( A commentary on our gospel reading for today?}

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).

Mt 20,17-28

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.

Jesus said to his disciples:”Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,will be poured into your lap. For the measure you measure will in return be measured out to you.” Lk 6,36-38

We are called to be merciful this 2nd week of Lent. Last week’s readings were a basic catechesis on prayer, centered around the Our Father from Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. In this week’s gospel readings, mostly from Luke’s Sermon on the Plain, call us to “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” 

“Just as your Father is merciful.” God’s mercy is expressed in Luke’s beautiful story of the Prodigal Son, read this Saturday. The father of the prodigal son neither judges nor condemns his son. He takes nothing away from him. Instead, he calls for a bountiful feast. “Bring a robe–the best one–and put it on him, put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.”

God’s mercy is like that, surprising, boundless, unmeasured.God is merciful to our world.

Daniel, the Jewish exile in Babylon sees the merciful hand of God even there, in the lion’s den. We read his story in our first reading.

“Great and awesome God,” Daniel prays, “we have been wicked and done evil; we have rebelled and departed from your commandments and your laws. We have not obeyed your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes, our fathers, and all the people of the land.”

Daniel is a voice for God’s mercy in the lion’s den. That could be our world today, a lion’s den, with its wars and violence. Yet, God calls for mercy even now. Impossible? Yes, impossible for us, but not for God.

Daniel is a figure of Jesus who comes to our poor world, a lion’s den. . He brings mercy. .

“Be merciful, just as your Heavenly Father is merciful.”

Lord, great and awesome God, teach me to be merciful as you are, for your mercy brings hope to me and to the world I live in. Amen

Jesus ( said to his disciples:”You have heard that it was said,You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same?

So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43-48)

James Tissot’s painting of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount captures how Jesus sometimes taught, Here he teaches outside Capernaum near the Sea of Galilee, sitting on a rock on a rising hill, .All kinds of people come to hear him. It’s a crowd. Everybody’s in a crowd, friends as well as enemies.

Hearing his teaching about loving and praying for our enemies, we may wonder how ordinary people, like those in Tissot’s painting, heard his words. How do we receive them?

Here’s a short reflection from a previous day in this week’s liturgy:

“I n the form of a parable, we see a shepherd who had a hundred sheep. When one of them was separated from the flock and lost its way, that shepherd did not remain with the sheep who kept together at pasture. No, he went off to look for the stray. He crossed many valleys and thickets, he climbed great and towering mountains, he spent much time and labour in wandering through solitary places until at last he found his sheep. 

  When he found it, he did not chastise it; he did not use rough blows to drive it back, but gently placed it on his own shoulders and carried it back to the flock. He took greater joy in this one sheep, lost and found, than in all the others. 

  Look more closely at the hidden meaning of this parable. The sheep is more than a sheep, the shepherd more than a shepherd. They are examples enshrining holy truths. They teach us that we should not look on people as lost or beyond hope; we should not abandon them when they are in danger or be slow to come to their help. When they turn away from the right path and wander, we must lead them back, and rejoice at their return, welcoming them back into the company of those who lead good and holy lives.”

( Saint Asterius of Amasea)