[Apologies]

Am a couple weeks behind with the posts. Between final exams, Holy Week, and graduation here at the University of Michigan, I'm just coming up for air! Will try to backdate some posts soon.

10 April 2011 - 5th Sunday of Lent [Cycle A]

April 10, 2011 — Fifth Sunday of Lent

First Reading – Ezekiel 37: 12-14
Thus says the Lord GOD: O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, and bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people! I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the LORD. I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD.

Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 130: 1—8
R. (7) With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.
Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD; LORD, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to my voice in supplication.
With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.
If you, O LORD, mark iniquities, LORD, who can stand?
But with you is forgiveness, that you may be revered.
R. With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.
I trust in the LORD; my soul trusts in his word.
More than sentinels wait for the dawn, let Israel wait for the LORD.
R. With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.
For with the LORD is kindness and with him is plenteous redemption;
And he will redeem Israel from all their iniquities.
R. With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

Second Reading — Romans 8: 8—11
Brothers and sisters:
Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh; on the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness. If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit dwelling in you.

Gospel – John 11: 1-45
Now a man was ill, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.
Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill.So the sisters sent word to him saying,
“Master, the one you love is ill.” When Jesus heard this he said, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that he was ill, he remained for two days in the place where he was. Then after this he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”

The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours in a day? If one walks during the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if one walks at night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” He said this, and then told them, “Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I am going to awaken him.”
So the disciples said to him, “Master, if he is asleep, he will be saved.”
But Jesus was talking about his death, while they thought that he meant ordinary sleep.
So then Jesus said to them clearly, “Lazarus has died. And I am glad for you that I was not there, that you may believe. Let us go to him.”
So Thomas, called Didymus, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go to die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days.
Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, only about two miles away. And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus,
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.”
Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went and called her sister Mary secretly, saying, “The teacher is here and is asking for you.” As soon as she heard this, she rose quickly and went to him.
For Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still where Martha had met him.
So when the Jews who were with her in the house comforting her saw Mary get up quickly and go out, they followed her, presuming that she was going to the tomb to weep there.

When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him,
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Sir, come and see.” And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.”

But some of them said, “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have done something so that this man would not have died?”

So Jesus, perturbed again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay across it.
Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him,
“Lord, by now there will be a stench; he has been dead for four days.”

Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone. And Jesus raised his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me.”

And when he had said this, He cried out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”
The dead man came out, tied hand and foot with burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.” Now many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what he had done began to believe in him.

Reflection
The story of the raising of Lazarus is one of the most powerful and well-known in all of Scripture. Every single part of the passage, from the reactions of the individual characters, to the words Jesus speaks, holds immense theological significance and could well serve as the basis for an entire doctoral dissertation. But for us, what is most important is the fact that the experience of losing a loved one and crying out to God in anguish is an experience we all, at some point in our lives, can relate to. Very few of us will ever experience possession by a demon or encounter multiplication of fish and loaves, but all of us will undergo the loss of a loved one. It is worth probing the various dimensions of this scene to find out more about what Jesus’ response means for us when we, too, face a situation of this sort.

The first thing to note is that Jesus has formed a relationship with Martha and Mary;
remember, these two are the sisters who, in the Gospel of Luke, host Jesus at their home. In that instance, Martha has complained to Jesus that she is doing all of the work while Mary is simply sitting at the feet of Jesus doing nothing at all. Jesus reproaches Martha for her resentment and affirms Mary for her stillness. It would appear as though Martha is a person who feels as though she must be in a constant state of activity. As though she needs to be in control of all of the relevant factors at all times. Making sure nothing goes wrong.

Jesus chides her for this and points to Mary’s ability to simply… be… in his presence. It is a direct challenge to us not to try and be rushing about all the time, trying to account for all possible contingencies. Instead, we are invited, when in the presence of Jesus, to allow ourselves just to be completely consumed by that encounter. To put aside our worrying and just to absorb our interaction with Jesus himself.

Here in this scene, Martha stays true to form. When she hears that Jesus is coming, she rushes out to meet him, and she immediately begins to express her frustration and anger that Jesus had not come sooner, while Mary stays back at the house. Once again, Martha wanted things her way; she had sent word to Jesus that Lazarus was sick, and if Jesus had come sooner, Lazarus would not have died. If only he had listened to Martha, Jesus could have saved his friend. Martha tries to exercise control over all aspects of her life—indeed, over not simply life, but over life AND death—even to the point of telling Jesus himself what he should have done.

Mary, for her part, eventually comes out to meet Jesus, and even she is upset that Jesus did not come sooner. Mary seems to have been the one who had an easier time trusting Jesus, so it cannot be incidental that, when Jesus sees her weeping, the Gospel author reports that he, too, began to weep.

And what about the disciples in all of this? When Jesus had first received word that Lazarus was ill, the disciples immediately warned him against returning to that region, for the Jews were likely to kill him if they caught him there. One can imagine the anxiety in their voices and the exasperation in their spirit when Jesus announced his intention to go visit the sisters. To their ears, returning to Judea at this particular moment amounted to nothing less than a suicide mission, and Jesus seems blithely unperturbed by this reality. His enigmatic answer about how a day has twelve hours and how one stumbles if one walks at night probably left them even more confounded. Jesus does not address their very valid concerns; he simply answers them with some indecipherable riddle about stumbling in the darkness.

Nevertheless, their worries still unresolved and their master seemingly indifferent to the danger, they shrug their shoulders and, led by Thomas, who says almost sarcastically, “Let us go to die with him,” they all follow. (Thomas sounds like a stock character from a modern-day action film who finishes reciting the impossible odds, smiles, chomps on a cigar, and giddily declares his intention to undertake the mission anyway.) If ever we are too quick to give Thomas a hard time for “doubting” the stories of the Resurrection, we would do well to remember that he was also the first to declare his willingness to die alongside Jesus, should that be the outcome of their ministry. Indeed, as we enter Holy Week, it can be tempting to focus on the fact that the disciples deserted Jesus during his moment of most excruciating agony and went into hiding following the death, we should first read this passage and acknowledge that these same disciples all appeared ready to follow Jesus to what they were convinced was certain death on this mission to visit Martha and Mary.

Turning to Jesus, we see here, one of the most poignant portraits of God-made-flesh in all of Scripture. Nowhere are Jesus’ emotions more prominently on display, nor anywhere else do they seem to figure so centrally to the outcome of the story.

When Jesus hears word that Lazarus is ill, he does not stop what he is doing to intervene. A commentator notes that, John, for the author of the story, this serves as yet one more instantiation of a theme permeating the Gospel, namely, that Jesus does not ever do anything because of outside pressure. Jesus only ever acts from an interior decision, fully of his own accord, when he has determined that the time is right and the reason on point. All that Jesus is reported to do in the Gospel of John comports with Jesus’ mission of glorifying God, namely by way of subjecting himself to the horrors of the Cross.

Jesus does not go to Judea because that is what his followers expect him to do, nor even does he go because the sisters have asked. Instead, he goes for two reasons alone:
1) because of his great love for the family, and 2) because his actions there will, to a greater degree, glorify God who has sent him and fulfill his mission on earth.

The word “perturbed” that is used by the New American Bible to describe Jesus’ emotional response to seeing Mary weep leaves us perhaps a bit dissatisfied. (One is perturbed when the copier runs out of toner or the bus to North Campus departs a minute early, leaving us to wait for the next one. One generally feels a stronger, more visceral emotional reaction to seeing a beloved friend break into hysterical tears over the death of her brother, who was likewise beloved of the person.)

Biblical scholar William Barclay has studied the original Greek word that here gets transcribed as “perturbed,” and which in the RSV and NIV comes out as, “disturbed,” and he offers a more vivid description of what the author most likely sought to convey. The Greek word here, embrimasthai, originally referred to the way a horse would neigh and snort, and its entire body would shake. Barclay therefore has suggested that the evangelist sought really to communicate that Jesus was so upset by this interaction, that, “he was deeply moved in spirit so that an involuntary groan burst forth from him, and he trembled with deep emotion.” Now THAT is the reaction we might have to coming face to face with the death of a best friend, while that friend’s sister weeps uncontrollably in front of our eyes.

In his decision to raise Lazarus from the dead, Jesus may well have acted primarily out of a motivation to glorify God, but he unquestionably acted also out of a deeply felt anguish in his own spirit. If we are to believe that God became fully human and underwent all that it is to know our human condition, then we must also believe that the experience of losing a best friend would have been every bit as indescribably painful for him as it is for us. We may, in our academic understanding of God, articulate a belief that God knows our pain, but in this passage from Scripture, we see quite lucidly that, insofar as God also walked as one of us on this earth, God literally knows exactly how soul-shatteringly terrible it is to experience this sort of loss.

And so we once again ask ourselves: how does this pertain to our own experience in the 21st century? How do we grieve our loved ones, how do we come to God with our petitions, how do we heal from loss, knowing that God himself has experienced it with us?

First of note is that Jesus does not respond immediately to Martha and Mary’s initial news that Lazarus is ill. We too, can relate to that, as it may seem to us as though we have told God about a very great problem in our lives, and we wish for him to intervene to prevent some greater evil, but we get no response.

Too, we should be able to empathize with the sisters’ expression of angst to Jesus for his failure to respond sooner. Whatever range of emotions that they were feeling—rage,
disappointment, anger, frustration, betrayal—they felt comfortable communicating it right to Jesus’ face. Clearly, those who were beloved of Jesus had an intimacy with him that they were invited to be raw and honest, even when it meant shouting in anger. The question might be raised: do we, who claim to know Jesus, who claim to have a relationship with him, feel likewise comfortable expressing this level of raw honesty to his face about things we feel are unjust or incomprehensible?

But, too, the sisters move on from this expression of emotion to articulate a great hope in Jesus ability, even now, to bring healing to the situation. Do we, also, feel able to put together such a statement of trust, of hope, even amidst our worst pain?

We may go on to consider the experience of the disciples. Are there times when what Jesus appears to be asking us to do seems imprudent or even downright illogical? Have we ever felt like being a follower of Christ compelled us to trust that something seemingly counter-intuitive would actually work out? And did we, like Thomas, shrug our shoulders and trust that it would?

Further, we must consider how this depiction of Jesus invites us into a radically intimate relationship with him moving forward. Jesus wept. Jesus shaked uncontrollably at the pain of death. And he did something about it. The same offer of friendship that he extended to the sisters in Judea remains available to us some 2000 years later. The willingness to come to us, and to bring comfort and healing in the wake of unspeakable tragedy is every bit as necessary and pertinent today as it was back then. The question is: do we allow ourselves to cultivate the friendship, as Mary, Martha, and Lazarus indubitably did over the course of several years prior to this scene, so that, when we ARE in pain, we can feel empowered to send word to Jesus that his presence is desired?

Finally, we should highlight the fact that, in doing this, Jesus was, effectively, signing his own death warrant. He recognized that it would add to the greater glory of God, that it was what God was asking him to do as part of his vocation here on earth, but he was under no delusion that the consequences would be anything other than unpleasant. Sometimes, when we accept God’s call to be used as part of his mission here on earth, we are acknowledging right at the outset that it will be difficult, that it may cost us a great deal. Do we, like Jesus, trust that, even if this is the case, God’s plan that may include suffering along the way will also result in the joy of the Resurrection?

3 April 2011 - 4th Sunday of Lent [Cycle A]

April 3, 2011 — Fourth Sunday of Lent

First Reading – Genesis 12: 1-4a
The LORD said to Samuel: “Fill your horn with oil, and be on your way. I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem, for I have chosen my king from among his sons.” As Jesse and his sons came to the sacrifice, Samuel looked at Eliab and thought, “Surely the LORD’s anointed is here before him.” But the LORD said to Samuel: “Do not judge from his appearance or from his lofty stature, because I have rejected him. Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the LORD looks into the heart.” In the same way Jesse presented seven sons before Samuel, but Samuel said to Jesse, “The LORD has not chosen any one of these.”
Then Samuel asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?”
Jesse replied, “There is still the youngest, who is tending the sheep.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Send for him; we will not begin the sacrificial banquet until he arrives here.” Jesse sent and had the young man brought to them. He was ruddy, a youth handsome to behold and making a splendid appearance. The LORD said, “There—anoint him, for this is the one!” Then Samuel, with the horn of oil in hand, anointed David in the presence of his brothers;
and from that day on, the spirit of the LORD rushed upon David.

Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 33: 4-5, 18-19, 20, 22
R. (1) The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose;
beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.
R. The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
He guides me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side With your rod and your staff that give me courage.
R. The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
You spread the table before me in the sight of my foes; you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
R. The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for years to come.
R. The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Second Reading—Ephesians 5:8-14
Brothers and sisters: You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth. Try to learn what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the fruitless works of darkness; rather expose them, for it is shameful even to mention the things done by them in secret; but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore, it says: “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”

Gospel – John 9: 1-41
As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam” —which means Sent—. So he went and washed, and came back able to see.

His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is,” but others said, “No, he just looks like him.”
He said, “I am.” So they said to him, “How were your eyes opened?” He replied, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’
So I went there and washed and was able to see.” And they said to him, “Where is he?”
He said, “I don’t know.”

They brought the one who was once blind to the Pharisees. Now Jesus had made clay and opened his eyes on a sabbath. So then the Pharisees also asked him how he was able to see.
He said to them, “He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see.” So some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, because he does not keep the sabbath.”
But others said, “How can a sinful man do such signs?” And there was a division among them. So they said to the blind man again, “What do you have to say about him, since he opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”
Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight. They asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see?”

His parents answered and said, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him, he is of age; he can speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Christ, he would be expelled from the synagogue. For this reason his parents said, “He is of age; question him.”

So a second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give God the praise! We know that this man is a sinner.” He replied, “If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.”
So they said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?”
He answered them, “I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?” They ridiculed him and said, “You are that man’s disciple; we are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from.”
The man answered and said to them, “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.”

They answered and said to him, “You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?” Then they threw him out. When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
He answered and said, “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”
Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, the one speaking with you is he.”
He said, “I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him. Then Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.” Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains.

Reflection
There are two major plots in today’s Gospel narrative of the man born blind. The first is the relationship between Jesus and the blind man; the second is the interaction between the blind man and the religious authorities.

As has been established, each of the Gospel writers sought to communicate a particular message about Jesus; to construct a narrative that revealed a certain understanding about who this individual was, and what significance his life may have had. For Matthew, we see quite clearly that this Jesus is the Messiah prophesied by the Hebrew Scriptures; the one chosen by God to save the people Israel. In Luke, Jesus is depicted as sent not only to the Jews, but to the entire world, and so numerous stories portray him interacting with Gentiles, as a way of emphasizing the universality of his mission. When Mark displays Jesus performing miracles, it is not uncommon for him to characterize Jesus as “moved by compassion” (Mark 1:41, 6:34). This inclusion would seem to suggest a very human Jesus, who was affected by the same emotional tugs that we feel when we encounter a homeless person lying in the street or a loved one fighting cancer. Hopefully, in such instances, we, too, are moved by compassion.

But in this telling, Jesus indicates that the reason for this man’s suffering—and thus Jesus’ response—is to demonstrate the healing power of God. This is not in opposition to Mark’s or Matthew’s respective portrayals of Jesus; i.e. this is not to claim that Jesus is NOT the fulfillment of prophecies from the Hebrew Scriptures, or to assert that he is NOT a human person that is moved by compassion to use his gifts to help others… Rather, it is merely that, in addition to being those things, Jesus’ primary mission is to be used as a conduit for the healing power of God in people’s lives. Thus for John, the thesis statement of this story might be articulated as: God wishes to heal us, and He uses this person Jesus, in a special way, to bring that healing to our lives.

Of note is that the disciples, who by this point have been traveling with Jesus for quite some time, still fail to understand this message, even as they are around Jesus constantly and playing a part in his ministry. When they see the blind man, their first response is not to importune upon Jesus to heal him; rather, they treat the man as an intellectual exercise, a case study in the relationship between individual sin and bad things happening to people.

Jesus rather curtly dismisses their question and immediately shifts the conversation. Rather than indulge their detached, academic curiosity about the relationship between sin and evil occurrences, Jesus responds to the man’s affliction as an opportunity for action. His reaction is as decisive as it is effective—he wastes no time in doing what is within his power to bring healing to the man, then sends him off to complete the process.

Once the man has been healed, he encounters the religious authorities who are portrayed as already quite antipathetic towards Jesus’ ministry. The Pharisees—a group defined by their unmatched knowledge of the Law and unyielding adherence to its most infinitesimal prescription—immediately decry the fact that Jesus, incontestably, has violated the Law’s prohibition on doing work during the Sabbath. Their very first reaction is not, “How wonderful that this man’s suffering has been taken away!” but an outrage over the fact that the way by which this result was produced was unacceptable. An unmistakable contrast is drawn: for Jesus, the act of healing this man represented an opportunity to demonstrate the efficacy of God’s healing power in our lives; for the Pharisees, it epitomized an affront to that same God by breaking His rules for our behavior.

Why were these people so threatened by Jesus, and why was their fixation on the letter of the Law so unrelenting that they could not pause, even for a second, to share a human moment with this man and celebrate his cure? There had to be a reason.

The reason that the Pharisees are so focused on the act of violating the Law is the very same reason the Chief of Medicine at a hospital would be furious if he found out that an attending had been stealing medical supplies and performing unapproved, off-site medical procedures for poor immigrants afraid of showing up to the ER for fear of deportation. The Chief of Medicine likely would be irate that this person—however well-meaning her intentions—had shown utter disregard, even contempt, for sound hospital rules that were designed to help keep people safe. Even if someone said to the Chief, “But sir, this doctor has probably saved a couple dozen lives by doing this,” the Chief likely would be focused on how egregious, reckless, and thoughtless had been this person’s actions.

So too was likely the mindset of the Pharisees who believed that God had given the Jews the Law for a reason—for their own health and well-being (same as hospital policies are designed to keep both employees and patients safe).

If one believes, as the Jews unquestionably did, that the purpose of the Law was for human happiness and well-being; and that, furthermore, every time in Jewish history that the people had abandoned the Law and started doing their own thing, they had found themselves in major trouble… then one can understand why they placed such
importance adherence to the Law. Moreover, it is not hard to understand why they would have been so upset that this rogue self-appointed teacher named Jesus was going around demonstrating a total disregard for following the Law. In the mind of the Pharisees, this person Jesus may have meant well on some level—but he was actually
doing something very dangerous in advocating this new way of living that suggested it was acceptable to ignore the Law. In a sense, they were entrusted with the spiritual well-being of the people, and Jesus was threatening the people’s well-being by leading them astray. Imagine that the rogue doctor at the hospital went around advocating to medical students that they ignore hospital protocol if they thought they could do more good. A person like that could cause a lot of damage with such dangerous suggestions.

So, in a way, their animosity towards Jesus comes from a “good place,” in that they don’t want the people misled. But their obsession with the Law has caused them to become overly obsessed with sheer adherence to each letter of it, much to the detriment of all other considerations. At no point are the Pharisees depicted as being torn about this, because part of them sincerely is happy to see this man healed. The focus on the Law has blinded them to the humanity of it, and to its ultimate purpose, which is why Jesus constantly challenges them to recover a more holistic understanding of its role in human life. (For instance, his argument with them over picking grains on the Sabbath.)

Furthermore, their passion for the Law has become inextricably bound up with their internal insecurities and personal jealousies. We see this clearly in the way that they bicker over whether or not this man could authentically have been healed by Jesus. The reason they are so unsettled is that, if this event really took place as the man described, it would provide incontestable proof that God really DOES listen to Jesus, and that this man really DOES have some sort of unique insight into the way God operates. And Jesus’ insight is dramatically opposed to the ethos of the Pharisees.

Thus, their entire self-understanding is at stake here. Their very identity, their way-of-being in society, is as a Pharisee, that is, as one who believes that God wishes for humans to obey the Law to its letter, for their own happiness. If this person Jesus comes along and offers a different way of understanding the Law—which he does—and then furthermore he can provide evidence that he is right about all of this by performing signs… then they, very clearly, have been proven wrong. Such a blow is difficult to assimilate—but imagine if you dedicated your entire life to the belief that a particular way of living were the best, and then someone came along and proved, beyond argument, that it was, in fact, incorrect all along. That would be devastating.

So these religious authorities are responding from a place of deep-seated insecurity. They are insecure that they may have made the wrong choice; that their life might be a sham. No wonder they are eager to prove that this man’s story was made-up, or that Jesus had tricked people in some way.

Finally, it is worth noting that their response is not to explore this matter further; to search within their own souls to see if this might be true, if this Jesus person is actually who he says he is—they have already ruled that out. So their reaction is to banish the man who represents the proof of their error. To eliminate any lingering cognitive dissonance, they simply excommunicate the problematic individual. That way, when they are at synagogue, still thoroughly convinced of their right-ness, they don’t have to look across the room and see a man who represents their wrong-ness. Out of sight, out of mind.

In our own lives, we are, at various times, each of the four major characters in this story: 1) Jesus; 2) the blind man; 3) the disciples; and 4) the Pharisees.

We are Jesus insofar as we see someone who is suffering, and we try to alleviate that suffering. We recognize that we cannot do it by ourselves, and so we ask for God’s help; we request that God will use us as an instrument of his healing in the life of this person. Moreover, we are Jesus when we do not wish to claim the glory for ourselves, but when we tell everyone that, if we were able to effect any positive outcome at all, it was only by being used precisely as God’s instrument. It is God who heals, through us, and not we ourselves, who heal.

We are the blind man when we are afflicted in any way, be it physical, mental, or spiritual. We are the blind man when we have suffered so long that we have given up hope. Note that the blind man does not call out to Jesus and beg Jesus to heal him. He has long since given up hope that healing is even possible. And yet, Jesus reaches out to him, as he reaches out to us. Sometimes, we cry out to God for healing, as so many in the Gospel stories do. But even when we don’t, Jesus STILL sees our suffering and offers to heal it.

Furthermore, we are the blind man when our encounter with Jesus, our faith, causes us to be in some way ostracized from our society. When we are excommunicated from whatever group of which we are a part, be it our academic department, our circle of friends, or, even, our own family members. Being touched by Jesus means that we are never the same, and that no matter what the cost to us socially, we cannot but exclaim the truth that Jesus has healed us, and He is Lord.

Too, we are disciples. We are disciples when we see someone suffering around us, and our first response is not to ask Jesus to heal that person, or ask how we might be part of the healing… but to treat it as an intellectual exercise. How often do we see a homeless man on the street and think, “He probably made bad decisions,” or we look at the people of New Orleans and remark that, “Just goes to show you what happens when you build your city below sea-level.” Jesus immediately dismisses such thoughts and demands that we take action, as he did. The point of suffering is not for us to sit around and ponder the problem of evil in the universe—it is an opportunity for us to be agents of God’s healing power in the lives of those who are suffering.

Finally, we are Pharisees. We are Pharisees when, for whatever reason, many of those reasons very good, we are more focused on the letter of the law than the human persons it affects. We are Pharisees when, out of insecurity or fear or jealousy, we react with hostility or bitterness towards others. We are Pharisees when someone speaks a truth to us, we simply shut them off, because we are not willing to hear that truth, for it will require us to do serious, uncomfortable soul searching.

There is only one reflection question this week: In what ways have you been one or more of the following: Jesus, blind man, disciples, Pharisee? When in your life have you inhabited those roles?

March 27, 2011 — Third Sunday of Lent

First Reading – Exodus 17: 3-7
In those days, in their thirst for water, the people grumbled against Moses, saying, “Why did you ever make us leave Egypt? Was it just to have us die here of thirst with our children and our livestock?” So Moses cried out to the LORD, “What shall I do with this people? a little more and they will stone me!” The LORD answered Moses, “Go over there in front of the people, along with some of the elders of Israel, holding in your hand, as you go, the staff with which you struck the river. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock in Horeb. Strike the rock, and the water will flow from it for the people to drink.”
This Moses did, in the presence of the elders of Israel. The place was called Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled there and tested the LORD, saying, “Is the LORD in our midst or not?”

Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 95: 1-2, 6-7, 8-9
R. (8) If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.
Come, let us sing joyfully to the LORD; let us acclaim the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us joyfully sing psalms to him.
R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.
Come, let us bow down in worship; let us kneel before the LORD who made us.
For he is our God, and we are the people he shepherds, the flock he guides.
R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.
Oh, that today you would hear his voice: “Harden not your hearts as at Meribah, as in the day of Massah in the desert, Where your fathers tempted me; they tested me though they had seen my works.”
R. If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

Second Reading: Romans 5: 1-2, 5-8
Brothers and sisters: Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in hope of the glory of God. And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. For Christ, while we were still helpless, died at the appointed time for the ungodly. Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.

Gospel – John 4: 5-42
Jesus came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well. It was about noon. A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.

The Samaritan woman said to him, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?”—For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.— Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink, ‘you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the cistern is deep; where then can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this cistern and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?” Jesus answered and said to her, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Jesus said to her, “Go call your husband and come back.”
The woman answered and said to him, “I do not have a husband.”
Jesus answered her, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain; but you people say that the place to worship is in Jerusalem.”

Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You people worship what you do not understand; we worship what we understand, because salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth; and indeed the Father seeks such people to worship him. God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and truth.”

The woman said to him, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one called the Christ; when he comes, he will tell us everything.” Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one speaking with you.”

At that moment his disciples returned, and were amazed that he was talking with a woman, but still no one said, “What are you looking for?” or “Why are you talking with her?”
The woman left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?” They went out of the town and came to him. Meanwhile, the disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat.” But he said to them, “I have food to eat of which you do not know.” So the disciples said to one another, “Could someone have brought him something to eat?”

Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work. Do you not say, ‘In four months the harvest will be here’? I tell you, look up and see the fields ripe for the harvest. The reaper is already receiving payment and gathering crops for eternal life, so that the sower and reaper can rejoice together. For here the saying is verified that ‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap what you have not worked for; others have done the work, and you are sharing the fruits of their work.”

Many of the Samaritans of that town began to believe in him because of the word of the woman who testified, “He told me everything I have done.” When the Samaritans came to him, they invited him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. Many more began to believe in him because of his word, and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.”

Supplement: Historical Context
A quick recap of the history of the Jewish people that underpins this, and other Gospel narratives involving Samaritans…

Abraham was called into Covenant with the Lord. Abraham had a son, Isaac, who had 12 sons, the youngest of whom, Joseph (the one with the rainbow coat), was sold by his brothers into slavery in Egypt. But once in Egypt, Joseph rose to be a great advisor to Pharaoh, and his prognostication of 7 years of surplus crops, followed by 7 years of drought, allowed Egypt to survive this challenging period. During the years of drought, many in the land of Canaan had traveled to Egypt, in an attempt to find work and food. But over the course of following generations, these immigrants found themselves increasingly maltreated by the land’s inhabitants, and conditions worsened up to the point of Moses, when we see the descendants of Joseph and his brothers as slaves in the land of Egypt.

Moses, called by God, led the people out of slavery (the Exodus) and into a period of wandering in the desert, hoping to make their way back to the Promised Land of Canaan, from which their ancestors had come to Egypt in the first place. Once Joshua and the itinerant people of Israel were able to re-claim the land of Canaan/Israel by way of military conquest, the tribes re-settled the region and established a loose confederation, not unlike the 13 original colonies at the outset of the American Revolution. During this time, the tribes were governed by a succession of Judges who lacked the absolute authority of a monarch but assumed responsibility for the governance and welfare of the people.

It was not until the anointing of Saul by the prophet Samuel that a monarchy, and thus, Kingdom, was established, and only with his successor, David, did the unified Kingdom of Israel come into being. King David reigned over a prosperous entity that comprised all of the 12 tribes, but this period of stability was short-lived, as the Kingdom soon became divided into the North (Kingdom of Israel) and South (Kingdom of Judah).

In 720, the neighboring Assyrian Empire invaded and conquered the Northern Kingdom, effectively ending its existence. Per the practice of the day, the occupying forces brought many of the inhabitants back with them to serve as slaves in the home territory of Assyria, leaving behind the sick, the crippled, and an assortment of others.

Meanwhile, they opened the land of Israel up to occupation by their own citizens, so an influx of Assyrians and other nationalities flooded into the region, setting up residence there. As is the case in most such circumstances, it was not long before inter-marriage took place, and these new inhabitants brought with them both cultural traditions and religiouso bservances—including the worshipping of multiple foreign deities.

For this reason, the citizens of the Southern Kingdom, Judah, who continued to worship at the Temple in their capital city, Jerusalem, according to the prescriptions of the Mosaic Law, came to view their northern neighbors as having adulterated both the faith and the bloodline. A central part of Jewish identity had been the continual line of blood from Abraham and Isaac down through the Israelites of the unified Kingdom, and every time that the people of God had gotten themselves into trouble, that is, violated their unique Covenant with the Lord, it was because they had inter-married with outsiders and begun to worship foreign deities.

Thus, the people of the North, a region that came to be called Samaria, were utterly anathema to the Jews of the South, and the animosity grew still more intense during the period of Captivity, which began in 538, when the Southern Kingdom fell to the Babylonian Empire. The Jews who were carted off into Babylon obstinately refused to participate in pagan religious practices, instead clinging tenaciously to the Law of Moses, and so their disdain for the Samaritan Israelites, who had been so quick to forsake their Jewish beliefs and integrate foreign religious ritual, only worsened.

Once the Babylonians released the Jews to return to Judah, they immediately set about reconstructing the Temple at Jerusalem. Upon learning of this endeavor, the Samaritans offered their assistance, but the inhabitants of the South bitterly refused the help, believing that the Samaritans had broken the Covenant, polluting themselves and insulting God. Thus, the Samaritans established their own Temple on Mount Gerizim, located in the North, for the Jews would not allow them to worship at Jerusalem. Later on, a little more than a century before the time of Jesus, a Jewish General actually led an attack on the North and attempted to destroy the Samaritan holy site at Gerizim. Needless to say, this sort of hostility served only to exacerbate the extant enmity between the two peoples, and the blood feud burned every bit as hot in the time of Jesus as it had in the century prior.

Another fact worth noting is that the region of Samaria sits geographically between Judah and Galilee—the region where Jesus was from. So in order to get from Jerusalem and the area of the Holy Land where most Jews lived to the area around the Sea of Galilee where Jesus was from, one had two choices: either walk straight through Samaria (the shortest route); or take a circuitous route that added two full days to the journey. Hence, the Jews and Samaritans had plenty of opportunities to continue to add fuel to the long-burning fire of hatred, because people were constantly coming into contact with one another along these routes. (It is for this reason that the story of the “Good Samaritan” told by Jesus is so powerful an example; it would have been a very realistic scenario—walking along the road from Judah to Capernum—but the depiction of the Samaritan as being the protagonist is something that literally would have rendered his audience mute in disbelief. (It would be akin to a parable describing a member of Al Qaeda as assisting a wounded US soldier in an Afghan village.)

It is with this historical context that we situate the scene of Jesus encountering a woman at the well of Jacob, which was located within Samaritan territory on the road from Judah to Galilee.

Reflection
The story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well is a remarkable one for myriad reasons, but perhaps the most salient facet is its epitomization of Jesus’ penchant for shattering stereotypes, breaking down barriers, and violating established social norms in order to bring his message to those on the margins of society, and the underlying lesson remains pertinent to our contemporary encounters with Christ.

The woman in this story is drawing water over a half-mile from her village, a village that archaeological digs and historical records indicate had its own water supply—a fact that begins to establish her status as an outsider. Too, the fact that she is at the well in the middle of the day—by herself—is an enormously important detail to the story and informs the reader that she lived outside of society. Women never traveled anywhere alone—to do so would be to invite danger—and they certainly never would have gone to a well to draw water (an arduous task) in the middle of the day, when the sun was at its highest and the temperature in the desert land would have been unbearable.

Drawing water from a well was a social activity for women of a village—they went together early in the morning or late in the evening, when the air was cool, and they would gather to converse, bond, and gossip. Clearly, the Gospel author wishes to emphasize to his audience that this woman was a pariah. For a man of Jesus’ time to speak to a strange woman (that is, not a member of his household) at all would have been to invite scrutiny and scandal. For him to address a woman who was so egregiously morally tarnished by her own community would have been to risk discrediting his entire public ministry. That she is a Samaritan is the final detail to hammer home the point—this person is the human embodiment of all that was evil and shameful and to be avoided. Thus, the reaction of the disciples to arrive on the scene and see Jesus conversing casually with this woman is difficult to communicate. The best way to categorize their response would probably be: abject horror and utter confusion. It would be like a group of US Marines coming back from a patrol and finding their commanding officer sitting in his tent sharing coffee with a senior Al Qaeda officer. Words would fail to describe how mind-blowing such a discovery would be.

Nowhere in all of Scripture do we see more clearly Jesus’ willingness to defy social norms and reach out to people, regardless of their moral standing in the eyes of their society. But beyond the significance of Jesus talking to this woman is the content of their conversation and what it compels this person to, with respect to the rest of her life. We have already established that Jesus will stop at nothing to reach every single one of us, regardless of what others around us may think of us. That is a radical and life-changing reality, i.e. that all we need do is allow the conversation to happen. Remember, this scene takes place in Samaria, a place that Jews regarded as unclean and inimical to an encounter with God. Jesus goes TO THIS PLACE, he does not make the woman come to him in order to have this encounter. He meets us where we are, even if that is a physical place society regards as antithetical to religion or an interior emotional/psychological space that seems incompatible with a positive experience with Christ. But once we allow this conversation to happen, Jesus forces us to confront our shortcomings; although he begins the interaction in a non-threatening way, in order to get the woman comfortable with their conversation, he abruptly thrusts to the forefront the part of her life that is preventing her from living in communion with God and right relationship with those around her.

This cannot be overstated—Jesus is not satisfied merely to meet us where we are at; he requires us to acknowledge honestly those parts of our current way-of-living that are incompatible with a life of flourishing. Recognizing our shortcomings and struggles is an unavoidable and necessary part of coming into a fulfilling relationship with God and a healthy way of being with others. Jesus meets us where we are—but it is his love that compels him to be dissatisfied with a less than fully flourishing version of ourselves, and therefore insists that we undertake a sincere conversion of heart and reformation of habit.

Once we have had this powerful encounter with Jesus, it is all we can do to run immediately to others and spread the word. Encountering Jesus in a real, intimate, personal manner is transformative and life-changing. And it impels us to try and let others know just how life-changing it can be. An encounter with Jesus never ends at our own personal relationship with Jesus—it always drives us outward, out of a robust hope that others might have the same encounter and thus be similarly transformed and made whole. Accepting Jesus into our life does not merely entail acknowledging our sin and modifying our behavior; it necessarily compels us to witness and evangelism. An interior experience with Jesus results in an exterior way of being in relation to others, a reality that is as true for us today in OUR relationship with Jesus as it was for this woman in hers.

Reflection Questions

1) Where have you, personally, encountered Jesus? Do you feel like Jesus comes to you, where you are, or do you feel like you’ve had to seek him out?

2) In your own prayer life, do you ever engage in dialogue with Jesus? What sorts of things does he say?

3) If Jesus were to have this conversation with you, what might he hold up as something for you to work on, that is preventing you from being fully happy and having a good relationship with God and others?

4) How are you called to go out, like the woman of the well, and share your experience with others? What does that specifically look like?