Along the river, on either bank, will grow every kind of fruit tree with leaves that never wither and fruit that never fails; they will bear new fruit every month, because this water comes from the sanctuary. And their fruit will be good to eat and the leaves medicinal.
This passage from Ezekiel comes towards the end of a long and complicated vision of the new Temple. Beginning at Ch 40, Ezekiel’s vision fills seven chapters and its details can be hard to follow. By the time we get to Ch 47 there is a change and the mood is one of hope and healing. Water flows out from the Temple and wherever the water flows there is life.
The idea of a tree that can both provide something good to eat and be medicinal is a very comforting image. We’ve largely lost the practice of turning to nature for our healing.
After our experience in the pandemic of having to consider the life and death implications of everything that makes up our daily lives, we need Ezekiel’s message of hope more than ever.
We step off the Lenten path to celebrate the Feast of St Joseph. Unlike other saints in our calendar, we have no dates of his birth or death, whether from history or folklore. But what we do have is his silent belief in God’s promise.
The first reading from 2 Samuel reminds us of a turning point in Israel’s history. Up until this point God’s promises have been conditional, but now the dynasty is guaranteed in perpetuity. None of this is David’s doing. David is to be bound in relationship to the Lord: ‘I will be a father to him and he a son to me.’ The tender language of father and son always strikes me. God’s covenant is not a legal contract, but a relationship of love. As the story of salvation unfolds there are many falls from grace along the way. God’s promise remains.
Now Joseph enters the story of our salvation. He is perhaps the archetypal silent man. All that he needs to know God coveys to him in a dream. Dreams are sometimes spoken of as God’s forgotten language. Paying attention to our dreams is writ through our spiritual DNA. So many key biblical characters come close to God and God’s will through their visions and dreams.
Today’s Gospel of the man born blind had me searching for an article by liturgist Maxwell E. Johnson, entitled, Back Home to the Font: Eight Implications of a Baptismal Spirituality. He explores the liturgical year through the theology of Baptism and sees Lent as a time when we can imagine ourselves as catechumens in the Early Church: ‘Lent is about our annual retreat, our re-entry into the catechumenate and order of penitents in order to reflect on, affirm, remember, and re-claim that baptism.’
So, this week as we find ourselves by the pool of Siloam, we do so as catechumens seeking to re-engage with our baptismal calling. We stand and watch as the man born blind washes in the pool. Unlike the pool of Bethesda, this pool is not associated with miracle cures, it was simply a means of protecting Jerusalem’s water supply. But it is at this ordinary water source that an extraordinary journey begins.
We watch as the man washes and his sight is restored. Jesus disappears from the storyline and the man must now give an account of what has happened at the pool. His neighbours, the Pharisees and his parents all have questions. With each encounter there is a subtle progression in the man’s witness and faith.
We listen as the man moves from acknowledging that ‘a man called Jesus’ has cured him, to declaring that ‘he is a prophet’ and finally to a profession of faith, ‘Lord, I believe.’ Through the washing with water and his encounter with Christ the man is drawn into new life.
We too are drawn into new life each Lent. Our baptismal calling was not once and for all. It is renewed each day and most especially in Lent. We are invited to see anew.
Preaching to the newly baptised, St Ambrose says;
‘Go to Siloam.’ What is ‘Siloam’ It means (says the evangelist) ‘Sent’. In other words, then: Go to the fountain where they preach the Cross of Christ the Lord; go to the fountain in which Christ has paid the ransom for the sins of all. You went, you washed, you came to the altar, you began to see what you had not seen before. In short, your eyes were opened in the fountain of the Lord and by the preaching of the Lord’s Passion. You seemed previously to be blind of heart; now you began to see the light.’
Where is Christ calling you to see anew this Lent?
The prophets were all called to deliver challenging messages to people who found themselves in crisis. It was largely a crisis of faith. One question occupied the hearts and minds of the people: Has God abandoned us? As political alliances failed and the prospect of exile loomed, Hosea speaks to the injustices present in daily life and worship.
His message is uncompromising, but there is always a glimmer of hope. God promises to be faithful and that he will come to their aid is ‘as certain as the dawn.’ Israel has its part to play. The covenantal relationship relies on their co-operation. It relies on a type of love that is deep and true. But Israel is half hearted:
What am I to do with you, Ephraim? What am I to do with you, Judah? This love of yours is like a morning cloud, like the dew that quickly disappears.
It’s all too easy to become half-hearted about so many things in our lives. Lent offers us the opportunity to look closely at our hearts. The promise of the dawn is God’s pledge that all we most deeply need and desire is held in his love. For those places in our lives where love seems to quickly disappear, Lent offers the chance to change our hearts.
How is God calling you to deepen your love this Lent?
‘One of the scribes came up to Jesus and put this question to him, ‘Which is the first of all the commandments?’ Jesus replied, ‘This is the first: Listen, Israel. the Lord our God is the one Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and all your mind, and with all your strength.’
heart soul mind strength
It’s in the person of Jesus that we see what this commandment means. As we journey with Jesus towards Jerusalem we will see the depth of his love and just how much his heart, soul, mind and strength are focused on his Father.
Whenever I hear these verses from Mark I think of words I read by Sr Joan Chittister osb:
To live a religious life takes all the life we have. To live a religious life takes the heart of a hermit, the soul of a mountain climber, the eyes of a lover, the hands of a healer, and the mind of a rabbi.
What would it mean for you to love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength?
‘Every kingdom divided against itself is heading for ruin, and a household divided against itself collapses.’
The onlookers in today’s Gospel challenge the very nature of Jesus’ power to work miracles. Jesus has cast out a devil and rather than accepting this as a miracle, the onlookers set up a polarity: Jesus has either done this through the power of God or Beelzebul. They want proof of Jesus’ power, but he won’t give it. He turns their reasoning back on them. I suspect his warning about households being divided rather goes over their heads. They have already categorised Jesus.
In our daily lives it takes grace and faith to work against division and to assume the good. It is so easy to close a conversation before it begins. We don’t have to look far to see ‘households divided’. Our press is able to pit one group against another with remarkable ease. Social media adds layer upon layer of division where an erroneous opinion can spread like wild fire.
The Gospel today is a personal challenge to us to examine the seeds of division which take root in our own hearts. Christ asks us to be with him and not against him.
Moses said to the people; Now, Israel, take notice of the laws and customs that I teach you today, and observe them, that you may have life and may enter and take possession of the land that the Lord God of your Fathers is giving you.
Scripture scholar, Walter Brueggemann, sees the whole of salvation history through the lens of ‘land’. His book -The Land: Place as Gift, Promise and Challenge in Biblical Faith- has given me some useful insights. As landless Israel wanders in the wilderness it is the promise of land which keeps them going. Our text from Deuteronomy today more than hints at the fact that with land comes responsibility. For the writers of Deuteronomy faithfulness to God and God’s commands is everything. Entering and being able to stay in the land both depend on this faithfulness.
For the Israelites the experience of the Exodus and the giving of the Law were concrete experiences on which they could draw when the way ahead seemed hard. Just as Israel will learn to cultivate and guard the land they have been given, so too they will learn to cultivate and guard their hearts. The Law is a safeguard of love and guarantee of God’s presence.
In the reading from the prophet Daniel today we hear the lament of the people of Israel. Their spiritual and physical worlds have been shaken. They are bereft without Temple worship and strong leadership. As they look back over their journey they make appeal to the faithfulness of Abraham and Isaac. They want to do better and promise: ‘And now we put our whole heart into following you, into fearing you and seeking your face once more.’
Their time in Exile has shown them that their only hope lies in the depth of God’s mercy: ‘Do not disappoint us: treat us gently, as your yourself are gentle and very merciful.’
The appeal to God’s gentleness is a helpful reminder to us in Lent that not only do we rely on God’s gentleness, but, we, in turn, are to show that gentleness to others. We all have our areas where we are innately gentle. Sometimes it takes the kindness of another to show us a new way of being gentle. Writ through the ways in which we are gentle, is mercy for the situation of another.
Jesus starts his preaching ministry in his home town of Nazareth. He doesn’t start gently with an engaging story, but boldly he unrolls the Isaiah scroll and announces that these prophecies are being fulfilled.
A huge leap of faith is required on the part of the people in the synagogue. The people are being asked to believe that everything they have heard and read in the ancient prophecies is being fulfilled in the person of Jesus.
It’s little wonder his home town couldn’t accept his message. Jesus stands in a long line of prophets whose messaged disturbed and challenged.
We often long for prophetic voices, but don’t always recognise them when they come. Who are the people who challenge you today?
In the next three weeks as we journey towards Easter, our biblical imaginations are invited to explore three major baptismal themes: water, light and life. We have made the journey from desert to the mountain top. This week we find ourselves by a well. We enter a different world when we listen to John’s Gospel. There’s a play on the themes of light and dark, night and day.
In Ch 3 of John’s Gospel, Nicodemus, the Pharisee, comes to Jesus by night. Literally and figuratively, Nicodemus is afraid of being seen, so he seeks out Jesus under the protection of darkness.
By contrast the Samaritan woman comes to the well at midday. This is the hour of enlightenment and theological insight. It’s Jesus who takes the initiative here by venturing into Samaritan territory. We are accustomed to hearing that the Samaritan was ostracised and sinful. This isn’t borne out in the text at all. The woman’s robust dialogue with Jesus leads her to enlightenment. By the end of the conversation she recognises in Jesus someone who knows her intimately: ‘He told me all I have ever done.’
Such is the power of her testimony that ‘many of the Samaritans of that town had believed in him on the strength of that woman’s testimony.’ Through her courage and willingness to engage with Jesus, her life has been changed forever.
How is Christ calling you to engage with him this Lent?
