John 3:14-21 (NRSVCE) And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” Today’s reading contains that one verse in Scripture that almost everybody knows, John 3:16. But I want to look around that verse and focus on what’s happening in the wider passage, because there’s much to be found there. First we have the clear typological connection between the serpent that was raised up on a pole by Moses and Jesus. You’ll find this story at the beginning of Numbers 21, where we see that whenever anyone looked upon the snake, they were healed of their affliction (namely, poisonous snake bites). If Jesus is like this snake, then, he is not merely coming as some kind of liberator, as the disciples often mistake him to be, or as some moral guide. He is here to, quite literally, heal us. We have an affliction which will kill us (sin), and He promises that if we look upon Him, we will be healed and have eternal life.
Second, John spends a good deal of time in his Gospel contrasting “light” and “darkness.” Jesus is the Light of the World, and sin is darkness. The Light comes to illuminate that which dwells in darkness, to fill them with His light, but also to drive away the darkness. For darkness and light cannot coexist—where there is one, there is not the other. In this passage, John says “people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.” In other words, we flee from the Light. We flee from God because before God all of our sins are made known. We cannot hide our sin from God, and so instead we retreat further into the darkness, further into sin because we fear judgment. I always think of what it’s like to turn on a lamp in the middle of the night, or to step outside when the skies are clear and the ground is covered in white snow. The brightness is jarring, it blinds you momentarily and for a second you retreat. You close your eyes or you cover them with your hands. But after a bit, you adjust and suddenly everything is much more clear. You can see the room in full detail, you can see the beauty that lives outside your home. Though you were tempted to simply retreat from the light you instead went toward it, and for that you were blessed with understanding and beauty. The Light of the World is like that, only much more. He illuminates the dark spots of our souls, He exposes our sin for what it is and then drives that darkness out. It’s very easy to be scared. Admitting our faults and our wickedness is not easy. But how much better it is to dwell in the warm embrace of the Light than to cower in the shadows of sin! Hosea 6:1-6 (NRSVCE) “Come, let us return to the Lord; for it is he who has torn, and he will heal us; he has struck down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord; his appearing is as sure as the dawn; he will come to us like the showers, like the spring rains that water the earth.” What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah? Your love is like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes away early. Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets, I have killed them by the words of my mouth, and my judgment goes forth as the light. For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. It’s easy to be pious in a moment. It’s easy to give thanks to God at a single time. But we are called to faithfulness, to steadfast love, not a single moment of love. Israel is described in today’s reading as “a morning cloud, like the dew that goes away early.” Israel is pious and faithful for only a brief time, before falling away again. The entire Old Testament is story after story of Israel being called to faithfulness, remaining faithful for a time, and then falling away. Their love for God was not steadfast, it did not endure. I think many of us can say the same of ourselves. I know I can.
Now seems like the perfect time for us to reflect on this. We are engaged in our own penances for the season of Lent. We have promised a special form of piety for these forty(ish) days. But what happens when Easter comes, and Lent is over? It is a good thing to be pious in Lent, but let’s be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that it might actually be easier to be pious during these seasons. Everyone is participating by giving something up or taking something on or even by simply observing the “no meat on Fridays” bit. We know that we are all engaged in this journey together during the Lenten season, and that gives us strength to endure. This makes it easier to get to Mass on Sundays, and to go to confession regularly. This makes it easier to remember to pray, to give alms, to do works of charity. This is all great! But the truly difficult part comes when the penitential season is over, and we get sucked back into our day-to-day lives and all the habits that come with that. Lent is a special time for us to repent and renounce our sinful ways, for us to focus ourselves intently on remaining faithful to God. These things are not meant to be temporary, they are meant to be transformative. “What happens in Lent stays in Lent” is not what we are going for. Rather what happens in Lent ought to carry over into the rest of our lives. The piety that we have in Lent, the faithfulness that we show, ought not be “like the dew that goes away early.” It is meant to endure, in steadfast love. As Lent goes on, I have been thinking about this more and more. It’s so easy to reach the end of Lent with a feeling of relief. “Finally, I can have a cup of coffee again!” or “Now I can go get that chocolate bar I have been craving for so long!” That’s fine to do, but I worry that this feeling of relief is too easily translated to those things which should stay with us—namely, acts of faith and our love for God. We should be taking this season as a time to strengthen our love so that we can remain faithful throughout our lives, not simply to make it through Easter. So for the second half of this Lenten season, spend some time thinking and praying about how this is going to change your life in the long-term. "For I desire steadfast love." Hosea 14:2-10 (NRSVCE)
What a beautiful passage about repentance, forgiveness, and faithfulness! The Israelites are told to give a prayer of repentance which hits at some of the major struggles we all have in our own lives. It opens immediately with “Take away all guilt.” There is a big difference between being repentant and wallowing in guilt. The repentant man accepts that he has done wrong and seeks to be reconciled with those he has wronged. The guilty man retreats in on himself, hiding himself away out of shame like Adam hid in the garden. Thus we ought to pray for an end to our guilt, so that we can be truly repentant.
Notice what is to be offered to God. Not sacrifices, gifts, or the fruit of our labors, but the fruit of our lips. Praising, rejoicing, and love are what are to be offered, for it is love which God has for us, and love first and foremost which we ought to reciprocate. We often get so caught up in producing fruits from our labors that we forget it is the fruits of our lips that God wants us to give. We make idols of our work, saying “’Our God,’ to the work of our hands” instead of remembering that everything we do ought to give glory to God and not to ourselves. For what is making an idol out of our own works if not glorifying ourselves? Israel has made an idol of their work, and thus they have separated themselves from their Father. But “in you the orphan finds mercy.” Then we get an assurance of that mercy. For their repentance, God promises His love and His favor for Israel. God will “be like the dew to Israel,” the very source of their fruitfulness. When we come to God with true repentance, God will renew us. God will restore our strength and beauty, so that we “shall flourish as a garden.” This renewal is emphasized in the last two verses. Through true repentance we shall receive forgiveness from God, and God’s abundant love for us will strengthen the love we have for God. “O Ephraim, what have I to do with idols?” Nothing! Idols no longer glimmer before our eyes, because we are God’s people and God has placed us beneath His shadow! “I am like an evergreen cypress; your faithfulness comes from me.” Our faith is a gift from God. He is the dew which enables us to have life itself. His love for us strengthens our love for Him, making us capable of remaining faithful to His commandments. When the trees and flowers of the garden are healthy, they grow tall and strong. So too, if we stay faithful to God’s ways, He says “the upright walk in them, but transgressors stumble in them.” Repentance, forgiveness, and faithfulness are what give us life. Luke 11:14-23 (NRSVCE) Now he was casting out a demon that was mute; when the demon had gone out, the one who had been mute spoke, and the crowds were amazed. But some of them said, “He casts out demons by Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons.” Others, to test him, kept demanding from him a sign from heaven. But he knew what they were thinking and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself becomes a desert, and house falls on house. If Satan also is divided against himself, how will his kingdom stand? —for you say that I cast out the demons by Beelzebul. Now if I cast out the demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your exorcists cast them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you. When a strong man, fully armed, guards his castle, his property is safe. But when one stronger than he attacks him and overpowers him, he takes away his armor in which he trusted and divides his plunder. Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters. “Every kingdom divided against itself becomes a desert, and house falls on house.” We’ve been hearing throughout the readings so far this Lent about the importance of communion, about the importance of brotherly love amongst one another. We are meant to be one Body of Christ, united under the headship of Jesus. The true evil, then, is division. This is Satan’s biggest desire. Sow division among the people of God. Sever the bonds between them, and the members of the Body will turn against it. He wants to divide the Kingdom of God, to separate the Body so as to separate man from God. This is what Jesus warns us about when he says “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.” We are to gather like the flock to their shepherd, and if we do not cling to our shepherd we become scattered, which makes us easy targets for the wolves.
Just look at how quick the crowds were to accuse Jesus of working with demons. Their first instinct, after seeing this great miracle, was to separate the shepherd from the flock. This speaks volumes to the level of influence sin has on our lives. We recoil from what is holy, we demonize (pun intended) that which is good, so that we can continue to live our lives as we always have: in sin. We are scattered, and the wolves have taken hold of us. But Christ comes to drive away the wolves, to reunite His flock under His care. As he says to Simon Peter, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18) The shepherd unites His flock, and protects it. So long as the flock gathers to him, and is not scattered, it will not be harmed. This is really the point of the penitential season of Lent. It is good for us to do penance in our own lives, and to focus on our own sin. But we are not merely individuals, we are members of the flock. Lent is a time when the entire people join together in penance, when we focus our efforts, together, on gathering with Christ. More broadly, this is why we have liturgy in general! We worship together, with one voice, we repent together, we do penance together, because we are all one Body. We are individuals as well, and we all have our own sins, our own struggles, and our own personal relationship with Christ, but the individual cannot exist in this relationship except as part of the Body. “Whoever does not gather with me scatters.” Without being united to the Body, you cannot be united to the Head. Without being in the flock, you cannot gather with the shepherd. You will become scattered. So this Lent is a time for us to focus on strengthening those bonds between each other. For it is only the flock that can truly follow the shepherd. Dueteronomy 4:1, 5-9 (NRSVCE) So now, Israel, give heed to the statutes and ordinances that I am teaching you to observe, so that you may live to enter and occupy the land that the Lord, the God of your ancestors, is giving you. See, just as the Lord my God has charged me, I now teach you statutes and ordinances for you to observe in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. You must observe them diligently, for this will show your wisdom and discernment to the peoples, who, when they hear all these statutes, will say, “Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people!” For what other great nation has a god so near to it as the Lord our God is whenever we call to him? And what other great nation has statutes and ordinances as just as this entire law that I am setting before you today? But take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children’s children Both of today’s readings have to do with teaching. God taught Moses, and Moses taught the Israelites. Both Moses and Jesus tell us to teach “the statutes and ordinances” and “the things that your eyes have seen” to each other, to pass the faith on to our children. There’s one major implication here. If we are to teach the faith, we ought to know the faith. One can hardly be a teacher of something one does not know. I could not teach biology, for example, or interpretive dance, as I know nothing about those things. That means we must focus our minds and our hearts on learning the faith, so that we can teach others.
This doesn’t mean we all have to go enroll in a theology program at a university. Theological study is important, but it’s not what we mean when we speak of “learning the faith.” Christianity, and Judaism for that matter, is not merely a set of rules and abstract concepts that one can memorize and say “I know Christianity.” The faith is only learned through lived experience—that is, one can only “learn the faith” by practicing the faith. By this I don’t mean “teach by example,” though that is certainly part of it, but rather I mean there is no meaningful sense in which one can say “I know Christianity.” Through living the faith, we can say instead “I know Jesus.” With that in mind, think about how difficult and uncomfortable it can be to talk about your faith in public, or even with family and friends. You might mention the potluck you went to at church, or the youth group you help with. But when it comes to actually having a discussion about Christ, we tend to clam up. Why is that? I think it makes the most sense to say that perhaps we don’t really know the faith like we should. Even moreso, I think most of us have a skewed understanding of what it even means to “know the faith,” making us think we know less than we actually do know. A simple example of the latter would be to look at, say, a Baptist and a Catholic. Baptists are notoriously good at reading their Bible. I know some Baptists who can quote Bible verses all day, prattling off chapter and verse, putting verses into context, and always having a verse in mind for any situation. They really know their Bible, because diligently reading the Bible is a big part of how Baptists live the faith. We Catholics, on the other hand, are notoriously bad at quoting Bible verses, and so we tend to be more reserved when it comes to discussions about the Bible than a Baptist might be. But that doesn’t mean we Catholics don’t know our Bibles. Our liturgies are filled with Scripture, even if you ignore the daily readings. Our prayers, like the Hail Mary, are taken from Scripture. We may not be able to tell you where in the Bible these things are, but we know them. We know them through living the faith. This is why Moses puts so much emphasis on observing the Law. It’s not about knowing the Law. It’s about living the Law, for you only come to truly know it by doing it. And it is only when you truly know something that you can hope to be a good teacher. So if we are to teach the faith to our children, we ought to focus ourselves on living it. Matthew 18:21-35 (NRSVCE)
The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant seems quite shocking to us. Jesus tells us that God forgives and has mercy on us. However, if we do not forgive and have mercy on each other, God will not show mercy to us. It is quite the warning! And the reason for why God’s mercy and forgiveness would not be given to those who lack a forgiving heart might not be entirely clear. That’s the focus of our reflection today.
God loves us, each and every one. And in that love, God desires us to love Him back. Loving God means not simply having warm fuzzy feelings for God, it means obeying His commandments, building His kingdom, and acting as His stewards of Creation, as man was created to be. It is the love of God which enables us to do all of these things, as 1 John 4:19 says, “We love because He first loved us.” God’s love unites us as the one People of God, transforming us such that we are able to love each other not as mere friends or even romantic partners, but as fellow children of God. Each and every one of us is made in the Image of God, the consequence of which is that a failure to love each other is a failure to love God. This is why Jesus warns us about forgiveness and mercy. God has given both to us out of His goodness, due to no merit on our part. Why then should we demand others merit our forgiveness and mercy? To take God’s forgiveness and deny forgiveness to others is to prove that we have not allowed God’s love to transform us. We are not loving as we ought—as God loves. Once again from John we hear, “those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” (1 John 4:21) This is twofold: both a command, and a consequence. If we are to love God, we must love our brothers and sisters. And if we love God, we will love our brothers and sisters. It is the consequence of love. If you are interested in more on this, I wrote extensively on it here. For now, there is one more point I want to make. To love each other does not mean to ignore each others’ faults. To forgive one another and show each other mercy does not mean we are to try create a consequence-free world. It does not mean to always act like everything is okay, even when it isn’t, for the sake of avoiding hurt feelings. Love is not always pretty, and it is not always enjoyable. Love means correcting each other when we do wrong, and accepting correction from others. It means accepting that we are all fallen, we are all sinners, and none of us is finished with this pilgrim journey of faith. It means that we walk that journey together, helping and carrying each other along the way, so that we all might rejoice in the glory of God forever. 2 Kings 5:1-15 (NRSVCE) Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman's wife. She said to her mistress, "If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy." So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, "Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel." He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, "When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy." When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, "Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me." But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, "Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel." So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha's house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean." But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, "I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?" He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, "Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, "Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean. Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, "Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant." This reflection is going to be a bit more personal, as our reading from 2 Kings on the healing of Naaman speaks volumes to how God’s healing power overcomes our pride and our doubt. Naaman was a powerful man, very sure of himself in all things, and also had the horrible affliction of leprosy. He sent to Elisha, already a well-known prophet at the time, for help with his condition. When told he should go wash in the waters of the Jordan River, he thought it ridiculous. The Jordan was dirty, not nearly as pristine and cleansing as the rivers of Damascus! How could this cure leprosy? But convinced by his servants, he went to the Jordan anyway to wash in the waters. When he emerged, he was not only completely healed, but completely renewed! It says “his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.” It was only then that Naaman believed!
Now, there’s two things going on here that I think are important. First, Naaman had incredible doubts about what Elisha had told him to do. It was preposterous! And yet, he did it anyway. That is a tremendous act of faith. When we talk about faith, we often make it seem easy. “Just have faith in God!” But in fact it is incredibly difficult! Doubts are always present, especially in times of struggle like Naaman endured. But faith means trusting in God despite our doubts, it means obeying God’s commands even when they seem absurd. Naaman was a proud man, and it takes a great act of faith to overcome one’s pride and doubt to do what God asks of us. And in being faithful, we will see great things. We will be made anew! The second thing going on here is the fact that it is through washing that Naaman was healed. And not just any old bath, but washing in the Jordan River, the very river where Jesus was baptized by John! It was by washing in water that Naaman was renewed, just like we are renewed in the cleansing waters of baptism. Jesus says “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.” (John 3:5) It is the waters of Christ’s baptism that renew us, making us capable of entering the kingdom of God. In the case of Naaman, the waters of the Jordan cleansed him of his doubt, as he says “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.” I think back to my own baptism, less than two years ago. Like Naaman, I had doubts. I knew in my mind that Christianity was true, but a part of me resisted. I was anxious and afraid right up until the moment it happened. “Am I doing the right thing?” “What if this isn’t true?” But it was at the moment my priest poured the baptismal water over my head that all doubt was washed away. I knew I was where I needed to be. There was no longer any hesitation. I knew that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. Today’s passage is a prefigurement of the cleansing baptism which was given to us by Jesus. It speaks volumes to the power of baptism, and to how faithfulness in times of doubt can yield tremendous fruit. John 2: 13-25 (NRSVCE) The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken. When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone. Jesus driving the moneychangers out of the temple is the most striking example we have in Scripture of Jesus getting angry. We often think of Christ as being gentle and non-violent in all things. It is, after all, Jesus himself who tells us to turn the other cheek when we are wronged. But here Jesus is whipping and chasing these people out of the temple. This isn’t a fit of uncontrolled rage either, as we see Jesus took the time to make a whip of cords (which takes some effort). Jesus is fully in control of His emotions and His actions here, and made a calculated decision to drive out the moneychangers and merchants. It is anger, but it’s not some kind of impulsive outburst of anger. The difference is very important.
There are many things which ought to make us angry. Blasphemy ought to make us angry. Heresy ought to make us angry. More broadly, sin ought to make us angry. Anger arises in us when we perceive an offense, usually against ourselves or someone we care about. If someone were to walk up and punch me in the face, I would be angry about that because I love myself and do not want to be harmed. If someone were to steal my sister’s car, I would be angry about that because I love my sister. Similarly, if someone blasphemes or knowingly spouts heresy, I ought to be angry about that because I love God. This is what we would call “righteous anger”, or anger which arises from a real injustice. The disciples recall Psalm 69:9, “It is zeal for your house that has consumed me.” Jesus had such zeal for the Father, such strong love and devotion, that He could not bear to see such disrespect in His Father’s house. He is rightfully angry about what He sees happening there and takes corrective action. The question is, then, are you and I truly zealous in our faith? Is our love for God and for the truth so strong that we would fight for Him? The answer should be “yes,” but in all honesty I think the answer for most of us is probably “no.” We live in a time where subjectivity is the only objective truth there is. You can have your truth and I can have mine, you can have your facts and I can have my “alternative facts.” It is almost taboo to point out when someone is wrong, or when they are committing wrong. This is even more the case when it comes to religious matters. I can’t tell you how many times I have tried to discuss my faith with friends who come from other Christian denominations only to have them handwave things that I hold foundational to Christianity with “Well, you believe that, but I just love Jesus.” Things like “God is Trinity” and “Jesus is God” are, indeed, critical points of faith, without which Christianity is unrecognizable. When these truths are thrown out the window by people calling themselves Christians, that ought to make us angry. Now, what I am NOT saying is that we should turn to violence. Yes, Jesus used a whip and overturned tables. But Jesus was dealing with a very particular situation in which causing a commotion was probably the most surefire way to correct the problem. What we ought to do is have enough zeal for God not only to care about what is true, casting off this veil of subjectivity that modernity has thrown over us, but also to defend the faith—to defend the truths which have been handed down to us in Scripture and through 2000 years of our Christian brothers and sisters walking with Christ. We ought to be that zealous. But more and more, it seems that we are not. More and more, it seems we are happy to allow the moneychangers to do what they will. Luke 15:1-3, 11-32 (NRSVCE)
The parable of the prodigal son is one I think we all know well. The father divides his property between his two sons. While the older son remains with his father, the younger son takes his share, leaves, and squanders it. He ends up penniless, tending to pigs in the dirt and muck. Finally realizing the direness of the situation he has landed himself in, he heads home and prepares a grand speech to beg for his father’s forgiveness, so that he might at least be allowed to work on his father’s property again. But when he gets there, his father was having no part of his son’s guilt. He welcomed him with open arms and prepared a celebration!
How many times have we gone astray in our faith? How many times have we squandered the gifts that God has given us? When we return to God, repentant and filled with guilt, He is like the father in this parable. He does not hesitate in His forgiveness. He welcomes us with open arms and great joy, for His child was lost and is found! Our sins are forgiven, and we are welcomed anew into the life of Christ. There are many ways in which we can sympathize with the prodigal son. We all sin and we all need forgiveness. Think about how the weight of that sin weighs on you right up to the point of seeking forgiveness. For me, stepping into the confessional is one of the most difficult things, because I know there will be that overpowering sense of guilt that will come over me. I know that I have sinned, but in my every day life I can put it out of my mind. I can distract myself. But here’s the thing: God is the source of all goodness, the source of all holiness. As we approach that source we become painfully aware of just how unworthy we are of it. Our sin stands in stark contrast to the goodness of God. And while our sin can be hidden from others, and even from ourselves, before God our sins are laid bare, the ways in which we fall short cannot be hidden. This is the guilt that the prodigal son felt, as he approached his father for forgiveness. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son,” he says. Now think about the moment after you have gone to God for forgiveness. You realize that all of that guilt, that overpowering sense of unworthiness, did not matter to God. He is not interested in your guilt. He cares that you have come home. So as difficult as it is to seek forgiveness, to feel the weight of that guilt, we know that our Father is there to rejoice with us that we have returned. We were lost, but we have been found. Matthew 21:33-43, 45-46 (NRSVCE)
“Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces fruits of the kingdom.”
Jesus doesn’t pull any punches with this parable. He calls out the Pharisees and the priests for being like the tenants. They were charged with producing fruits of the Kingdom, and they instead spent their time collecting the fruits for themselves. When the servants were sent, they were killed. The landowner even sent his own son, and his son was killed by the tenants. It’s not difficult to see what Jesus is getting at here. Jesus knows he will be put to death by these priests and Pharisees. They will kill the Son who was sent. For that and for their greed and pride for refusing to produce fruits for the Kingdom, they will have the Kingdom taken away. The stone that is rejected is Jesus. It is Jesus who has become the cornerstone. (Acts 4:11) The cornerstone lays the foundation. Everything relies on it. In order to be a part of the Kingdom, you must put your trust in the cornerstone. You must rely on Jesus Christ. The question, then, is simple: Do we place our faith in Jesus Christ? Do we order our lives to the purpose of producing fruit for the Kingdom of God? I think we can all say that we can do better. The examples in this parable are extreme—I don’t think most of us have killed anyone for the sake of greed (or at least I hope not!). But how often do we withhold our gifts and our talents for the sake of ourselves? Just today, a man asked me if I had any spare change as I was walking into a 7-Eleven. I said “No” and kept walking. I lied, because the spare change I did have was so that I could buy myself a soda. For all I know, that man could have been in desperate need of some money, and helping him out could have brought him great joy. But because of my greed, he received nothing. Now, does giving money to every person that asks count as “producing fruits for the Kingdom”? I don’t think so, and for those of us who live in major cities, we would all be penniless in a day and a half if we did that. But the reaction to withhold that money was automatic, almost instinctual. It wasn’t until reading today’s Gospel that I really started thinking about it. If that is my gut reaction to something as meaningless as a couple dollars, what am I withholding from God? What am I keeping for myself, out of greed, that could be used to produce fruits for the Kingdom? God calls us to be His tenants, the people who sow the seeds of His Church in the world. When the Son comes again, what will we have for Him? Will we seek to beat Him and steal what is His and His Father’s? Or will we rejoice, crying “This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”? (Psalm 118:23, 26) |
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