Why is the human heart so much opposed to hearing the truth and acting on it? I remember as a child I used to hate it when my parents would tell me something and turn out to be right. If the truth be told, I probably still struggle with that a little today. Who wants to hear the hard truth and then find out that it’s absolutely right? The pride of our hearts so often prevents the prophet from performing his or her ministry.
The message of Lent, though, is that the prophets – all of them – whether they be Scriptural prophets, or those who spoke the truth to us because they want the best for us – all of these prophets are right. And our task during Lent has to be to give up whatever pride in us refuses to hear the voice of the prophet or refuses to accept the prophetic message, and instead turn to the Lord and rejoice in the truth.
The prophets of our native land – those prophets who are closest to us – are the ones we least want to hear. Because they know the right buttons to push, they know our sinfulness, our weakness, and our brokenness. And we desperately want to avoid being confronted with all that failure. Yet if we would hear them, then maybe just like Naaman, we would come out of the river clean and ready to profess our faith in the only God once again.
Athirst is my soul for the living God – that is what the Psalmist prays today. And that is the true prayer of all of our hearts. All we have to do is get past the obstacles of pride and let those prophets show us the way to him. Then we would never thirst again.
Winter is always rough on people, health-wise. If it’s not the flu, then it’s some sort of virus making its way around. That’s been true this winter for sure. Staff members here at church and people in my family have been coming down with one form or another of seasonal illness, and I was glad I got my flu shot this fall. But this week it was my turn: despite the flu shot, I had a fever, fatigue and some light-headedness that made me think it was a sinus thing cranked up a few notches. It’s been hard to shake it. One thing you learn when you have a fever or something like that is that you should drink a lot of water. But eventually, that becomes tiresome: you get sick of drinking just plain water, no matter how good it may be for you. So this week I supplemented it with tea, of course, and I even gave myself permission to do something I don’t do very often, and that was to drink some soda – 7up or ginger ale mostly. And those drinks tasted better than just plain water, for sure, but because they are sugary, sooner rather than later I’d be thirsty again, and the only thing that really helped was – water. I drank a lot of water this week!
I thought about that experience as I was preparing today’s homily, because this set of readings are all about water. When the Church talks about water, it sees something different than most of the world does. Water is a striking image in the literature of our religion: when we hear of water, maybe we think about the waters swirling around before creation, or the waters of the great flood. During Lent, we might think often about the waters of the Red Sea, through which the Israelites passed as they fled from slavery in Egypt. We might think of the water that flowed from the Temple in Isaiah’s imagery, that gave life to all the world. And of course, as we near Good Friday, we cannot help but remember the water and blood that flowed from the side of Christ, giving life to the Church. And then we could think sacramentally, couldn’t we? Whenever we see this much discussed about water in the Sunday readings, we should always think of a certain sacrament. Guess which one? Right, baptism. And so we’ll talk about that in just a minute, but before we go there, let’s take a minute to get at the subject of thirst. That, after all, is what gets us to water in the first place.
The Israelites were sure thirsty in today’s first reading. After all, they had been wandering around the desert for a while now, and would continue to do so for forty years. At that point, they were thinking about how nice it would be if they had just remained slaves in Egypt so that they wouldn’t have to come all the way out here to the desert just to die of thirst. Better slaves than dead, they thought. The issue was that they didn’t have what they thirsted for, and had not yet learned to trust God to quench that thirst. So Moses takes all the complaining of the people and complains to God, who provides water for them in the desert. Think about that – they had water in the desert! And they had that water for as long as they continued to make that desert journey. Read the whole story of the Exodus – it’s a good Lenten thing to do – they never ran out of water, they didn’t die of thirst, God proves himself trustworthy in a miraculous way. The end of the reading says they named the place Massah and Meribah because they wondered, “Is the LORD in our midst or not?” What a ridiculous question! Obviously, the answer was “yes.”
Which brings us to the rather curious story we have in the Gospel reading. If we think the story was all about a woman coming to get a bucket of water, then we’ve really missed the boat, to misuse another water metaphor! This story asks us what we’re thirsting for, but at a much deeper level. Did Jesus really need a drink of water? Well, maybe, but he clearly thirsted much more for the Samaritan woman’s faith. Did she leave her bucket behind because she would never need to drink water again? No, she probably just forgot it in the excitement, but clearly she had found the source of living water and wanted to share it with everyone.
In the midst of their interaction, Jesus uncovers that the woman has been thirsting for something her whole life long. She was married so many times, and the one she was with now was not her husband. She was worshipping, as the Samaritans did, on the mountain and not in Jerusalem as the Jews did. And every single day, she came to this well to draw water, because her life didn’t mean much more than that. She was constantly looking for water, or something that would quench her unsated thirst. She didn’t even know what she was seeking, and yet she was thirsty all the time.
And all of this would be very sad if she hadn’t just found the answer to her prayers, the source of living water. One of my favorite hymns is a hymn written by Horatio Bonar in 1846 called “I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say.” This hymn is sung all during the year, but I think it may be the quintessential Lenten Hymn. One of the verses speaks beautifully to this wonderful Gospel story:
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Behold, I freely give the living water; thirsty one, stoop down and drink, and live.” I came to Jesus, and I drank of that life-giving stream; my thirst was quenched, my soul revived, and now I live in him.
Which is exactly what happened to the Samaritan woman, isn’t it? She drank of the stream of Jesus’ life-giving water, and she now lived in him. She couldn’t even contain herself and ran right off to town, leaving the bucket of her past life behind, and told everyone about Jesus. They were moved to check this Jesus out, initially because of her testimony. But once they came to know him as the source of life-giving water, they didn’t even need her testimony to convince them; they too lived in him now.
But remember that I said earlier that, whenever you see this much about water in the readings, the point is always baptism. The readings for this Sunday are particularly chosen for the First Scrutiny in the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. So if we had anyone becoming Catholic in our parish, which we don’t this year, we would be reflecting in a particular way on their upcoming baptism. The Catechumens of the Church in these Lenten days are, like the Samaritan woman, coming to know this Jesus who is the source of life-giving water. Since we have no Catechumens in our parish this year, I want us to reflect on two things.
The first thing is to reflect on our own baptisms. Because we too find baptism in our Lenten journey. Lent, as is often pointed out, means “springtime” and during Lent we await a new springtime in our faith. We await new growth, we look for renewed faith, we recommit ourselves to the baptism that is our source of life-giving water. We have what we are thirsting for, and Lent is a time to drink of it more deeply, so that we will be refreshed and renewed to live with vigor the life of faith and the call of the Gospel. As we approach Easter, then, we should reflect on our own baptisms, perhaps received before we could even understand or remember them, but certainly renewed as we have journeyed through life. Those baptisms have called us to a particular way of life, leaving behind the buckets of life in the world and the well that can never really quench our thirst, so that we can embrace Jesus the Lord, our source of life-giving water. He alone gives us water in such a way that we will never thirst again.
The second thing is to commit ourselves as a parish to the task of evangelization. Just because we have no Catechumens this year doesn’t mean that there is nobody unbaptized among us. We all know people who need to know the Lord. Maybe they are unbaptized, maybe they are baptized in another Church, or maybe they are just not practicing any religion. But because we know the source of life-giving water, they we know that everyone should be drinking of that water. We have to bring the message to them. Maybe not by preaching on the street corner, but more by the witness of our lives. We might also need to extend the invitation, bring someone to Mass, encourage them to join us. These Lenten days take us to Easter and beyond with water that we can pour out in every time and place where God takes us. The life we receive in baptism can revive a world grown listless and droopy and make it alive with springs of refreshment that can only come from the one who gives us water beyond our thirsting, that follows us in our desert journeys, that springs up within those who believe.
The Israelites wondered, “Is the LORD in our midst or not?” Surely we cannot be as unbelieving as they were. We see the marvels God does for us, we experience the assurance of our faith in good times and in bad. We see lives changed as they embrace the faith. So how would we answer the question, “Is the LORD in our midst or not?” Absolutely, yes he is, always and forever. Amen.
Today’s Gospel reading is one that gives me pause, to say the least. The whole notion of the measure that we use will be the measure that God uses to measure is more than a little a little scary. Think about it: how often do we fail to give people a break? How often do we forget that the person who just crossed us may be having trouble at home, or might be facing the illness of a loved one, or any number of things. Those mitigating circumstances may not excuse bad behavior, but they may explain a lapse in judgment. God gives us grace when we go through those things; we should do no less.
We confess our sins and long to be forgiven, just like Daniel did in today’s first reading. And our God longs to forgive us those sins. But God’s expectation is that the mercy he has shown us will be the mercy we show to others. We are called to the same perfection that is present in God himself. The crux of that perfection is love and mercy. We know what it looks like, because God has given those to us. We then need to imitate that in our lives.
If we would pray with the Psalmist today, “Lord, do not deal with us according to our sins,” then we should be willing to let go of the sins others have committed against us. It’s not easy, but the letting go frees us in much better ways than vengeance ever could.
People often balk at the mere suggestion of being called to personal holiness. Oftentimes, this is wrapped up in a misplaced and false humility, that kind of humility that says that since I’m good for nothing, there is no way I can even come close to being like God. Yet the fact of the matter is that we are made good by our Creator God who designed us to be like himself, perfect in holiness.
And if that seems too lofty to attain, Moses and Jesus spell out the steps to getting there today. Clearly, personal holiness is not simply a matter of saying the right prayers, fasting at the right times, going to Church every Sunday and reading one’s Bible. Those things are a good start and are key activities on the journey to holiness, but using them as a façade betrays a lack of real holiness. Because for both Moses and Jesus, personal holiness, being holy as God is holy, consists of engaging in justice so that hesed – the Hebrew word meaning right relationship and right order – can be restored in the world.
Every single command we receive from Moses and Jesus today turns us outward in our pursuit of holiness. Our neighbor is to be treated justly, and that neighbor is every person in our path. Robbery, false words, grudges, withholding charity, rendering judgment without justice, not granting forgiveness and bearing grudges are all stumbling blocks to personal holiness. All of these keep us from being like God who is holy. And worse yet, all of these things keep us from God, period.
The law of the Lord is perfect, as the Psalmist says, and the essence of that law consists of love and justice to every person. If we would strive for holiness this Lent, we need to look to the one God puts in our path, and restore right relationship with that person.
A lot of people say they aren’t giving up something for Lent, they’re just going to try to do something positive. When it’s that vague, I often think that means they’re doing nothing at all for Lent, which is sad for them. But, I usually tell people it doesn’t just have to be one or the other. Indeed, today’s Liturgy of the Word tells us that it should actually be both.
Fasting is important because it helps us to see how blessed we are. It is important because it helps us to realize that there is nothing that we hunger for that God can’t provide. Fasting teaches us, once again, that God is God and we are not. This is important for all of us independent-minded modern-day Americans. We like to be in charge, in control, and the fact is that whatever control we do have is an illusion. God is in control of all things, even when it seems like we are in chaos. Fasting teaches us that we can do without the things we’ve given up, and that God can provide for us in much richer ways. Fasting is absolutely essential to having an inspiring, life-changing Lent, and I absolutely think that people should give things up for Lent.
But giving something up for Lent does not excuse us from the obligation to love our neighbor. This falls under the general heading of almsgiving, and along with fasting and prayer, it is one of the traditional ways of preparing our hearts for Easter during Lent. We might be more mindful of the poor, contributing to our food pantry or a homeless shelter or relief organization. We might reach out by actually serving in some capacity, like at a soup kitchen, or spending an hour at PADS. We also might give the people closest to us in our lives a larger portion of the love that has been God’s gift to us.
Today’s first reading reminds us that fasting to put on a big show is a sham. Fasting to bring ourselves closer to God includes the obligation of almsgiving and prayer. Together, these three facets of discipleship make us stronger Christians and give us a greater share of the grace that is promised to the sons and daughters of God.
Today’s readings get us to the heart of a very sticky matter. What is it that is most important in terms of our salvation? Is it faith in Jesus Christ? Or is it doing good works? This question has been the lightning rod of the faith for a long time now. Disagreement over the answer contributed to the protestant reformation in the sixteenth century, and it is only recently that Catholics and Lutherans have come to some sort of agreement on it. So let’s see if we can come up with the answer in five minutes!
Ironically, today’s readings present both sides of the issue. On the one hand, there is the teaching found in the first reading from the book of Deuteronomy. Here, Moses tells the people that they have a choice. Live the way they want and turn away from God, or remember all that God has done for them and follow the Law. In the second reading, Saint Paul writes a contradictory opinion to the Romans: a person is justified by faith apart from works of the Law. So hearing that, what are we supposed to do? Do we just have to believe and have faith and let that be our salvation, or do we follow the Law?
So here’s the rule of thumb: in Catholic theology it’s never either one or the other, it’s pretty much always both/and. Jesus, of course, gives the answer in today’s Gospel reading: “Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.” Yes, we have to believe and have faith, but we also have to act on that faith. Saint James tells us in his letter in the New Testament that faith without works is dead. The essence of it is that if we really believe, then our faith will move us into action.
That’s what the Gospel is all about really. We believe in Christ and have faith because of his great love for us, because of the saving sacrifice of his life on the cross. That’s what brings us to salvation. But if we really do believe in that, then we also have to do what Jesus did. Maybe not in such a radical fashion, but we do have to lay down our lives. We have to forgive when forgiving is hard to do. We have to reach out to the poor and marginalized when we would rather not. We have to live as people of integrity when it would be easier to do what everyone else seems to be doing. That’s living the Gospel. That’s what people of faith do.
We gather here on the precipice of Lent. As we enter that holy season on Wednesday, we are called to take that time to become more authentic people of faith. The Church gives us the traditional ways to do that: fasting, almsgiving and prayer. What do we need to let go of so that we can be closer to God? We should fast from that. How can we give of our time, talent or treasure so that others can live better lives? That’s our almsgiving. And what do we need to do in our prayer and worship life to reconnect with God in ways that we have been lax on during the past year?
A lot of people say that you don’t have to give something up for Lent – that’s so old fashioned; you should just do something good. Well, again, it’s not either/or. You can do both things, and you should. We all need to give something up for Lent: unhealthy relationships, addiction to drink or drugs or food, time-wasting habits – all of those things keep us from God and don’t really make us happy anyway. Give them up at least for Lent!
And who knows, giving them up may just give us energy to do something really good for Lent too. Maybe giving up our Starbuck’s addiction will help us to give those dollars to the poor. Maybe cutting down on our television intake will give us the time to spend with our families in important ways or have more time for prayer or reflection on Scripture. Maybe getting up a little early to attend daily Mass will make our work day more peaceful.
The message for us on the precipice of Lent is that we all need to do something. None of us is in the right place with Jesus right now; we can always grow in faith and get closer to God. This Lent is the gift of time to do just that. So let’s go into it with a plan, and it doesn’t have to be grandiose. Let’s have an idea of fasting, almsgiving and prayer that works for us and helps us to make even one small step forward in our faith.
So Jesus tells us that our faith has to be grounded on belief in him and has to yield good things. We have to take that rock solid foundation of Christ and build a life of faith that reaches out to others in their need and witnesses to others how much our God means to us. We never want to hear those words, “I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers.” And one great way to get there is to make the most of these upcoming forty days.
There’s an old joke about a man who, while walking through the countryside one day, was distracted and fell over a cliff. On the way down, he managed – just barely – to grab on to a branch of an overhanging tree. As he hung there, he quickly realized that he couldn’t hold on forever, and there was no way to climb to safety. He began to look around to see if anyone was nearby to help him, but he couldn’t see anyone. So, he began to call out: “Help! I’ve fallen over the cliff! Is there anyone up there?!” Soon, he heard an answer: “This is the Lord God. I am up here and I will save you, but you have to let go!” The man thought for a minute and then called out: “Is there anyone else up there?”
It is imperative to our Spiritual lives that we learn to let go. The problem is, though, that letting go is so counterintuitive for us. We want to hold on to everything, control everything, because when we are in charge we can be sure everything will work out all right. At least we think so. The truth is that God is in control, and just like the rich young man in today’s Gospel reading, we have to learn to let go of everything that keeps us from letting God be God in our lives. So the next time we feel like we’re hanging by a thread and there is no way out, may we hear the Lord’s call and actually let go. That is the only way that we can achieve faith’s goal, the salvation of our souls.
Our diocese this weekend is celebrating the Mass for the Election of a Bishop, praying for the prompt appointment of our next bishop. So I did a brief homily on what a bishop is and does, followed by a talk about (sigh) money. You get just the first thing here!
As you may know, our diocese has not had a bishop since early December, when Bishop Sartain became the archbishop of Seattle. Since then, Bishop Siegel, our auxiliary bishop, was named the diocesan administrator. He can keep the diocese running, but can’t really make any substantive changes. So at this time, we are waiting for Rome to select a new bishop for us, and today we celebrate a special Mass for the Election of a Bishop, praying that the Holy Spirit would help Pope Benedict find us a man who is holy, and loving to his people and clergy.
Bishops were selected in the Church pretty early on, during the time the original Apostles were dying off. These successors to the Apostles helped to ensure that the faith was handed down to us as the Lord intended it. They administrate the Sacraments and see to it that the diocese and its parishes live and witness to the Gospel message in the present time.
Candidates for the office of Bishop have to be priests. When there is a vacancy in a diocese such as ours, it can be filled by a man who is already a bishop somewhere else, or by a priest of our diocese or even of another diocese. Names for these candidates are submitted to Rome through the Papal Nuncio, who in the United States is Archbishop Pietro Sambi. These candidates are examined very closely, and without their knowing, I might add. If the person selected is already a bishop, he is installed in the diocese within a short period of time. If he is a priest, he is ordained or consecrated as a bishop, which automatically installs him as the bishop of the diocese.
The diocese of Joliet in Illinois was erected in December of 1948, carved out of the Archdiocese of Chicago, the diocese of Rockford, and the diocese of Peoria. Since then we have had four bishops. Bishop Martin McNamara, a priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago, served from the erection of the diocese until his death in 1966. Bishop Romeo Blanchette, a priest and auxiliary bishop of the diocese of Joliet, served from 1966 until 1979. Bishop Joseph Imesch, an auxiliary bishop of the archdiocese of Detroit, served from 1979 until his retirement in 2006. Bishop Peter Sartain, who was bishop of Little Rock, served from 2006 until this past December.
And so we continue to wait for word of who our next bishop will be. We are a rather large diocese, of around 700,000 Catholics spread over seven counties. Popular opinion suggests that that means we won’t have to wait very long. Our prayer is that the Holy Spirit would inspire all those involved in the decision so that we have a wonderful bishop who can serve us and help us move our diocese forward in spreading the Gospel to the people of our seven counties.
So the disciples are waiting for Jesus to come down the mountain after the Transfiguration. They have attempted to cure a man’s son from the hold of a demon, but they were apparently unable to do so. This seems to have led to an argument between them and the scribes. You can almost feel Jesus’ exasperation. Both the disciples and the scribes should have been able to do something for the boy, but they couldn’t. Why? Because instead of praying, they argued about it. “This kind can only come out through prayer,” Jesus tells the disciples when they ask why they were ineffective.
Sometimes, when we are trying to overcome some problem, the last thing we think to do is pray, when it should absolutely be the first. The disciples were guilty of it, the scribes were, and we are too sometimes, if we’re honest. And all of us should know better. I know that I myself can think of a number of problems I’ve tried to solve all by myself, when it would have been much easier to have God’s help. We can’t just cut God out of the picture and rely on our own strength; that never works. We have to turn to the tools we have been given: faith and prayer. And we can start by saying with the boy’s father: “I do believe, Lord; help my unbelief.”
I think that if you took a survey, nearly everyone would want to say that they are righteous, that is, that they do the right thing. But I also think that survey would reveal how amazingly different each person’s definition of righteousness would be. One person’s idea of righteousness might be that they do what everyone else is doing – how could that be wrong? Everyone does it. Another person’s idea of righteousness might be rather selfish: they do what’s best for them, or for their family – they take care of number one. Still another view of righteousness might be that one picks and chooses a set of rules by which they decide to live their lives, and never deviate from them to one side or the other. This view, of course, was the view of the Pharisees who had over six hundred such rules by which to abide.
If you’re wondering what’s wrong with any of these, today’s Scriptures have the answer. Jesus tells us that none of these self-righteous positions is going to cut it: those who follow him have a much more strenuous rule of life, and we call that rule the Gospel.
Do you count yourself among the blessed because you’ve never murdered anyone or participated in an abortion? Well, that’s a good start, but if you’ve harbored anger against another person, if you have refused to forgive them, if you have marginalized a person because of their race, or their language, or their religion, or their sexual orientation, or because of a physical disability, if you have belittled people by sarcasm or bullying, if you have hated another person in any way at any time, then you’ve murdered them in your heart, you’ve violated the fifth commandment, and that’s not okay.
Do you feel righteous because you’ve never had extramarital relations with another person? Great, but that’s just a start. If you have had lustful thoughts about another person, if you have looked at pornography, or fantasized about a relationship with another person; if you have nurtured a relationship that is improper in any way, then you have violated the sixth commandment, and it’s time to turn back.
Do you feel that your word is good as gold because you have never lied under oath? Again, it’s a good start, but if you’ve told a lie of any kind in any situation, even a white lie in most circumstances, if you have not told the whole truth when the truth was called for, if you have misrepresented the truth in any way or have not lived what you believe and profess, then you have violated the eighth commandment and have been dishonest to some degree.
These are not words of comfort today, are they? I bring these all out in my preaching today because Jesus makes them urgent. I do it with a sense of deep humility, because I know that I have failed in some of these things more times than I’d care to admit.
Jesus tells us today, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” That seems pretty harsh. The Scribes and Pharisees had those six hundred or so laws by which they lived their lives, and some of them were pretty nit-picky if you ask me. So how can we ever hope to enter the kingdom of heaven? It just seems like an impossible task, doesn’t it?
But what Jesus is asking of us isn’t to come up with a list of a whole lot more nit-picky rules. Jesus is asking us to embrace the spirit of the law, and to live it with integrity. That too is daunting, but the good news about choosing to live that kind of righteousness is that it comes with grace. It comes with the gift of the Holy Spirit poured out on us to live the Gospel. We have to pray for that grace every day, and we have to strive to live the rather rigorous righteousness that Jesus calls for in today’s Scripture readings.
As the writer of Sirach in our first reading tells us, this kind of righteousness is a choice that we must make. He says,
He has set before you fire and water to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand. Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.
When we make the wrong choice, or fail to make the right choice, we have sinned. But we know that our sins are not who we are and are not who we are called to be. We have the Sacrament of Penance to set us back on the right path and to wash our sins away. If you haven’t made a confession in a while, now is the time. Take advantage of the healing grace our Lord longs to pour out on you. I’m always amazed at how much joy I feel when I have gone to confession. It’s the only cure for our unrighteous thoughts, words and actions.
Jesus gives us an incredible challenge in today’s Liturgy of the Word. But he does not leave us without the grace to live it out. We just have to choose, every day, to live the Gospel. We have to pray, every day, for the grace to do that with integrity. And when we fail, we have to receive the Sacrament of Penance so that the grace to do better will be poured out in our lives. It’s not the easiest way to live our lives, but it is the most blessed. As the Psalmist says today, “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.”
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