2008

To understand the rich meaning of Jesus’ regal entry into Jerusalem, we need to consider the Jewish expectations of the Messiah. He was to be a hero who would lead them into battle, defeat their enemies and restore God’s kingdom of peace and justice. For the people of Jerusalem, that meant overcoming the Romans. Because the Messiah was to be descended from King David, he was called, “Son of David, the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

As Jesus entered the city, the crowds cried out, “Hosanna!” which in Greek means “Lord, save us.” Because of his royal roots as a descendant of King David, the Jews believed the Messiah deserved the red carpet treatment, so Jesus was greeted with palms as he entered Jerusalem.  Thus, by their actions and words, the crowds proclaimed him as their long awaited Messiah.

Jesus accepted the honor although his understanding of Messiah certainly did not match theirs. For him, the Messiah was not a military hero who would overthrow the Romans, but a humble servant of God who would conquer sin and death by doing the will of his Father. Consequently, the cheers soon turned to jeers and the crowds demanded, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” What a radical change from a hero’s welcome to a barbaric execution.

To his followers, what they witnessed epitomized all that Jesus had taught them. To love God meant totally surrendering oneself to the will of the Father. What better way could the teacher drive this lesson home than by his own example? He stood for truth, regardless of what it would cost him.

Jesus passionately demonstrates his total self-surrender to God in the garden where he pleaded, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me, yet, not as I will, but as you will.”  That didn’t come easy for him, as we hear when he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Identifying himself with all who suffer in every age, Jesus knew he had no choice. To place his own interests first would mean being unfaithful to those who pleaded, “Hosanna! Save us, O Lord!”

One word sums up this gospel: betrayal. That is what many did to Jesus. Judas wasn’t the only one to betray Jesus; there were the chief priests, the elders, the crowds, and even his disciples. They were not the first, nor would they be the last. Adam and Eve were the first to betray God and by our own sinfulness, we have done the same from time to time.

Betrayal stems from the desire to be on top, to be better off than others, or to think of oneself as superior to others. Some betrayers act the way they do because they think they know what is best for others. Betrayal describes the motives behind Judas, Peter, the chief priests and nearly everyone else in the passion story. For example, when his hopes for a new kingdom were dashed, Judas felt that Jesus had betrayed him, so he did not hesitate to betray Jesus. Likewise, the chief priests viewed him as a fraud, guilty of blasphemy, who needed to be silenced.

Our attitude, Paul tells us, must be that of Christ, even to death on the cross. Being obedient doesn’t always come easy, given that we often want to live on our own terms, ignoring what God asks of us. But as Christians, we are called to live life on God’s terms and that means letting go of our will and following the example of the one who has come to save us, even at the risk of being jeered at and disowned by our peers. Surrendering to God is the only battle plan Jesus has for ultimately saving us from our real enemies, sin and evil. If you wish to conquer them, then allow Jesus’ prayer to be yours: “Father, not as I will, but as you will.”
 

The Many Significances and Challenges of the Lazarus Miracle

            With the exception of the Passion and Easter Gospels, perhaps no element of the Gospels is more inspiring than the miracle of the raising of Lazarus that we read about tonight (this morning).  With your indulgence, I would like to spend a few minutes tonight (this morning) taking a close look at this intense Gospel reading according to John.

            We can think of at least three levels of significance in this Gospel. The first is the significance of the people present for the miracle itself.  It must have been a remarkable scene with a torrent of different emotions for the apostles, Martha, Mary, and family members. Suffering, death, grief, doubt, elation they are all there. And make no mistake about it: this is a Super Bowl, seventh game of the World Series, NCAA championship final game miracle.

The Gospels tell us that Jesus raised three people from the dead. In the case of the other two, both individuals may actually have only been on the brink of death, or perhaps in a deep coma from which they arose. But in Lazarus’ case, we are talking stone cold dead. The Gospel refers to Lazarus being dead four days. According to Jewish belief, the spirit of a person stayed with them for three days, hoping that the body might yet be revived. But on the fourth day, a person’s spirit would leave them for the next world, and the human body would be truly and fully lifeless.

So Jesus’ miracle was beyond any human explanation. That this was Jesus’ intent is unmistakable, for the Gospel says Jesus waited two days after he received word that Lazarus was gravely ill. Jesus in fact wanted to make sure Lazarus had died so that there could be no mistake about the nature of this miracle. 

So this miracle was an awesome demonstration of God’s power and the reality of Jesus as God, which no one could deny on the basis of “facts on the ground.” And yet, the miracle had a different and second level of significance for Jesus. At one level, the human Jesus was somewhat disappointed it was necessary for him to work this miracle in the first place. Martha and Mary, as well as Lazarus, were close human friends. Yet he is greeted by both of them with a sense of disappointment. Both of them imply that if only Jesus had come sooner, Lazarus would not have died.  Implicit in this veiled criticism is also the implication that Jesus could still work the miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead.

Jesus had told his friends, apostles, disciples, and other followers that HE was the resurrection and the life. He tried to tell them that those who followed Him would never die but have eternal life. He brought them peace, and the confidence that God would never leave them alone and that ultimately they would be reunited with God forever in the next life.

Yet when push came to shove, Martha, Mary and their relatives, and for that matter the apostles were still looking for signs and wonders. When he moves toward the tomb, Jewish ritual practices of crying and mourning in ever-louder ways resumes. Jesus is resigned to the fact that despite everything He told them, human life matters more to them than eternal life

It is said in the Gospel that Jesus weeps. But this is not sorrow for the death of Lazarus only, but also tears of frustration. For God’s Chosen People, after all these centuries, and all these days, months, and years of listening to God literally on the earth, still would not ultimately surrender things of this world. They wanted a loving magician, not a loving God. But because He loved His people so deeply, He would relent and give them what they wanted.

The human Jesus was ambivalent about this miracle for a second reason. For he knew that the miracle, and the reaction to it by friend and foe alike, would surely lead to his Passion and Death, for which He wished at some level He could avoid. Jesus undoubtedly knew that the performance of this most extraordinary of His miracles would bring adulation and followers, but also jealousy, envy, and murderous intent on the part of the religious authorities of the time, who clearly saw their positions threatened by the spiritual and now physical power of Jesus.

In this regard, we can easily the significance of this miracle for Jesus far beyond that of its witnesses. For Lazarus’ own suffering, death, and rising, however remarkable in human terms, was but a mere foreshadowing of Jesus’ own suffering, dying, and rising. This was the miracle that was the last straw for the Pharisees. They were now determined to kill him. It is no accident that in the Church’s liturgical schedule, this Gospel occurs shortly before Holy Week. For the Lord’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection follow shortly after the raising of Lazarus,

This is also why the apostles in this Gospel are so worried about his safety in returning to Judea. They know he has made major enemies in Jewish society. Jesus knows that this miracle was to bring Him great popularity, but it was also to bring Him suffering and death. This was undoubtedly another reason for Jesus’ weeping. But in spite of all of this, Jesus’ loving mercy always is transcendent.

Finally, we must think of the significance of this Gospel for own lives. This Gospel account is intriguing in many ways, but none perhaps more intriguing than the fact that one of the few people not speaking in it is the subject of the miracle itself: Lazarus. And this is also no accident. For if we think about it, we have something rather remarkable in common with Lazarus. Like Lazarus, we too rise from the dead. Even in the same physical sense. Our first reading from Ezekiel reminds us that the Lord will open our graves and bring us home to God. Our second reading from letter of St. Paul to the Romans reminds that God raises us to new life, a life in the Holy Spirit.

But much like Lazarus, there is an uncertainty. We do not know how Lazarus responded to the remarkable gift of new life given to him by Jesus. Was he grateful for what God did for Him? Did he become a determined follower of Christ? Did he love and serve God and others, following God’s laws in spirit and in truth? Did he defend Jesus in the weeks ahead when it was truly dangerous to do so? We don’t know. But we also must thing about something else. We also receive a remarkable gift of new life given to us by Jesus. Are we grateful? Are we determined followers of Christ? Do we love and serve God and others, following God’s laws in spirit and in truth? Do we defend Christ against the assaults against Him in secular society?

God gives us sacraments, remarkable Scriptures like the Lazarus miracle, the joy of service, and the power of prayer to answer that call. In human terms, we sometimes fail and make Jesus weep. But Jesus’ transcendent love and mercy brings us back. We will suffer and die, but with the grace of God, if we follow Jesus, we will rise with Jesus.
 

In today’s gospel story Jesus gives the gift of sight to a blind man. But since we are not blind, we might think that this gospel story has no relevance for us. It is because we can see that this story does have relevance. The question is-how well do we see?

The blind man in this gospel story saw more than the religious leaders because he had faith in Jesus. When explaining to his neighbors and those who saw him as a beggar, about what Jesus did to him, the blind man said; “Jesus made clay and ANOINTED my eyes”.

Notice that the blind man did not say, “Jesus made clay and put it on my eyes”, he said anointed. The word anointed signified the consecration of the blind man for a special purpose; to be a testimony to others of the goodness and divineness of Jesus; to be  a disciple. By the virtue of the blind man’s faith, he did see and by his openness to see Jesus for who he is, gained spiritual sight. The Pharisees had perfect eyesight yet they had no faith in Jesus, thus they remained spiritually blind.

We can become blind for many reasons and in many different ways: Selfishness blinds us to the needs of others. Greed blinds us to those who have nothing and disregards those who are hurt along the way. Pride blinds us to our own faults and weaknesses. 

Prejudice blinds us from seeing every human being as the image and likeness of God.

Materialism blinds us to the values in faith.

Spiritual blindness makes us feel empty, judgmental, lonely, depressed, and disconnected. The greatest failure of sight is to have eyes and refuse to see. This was the situation with the Pharisees. They lived by the letter of the law instead of the spirit of the law. They were disconnected from those whom they were supposed to of served. They were blinded by their self-indulgence and pride.

In the first reading, we see David, son of Jesse, anointed King of Israel despite whom Samuel thought was to be anointed, Eliab, another of Jesse’s sons. God saw into David’s heart.

Let us take a moment, right now, and close our eyes. If you can, please keep them closed until I tell you to open them. In this darkness, does your heart ache for those who are starving around the world?

In this darkness, does your heart ache when you hear of the atrocities in the loss of life through the killing of the unborn  child?

In this darkness, does your heart ache when you hear of all the loss of life stemming from wars abroad?

In this darkness, does your heart ache when you hear of all the injustices that are done to those who are defenseless?

In this darkness, can you feel the presence of Jesus?

I invite you now to open your eyes.

We do not see only with our eyes, as you just experienced. We also “See” with our hearts, minds, and our imaginations. When we neglect our heart, mind, and imagination, we have loss of sight, of vision. We have darkness in our lives and we open ourselves to the tempting of the Devil.

I remember a time where everything in and around my life seemed jumbled up and in a real mess. I struggled between holding on to the things of this world or reaching out in faith.

We see through the eyes of faith (the conversion of heart). The gospel story is a journey of faith – the story of a man who came to faith in Jesus and the climax ending with his profession of faith when he said: “Lord, I believe”.

This story of blindness to sight shows the journey from un-belief to faith, which is the journey from darkness to light, which allows us to see. Paul said to the Ephesians: “Once you were in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord”. Without faith, we are as in the night without light or sight. We cannot see our way and we become lost.

We can in our time of need, reach out. We can open our eyes and see by the light of Jesus, coming closer to him through prayer. We can see clearer by reading and meditating on Holy Scripture, by spending and hour in prayer during the Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament on first Fridays, by getting involved in one of the parish ministries, and by reaching out to help the poor and less fortunate in our communities.

We see by his light through the sacraments and the ultimate in the conversion of heart by receiving Jesus into our lives through his body and blood in the Eucharist.

Those, who have been enlightened by Christ to see more clearly can never again look at themselves and their lives in the same light as before. Everything is lit up inside in our hearts, our minds, and our imaginations.

We now can see Jesus as the model for our lives. We can now open ourselves to the Holy Spirit to enlighten our minds to have wisdom when we need to think and talk wisely. This is what happened to the man who could now see when interrogated by the Pharisees.

We see Jesus when we open our eyes through the imagination, to see him all around us, to see him in the face of a child reaching out in unconditional love, to see Him in line at the soup kitchen. We feel his presence when we reach out to others in love.

My sisters and Brothers: Faith helps us find our way through the chaos, the business and darkness of the modern world. The real discovery in today’s scripture is the awareness of having new eyes, seeing everything and everyone in a new light, having conversion of heart, finding faith through Jesus Christ.
 

Locally, we tend to take water so much for granted. With the turn of the tap, we have safe clean water for drinking, bathing, cooking and washing. Many peoples in third world countries are not so fortunate. Like the Samaritan woman whom we meet in the gospel, they trek to the local well with jugs, cans or buckets and carry their water back home.

Elsewhere in our own country, water is becoming scarce. I read recently that Lake Mead, the reservoir behind Hoover Dam which supplies water to Las Vegas, could be dry by 2021. In Georgia, facing its worst draught in decades, questions are being raised about its border with Tennessee in the hopes that a new survey will allow that state to tap into the Tennessee River.

Today’s readings focus on water and thirst, but a different kind. Having no faith in God, the Israelites grumbled, “Why did you ever make us leave Egypt?” Every day, the Church recounts their resentful attitude by beginning its official daily prayer with psalm 95 in which God cautions, “Harden not your hearts as at Meribah, as in the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tempted me.” Yet, harden our hearts is what we do every time we follow the example of those disenchanted Hebrews and focus on our physical thirst while ignoring our spiritual thirst.

That is the point Jesus is trying to make in this unusual conversation with the Samaritan woman is that we all have a spiritual thirst, just as we have a physical thirst. Too often, we try to fill that thirst with something other than God.

The Samaritan woman thought that her five husbands would quench her thirst but she discovered otherwise. Many people seek to satisfy their thirst through self-indulging addictions like drinking, drugs, smoking, gambling, pornography, surfing the internet, or consumerism. Whatever our indulgences are, most likely they have not satisfied our restless hearts.

Like soda pop, they may give us a momentary lift but they can never truly quench our thirst for love. Satisfying our spiritual thirst with material things is like trying to satisfy our physical thirst with salt water. The more we drink, the thirstier we get.

The peace and love we yearn for can only be found through the saving love of God poured out into our hearts. Thirst symbolizes the absence of God in our lives…that longing within every human heart. St. Augustine talks about our hearts being restless until they find rest in God.

Since the pleasures of life fail to truly satisfy the longing of our hearts or our thirsting human spirit, the only remedy as the Samaritan woman discovered, is an intimate relationship with Jesus who provides a mysterious living water that produces a well-spring of life within us. As he said to her, “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.”

If we want to truly experience the living water that Jesus speaks of then we must be honest with ourselves and the reality of sin in our daily lives. We cannot claim to be followers of Jesus Christ unless we choose to actively follow him. Simply put, the stronger our faith is, the less likely we will give in to temptation and sin. Granted, we are human and regardless of how strong our faith is, we will still sin, but the stronger our faith is, the more resistant we become to temptation by recognizing the destructive potential of sin on our lives. On the other hand, the weaker our faith remains, the more tolerant we become of our own sinfulness.

Sin begets sin and virtue begets virtue. When we continually give into sin, we undermine our relationship with God and sometimes with those around us. At the moment, I can imagine a fair number of you mildly protesting, “But I am not a sinner, certainly not a big time sinner.”  Hopefully not, but have you given Jesus a chance to truly quench your spiritual thirst with living water?

Undoubtedly there are moments in any given day when the temptation to sin surfaces, so what do you do? Speaking from experience, I suspect you give in more often than you care to admit. After all, some sins are habit forming. And how do you feel afterwards? I would wager that your deep thirst, the thirst for living water that Jesus speaks of in the gospel, has not been quenched. That can only be done through prayer and faith. Yet, how often do we put aside time for prayer or worship, tempted instead to spend the time watching TV, shopping, surfing the internet, or any other time consuming habit? To receive the healing benefits that Jesus promises, praying is what we must choose to do whenever temptation arises for prayer is the only way we can experience the living water that we truly thirst for.

Prayer is as vital for our spiritual health as sleep is for our physical health. Just as we deliberately make time for eating, sleeping, bathing, and working, we must make time to be in touch with God. That can be done in so many ways; adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, daily mass, studying the bible, and meditation to name but a few. And of course, there is the much neglected sacrament of reconciliation which I encourage you to celebrate during Lent. If you are not deliberately putting time aside for God each day, do so in some way beginning tomorrow and you will see a difference in your life come Easter.

The contrast in attitude between the Israelites in the desert and the Samaritan woman and her neighbors raises a challenging question for us to ponder. Is our religion one that sees God as fulfilling our needs or one that recognizes that God is what we truly desire in life? Only one choice allows us to join the Samaritans in proclaiming, “We know that this is truly the savior of the world.”
 

When I was a teenager, we called them pimples. Today I understand they are called zits. Back then, I thought they were an unavoidable rite of adolescence that would pass once I became an adult. Not so, l learned later on in life, for even at my age, a zit can flare up unexpectedly.

To the person who has one, this blemish may stand out like a sore thumb so you pray that no one notices but you suspect that they do. Granted, its presence mars the beauty of your face for a few days but then, thank God, it disappears. Of course, as some teens well know, zits can leave scars.  I recall my older sister doing all she could to prevent pimples from happening. She avoided chocolate because she believed that caused them. She even went to a dermatologist who taught her how to pop them properly to prevent scarring.

When we see someone with a zit, does it distract us from seeing the whole person? If it isn’t a pimple, it could be a scar, or a mannerism, the presence of certain jewelry, or a lingering aroma. Distractions prevent us from noticing that there is more to the whole person than meets the eye.

That was what the apostles discovered when Jesus was transfigured before them on the high mountain. In this powerful moment, they realize that Jesus is far more than a rabbi whom they had been listening to for several years. They learn he is God’s beloved son. Imagine how dumbfounded they must have been to finally understand who Jesus of Nazareth truly was. He would never look the same to them again.

Transfigurations happen to us as well. It is an event or an incident that enables us to see someone, even ourselves, in a new light. Though they are brief, the moments linger in our memories, moments when we come to better understand and know that person or ourselves.

Many of us tend to label other people, even ourselves, with one or two word definitions. We might make a generalization of a member of our family or a neighbor, for example, as being kind, loving, frugal, considerate, or hot tempered. We might label a fellow employee or friend as being fun to be with, hard working, lazy, generous or cheap; we may define ourselves as being any or none of the above as well.

We watch others in action and label them by what they say or do. Perhaps we are right on the mark in defining who they are, but most likely, we are only seeing a part of the picture. Before jumping to any conclusions, we should ask ourselves, “Are we focusing too much on that person’s zit?” Just as there is more to an iceberg than what shows above the surface, there is more to a person than what we see.

A person, whom we catch in a bad mood and write off as being cranky, may in fact be a very loving parent, a devoted spouse, a joy to his or her friends, but being human, like us, he or she has flaws. There is more to us than can be summarized in a single sentence, much less a word or two for we are incredibly complex creatures made in the image of God.

Having been made in God’s image, our quest in life, as Paul pointed out in his letter to Timothy is to grow in holiness. To achieve that, we must allow ourselves to become transfigured by discovering and working with all that we have; our strengths along with our shortcomings.

We become transfigured when we let the best in us shine forth; dwelling not on our shortcomings but on seeking to be all that God calls us to be: holy, loving, forgiving, and merciful. Divine like qualities of unconditional love, wisdom, tolerance, and compassion, to name but a few, are waiting like a rosebud to blossom forth from within us.

We are composites of positive and negatives qualities and depending on the situation we find ourselves in, we can display traits of both kinds. When we are critical, we can still be compassionate. If we are demanding, we can also be gentle. If we are sometimes offensive, we can still be gracious. We can heal as much as we can hurt. We can be afraid as readily as we can be brave. Along with all our faults, weaknesses, and sins, we are blessed with talents, strengths, and virtues. And what is true for us is true for every person in our lives. What we choose to see in ourselves and in others, though, is up to us.

Whenever we focus too much on the blemishes, that is, the flaws, shortcomings, and sins, either ours or someone else’s, we miss out on an opportunity to become the holy person that God is calling on us to be.

Our transfiguration begins with a change of attitude. We can indeed become holy people! Keep in mind, every saint was also a sinner. The task is not impossible for holiness emerges when we endeavor to grow toward God and away from our self-centeredness. To be holy is to follow the example of Jesus. Lent abounds with opportunities to do just that. For example, is there anyone in your life whom you struggle to love? A step toward holiness would be to shower that person with kindness and love. In the spirit of this season, we are called to reconcile and forgive; that too is a step toward holiness, forgiving someone just as we are asking God to forgive us for our shortcomings. Lent is a time to fast, so think of fasting from those negative habits that cut you off from celebrating love, such as verbal or physical abuse of any kind.

Too often we treat others poorly and without much love when they don’t meet our expectations, because we focus on their “zits” rather than the whole person. Fortunately, God does not do that and if we followed his example, neither would we.