiah warns about trusting in human success and achievements. Even a small store of talents and gifts can make us as shortsighted.Small things we treasure, little things we make everything, can make us blind to the poor at our gate. The parable’s warning goes beyond the obviously rich.
We don’t have to be a super billionaire to lack wisdom. “All you peoples, give heed, all who dwell in the world, men both low and high, rich and poor alike.” (Psalm 49)
Jesus’ parable also points to the treasure we should keep in mind. In a turn of circumstances, the poor like Lazarus will be rewarded in the next life and the merciful who cared for them will be in their company. Jesus gives us a sign in his resurrection that those who have been rejected will find acceptance in the heavenly kingdom.
Lfe beyond this is our destiny and our treasure. How we live and what we do here counts there. May God give us grace to believe in it.
Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!
Today, we will continue our exploration of the Conciliar Constitution Lumen gentium, a dogmatic Constitution on the Church.
In the first chapter, which is primarily intended to answer the question of what the Church is, she is described as a “complex reality” (no. 8). Now we ask ourselves: what does this complexity consist of? Some might answer that the Church is complex in that she is ‘complicated’ and therefore difficult to explain; others might think that her complexity derives from the fact that she is an institution steeped in two thousand years of history, with characteristics that differ from any other social or religious group. In Latin, however, the word ‘complex’ indicates rather the orderly union of different aspects or dimensions within the same reality. For this reason, Lumen gentium can affirm that the Church is a well-organized body, in which the human and divine dimensions coexist without separation and without confusion.
The first dimension is immediately perceptible, in that the Church is a community of men and women who share the joy and struggle of being Christians, with their strengths and weaknesses, proclaiming the Gospel and becoming a sign of the presence of Christ who accompanies us on our journey through life. Yet this aspect – which is also evident in its institutional organization – is not sufficient to describe the true nature of the Church, because it also has a divine dimension. The latter does not consist in an ideal perfection or spiritual superiority of its members, but in the fact that the Church is generated by God’s plan for humanity, realized in Christ.
Therefore, the Church is at the same time an earthly community and the mystical body of Christ, a visible assembly and a spiritual mystery, a reality present in history and a people journeying towards heaven (LG, 8; CCC, 771).
The human and divine dimensions integrate harmoniously, without one overshadowing the other; thus, the Church lives in this paradox. She is a reality that is both human and divine, which welcomes the sinful man and leads him to God.
To illuminate this ecclesial condition, Lumen gentium refers to the life of Christ. In fact, those who met Jesus along the roads of Palestine experienced his humanity, his eyes, his hands, the sound of his voice. Those who decided to follow him were moved precisely by the experience of his welcoming gaze, the touch of his blessing hands, his words of liberation and healing. At the same time, however, by following that Man, the disciples opened themselves to an encounter with God. Indeed, Christ’s flesh, his face, his gestures and his words visibly manifest the invisible God.
In the light of the reality of Jesus, we can now return to the Church: when we look at her closely, we discover a human dimension made up of real people, who sometimes manifest the beauty of the Gospel and other times struggle and make mistakes like everyone else. However, it is precisely through her members and her limited earthly aspects that Christ’s presence and his saving action are manifested. As Benedict XVI said, there is no opposition between the Gospel and the institution; on the contrary, the structures of the Church serve precisely for the “realization and concretization of the Gospel in our time” (Address to Swiss Bishops, 9 November 2006). An ideal and pure Church, separated from the earth, does not exist; only the one Church of Christ, embodied in history.
This is what constitutes the holiness of the Church: the fact that Christ dwells in her and continues to give himself through the smallness and fragility of her members. Contemplating this perennial miracle that takes place in her, we understand ‘God’s method’: He makes himself visible through the weakness of creatures, continuing to manifest himself and to act. For this reason, Pope Francis, in Evangelii gaudium, exhorts us all to learn “to remove our sandals before the sacred ground of the other (cf. Ex 3:5)” (no. 169). This enables us still today to build up the Church: not only by organizing its visible forms, but by building that spiritual edifice which is the body of Christ, through communion and charity among ourselves.
Indeed, charity constantly generates the presence of the Risen One. “If only we could all just let our thoughts dwell on the one thing, charity! It’s the only thing, you see, which both surpasses all things, and without which all things worth nothing, and which draws all things to itself, wherever it may be” (Sermon 354, 6, 6).
We usually think Lent is a personal journey, but that’s not all it is. During Lent the church and the world commit to a journey of renewal.
“We” are going up to Jerusalem, Jesus says to his disciples in Matthew’s gospel and they follow him to be renewed by the graces of his paschal mystery. “We”, the church and all creation, are called.
On the journey, the mother James and John saw an opportunity for herself and her sons. “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” She’s looking for power and prestige.
Jesus reminds her that his followers are not here to be served, but to serve. Instead of earthly riches, it will cost them, because “the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
The mother’s request for power won’t be the last disciples of Jesus will make. It’s a temptation most of us share. The church has always been beset by members using its resources, its teaching and power for themselves, and so Jesus’ words are important to hear during Lent. Serving others is a good part of the cross we should bear.
This gospel follows yesterday’s that featured sharp criticism of the synagogues of Matthew’s day. Most likely, in today’s gospel Matthew’s reminds the Jewish Christians of his day that before they criticize others they should take a look at themselves.
Our criticism of others is probably a mirror of ourselves.
Writing to his brothers and sisters after his mother’s death, Paul of the Cross urged them to love and serve one another: “Obey one another, especially the younger toward the older although with you there should be no seniority. Be humble, wait upon one another, console one another. I particularly recommend that you respect your sisters much, showing them all possible deference, treating them charitably, and assisting them in all their needs.” (Letter 21)
Make me one who serves,
like you, O Lord.
At the table of life,
let me bend down to wash the feet of others;
help me give my life for them.
Lent is a time to prepare for Baptism and receiving the Eucharist. Here’s a section from St. Cyril of Jerusalem’s Instruction to Catechumens in which he describes the Holy Spirit as living water. Fire and wind are forceful, powerful symbols of the Spirit, but don’t forget water. It’s the symbol Jesus used when he met the Samarian woman. We enter water for baptism.
“The water I shall give him will become in him a fountain of living water, welling up into eternal life. This is a new kind of water, a living, leaping water, welling up for those who are worthy. But why did Christ call the grace of the Spirit water? Because all things are dependent on water; plants and animals have their origin in water. Water comes down from heaven as rain, and although it is always the same in itself, it produces many different effects, one in the palm tree, another in the vine, and so on throughout the whole of creation. It does not come down, now as one thing, now as another, but while remaining essentially the same, it adapts itself to the needs of every creature that receives it.
In the same way the Holy Spirit, whose nature is always the same, simple and indivisible, apportions grace to each one as he wills. Like a dry tree which puts forth shoots when watered, the soul bears the fruit of holiness when repentance has made it worthy of receiving the Holy Spirit. Although the Spirit never changes, the effects of his action, by the will of God and in the name of Christ, are both many and marvelous.
The Spirit makes one a teacher of divine truth, inspires another to prophesy, gives another the power of casting out devils, enables another to interpret holy Scripture. The Spirit strengthens one person’s self-control, shows another how to help the poor, teaches another to fast and lead a life of asceticism, makes another oblivious to the needs of the body, trains another for martyrdom. His action is different in different people, but the Spirit himself is always the same. In each person, Scripture says, the Spirit reveals his presence in a particular way for the common good.
The Spirit comes gently and makes himself known by his fragrance. He is not felt as a burden, for he is light, very light. Rays of light and knowledge stream before him as he approaches. The Spirit comes with the tenderness of a true friend and protector to save, to heal, to teach, to counsel, to strengthen, to console. The Spirit comes to enlighten the mind first of the one who receives him, and then, through him, the minds of others as well.”
Jesus promises the Samaritan woman the gift of living water. So, according to Cyril, the Holy Spirit is a fountain of living water bringing life to a new garden. At Pentecost the heavens opened as in the beginning. At Pentecost there’s an outpouring of the Spirit on all flesh, Peter says, and a new kind of water is poured out on the earth:
“Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions, your old men shall dream dreams.” Acts 2,17 Then, many came to be baptized. We’re welcoming new members to our church this Easter.
Fire can go out, winds die down, but a fountain of living water keeps flowing, now, tomorrow, all through the years, until God’s work is complete in the garden of creation.
The Victor's Place 