‘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?
My son, you are with me always, and all I have is yours. But it was only right we should celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life; he was lost and is found.
These are some of my favourite verses from the Parable of the Lost Son. The father has in fact lost both of his sons. He has welcomed one son back with great festivity, but things won’t be whole or complete until all the family are together. The story leaves us hanging. It is such a powerful story both in what it says and what it leaves unsaid. Did it ever resolve?
Classically the parable is framed in terms of repentance and forgiveness. But Jewish New Testament Scholar, Amy J Levine, sees another strand: counting and searching.
‘We need to take count not only of our blessings, but also of those in our families, and in our communities. And once we count, we need to act. Finding the lost, whether they are sheep, coins, or people, takes work. It also requires our efforts, and from those efforts there is the potential for wholeness and joy.’
Who or what are you called to search for this Lent?
Genesis 37: 3-4. 12-13. 17-18 Matthew 21: 33-43. 45-46
‘Israel(Jacob) loved Joseph more than all his other sons, for he was the son of his old age, and he had a coat with long sleeves made for him.‘
In just one verse the writers of Genesis paint for us a scene that so easily strikes a chord. We can imagine the first time Joseph appears in his special coat. We can imagine the looks and the mutterings. We just know things aren’t going to turn out too well for anyone in this scene.
In the story of Joseph and his brothers there is outright deception, meanness and the uncomfortable feeling that Joseph may have been a bit of a show off. And yet, through all the twists and turns God’s promise prevails. Co-operation and forgiveness are required on the part of Joseph AND his brothers and then God supplies the rest. All twelve brothers avoid a severe famine and God’s plan inches a little further along.
Where can you see God’s promise in the twists and turns of your life?
Today’s Gospel of the Rich Man and Lazarus is part of a sequence of Luke’s exposition of Kingdom values. We meet the familiar theme of a reversal of the world’s ways. Grace and favour come to those whom the world forgets. The Rich Man is desperate for his own suffering to be eased. Abraham pays no heed and we hear some of the most chilling words in Luke’s Gospel:
‘…between us and you a great gulf has been fixed, to stop anyone, if he wanted to, crossing from our side to yours, and to stop any crossing from your side to ours.’
The Rich Man hopes to protect his family from a similar fate.
Hearing this text in Lent sharpens the focus for us. Lent gives us the chance to examine our hearts and ask God to show us where the great gulfs are in our own lives.
How does this story speak to you today? Where are the gulfs in your own life?
Later today we will celebrate First Vespers of one of our Olivetan forebears, St Frances of Rome. She was wife, mother, widow and founder of the monastery of Tor de’ Specchi in Rome.
The accounts of her life bear all the traditional hallmarks of hagiographical writing. She is a special child. Her mother knows this from the beginning; ‘it was as if an angel of God, not an earthly child, had been lent her.’ Every conceivable virtue is ascribed to her, from love of silence to constant prayer. It comes as no surprise to the reader that she sets her heart on Religious Life. But born into a very noble Roman family, her path is already marked out for her, she will marry. Frances obeys her father and makes the best of a lavish wedding and all the fineries that fill her life. She is inwardly restless. A friendship grows with her sister in law, Vannozza, and together they set about living a life of hidden piety at home. When they leave their home they seek out the poor and the needy:
The hours that were not devoted to prayer or to the duties of their state, they employed in works of charity. Almost every day they went to the hospital of San Spirito, and nursed the sick with the kindest attention ; consoling them by their gentle words and tender care, bestowing alms upon the most needy, and above all, tending affectionately the most disgusting cases of disease and infirmity.
Great personal suffering is to come Frances’ way. Alongside serious illness, Frances sees her home destroyed, her servants killed and her children fall victim to plague. She isn’t thwarted and only redoubles her efforts to serve the poor and the needy, turning her ruined house into a hospital. Having fled from Rome for his safety, her husband will return, wounded and in need of her care.
The very practical nature of Frances’ love is something which strikes me each year as we celebrate her life. It’s the small details which help me find a way in:
When she went to the Campo Santo she used to take with her food and delicacies which she gave to the most needy. When she went back home she took with her their worn out scraps of clothing and their poor filthy rags. These she washed with care and thoroughness, as if they were to be used by the Lord himself. Then she folded them carefully and put them away in lavender.
The reverence with which she launders the clothes of the poor speaks to me today. Christ’s is the face she sees in all around her. Every simple task is done for him.
As we celebrate International Women’s Day I am giving thanks for all those women in my life who have taught me fortitude and reverence. I am giving thanks for every small kindness that has smoothed my path. I am giving thanks for those who may never know what an inspiration they were for me.
Traditionally, in the weekdays of Lent, Wednesdays and Fridays are days of special focus on Christ’s passion. Today that focus is very clear. As Jesus journeys to Jerusalem he warns the disciples of the events that will unfold. He has taken the path to suffering. Quite naturally, this is beyond the comprehension of the disciples.
‘Promise that these two sons of mine may sit one at your right hand and the other at your left in your kingdom.’
That the mother of Zebedee’s sons makes a request of Jesus for special positions for her sons has always struck me as very human. As the readers we have the privilege of seeing beyond her question. Her seemingly simple request points me to those times in my life when I haven’t been able to see the whole picture and my motivations have been confused.
In the language of servant, slave and ransom we are invited today to inner conversion. This necessarily involves an awareness of the needs of others and a spirit of willing service.
The capacity to serve is given to all of us in baptism when we share in Christ’s anointing as Priest, Prophet and King. We can be quite certain that at some point in our lives we will be called to draw upon this very specific grace of baptism.
