ASH WEDNESDAY                            

Introduction: We are invited this season of Lent to re-examine our lives, seek God’s grace and be renewed. Within ourselves we want to create a humble and contrite heart and also the assurance that we are loved by God. We want to be reconciled with our neighbour, be concerned for the salvation of others, practise self-denial and help the poor and needy. Let us live out this conversion in our daily lives: at home, at work, in the neighbourhood.

It is a season for the humble; it needs courage to be humble and to confess our sins.                             

                                                                             

            HOMILY: Today we begin the season of Lent, a time of preparation for the joyful celebration of Easter. As you contemplate the next forty days, how do you feel? A little gloomy perhaps, or daunted at the idea of spending time in repentance and giving up things that you like? If that is how you feel, then try looking at it from a far more positive angle; try looking at it as another opportunity to reflect on your life and coming closer to God – after all, that is what matters. Just tell yourself, “I want God in my life. I only want to love God.” You will soon feel far more joyful; your very body will be lightsome.

The key to Lent is itself found in the meaning of the word “lent.” “Lent” is an old English word for springtime. It comes from the same root word “length”. Do you see the correspondence between “lent” and the lengthening of the days of springtime? So the word “lent” is bound up with the concepts of growth, new life, sunlight, and fresh flowers, like the mango blossoms.

The words the priest used to say on marking our foreheads with ashes, “Remember, man, that thou art dust and unto dust shalt thou return”, are now replaced with the exhortation, “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.” We are being called in this Lenten season to turn again to our compassionate and merciful Father. As Joel tells us, the Lord is “all tenderness and compassion, slow to anger, rich in graciousness and ready to relent.” We should be filled with confidence in this mighty God who though all-powerful reveals himself as ready, even eager to forgive us our transgressions. In fact it can be argued very credibly that God shows his greatest greatness in his desire to forgive us and draw us close to him. Thus our prayer, fasting and almsgiving are penetrated with gratitude for God’s love and salvation, not only with the spirit of penitence. Repentance is nothing more abstruse than awakening to God’s love for you. God loves you, and you know it: that’s all there is to it.

            Many people see repentance as a rather forbidding and negative idea.

But instead of focussing on sin, why not rejoice in the good things that happen to us by God’s grace? First and foremost, let me say that there is nothing morbid about admitting our sin; it is simply accepting the truth about ourselves. When we see our sins and realise we need forgiveness and healing, we turn to Jesus and he helps us. What could be more beautiful than turning to Jesus? It is repentance that leads to new life and the joy of knowing that our sins are forgiven.

The question to ask is, “How is God calling me to grow in my Christ life? What must die within me in order to ensure a springtime of renewal?”  Lent is widely associated with giving up things like chocolates and cigarettes. There may be merit in this, but we can find deeper forms of renunciation. Remember what Jesus said about murder and adultery. We must not only avoid these sins externally, but also cleanse the internal attitude underlying these sins – the disposition of anger and hatred, for instance.

What we are dealing with are the deeper issues of spiritual renewal within us, and the penances we undergo should be the symbols or symptoms of the growing reality within.

Is God calling me to a deeper environment of interiority? Then I must break away from superficialities and silly talk. If God is calling me to greater patience, my mortification will be dying to my demands to be served in a hurry. Is God calling me to an indiscriminate forgiveness of others and the humility of asking for forgiveness? Then I must free myself from oppressive anger and hatred or prejudice, low levels of empathy, an excessive focus on oneself, since in order to forgive and ask forgiveness I must be free. I need to examine if God isn’t calling me to greater generosity in my work and ministry; for my death and resurrection, my penance needs to be leaving sloth and egoistic self-seeking behind. Is God calling me to a closer union with him?  Then I must free myself from all attachments to creatures, human and material. And if God is inviting me to a greater peace in him, I must put aside the anxiety that oppresses and prevents me from opening up to the freedom of supernatural faith. We can decide that we shall not allow our thinking and lifestyle to be dominated by the ways of this world.

At a given moment of his ministry, Jesus recommended fasting as the means of expelling certain types of evil spirits. He said explicitly, “Such demons are driven out by prayer and fasting.” Why? Because fasting dissolves the trammels that tie down the self. Once the self gets out of the way, God is free to act in us and through us in order to establish his rule. Our bodies become spirit and light so that we can follow Jesus’ advice to go into our room, shut the door and spend time with him, in prayer. As we do this, we will find the power to resist our sinful inclinations, and to reach out to others in love and service. And as for those of us who are obliged to fast, let us remember that fasting lets God into our lives; or, rather, more correctly, it allows God to take over our lives without let or hindrance.

When we accept penances with this attitude, death and resurrection, mortification and renewal, occur simultaneously. Lent is spiritual springtime, the heart and goal of which is growth, the purpose of its mortification is new life, its spirit of denial is gain.

PRAYER:        My dearest Lord, take my small offering of self-denial this Lent, as a sign of my great longing for you. I hunger for your presence in my life, and I thirst for your love. I hunger for justice for those who are wronged and oppressed, and I thirst for your peace. I hunger for a glimpse of your glory, and I thirst for your stillness in my heart. God of giving, God of longing, God of pain, I hunger for you.

                    

Dust and ashes touch our face,

Mark our failure and our falling.

Holy Spirit, come,

Walk with us tomorrow,

Take us as disciples,

Washed and wakened by your calling.

Take us by the hand and lead us,

Lead us through the desert sands.

Bring us living water.

Holy Spirit, come.

-         Brian A. Wren

PRAYER OVER THE ASHES

Life-giving God,

We thank you for creating us out of the dust of the earth,

And breathing your life into us.

May these ashes be to us a sign that life is

More than our physical bodies,

And that our hope of eternal life depends,

Not on our merits, but on your mercy alone,

To which we turn now,

In sorrow for our sins,

And with the trust of children.

-          t

FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT

Cycle “A”: Mathew 4, 1 – 11

The Judean desert is a dreadful place. Burning hot by day, and bitter cold at night. Sand that pierces the eyes, and dry jagged rocks that allow for no vegetation or yield a drop of water. Scorpions and lizards that are the only living accompaniments, and no comfort from them. Try talking to a lizard or playing with a scorpion. In an ambience that is utterly blank and sere, you can expect no sustenance whatsoever. There is nothing for it but to depend absolutely and totally on God. That is what the desert stands for: complete dependence on God. How many of us have not been in our personal desert where we could expect no human support but depend totally on God ? We came through all right.  So why shouldn’t Jesus have his desert chance, too ? Perhaps his experience could serve as a mirror in which to see and assess ourselves as we embark upon Lent.

Jesus’ temptations mark the beginning of his professional life. Our Leader was anxious to get the fat out of his body, brain, and spirit. Before he would preach to us, he had to prove himself and show us that he practised what he preached. So he hit upon the idea of a 40-day retreat in which he would turn his back on food, and pray as if his life depended on it. When he was baptised in the Jordan, he was declared Son of

God. So we might have expected him to begin his work straight away. Instead, he went and fasted in the desert for forty days. When we are facing some great task or challenge, we too need to prepare by spending time alone with God. If God is calling us to work for him, we can expect the devil to tempt us away from our noble task. This is a cause for us to be alert, but not discouraged. We do face a struggle, but by battling temptation we can grow in wisdom and spiritual strength.

So came old Nick with the temptations for Jesus. Although it is open to debate, one gains the impression that the dialogue took place in the mind of Jesus, in the sultry heat-haze of the Palestinian wastelands. Physically weakened by hunger and thirst, Jesus was perhaps struggling to maintain his composure amidst the feelings of discomfort and exhaustion. Silently, unexpectedly, the battle begins.

The temptation of the bread speaks of the desire of our bodies to be spoiled, petted and pampered. We too face the lures of sensual pleasure, of materialism and of worldly power and success. Second, the leap from the Temple suggests that we are anxious to forget our limited human condition. So we want to take off and fly. People leave the ground with alcohol, drugs, sexual indulgence, fantasies and daydreaming.

The third temptation  -  to call the world our own. We are the bosses and the world must revolve around us. We want to dominate and overpower people who are weak and more open to attack. We can pick off the weak miles away. Every mother’s son or daughter of ours has the seeds of these temptations lurking very comfortably within us. We eat and drink too much, spend too much on our own selves, and give very little of our time or money or leisure. We fast very, very seldom. And do I have to say we pray too little? The devil can use even things that are good to draw us away from God – he used verses from Scripture to tempt the Lord

Today’s Scripture reading sketches the world as it is: the great world around us and the little world of our personal life. The history of both worlds is scarred with broken promises, misplaced affection and shattered dreams. The story of an unequal combat with evil in its many forms, that may leave us with a sense of dejection. As for Adam and Eve, they are not some shadowy, pre-historic humans. They are you and I, the image of every man and woman in this world, called to share God’s life (the tree of life), yet preferring another’s precarious and empty promises. This is exactly what sin is: rejection of the only love that can bring us true happiness. And the result ? Hatred, division and death. Yet this is only one side of the picture. Evil personified, and Adam, its victim, are only the foil to the Hero of God’s drama of salvation, Jesus Christ.

In today’s 2^nd. reading, St. Paul forcefully declares that by aligning ourselves to the obedience of Jesus we can overcome evil and be pleasing to God. We can also look to Jesus for help in all our temptations, knowing that “because he himself has suffered and been tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted” (Heb 2, 18).

So today we open the book on a fresh Lent. Jesus issues every one of us a new licence, a licence to hunt. And the animal we are going to hunt is our honourable selves, or should I say dishonourable selves. Christ would have us remember Plato’s great line: the greatest victory in the world is that of self-conquest. This, I wager, was the ultimate reason why the usually taciturn Jesus told the disciples of his own temptations which they wrote down for us. The final score was Christ 3, and Satan 0. Jesus is saying: “As I, so you.”

Each of us should have a Lenten programme. For example, spend some time with someone who is sick and lonely. Forgive an enemy. Go to confession. Read the Scriptures; cut down on prime time TV. Love someone who does not deserve it. Fast from smoking, drinking, eating. When Lent is done, each of us should be a more interesting Christian than we are at this moment. We want to personify Jesus Christ, not impersonate him.

PRAYER: Lord and Servant, Jesus Christ, help us all to follow you into the desert, with you to fast, denying ourselves luxury, refusing the tempting ways of self-indulgence, the way of success at all costs, the way of coercive persuasion, making use of others to serve our purposes. Show us how to cope with a God who cares, and in that assurance remain steadily loyal in serving Him. As we turn to you in times of temptation, grant us the faith to resist and the wisdom to perceive the lies of the devil, so that we may endure to the end as your disciples.

 

SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT

Cycle “A”: Gen 12, 1-4a; 2 Tim 1, 8b-10, Mt 17, 1-9

Introduction: When Pope John Paul II introduced the Five Mysteries of Light into the weekly cycle of the Rosary meditations, he filled what had long been missing from the existing fifteen decades: the public ministry of Jesus. In each mystery Jesus reveals himself, enlightening and illuminating our lives. On this second Sunday of Lent, the liturgy focuses on the fourth of these mysteries: the Transfiguration of the Lord, according to the tradition of Mathew. In his Transfiguration Jesus gave us a glimpse of his divinity, but also reminds us that his glory will be seen in the shame and shadow of the Cross. In the life of Jesus, shame and glory are the two sides of the same coin. And so it almost inevitably will be in ours, especially the shame of our sins. But if we offer ourselves with all our sinfulness to our Father, we shall hear him say to us as he said to Jesus, “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” So with great confidence in our most loving Father we entrust ourselves to him and confess our sins: “I confess…”

The Homily:On this beautiful second Sunday of Lent we recall the splendid Transfiguration of the Lord. We believers are witnesses to the true nature of Jesus Christ as Son of God, a nature that revealed itself in a burst of dazzling light, the pure transparency of divinity. Today Jesus tells us what God is like .Yet the picture is not complete unless you keep observing. The Son of God is not content to stay in a blaze of glory, but he begins to descend the mount in order to ascend another mount called Golgotha. And as he descends he says strange things like laying down his life as a sacrifice for all men and women. That’s the kind of God we have come to know - a God whose glory is spelled out in wounds, painful cries, darkness and death. A God pretty much like we are; worse off than we are. Every time we celebrate the holy sacrifice of the Mass we renew that mysterious word and sacrifice of Jesus, and in the process of our celebration we beseech God to take possession of our hearts and transfigure them.

Now let us listen to Peter as he blurts out that famous line, “Master, it is good for us to be here.” His words came tumbling out, the best he could muster in his wonderment and admiration at the splendour he witnessed. He could say no better: his words were the best expression of his intelligence and the exhilaration of his emotions, “Master, it good for us to be here.”

My dear friends, have we not sometimes said the same, when we felt the nearness of the Lord and were fain to leave his presence as he drew us closer to himself, and we sensed his irresistible attraction, the beauty of his Godhead? And we said something like what Peter said: “Lord, it feels so good to be with you.”

My dear friends, our Lord Jesus bids us to hunger for him. Faced with the insatiable desires of the marketplace, we are invited, not to repression, but to hunger for something more than the marketplace. We are passionate people, and to kill all passion would be to stunt our humanity and allow it to wither. That would make us preachers of death. Instead, we must be liberated into deeper desire for the boundless goodness of God. So we beg God to make himself irresistible; that our fascination for him may never wither away. Our desires go astray, not because we ask for too much, but because we have settled for too little, for tiny meaningless satisfactions. The ideal for us is not to control our appetite at all, but to allow them full rein in the wake of an uncontrolled appetite for God.  The advertisements that line our roads invite us to struggle against each other, to trample on each other in the competition to fulfil our endless desires. But our God offers us the satisfaction of infinite desire freely and as a gift, for God is the most beautiful, most attractive, most lovable and satisfying of all.  The glory of Jesus is our glory, too.

On the mountaintop, Peter, James and John saw Jesus as he really is, and as he would be after his resurrection. They had a glimpse of his true glory as Son of god. Yet after this they had to go back down the mountain and continue their lives. Later, they had to endure the suffering of seeing Jesus die on the cross before they experienced the joy of his resurrection. We may have experienced times when we feel especially close to God, when we seem to glimpse his glory and are filled with his life. But these feelings do not last. We have to live our own lives in a world full of evil and suffering, where God seems distant. It is then that we can recall the times when God was close to us. They remind us that God is real, and that we have the hope of future glory to strengthen us. For Jesus, his glory and suffering were intimately linked. We pray that in our suffering we may believe that his risen life is at work in our very pain.

Yes, indeed, we are all awkward customers, plagued by our own follies and by the very many difficulties of being human in a world that runs to so much inhumanity. We are not easy to work with or to work through.

It is important to handle every experience to the best of your ability now. You may have to practise more patience, strive that much harder, reach inside yourself for a little more strength, and muster a little more faith in God and yourself. If after you have given everything you have to give, you still come up short, you will have nothing to be ashamed of. You can experience the inner peace of those who know they gave their all. You will be a success regardless of the outcome. You will be better, not bitter, knowing that in God’s presence you did your best.

So, my dear friends, we can say, and with all others who bear witness to the work of God in the midst of us, we can say with thanksgiving and wonder:

“Lord, it is good to be here.”  “It’s good to be with you, Lord. May I be with you forever.”

PRAYER: One of the best-loved hymns written by Isaac Watts of Southampton (1674 – 1748: 74 years)

Lord of the worlds above,

How pleasant and how fair

The dwellings of thy love,

Thy earthly temples are!

To thine abode

My hearts aspires,

With warm desires

To see my God;

O happy souls that pray

Where God appoints to hear!

O happy men that pay

Their constant service there!

They praise thee still;

And happy they

That love the way

To Zion’s hill.

They go from strength to strength

Through this dark vale of tears,

Till each arrives at length,

Till each in heaven appears:

O glorious seat!

When God our King

Shall thither bring

Our willing feet.

from my Diary
How infinitely splendid you look, my glorious Lord Jesus Christ!
I am ecstatic in my wonderment.
Powerful, glorious, transcendent, ineffable.
And it is your nature as God the Son;
God, as He beholds himself, 
knows Himself in one eternally present act of self-possession.
But God-as-He-knows Himself is going to pass, "go across" ("trans")
from one self-knowledge to another:
an emptying, shattering, utterly crushing self-knowledge.
Here I break down and weep, and I raise my heart to you,
my dearest Lord, for the way you emptied and lowered Yourself
so that you could meet me in my brokenness and misery.

THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT

Cycle “A”: The Samaritan Woman

Jesus repeatedly ignored the religious and cultural etiquette about man-woman relationship. He conversed at length with a foreign woman at a wayside well, a woman to whom he had not even been properly introduced. This Samaritan woman appeared to be a shrewd but world-weary individual. The window that Jesus opened to her past suggested that she had had a racy youth, seeking happiness in successive marriages. (How very modern.) But now the glamour and excitement had gone and she found herself left out by the other women of the village, forced to collect water alone.

She is initially suspicious of Jesus’ approach, but after his offer of  “living water”, she realises he is a deeply religious man. She adopts a tone of gentle irony, pointing out that he hasn’t got a bucket. However, a spring of living water would be very convenient and save her a lot of labour. But Jesus cuts through her shield of dry humour by his divine knowledge of her past history. By disclosing details of her personal life, he won her faith so that, like many other Samaritans in that town, she came to acknowledge him as ‘the Saviour of the world’ (v. 42). The woman had the courage to be honest, and this moves the conversation to a deeper level. She asks the religious questions that puzzled her: “Where is God to be worshipped ?” “Who’s right: the Jews or the Samaritans ?”  Jesus awakens a deeper longing in her for the Messiah. Seeing her honest openness, Jesus reveals himself as the Messiah, and he does it with a directness that not even his disciples have yet experienced. So, in striking up a conversation with the Samaritan woman, Jesus demolished another barrier of a social restraint. When we try to liberate people , we break down the walls separating people on grounds of caste, class, wealth and gender.

We can discern the originality of Jesus’ behaviour. While not denying the past, he welcomed the future; in fact, he was creating a new future for us. Jesus was never bound up by “a priori” prejudices. He watched, he listened, and he understood that the woman, her attitudes, answers, protests, expectations, her faith, all went to show him that she too was ready for the Kingdom of God. So he could speak about the new water that he would give her. In the meantime he gave her a catechetical instruction on the Holy Spirit and sanctifying grace  -  something that he had not done for his own disciples. It again goes to show that the Gospel is for everybody, and it is not surprising that non-Christians sometimes accuse us of betraying it. Jesus completed his Father’s work in the woman by giving her the living water of sanctifying grace. He wants to do the same with us: he wants to bring us into the state of grace where we are living fully the life of the Spirit. This water takes us out of death (sin, isolation, ignorance of God); it leads us into life (forgiveness, knowledge of God’s love, a living relationship with him).

Jesus called for the removal of the “line of control” between human beings. And today he also draws attention to the obstacle between ourselves and the future  -  the unexpected future that lies outside the territory of our  present habits, our likings, our ideas. God is not a fixed point. His work is not a monotonous repetition. Our God is the God of Exodus, the living God who awakens ever new and often surprising forms of life.

We need not deny our past. But let us get out of it and be better than the past. A growing child remains the same creature while being transformed all the time. So it is with each one of us, with all communities of faith, and with the Church. A church that does not renew itself is doomed. True fidelity to the past involves openness to the future. Jesus proclaimed it in public places. “The Kingdom of God is at hand. It’s here. You can feel its pressure.” And he added, “So, repent.” Or “Change your hearts.” If we want to follow Christ we are vowed to daily conversion, to a change of heart, a melting of those hardened attitudes towards certain people.

This season of Lent is the time to question every aspect of our life. I repeat, every aspect; not pick and choose what we are going to question and leave certain facets unchallenged because they’re too irksome to handle. We are called upon to adapt every dimension of our being to the needs of the future. Jesus, ahead of us, is always a figure on the horizon, a figure crossing the frontiers. Our society, our whole world, our church, are living through a transitional period unparalleled in history. Never has Jesus’ call been more pressing: “Change your hearts.”

See the beautiful butterflies emerging from their cocoons. We musn’t be afraid to see the cocoons breaking open to the springtime sun. For it is springtime. The Italian poet Dante’s lines are intended for us, for every day of our lives:

“Don’t you see ?

We are caterpillars born to make

that angelic butterfly

that flies freely towards justice.”

PRAYER: by Michel Quoist

To be there before you, Lord, that’s all.

To shut the eyes of my body,

To shut the eyes of my soul,

And be still and silent,

To expose myself to you who are there,

exposed to me.

To be there before you, the Eternal Presence.

I am willing to feel nothing, Lord,

to see nothing, to hear nothing.

empty of all ideas, of all images.

In the darkness,

Here I am, simply,

To meet you without obstacles,

In the silence of faith,

Before you, Lord.

THIRD SUNDAY LENT “A”

John 4:5-42

On this Third Sunday of Lent, the Scripture presents two powerful stories about thirst--thirst for water. The Israelites thirst in the desert was so great that Moses feared for his life. So God told Moses to strike a rock--and water gushed forth.      It satisfied them for a while.

In the Gospel, Jesus breaks the law to speak to a Samaritan woman who had come to Jacob's well to draw water. She was a passionate woman who had tried every kind of pleasure, but none had satisfied. What a surprise, when Jesus, tired, hungry and thirsty, asks her for a drink of water! He broke all the rules in speaking to her. Now, He keeps on talking, ignoring her hostility, aware that, in this unexpected encounter, the Father has provided Him with an opportunity for piercing the heart of this sinful woman with His love.

Jesus suggests that He can give her living water that is far superior to anything she had ever tasted. Certainly her five husbands (plus her newest lover) haven't brought her what she is really looking for. We know that she had tried cheap love, and we presume she was no stranger to intoxication, power, and money! This isn't a gentle lady who comes to draw water from the well, but a toughened cynic. No wonder she is rude to this travel-dusty Jew, whom she is sure will avoid her with downcast eyes. Jews despised Samaritans who worshipped God on the wrong mountain. But Jesus doesn't follow the accepted prejudice!

Jesus forgets His own needs, and offers this woman living water, spiritual grace. Incredible! Finding her heart curious and open to this miraculous water, He proceeds to raise her vision. He asks her to go back and bring her husband to the well with her. Of course, this is the turning point of the story. When He confronts her with the truth, she could have flounced off in righteous indignation and denial--but she doesn't. In humility, she accepts the reality of her sordid life. Because of her humility, Jesus floods her soul with grace. Dropping her bucket, she runs back to spread the good news. "I've found the Messiah!" And she had!

Lent is a time for us to let Jesus satisfy our thirst. Like that woman, we too have tried the wrong kinds of water to quench our thirst for happiness, satisfaction, and peace of mind without really finding it. Now is the time for us to find real joy and satisfaction in letting the Lord fill us with the grace of the season. Like her, we will find that our joy is greatest when we share that gift with others--joining in a study or prayer group, visiting a nursing home, being patient with our family members, and really listening to them, praying from the heart in a quiet place, reflecting on the Word privately or at daily Mass, and letting the Eucharist change us into the Body of Christ.

The Samaritan woman never did give Jesus a drink of water as He had requested. Do we stop to realize that Jesus' thirst for our love is even greater than our thirst for His love? I guess only saints understand that. It's what gives them the energy to pour themselves out in ministry up to their last breath.

Next Sunday, Lent will be half over. A question: Are we satisfied with what we have done so far to let Jesus fulfill our desires? We need to check out our habits of prayer, our penances, our almsgiving. And what are we planning for the remainder of Lent? It's all about quenching our thirst for life, shunning the type of thirst-quencher that doesn't really satisfy, and earnestly begging Jesus to give us His Living Water.

By Eliana Neufeld Basinger, a junior social work major from Findlay, Ohio Scripture: John 4:5-42 (NRSV)

  Most of us are familiar with the story of the woman at the well. We know about Jesus’ knowledge of the woman’s life and his offer of living water. Sometimes I wish we were less familiar with Bible stories. Not really, because we can’t truly follow Jesus without knowing what his life on Earth was like, but if we were less familiar with certain stories, they might have more ability to shock us, to draw us in. This week’s theme is “Restore us, O God! We thirst.” If we peel back the layers of familiarity, this is a story that makes us thirst more for Jesus. The woman at the well thirsts for many things: she thirsts for knowledge about the right place to worship, and she thirsts to know more about what Jesus has to say. In fact, she not only thirsts, she finds this man so compelling that she goes back to her city to tell everyone about this prophet – or maybe even Messiah – to whom she has spoken.

Can we thirst for Jesus in the same way the woman did? It’s easier to feel that thirst if we try to approach this story as if we were reading it for the first time. Here Jesus is, talking theology with a Samaritan woman, someone he wouldn’t be expected to interact with or take seriously. This Lent, may we be able to see the strangeness of Jesus, the ways in which he pushes cultural boundaries. May we be able to look beyond the surface of the familiar stories and be drawn in by Jesus, who confuses our expectations. May we be so compelled that our lives speak of this Jesus.

This week we hear in the gospel reading the story of Jesus, tired, hot and thirsty, sitting straight down at the well. Give me a drink. This is not the social call of If Jesus Came to My House, and it is not the spiritual equivalent of a room inspection. Can I believe that the Lord needs something from me? Can I believe that his need is greater than my need to be ready for him? 

More than that, can I trust that what the Lord wants is not something that I have prepared, but what is really flowing in me – in my life, my thoughts, my fears and desires?

This is not just a nice image, it is the reality of prayer. This is the good news, that “Christ died for us while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8) – in other words, before we were ready. Christ is already sitting on the well of my life, tired, hot and thirsty. 

Can I accept this encounter of unreadiness? Can I trust that this encounter of unreadiness between myself and the Lord is itself the gift that God is offering, the greatest “if only you knew” of my life? Can I believe that allowing the Lord to encounter me, a sinner, without preparation, will uncover in me a spring that will never run dry?

Walk past the tap. Go down to the creek. More than what you have prepared, Jesus wants what flows.

FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT

Cycle “A”: John 9, 1 – 41

“I do believe, Lord (John 9, 38). The most famous blind man in history is spoken of in today’s Gospel. And, to the horror of historians, he is without a name. An ancient legend does report that the fellow took the name “Restitutus”, meaning “recovered” or “restored”, and that he became the bishop of St. Paul Trois Chateaux in southern France. “Restitutus” or Mr. Restored came to believe in Jesus as divine. As the drama opens, the man born blind had no idea that his healer was the Lord of history. But he was well aware what he had done for him, particularly to his eyes. To add to the drama, the man was summarily summoned by the Pharisees, the Grand Inquisitors. Jesus had touched the man’s eyes with paste made of spittle and mud, and to make paste like that broke the Sabbath rest. And what was more, Jesus was not an accredited person, not one of them. In response to their third degree methods, Mr. Restitutus blurts out, “the man called Jesus gave me sight.” He had never met a person like Christ. Not surprisingly, he had put him down as someone extraordinary. Restitutus was right on the money, so to say !

I any hall of fame, one must put Jesus right up front. One can borrow the words of William Shakespeare and with ease apply them to the Nazarene: “His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him, that nature might stand up and say to all the world, ‘This was a man’”. One fine evening, the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was hosting a dinner party. His well-fed and glittering guests were discussing Jesus Christ. They concluded that he was nothing more than a remarkable man. Their Emperor, twirling his brandy in a snifter glass, cut across them. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I know men; and Jesus Christ is more than a man.” Why Napoleon or Shakespeare ? Listen to our own great Vivekananda – Bengali Hindu philosopher. Vivekananda declared: “If I see Jesus before me, I shall put my hand into my heart, extract my blood and spread it on his feet.” Jesus used paste from spittle and mud; here is a man who would smear his own blood on his feet.

But coming back to our once blind man, Mr. Restored. He throws a fresh card on the table by confidently declaring to his enraged inquisitors, “He is a prophet !”  They are not amused, but shout in a hot frenzy, “Are you trying to teach us ?” Jesus must surely have expected that the poor fellow would get hot tongue and cold shoulder from the authorities. So he comes around to pick up the pieces. At this point begins this magnificent dialogue:

“Do you believe in the Son of man ?”

“Sir, tell me who he is that I may believe in him.”

“You are looking at him; he is speaking to you.”  And the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and worshipped him. You must have noticed a progression in the faith of the man. The man realised that Jesus was not merely a man but a prophet, and more than a prophet – the Son of God! The Spirit moved him from unbelief to saving faith in Jesus. Little by little we too have progressed in our faith: from parents to school, through first Holy Communion to Confirmation, through having to deal with doubt and difficult challenges to our faith like failure, disappointments, loss. Yet holding fast, the Spirit led us to a stronger faith. Just as God manifested his works in the blind man, so has he manifested his works in us.

The awe-struck Restitutus called Jesus divine, not because he chose to but because he felt compelled to. The man had been blind, but remember, he was never dumb. There is a rich vein of irony in this story. We can see how God turns the world’s expectations on their head. Those who are so sure they can see are, in truth, blind. Those who start out blind take a risk at Jesus’ invitation and end up seeing.  They pass from blindness to sight, and from sight to insight. The blind man now not only sees the world but he perceives Jesus as Saviour God. He contrasts with the neighbours, who remain in ignorance; his parents who cannot take a risk; and the Pharisees who refuse to believe what their eyes see. No one is so blind as the person who refuses to see.

The miracle also tells us much about Jesus. The blind man did not ask for a cure. Jesus volunteered it. He was touched to the quick by the man’s condition and offered the miracle. Nor did it matter that the blind man hadn’t the foggiest who Jesus was. Jesus is simply a soft touch for the underdog. Notice, too, he does not send the healing by Speed post or E Mail. This is a hands-on Jesus. Verse 11 of this gospel tells us he touched the man’s eyes and washed them with his own hands. If Christ had carried a visiting card, it would read: “Jesus Christ, son of man. Totally available all times.”

Lent is moving at a fast clip. How about helping a handicapped brother or sister before Easter find us handicapped ourselves.

PRAYER (by David Adam)

Light of the world,

Enter into the depth of our lives.

Come into the dark

and hidden places.

Walk in the storehouse

of our memories.

Hear the hidden secrets

of the past.

Plumb the very depths

of our being.

Be present through the silent hours,

and bring us safely

to your glorious life.

 

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT "A"

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT Cycle “A”

Ez 37, 12-14; Rom 8, 8-11; Jn 11, 1 – 45.

We have to face that unmentionable truth, the end game reality – namely, that death is part of life and every human being, no matter how wealthy, powerful or successful, will one day die. Every human being is, in a very real sense, living on borrowed time. Sickness, wars and human disasters simply flag up the harsh truth that human life is fragile, transient and fleeting. The prophet Isaiah was so right when he sang the lament: “All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it (Is. 40, 6-7).

One day an atheistic professor was giving a lecture on today’s Gospel. He declared the account was “pure fiction”. He asked, “Why did Jesus say, ‘Lazarus, come forth ‘?  Why not simply, ‘Come forth!’”  A Christian who was sitting at the back answered the atheist, “If Jesus had not specified Lazarus, all the dead people in the cemetery would have come alive to meet their Lord.”  What about food and accommodation?  is what I ask.  So it’s good that one generation dies to make place for the next.

Jesus wanted to show by this miracle that He was the Lord of life, that the power of his own Resurrection was already operating in this miracle, and that he wanted to reward the kind hospitality of Martha and Mary, the sisters of Lazarus. Jesus overnighted with this trio in their house where he could rest his heels and cool his fevered brow. He could unwind and have a good bath and meal. In the Bethany family Christ was indeed the honour Guest.

When Jesus received the messenger asking him to return to Bethany there was a price on his head. Yet he took the risk of moving out of the safety of the mountains and go to his friend’s side no matter the consequences to his own person. As the comedian Woody Allen said, “Showing up is two-thirds of life.” This beautiful gesture tells us about the character of Jesus. He is a friend in need, and clearly we can all expect the same consideration from him today.

The Lazarus story also tells us that the Saviour hated death with a passion. When he saw death he groaned from the pit of his stomach like the way your stomach turns when you see a badly mangled body. What Jesus reveals to us about God is that he is deeply upset when bad things happen to people, good or bad. Jesus is a God of life and not of death. He came to battle with death and conquer it.  Death was not part of God’s original blueprint for his sons and daughters; it was only Adam’s waywardness that brought is on us. In the meantime Jesus feels deeply the death of every one of his followers, he enters into the drama and pathos of it, and shares the pain of bereavement of relatives, even today.

Hidden deep within this episode of the raising of Lazarus is the further truth, that Jesus’ gift of life to Lazarus involved his own death, the offering of his own life.  Jesus had to be willing to risk and lose his own life. Love has its peculiar cost. Parents sacrifice their lives for their children’s good. The road to Bethany was for Jesus the first step on the way to Calvary.

Consider also the words of Jesus when Lazarus came up to the entrance of the tomb: “Unbind him, let him go free.” So Lazarus’ burial cloth, the wrapping of the shroud around him, was a sort of imprisonment. The closest parallel we can find in our own lives is the imprisonment of sin. When, in the sacrament of reconciliation, we hear the priest say, “I absolve you from your sins, that’s unbinding and freeing language he is using.

Jesus is the Lord of life and was set to ultimately engage our mortal enemies, sin, Satan and death in a titanic and cosmic struggle waged on the battlefield of Golgotha. This same Jesus encountered the death of his dear friend Lazarus. Lazarus had been dead in the grave for four days. His nearest and dearest, though still grieving would undoubtedly have accepted his death. However, Mary and Martha were women of remarkable and profound faith. They understood that Jesus had the power of life over death, and that, had he been there, he could have saved their brother. And even now they believed that he could still bring him back to life. Jesus was clearly very moved, weeping openly at their grief and loss. His promise to the grieving sisters and to every human being who believes in him is the same yesterday, today and forever.

“I am the Resurrection and the life; he who believes in me will live even if he has died. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” In 30 words Jesus emphasises that he is the Resurrection and the life. So why in the face of that information do we keep saying over the bodies of our loved ones, “Eternal rest be granted unto you. May you rest in peace?”  Would it not be more correct to take our clue from the Gospel and say, “Eternal life be granted unto you. May you live in peace.”  That way we wouldn’t think of heaven as a large dormitory for collecting eternal bed sores!

 Obviously Jesus thinks of heaven as a place where we live it up, go to party and look our best.

Finally Martha’s reply to Jesus that she knows that her brother will rise again shows that in common with the rest of us she pushes resurrection way into the future. Jesus will not have it and replies boldly, “I am the Resurrection and the life!” Resurrection now, today, not in the future.

 We can take the opportunity in these last weeks of Lent to examine our faith in times of loss and suffering, and our hope in the face of death. And if Jesus becomes the mainstay of our lives, we can experience resurrection and life in the here and now. After all, who really wants to wait?

Yet while we await Easter, can we not in our own way give life to fellow creatures by feeding a few poor people or at least by speaking words of lively encouragement? We can do it our way just as Jesus did it his.

 

 

PRAYER  [Alcuin of York, 735 - 804] {69 years}

Eternal Light, shine into our hearts,

eternal Goodness, deliver us from evil,

eternal Power, be our support,

eternal Wisdom, scatter the darkness of our ignorance,

eternal Pity, have mercy upon us,

that with all our heart and mind and soul and strength

we may seek they face and be brought by thine infinite mercy

to thy holy presence, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

 

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT "B"

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT   Cycle “B”

“Unless the wheat grain falls on the ground and dies…..”

After that solemn Gospel, let me tell you a not so solemn and peculiar story, taken from Zen philosophy. Once upon a time there was a young Japanese named Matajura who wanted to be a great swordsman. But his father & brothers told him he wasn’t quick & agile enough and would never learn. So Matajura went to the most renowned swords master in all of Japan, a man by the name of Banzo, and asked to become a pupil. “How long will it take me to become a master swordsman ?”  “I am ready to be your servant in order to be with you every minute.”  “Ten years”, said Banzo, the master. “Ten years !” “Oh, no, no, my father is getting old and I have to return to take care of him,” said Matajura.  “Suppose I work twice as hard, and do more than what is required of me. How long will it take, then ?”

“Thirty years,” said master Banzo.  “Thirty years,” gasped Matajura.  “How is that ?”  “Let me make myself clear: I will work unceasingly. No hardship will ever be too much. So now how long ?”   “Seventy years”, said Banzo.  “A pupil in such a hurry learns very slowly.”

The young Matajura began to understand. He became Banzo’s servant. And Banzo ordered him to do three things. First, he was not to pick up a sword.  Second, he was not to watch the others practicing. Thirdly, he was not to speak of fencing or read books in the library or look at pictures of swords. This caused him a great deal of pain, but he obeyed, as he was a servant.  He cooked, washed, cleaned, swept, worked the garden, did the laundry.

Matajura kept his word. A year passed and he learned much of discipline, honesty, integrity, obedience, and respect. He found he had no desire to read about swords and battles. Another year passed, and he learned more discipline of body and mind. He grew strong and agile, fast and graceful, and sure of himself. He no longer desired to watch the students as they fenced and practiced. A third year passed, and he learned the seasons of the year, rituals, prayers, asceticism, silence, humility, meekness. He realized then that he had no desire even to pick up a sword. What has happened to him, to his dream ?

Then one day while he was in the garden, digging up carrots for lunch, the master Banzo came up stealthily behind him and without warning gave him a terrible whack with a wooden sword. Matajura turned, surprised, stung to find Banzo with a broad grin on his face. The next day and the next the whacks came again at the most unexpected moments and places.  The blows came raining down night and day. No place or time was safe, and he was sore from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.  He learned to live on his toes, to move at a moment’s notice, to spin, dance, jump, slip away, dodge any blow. He became like the wind, like air, like silence. Not a word was spoken. He lived for the encounter with no desires, no thoughts, only quickness, readiness, attentiveness, awareness. Nothing else. Soon the blows missed him once in a while, then almost all the time. And with that Banzo the master seemed to smile more and more deeply.

Then only they started the formal lessons in swordsmanship. It was quick. And soon the young Matajura became the greatest swordsman in Japan.  Even the master wanted to fight with him. No one ever landed a blow. They both were too quick.  Both smiled a lot and very deeply.  Matjura was a perfect man before he became a perfect swordsman.

Welcome to the school of the Spirit, the choice of the cross, of obedience even unto death. It is a school for adepts, for servants, and for those who want to be holy, to be warriors of God, armed with the sword of the Spirit, men and women of human maturity, spiritual agility and divine wisdom. We witnessed Jesus being baptised by John in the Jordan. Then we saw him tested in the desert. He is given the words, the insight and the strength to become who he is by the gift of God. And now the hour has come when Jesus will be glorified, that is, in which God will manifest to the utmost his presence in the Son. What Jesus is insisting on here is that life will be offered to the world through his death. If he is buried like the seed, if he is lifted on to the Cross, then much fruit will come, then he will draw all to himself.

In the Sequoia Park, California, tourists admire the giant General Sherman redwood tree, 365 feet high, dating perhaps from the year 5 B.C. At its base is a plaque containing a seed taken from the tree not bigger than the nail of one’s little finger. Just such a seed was buried in the earth and grew into this mighty tree while the exhibit seed will never produce anything. A telling illustration of what Jesus said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone.”  How many nations have been born only after thousands died to win independence? And it was by the death of the martyrs that Christ’s Church grew and spread. The person who loves his life, his material well being, her little ego, moved by selfish motives and self-seeking desires for comfort will never go far.

Suffering and death belong to the narrow road to Jesus. Jesus does not glorify suffering and death, or call them beautiful, good or something to be desired. Jesus does not call for heroism or suicidal self-sacrifice. No, Jesus invites us to look at the reality of our existence and reveals this harsh reality as the way to new life. The core message of Jesus is that real joy and peace can never be reached while bypassing suffering and death, but only by going right through them. We could say, “We really have no choice.” Indeed, who escapes suffering and death? Yet there is still a choice. We can deny the reality of life, or we can face it.  When we face it not in despair, but with the eyes of Jesus we discover something hidden that holds a promise stronger than death itself. Jesus lived his life with the trust that God’s love is stronger than death and that death therefore does not have the last word. He invites us to face the painful reality of our existence with the same trust. Jesus tested life and was tested by it in turn and he discovered that life and death were not bad jokes. The mysteries of Jesus have become our own mysteries: whatever happened to Jesus must happen to us. In today’s gospel, some Greeks approach Jesus through an intermediary. They chose Philip, perhaps because of his Greek name. They want to see Jesus. Jesus is informed of their desire to meet him, and even though no details are recorded of this interview, St. John leads us into the very heart of Jesus’ mission  -  Jesus was born to die. His focus was firmly set on his forthcoming passion. May we understand that his cross is life and light for the world and pray for his power to proclaim it to the world.

 

PRAYER (Mary Rose de Lisle): O Lord, everything fills me with fear and apprehension. Even the smallest commitment has become a huge ordeal in my eyes. I cannot see any hope or purpose in my life. Teach me to go on praying, though my faith seems lost and there is no apparent response. Give me the strength to face one day at a time, and to know that, somehow, you will carry me through. Do not let me become so obsessed with myself that I fail to respond to the needs of others. As I echo the words of Jesus, “Let this cup pass from me”, let me, like him, accept your will – and give me a little of his courage.