This Sunday is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday. Two major themes emerge from the readings: an image of the one who saves; and the power of salvation itself. The one who saves is not a mighty warrior who comes in military array. In fact, he is the one who was rejected, who was hunted down, humiliated, tortured and hung naked on a tree, there to die in shame. The one who saves is the cornerstone of the building, holding it together, forming a firm foundation so that the structure will not collapse. The one who saves is a lowly shepherd, entrusted with sheep, not with the affairs of state. The one who saves is an unlikely saviour. God’s saving power flows from steadfast covenant love. It broke open the world in the death and resurrection of Jesus and it overflows as healing grace. The saving power in the name of Jesus, a name that itself means ‘saviour’ is for all people, even for those sheep who do not yet belong to this fold. Furthermore, it is for all time; God’s mercy endures forever. Through our baptism we can bring the saving grace of God to a world in desperate need of healing. We can do this in our families, in our local communities, in the workplace, in so many situations of our lives.
Jesus is the servant of the God of the early ancestors, the long awaited messiah, and the innocent sufferer portrayed in the prophetic tradition. He is the fulfilment of our deepest aspirations. When we gather around the table for the sacramental meal, we encounter the Risen Lord. There the sacred traditions of our religious heritage are opened for us and we are enabled to recognise him in the traditions and in the breaking of the bread. In order to encounter the Risen Lord in the breaking of the bread and in the breaking open of the word, we need docile hearts ready to embrace the deepest meaning of our religious heritage. We need hearts that have been purified in the love of God; hearts that have been totally transformed. The commandment of love requires nothing less. Having recognised the Risen Lord, we, like the people described in the first reading, must live reformed lives. Having recognised the Risen Lord, we, like the people addressed in the second reading, must be obedient to God’s commandment of love. Having recognised the Risen Lord, we, like the disciples portrayed in the gospel, must preach the good news of God’s forgiveness to all nations. Easter faith assures us that all of this is possible.
The themes for the second Sunday of Easter set the tone for the entire Easter season. They are all directed toward mystagogical instruction, primarily of those baptised during the Easter Vigil, but also of the whole Christian community. The readings for this season provide us an extended meditation on the resurrection and on our own incorporation into it through the mysteries of initiation. Most of us are like Thomas who looked for some tangible evidence of the resurrection. We do not find it any easier to live by faith than he did. However, when we do live by faith, we actually discover our capacity, as a Christian community, to reach out in care and support to others. Jesus extends his wounded hands to us as he did to Thomas, and the community is invited to touch his wounds as we touch the wounds of our world. Although the blessings that we derive from the resurrection are clearly gifts from God, they are nonetheless gifts that came at a cost.
John’s Easter story is closer to our real experience than many of the other Resurrection stories. Here we have no angels announcing ‘He is raised’; no Jesus present to change sadness into joy. Resurrection is more subtle in this Gospel. Mary and Peter miss the signs. They remain locked in grief still carrying the painful burden of Golgotha. It is the disciple named ‘beloved’ who first experiences resurrection in his openness to believe in God’s power to raise Jesus. Easter calls for faith. Those who know the loss and pain of death know too well the hard, long search to find signs of life. We don’t experience a sudden glorious moment of life returned. Like the anonymous disciple, we often stay some time within the tomb before finding grace to turn and enter into life. Such grace is found in simple signs of a love that does endure. Perhaps this is why ‘the beloved’ disciple first reaches Easter faith.
In this final Lenten Sunday we look again at the significance of Christ in our lives. We recognise him as our saviour, but we look more closely in order to discover just what kind of saviour he is. He has taken the form of a slave; he has been glorified with a name above all other names; he continues to suffer with us. We have not been saved through military might, but through the self-offering humility of Jesus. Though he was really in the form of God, Jesus came in the form of a slave. We have a saviour who was crushed for our iniquities, nailed to a cross as a convicted criminal, and there endured the sense of abandonment. In the face of this, we must ask a fundamental question: Why does God love us with such abandon? Our Saviour was lifted up and exalted precisely because he emptied himself of his divine prerogatives. He became one of us in order to show us how we are to live. Unlike conquerors who triumph by putting down their opponents, Jesus was raised up because he himself was first willing to be put down. Our Saviour first offered himself for us and continues to offer himself to us as an example to follow. As he was willing to empty himself for our sake, so we are told to empty ourselves for the sake of others. The Passion narrative leaves us up in the air. It leaves us in a better position than the disciples because we know the end of the story! Jesus’ disciples were downcast by what they felt was the defeat of Jesus, however we know that out of this darkness, light and hope will emerge!
Jeremiah presents the God of Israel as One who forgives and who is even prepared to forget the sins of the past. The people will be God’s garden: the seed planted within them is God’s Law. They will be God’s own billboard: the law of forgiveness and mercy will be written in their hearts. John uses the ‘eternal life’ metaphor in much the same way as the other gospel writers use the ‘reign of God’ or ‘kin-dom’ image. To keep one’s life for ‘eternal life’ has to do with living God’s transformative vision for creation in the present so that it might one day be fully realised. In John’s gospel, Jesus’ death is also his being lifted up in glory. The moment of his death becomes the moment of drawing ‘all’ to himself. The ‘all’ includes all people, but is not restricted to the human community. It also allows for an ecological interpretation: in his death and exaltation, Jesus gathers the whole Earth community into the mystery of God’s redemptive and transforming love.
Life and death, seeing and believing in God’s love and mercy are at the heart of the story of the bronze serpent. Just as the serpent was lifted up and the people found life, so will Jesus be lifted up and those who believe in him will find life. In the gospel this week, God’s saving activity is expressed in terms of ‘love’. God’s love is explicitly related to the gift of Jesus, God’s Son, for the salvation of the world. Salvation resides in acceptance of Jesus while judgment is the refusal to accept Jesus as the revelation of God .Later in the gospel, Jesus will again reference the bronze serpent story in an expansive embrace of all creation: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all to myself.”
When Jesus called himself the new temple, he was claiming to be the centre of the universe and the presence of God in the midst of the community. When we accept him in faith, we are accepting these claims. We may profess this belief, but do our lives reflect it? To say that Jesus is the wisdom of God means that God’s wisdom is made known in him and that he is the way that points to God. While laws often embody distinctive cultural values or customs, as wisdom of God, Jesus crosses cultural boundaries and breaks down cultural distinctions. As the wisdom of God, Jesus fulfils the expectations of any and all codes of law. Both the law and the temple witness to the power of God in the lives of believers. However, both institutions pale in the light of Jesus who is identified as the power of God. This divine power is not revealed in lofty precepts or in magnificent stones, but rather in the broken and pierced body of Jesus Christ. How willing are we to accept him?
Jesus’ Transfiguration puts our sacrifices in context, reminding us that Lent is more than a season of self-denial . The only reason we deny ourselves anything or commit ourselves to actions of service for these 40 days is to grow more deeply in love with the God who loves us into life. Penance is not meant to attack our self-esteem, it’s intended to help us sort out what really matters, to cast some light in the darkness of our lives and to focus on the relationship which gives meaning and purpose for this world and the next. The God of Mount Tabor is not interested in each of us feeling isolated as we fulfil the letter of a legal code. He wants all of us to have hearts that listen to the Gospel of love so that we can gain the power to transform the world through the sacrifices of our daily lives. On a much gentler scale, Sunday Mass is meant to be a weekly mountaintop experience for us where we hear God call us by name and confess his love for us; where we feel re-energised for the commission we have to bear his light to the world. In this context anything we can do this Lent that helps remove the blocks in our full response to his love, must be worth the effort.
Both the Gospel and the Season of Lent take us on a journey in which Jesus is at the centre and stresses the importance of our encounter with Him. We follow him through his time of teaching to his death on Good Friday and his rising on Easter Sunday from the dead. These weeks give us space to reflect on the journey of our own lives and the places where we have drifted far from Jesus’ path. Lent invites us to ask ourselves what matters most deeply to us and to return to Jesus who remains close to us. Jesus’ message is simple and life changing. He reminds us that God is with us in all the hard places and questioning of our lives and we can remember and treasure the times and places of God’s presence. Lent is also a reminder that God’s coming is near and the time of waiting for God to act is over. The challenge for his hearers is to pay attention, to believe this great news, and to respond to it.