4th Sunday of Lent (Year C) 2016

 4^th. SUNDAY OF LENT (C)

My dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ, today we are encouraged to rejoice on this Sunday called ‘Laetare Sunday’, and so it is up to me now to show you something worth rejoicing about; indeed, something we should be continually bringing to our minds and cherishing most gratefully in our hearts.  That ‘something’ is encapsulated in those words of the father to his elder son:

My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.  But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.

Because human beings are sinful there are, at times, certain occurrences, situations, or questions, which one can only understand through suffering.  Sin is in the world, nestling actively in the hearts and minds of men, women, and even, potentially, in children (mostly to be made actual by imitation or indoctrination) throughout the world without exception; and sin, whether it be known or unknown, acknowledged or unacknowledged, because it necessarily brings with it suffering and death into human life, cannot long remain totally undiscovered or unsuspected.  That is at the root of the old adage that one never truly appreciates something or someone until you have lost it; that is the guiding principle of our Gospel parable today, which begins with the words:

                Then Jesus said, ‘A man had two sons’.

Immediately His hearers and we ourselves are under a certain tension awaiting what is to distinguish these unnamed brothers whose only positive characteristic is that they are both sons of the one father.  What kind of sons? comes to mind straight away.

It would appear that the younger son did not fully appreciate his current experience of son-ship as a privilege because we are told that he said to his father:

                Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.

The father went along with his son and divided the property between them.

After a few days the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.

Whereupon, he had to endure much suffering before, coming to his senses and realizing what he had done, he decided:

I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, ‘Father I have sinned against heaven and against you.  I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.

Those words ‘I no longer deserve to be called your son’ are the essential point of the whole parable.  He had not realized, not appreciated, his own birthright as son of such a father.

The elder son, on the other hand, does seem to have had greater appreciation of his father and awareness of his own privilege as son, especially as the first-born son.  He had not gone off chasing wilful pleasures; on the contrary he seems to have understood something of the worthiness of his father and his own duty to respect him.  He lived in that respect unselfishly and, having worked with diligence, duty well done had brought a certain dignity into his life.

However, when his younger brother came back to a ‘right royal’ welcome from his father we are told that:

He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him.  He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends.  But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughtered the fattened calf!’

Notice immediately, however, that the old man was very understanding, and responded in such a way as to recall to his elder son an awareness of just where his true dignity was, and where his ultimate fulfilment and happiness were to be found.  He said to him:

My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.  But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.

He calls the elder ‘My son’ and then speaks of the younger as ‘your brother’.  True, he was teaching his elder son that he should never forget that it was the fact of his own younger brother’s return, that is, his own ‘flesh and blood’ coming back so to speak from the dead, that was the right and good reason for them both to celebrate together.  For all that, however, he wanted the elder son to be quite well aware that he -- the loving father of them both -- was addressing him, the elder, as ‘my son’, while in the same breath referring to the younger -- though the beloved cause for such heartfelt rejoicing – simply as ‘your brother’.

My dear People of God, there is nothing whatsoever in life that can compare with the dignity and glory which is already ours as prospectively faithful disciples of Jesus -- the only-begotten and eternally beloved Son of God -- called, in Him, to become members of the heavenly Father’s family, His adopted and beloved children for all eternity; likewise, however, there could be no greater tragedy in our lives than that we should lose such an utterly incomparable privilege and destiny.  We must never forget the example of Esau who sold his birthright as first-born to his younger brother Jacob for some bread and a quickly consumed stew of lentils; and, above all we should never forget the heart-rending plea of Esau to his father Isaac (Genesis 25:31-34):

“Let my father sit up and eat some of his son’s game, that you may then give me your blessing.”  His father Isaac asked him, “Who are you?”  He said, “I am your son, your first-born son, Esau.”  Isaac trembled greatly.  “Who was it, then,” he asked, “that hunted game and brought it to me?   I ate it all before you came, and I blessed him.  Now he is blessed!” As he heard his father’s words, Esau burst into loud, bitter sobbing and said, “Father, bless me too!  Have you only one blessing, father?  Bless me too, father!”  And Esau wept aloud. 

People of God, treasure your greatest privilege; that privilege whereby you, as faithful and obedient disciples of Christ can invoke the eternal God as, ‘Our Father Who art in heaven…’  Do not allow worldly considerations in any way to obscure your grateful awareness of your truly sublime dignity: do not allow the allurements of pleasure, the appearances of self-sufficiency, the provocations of self-love, to move you to follow in Esau’s steps along the path to bitter grief and ultimate loss.

We should, however, notice that this parable of Jesus is addressed to some Pharisees and Scribes complaining about the fact of His choosing to eat with publicly acknowledged sinners.  Now, even St. John – so well loved and appreciated though he was --- teaches us, in his second letter (vv. 9-11), a not dissimilar doctrine and piece of every-day and enduring wisdom:

Anyone who is so “progressive” as not to remain in the teaching of the Christ does not have God; whoever remains in the teaching has the Father and the Son.  If anyone comes to you and does not bring this doctrine, do not receive him in your house or even greet him; for whoever greets him shares in his evil works.

Moreover Jesus Himself had just (so St. Luke suggests) expressed an exemplary ‘hard-line’ appreciation of the cost of discipleship for all who, as He said, ‘would come to Him’:

Great crowds were traveling with Him, and He turned and addressed them, “If any one comes to Me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be My disciple.  Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple.  (Luke 14:25-27)

Therefore I like to think that perhaps Jesus is not directly responding to those Pharisees and Scribes as died-in-the-wool enemies and opponents, but addressing them as the father in the parable addresses his elder son; seeking, in that way, to reconcile them to His Father.  For there were among such scholars and devotees those to be found who favoured Jesus; for example, warning Him against His enemies and acknowledging the truth and beauty of His teachings, as St. Luke himself has told us (13:31; 10:25-28):

At that time some Pharisees came to Him and said, ‘Go away, leave this area because Herod wants to kill You! 

There was a scholar of the Law who stood up to test Him and said, ‘Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’  Jesus said to him, ‘What is written in the Law?  How do you read it?  He said in reply, ‘You shall love the Lord your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all you strength, and with all you mind, and your neighbour as yourself.’  He replied to him, ‘You have answered correctly; do this and you will live’. 

These, and their like, were ‘elder brothers’ who had long sought and served the God proclaimed and prepared for by the Law given through Moses; possibly they can be considered as being like the ‘elder son’ of the parable, somewhat disorientated and disturbed by what was 'new’ and above them.  Jesus, I like to think, overlooking their present attitude of fearful antagonism, appreciated their life-long (so far!) fidelity to His Father and was seeking – by offering them the humble joy of those words of appreciation addressed by the father to his elder son – to help them over the last hurdle towards their acceptance of Himself, for love of the Father.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, the Father’s love for us-in-Jesus:

For the Father Himself loves you because you have loved Me and have come to believe that I came from God.  (John 16:27)

Is the essential constituent of our being, in so far as Jesus describes His own earthly being and experience in the framework of that one relationship:

I came from the Father and have come into the world.  Now I am leaving the world and going back to My Father.  (16:28)

By opening up the possibility of such a relationship we were told in our first reading that:

                The Lord said to Joshua, ‘Today, I have removed the reproach of Egypt from you.’

The reproach of our modern world is yet more virulent than that of Egypt, therefore keep in the front of your minds and close to your hearts those words of St. Paul in our second reading:

Whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold new things have come.  And all this is from God (the Father) Who has reconciled us to Himself through Christ.             

3rd Sunday of Lent (C) 2016

3^rd. Sunday of Lent (C)

(Exodus 3:1-8, 13-15; 1 Corinthians 10:1-6, 10-12; Luke 13:1-9)

In this country many in Mother Church still – despite the fact that scandals multiply and persecution is openly, and indeed brazenly, baring its claws again -- have a very comfortable understanding of God and their relationship with Him: He is good, merciful, and forgiving; after all, as Jesus assures us, He is our Father.

In reality, however, for many so-called believers, those are somewhat empty words; for they consider His goodness to be such that even though, as they say, "we are not fanatical enough to make it our purpose to recognize and correct what may need to be corrected in our life-style, He won’t punish us for such sins --'weaknesses' or 'mistakes' really -- if we occasionally use the word ‘sorry’ or give a little more to the Sunday collection or a local charity.  Above all, they like to recall that God is our Father; meaning that -- as with many modern parents -- He dotes on us His children and wants us above all to be happy, more or less practising, Catholics, and occasionally confessing Christians.

Although some may think I am exaggerating rather unpleasantly, that is the attitude of mind -- largely unconscious I admit -- in which too many Catholics today live out their relationship with God: He is rather like a memory from childhood days, floating around our minds, occasionally coming into focus for our notice but who/which is really almost totally irrelevant to our experience of and response to the reality of living today.  And yet, on the other hand, they still regard themselves as passable Catholics and, indeed, somewhat special people, because -- after all -- the majority of people today in this country and in Europe, do not believe in God at all.  Even those who have completely given up practicing their Catholic and Christian faith for the most part say that they still like Jesus as a man; but they do not believe in Him as God since ’God is redundant’, which they explain with words such as: ‘scientists say they can explain the world without Him, and He certainly does not seem to intervene in any way in our affairs … look at all the scandals on high, and the corruption, crime, and suffering going on around us, and yet He does nothing!’

However, we who do believe, we who are serious Catholics in our desire to know, love, and serve God in Jesus, by the Spirit, find a truer appreciation of God when we look at today’s readings, beginning with our first reading where Moses was drawn by curiosity to approach a blazing bush in the desert:

I must go over to look at this remarkable sight, and see why the bush is not burned.

God called to him, apparently from the middle of the bush:

Come no nearer!  Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.

And, what is more, He said it in such a tone that:

Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. 

Curiosity and holiness are incompatible it would seem, for not even Moses was allowed to draw close to God out of mere curiosity.   Fear however – reverential fear, that is, not the native, instinctive type of self-centred fear – is much more appropriate, allowing Moses to draw close to the Lord and to hear His word!  And this is in accord with the teaching we heard in the psalm:

For as the heavens are high above the earth, so surpassing is (the Lord’s) kindness toward those who fear Him.

Surely this shows quite clearly that God is not the soft touch many so fondly imagine. 

Such an appreciation is confirmed when we turn our attention to our second reading taken from St. Paul’s letter to his converts at Corinth.  There, he recalls how God had led Israel through the desert with miracles such as the stupendous crossing of the Red Sea, and other blessings of protection, food and drink, in times of great need.  And yet he says:

God was not pleased with most of them, for they were struck down in the desert.

Then he goes on to draw a lesson for us from this rejection by God of the majority of those living apparently ordinary and acceptable lives as members of the Chosen People:

Now these things happened as examples for us, so that we might not desire evil things as they did.

What were these evil things? They worshipped their stomachs, delighted in sexual revels; they tried to put God to the test in their lives, adopting an ”if He doesn’t give some sign, we won’t believe” sort of attitude; and then, of course, they were great grumblers.  Paul quite deliberately repeated his warning, expressly including us this time:

These things happened to them as an example and they have been written down as a warning to us, upon whom the end of the ages has come. 

How true it is that God, the true God, is no soft touch, no sugar Daddy!!  He is not One who will allow us to remain like spoilt children at the level of infantile pleasures or fantasies, for He intends to raise us up to maturity in the likeness of Jesus as His adopted children:  Heaven, most certainly, is not for adults who like to pretend they are just care-free little children enjoying themselves in Daddy’s wonderful world.

However, some might still be thinking that those are only readings from the Old Testament and from the writings of St. Paul, whereas Jesus Himself was different.  Let us now, therefore, turn to Jesus as we heard Him speaking in our Gospel reading.

The Jews had tried to stir up hatred of the Romans and trouble for Jesus by asking Him about the fate of some Galileans killed by the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, as they were offering sacrifices to God.  Jesus, however, was not to be deflected from His main purpose, and He replied:

Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were greater sinners than all other Galileans?

He then immediately went on to recall a very unfortunate and tragic accident that had only recently occurred.  Now with us, it is customary to refer to victims of such-like accidents as though they were now most certainly at peace and happy in heaven, after having been so unfortunate on earth. That was not the way Jews of ancient times reacted, for they tended to think that there must have been some secret sin in the lives of those tragic sufferers which would account for their untimely deaths.  As for Jesus, His own attitude was in contrast both to the attitude of His Jewish contemporaries and to our modern expectancies, for He neither judged the dead nor did He pour out any  banalities such as our modern, politically-correct, expressions of sympathy and condolence, for He simply went on to say:

Those eighteen people who were killed when the tower at Siloam fell on them, do you think that they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem?  By no means!  But I tell you, if you do not repent you will all perish as they did! 

From such a vignette you can begin to appreciate how alien so much human fellowship-and-feeling of a ‘holiness-without-God’ origin, and so much irreligious clap-trap about ‘God’s goodness’, from the authors and promoters of emotional outpourings without any commitment of faith or discipline of teaching, must be both to Jesus and to God Himself!

Now, I am not denying that God is good.  Far from it!  He is good, indeed, He is ultimate and infinite Goodness Itself, but He is not good in the way our sinful world imagines or proclaims Him to be.  God is good to those, who, as Jesus said, repent; that is, God’s goodness is geared first of all towards our repentance and then, further, towards our sanctification; it is not the goodness of indulgence, imbecility, or indifference.

Jesus’ first call on beginning His public ministry was:

This is the time of fulfilment.  The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel. (Mark 1:14-15)

That word “repent” was and is absolutely essential.  Only human beings can repent: thanks to our unique likeness to God we can recognize sin and learn to hate it.  No one who refuses or fails to repent for sin can be acceptable to God, as St. John in his first letter (1:5-10) tells us:

God is light and in Him is no darkness at all.  If we say we have fellowship with Him while we continue to walk in darkness, we lie and do not act in truth.  But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, then we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of His Son Jesus cleanses us from all sin.  If we say we are without sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we acknowledge our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing. If we say we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us. 

Jesus had been sent to plead for and to save those who were -- as sinners -- worthy of God’s punishment, just as the fruitless tree in the Gospel parable deserved to be cut down.  Jesus’ plea to His Father, however, was:

Leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not, you can cut it down.

That is, Jesus, of set purpose, would pour out His blood in the agony of His crucifixion to fertilize our lives, giving us another -- and this time final -- opportunity to learn to repent and bring forth fruit for God, fruit acceptable to Him.

Towards those who do repent, God is quite unimaginably good; for, having purified them through the blood of His very own Son, He then goes on, as St. Paul expressly assures us, to bestow upon them blessings unlimited:

He Who did not spare His own Son, but handed Him over for us all, how will He not also give us everything else along with Him?  (Romans 8:32)

And it is at this point that Paul himself proceeds to sing one of the most beautiful songs to God’s great goodness that could ever be conceived, a song of such beauty that it makes all modern sugar-daddy imaginations seem, as indeed they most truly are, sick and utterly unworthy (Romans 8:34-9:1):

It is Christ Who died, rather, was raised, Who also is at the right hand of God, Who intercedes for us.  What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?  As it is written: "For Your sake we are being slain all the day; we are looked upon as sheep to be slaughtered."  No, in all these things, we conquer overwhelmingly through Him Who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

People of God, may that love of Christ pierce us through and through and be  reflected in us both as true and humble repentance for our sins, and as loving zeal for God’s glory and the well-being of Mother Church.  For the love of Jesus is being offered us still today, and His Precious Blood -- poured out for many on Calvary -- continues to be sprinkled on us and on all our efforts at Christian living through the Church’s sacraments, so that we may bring forth fruit ever more expressive of our own sincere repentance, and grateful love ever more befitting God’s great goodness and deep, deep, mercy.

On the other hand, without such repentance, He will be found no soft touch, for He is a Holy God Who, in the words of Jesus’ saving plea, has already warned the unrepentant:

If it does not bear fruit you can cut it down.