Lent begins. If you are following this blog, I’ll be providing daily reflections on the lenten liturgy. For additional lenten material I invite you to scan PassionistsPray ..
The Feast of Jesus Praying in the Garden is another feast St. Paul of the Cross placed at the beginning of the lenten season,. Lent is a season for prayer, fasting and almsgiving, but notice prayer is the first.
All the gospels tell us Jesus taught his disciples how to pray. Matthew says he taught them to pray on a mountain–a traditional place to draw close to God. It was the prayer we call the “Our Father” . (Matthew 6, 9-13)
In Luke’s gospel, Jesus teaches his disciples to pray “in a certain place”, on the plain, in the midst of daily life. (Luke 11, 2-4) Jesus prayed daily through life. The prayer he taught is more basic than the prayer found in Matthew’s Gospel..
“When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.” (Luke 11,2-4)
Mark, Matthew and Luke recall Jesus praying in the garden before his passion; his disciples do not join him, but fall asleep.
They sleep because the flesh is weak, Mark says.
They’ sleep because they can’t keep their eyes open, Matthew says.
They sleep because of grief, Luke says.
Stay awake and pray, Jesus tells them. Prayer brings you through times of testing and temptation. We’re are like the disciples, our flesh is weak, our spiritual eyes are weak, we can be overwhelmed by grief.
Facing weakness as he faces death, Jesus doesn’t wave it away in stoic resignation or look to his own power. “Not my will, but your will be done,” he says. Facing the consequences of his mission, the limits of human power, the “form of a slave,” he depends on his Father for the strength he needs.
In the garden Jesus teaches us how to face life’s trials. He kneels on the ground and humbly looks beyond himself to his Father, “Abba”, who hears him. He falls to the ground, trusting his Father’s strength and not his own. Troubled and distressed, for an hour’s time he simply pleads for help. .
“He was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground.” Luke says. Then, an angel comes to strengthen him. The cup of suffering isn’t taken away; he will drink from it, but it will not crush him. God will raise him up.
He teaches us to pray as he did and promises to be with us in our trials.
This feast calls us to pray with Christ. It also tells us to pray with the church. Lent is a time to enter into the church’s praye, to enter its feasts, to use its devotions.
We’re reading at Mass for the next few days from the Letter of James. Modern commentators aren’t sure who greets his hearers as “James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the twelve tribes in the dispersion.” He doesn’t seem to be James, the brother of John. Possibly he is a relative of Jesus and leader of the Jewish-Christians in Jerusalem as some say.
James was stoned to death in the mid 60s as the Jewish establishment turned against the followers of Jesus and forced many of them to flee. Jerusalem itself fell in 70 AD when Roman armies destroyed the city and crushed the Jewish revolt. Jewish-Christian exiles were exiled from their beloved city and would never return. Some commentators believe this letter contains an original letter of James sent to support the exiles and other material was later added to it.
The letter opens with words of support. It’s tough to be thrown into exile, but tough times test your faith, so be brave, your faith will become stronger. God will give you the wisdom to know what to do; keep asking for it. But be “doers of the word,” the author of the letter says. Be practically concerned for others.
What does it mean to be practically concerned? The letter couldn’t be clearer about it:
“If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them,’Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it?
Though the letter speaks of “a brother or a sister” as the one in need, it isn’t just a family member or a friend you’re called to care for. Concern doesn’t end with your own; it’s impartial and extends to all in need, even our enemies.
The letter surely isn’t directed only to concern by individuals either. Don’t countries and communities have to look out for the needy? “Don’t worry, work hard, aim high and good luck.” Is that any answer to the poor among us?
The Letter of James says it isn’t.
Some consoling words are given to the exiles, but not many. The letter is challenging; no relaxing of standards, no permission for self-pity. Keep your standards high, the letter insists and as the old song says: “When you’re down and out, lift up your head and shout: There’s gonna be a great day.”
The Passionists celebrate two feasts immediately before Ash Wednesday. The Solemn Commemoration of the Passion of Jesus Christ on the Friday before Ash Wednesday. The Prayer of Jesus in the Garden on Tuesday before that day.
Both feasts are inspired by our missionary founder, St. Paul of the Cross, (1694-1775). He spent many years announcing the graces of lent in the villages and towns of the Tuscan Maremma in Italy..
It was a challenging task. The Tuscan Maremma was then a place where graces seemed gone. It was the poorest, most troubled part of Italy in Paul’s day, an area in Central Italy facing the Mediterranean Sea, almost 2,000 square miles– roughly the size of Long Island and New York City together. Only gradually, towards the end of the 1700s, after his death, did it begin inching towards recovery.
Now Tuscanny is a popular tourist destination. Then it was an unhealthily mix of hills and swamplands. Malaria was widespread, roads often impassible, dangerous because of bandits. Farmlands were abandoned; beggars everywhere. The people in isolated villages and hill towns suspected outsiders.
Paul and his companions preached there for many years. Every year it was the same; it never seemed to change. You need other eyes and another kind of heart to work in a world like that and not get tired.
And so as they packed their bags for their lenten journey into the Tuscan Maremma they had to remind themselves what was there before them: the mystery of the Passion of Christ. They needed to pray so they wouldn’t forget. That’s what Jesus did before the mystery of his Passion.
It’s still so today, isn’t it? These two feasts are for all kinds of tired believers, who face the world where things don’t seem to change. We need another way of seeing things and another kind of heart to journey on..
If you want to pray these feasts with the Passionists, go here.
Jesus’ initial ministry in Galilee, starting with his miracles in Capernaum, brought excited crowds to him looking for healing for themselves or those with them. Wherever he went, whether in Jewish or Gentile territory, crowds came to him.
In today’s gospel, the deaf man brought to him isn’t identified as either Jew or gentile. He’s just deaf and can’t speak. He has no name. What’s significant about this miracle is the way Jesus heals him. “He took him off by himself away from the crowd.” (Mark 7,33)
Jesus takes the man aside privately, he meets him personally, face to face– and is deeply touched– “groans”–at the deaf man’s plight. He touches the man, putting his finger in his ears and his spittle on his tongue. When the deaf man speaks, Jesus says to him and his friends not to tell anyone. One reason may be that Jesus doesn’t want to be typed simply as a healer. But they went and proclaimed it anyway.
Still, why did he take him off “by himself away from the crowd?” A reminder that God does not look on us as a crowd, but knows each of us? We’re not statistics, part of a list. God meets each of us face to face.
And that’s a reminder to treat others that way too. Each has a face of their own and a story that’s unique. That’s hard to do. It’s easier to deal with people as statistics, numbers, people next in line.
For Jesus people were not statistics, one of a crowd, next in line. That’s not God’s way.
The Passionists celebrate the Solemn Commemoration of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ on the Friday before Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent. If you want to pray this feast with the Passionist, see here. It’s the feast that describes who the Passionist are.
Here’s St Cyril of Jerusalem on this mystery:
“The Catholic Church glories in every deed of Christ. Her supreme glory, however, is the cross. Well aware of this, Paul says: God forbid that I glory in anything but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ!
“At Siloam, there was a sense of wonder, and rightly so: a man born blind recovered his sight. Yet still, how many blind people are left in the world! Lazarus rose from the dead, but even this affected only Lazarus: what of the countless numbers who die because of their sins? Those miraculous loaves fed five thousand people; yet this is a small number compared to all those now still starving in ignorance.
“For us all, however, the cross is the crown of victory. Indeed, it has redeemed the whole of humanity!” (St. Cyril of Jerusalem)
“A book of life, it teaches the way to life and communicates life,” the Passionist bishop Vincent Strambi writes. “The one who reads this book day and night is blessed.”
“The Passion of Jesus is a “sea of suffering” but also a “sea of love,” St. Paul of the Cross writes, regretting that so many do not know the depths of this mystery. “Like people living in a swamp,” he says, an image probably taken from the swamp lands of the Tuscan Maremma in Italy where Paul ministered much of his life.
“We must awaken them from their sad state. We must send them quickly zealous workers, truly poor in spirit and detached from every creature, that by the trumpet of God’s word they might, through the holy Passion of Christ, awaken those who ‘sit in darkness and the shadow of death.
We’re reading at Mass today the story of the Syrophoenician woman who asks Jesus to cure her daughter. Mark 7, 24-30
My mother (God rest her) used to sneak food under the table regularly to her beloved cocker spaniel, Buffy. Once when I visited home after becoming a priest I said–in a losing attempt to keep Buffy’s weight down– “Mom, you shouldn’t feed that dog scraps from the table.”
She replied, “You don’t live her. He does. Besides, I’m not feeding him scraps from the table. He’s eating the same food we eat.”
I could never understand all the logic of her answer, but I gave us trying to stop her. I remember her every time this gospel is read. She put me in my place.
Maybe that’s what the Syrophoenician woman did to Jesus when she met him on his excursion north into gentile territory near Tyre.
Father John Donohue, SJ, offers an intriguing commentary on Jesus and this woman in Mark’s gospel. (The Gospel of Mark, John Donohue, SJ and Daniel Harrington, SJ (Sacra Pagina), Collegeville, Minnesota 2002. ) Their meeting takes place following the feeding of the 5,000 in Jewish territory (Mark 6, 30-44) and Jesus’ announcement to the Pharisees and the scribes from Jerusalem that “all food is clean.” As a sign that the gentiles too would receive the Bread of Life from his hands, Jesus journeys into gentile territory to feed another 4,000. (Mark 8,1-10)
Now, you would expect him to welcome any gentile he met near Tyre, but the woman who meets Jesus alone in a house is harshly rejected when she asks him to heal her daughter. “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.”
The woman doesn’t take no for an answer. “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps, Lord.”
Matthew’s gospel, written after Mark, says the woman’s daughter was healed because of her faith. Not so, Father Donohue says. According to Mark, it was because she got the best of her argument with Jesus, the only one who does that in the gospels. “It’s not right to ignore us,” the woman says to him. Jesus heard the truth from her and accepted it.
I like Rembrandt’s drawing of Jesus preaching to a crowd. All ages, shapes and sizes of ordinary humanity are there. . Jesus’ disciples, like Peter, James and John are there, but they don’t stand out.Some of his enemies are there; they don’t stand out either. They’re all there listening, except maybe the little child on the ground playing with something he’s found. Jesus sheds his light on them all, even on the little child.
Did Rembrandt find these faces in the people of his neighborhood, ordinary people? If so, this crowd could be us. Mark’s gospl recall Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem.. Some women from Galilee follow him. He calls Zachaeus, the tax collector, down from a tree to join him. Follow me, he says to a blind man begging in the same place for years. He called people of every shape and form, sinners, tax-collectors, everyone.
They follow him, not just to see him die, but for glory. “Come with me this day to paradise, “ Jesus says to the thief on the cross. Our creed says he descends into hell, to those waiting for centuries for the redemption he brings. He calls all generations to follow him.
Following Jesus to glory means taking up our cross each day.“Then he said to all, ‘If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily *and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.’” ( Luke 9, 23-24 )
Jesus speaks to “all”. Everyone in this world has a challenge to take up and a burden to bear. “Take up your cross.” It’s a cross distinctly ours, not the physical cross Jesus bore; it’s the cross we bear. “Do you want to see the cross? Hold out your arms; there it is.” (Wisdom of the Desert)
He blesses those who share his cross. He gives them strength to bear what they have to bear and to carry out the mission they have been given.
Even the little child in Rembrandt’s painting is blessed with his grace, even though he’s in his own world, playing with some little thing, not hearing a word. Even the child is blessed. Light falls on him.
Years ago I stood with pilgrims looking towards Jerusalem where the Jewish temple once stood. Today’s reading from the Book of Kings focuses on the temple King Solomon built.
David before him wanted to build a temple, but the Prophet Nathan told him God doesn’t need a fixed place to dwell in. ( 2 Samuel 7, 4-17) God dwells in a tent, ready to go wherever his people go. A beautiful reminder– God is with us at all times, wherever we are.
Yet, God dwells in certain holy places, like the temple Solomon built on the threshing floor in the upper city in Jerusalem, A dark cloud filled the Holy of Holies, so awesome the priests can’t remain in the place. “… The priests could no longer minister because of the cloud, since the LORD’s glory had filled the temple of the LORD.” (1 Kings 8,22-30)
“Can it indeed be that God dwells on earth? If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you, how much less this temple which I have built!” Solomon seeks God’s blessing for his people and himself there. “Listen to the petitions of your servant and of your people Israel which they offer in this place. Listen from your heavenly dwelling and grant pardon.”
A good reading to reflect on the presence of God in our lives. God promises to be with us in a presence always mysterious, beyond our understanding. He goes with us wherever we go. There are also holy places where God meets us– sacraments, signs, places he’s promised to be.
Jesus, the new temple of God, fulfills these Old Testament realities. He dwells among us, accompanying us on our journey of life in signs and sacraments. He will always be there. Yet his presence is also “a dark cloud,” the mystery of his death and resurrection. Awesome, mysterious, beyond our understanding.
Whenever we draw close and pray, he is there. Always there.
Mark’s gospel today tells the gruesome story of the death of John the Baptist, which prefigures the death of Jesus. King Herod ordered his death, prompted by Herodias. Human sinfulness is on display in this court banquet, which the artist (above) describes very well. The women smugly presenting John’s head. The man pointing his finger at Herod and Herod denying it all. John’ eyes are still open, his mouth still speaks.
Venerable Bede says that John’s death is like Jesus’ death because they both embraced the same values. If John stayed silent about Herod’s conduct, he may have gained a few peaceful years of life, but he was more concerned with what God thought than what powerful people on earth thought.
“His persecutor had demanded not that he should deny Christ, but only that he should keep silent about the truth. Nevertheless, he died for Christ. Does Christ not say: I am the truth?
“He preached the freedom of heavenly peace, yet was thrown into irons by ungodly men; he was locked away in the darkness of prison, though he came bearing witness to the Light of life.
“But heaven notices– not the span of our lives, but how we live them, speaking the truth.” (Bede, Homily)
Wonderful line: It doesn’t matter how many years we live, but how we live them, “speaking the truth.”
For John that meant dying for the truth. What does it mean for us? It may not mean getting our heads chopped off, but we should expect some scars from the daily battle for God’s truth. ” May we fight hard for the confession of what you teach.” (Opening prayer)
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