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 the neophytes who were 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 tangible proof. This proof can be seen in the way the community reaches 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. We find a similar situation in the reading from Acts where the fledgling Christian community grew in number as a result of the teaching of the apostles. So it has always been. Those who are not eye witnesses of the actual events are called, through the teaching of others, to witness to the power of the resurrection. Although the blessings that we derive from the resurrection are clearly gifts from God, they are nonetheless costly gifts. They have been won through the blood of Christ, and we too may have to pay a price for having received them.
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.
The Passion narrative, as described in the Gospel of Matthew, is keen to drive home two particular points. Firstly, throughout his Gospel, Matthew is at pains to demonstrate Jesus as fulfilling the prophecy of Scripture. At the time of the arrest and the use of the thirty pieces of silver, we are reminded that these things took place to fulfil scripture. Secondly, this particular Gospel reading emphasises the innocence of Jesus throughout the Passion narrative: he is ‘sold out’ by one of his followers; his trial before the Sanhedrin is a farce; his most loyal follower denies association with him; Pilate declares himself innocent of Jesus’ blood and the crowd accepts the consequences of their actions. At no point is any hint of guilt cast over Jesus. He is an innocent whose fate has been manipulated by others. In this Gospel there is no conversation between Jesus and the criminals between whom he is crucified. There is no suggestion that Jesus too is a criminal who is deserving of his fate. His innocence is manifest. The actions of those who plot against Jesus to seek his downfall actually serve to bring about his purpose. No other outcome was possible. Matthew assures us, his readers, that the death of Jesus was no accident; it was intended from the very beginning.
All three readings for this Sunday, as well as the psalm response, point out our inability to raise ourselves out of the deaths that afflict us. In the passage from Ezekiel, it is God who promises to open the graves of the people; the people are helpless to do anything. The psalmist cries to God from out of the depths of pain and helplessness. Acknowledging human propensity to sin, Paul credits the Spirit of God with transforming death into life. Finally, it is Jesus who calls Lazarus out of the grave and returns him to his life. We can see that God does not leave us to languish in our various deaths. Instead, God offers us new life out of the tombs. All of this is accomplished through the mercy and compassion of God.
Humans see and judge by appearances, but God looks into the heart, and there finds the real person. God’s standards are not superficial, as are so many of the standards of the world. It is not age, beauty or physical strength that is important; it is not social position or religious role that is preferred. God chooses whom God chooses. God saw in David, the insignificant shepherd, the potential for being the chief shepherd of his people. The man who was born blind became the one through whom others would see the mighty works of God. Yet, neither young David nor the man in the gospel made the initial step; each simply responded with openness to God’s choice of him. By what criteria do we judge others? Do we consider some people too insignificant for greatness? Are we overly concerned with status? Do we categorise people according to the disease or physical limitation that they must endure? Do we sometimes blame them for their disability? Do our eyes perceive life in accord with the standards of a materialistic, body-orientated, pleasure-seeking society? Or do we look into the other’s heart, as God does?
As with the other scrutiny Sundays, catechumens and long-standing members alike are exhorted to make a choice. Jesus is the one who gives sight to blind eyes and religious insight to those open to receive it. However, there is a price to pay. Will it be the standards of the world, or the power of God in Jesus Christ?
The Gospel reading this Sunday very clearly lays out the choices between water that quenches thirst and water that does not. Jesus identifies himself as the source of water that guarantees eternal life. He places before the Samaritan woman a choice that requires a step of profound faith. She knows the thirst-quenching quality of the water from Jacob’s well, but she is not acquainted with the water promised by this stranger who is also an enemy of her people. The choice is not an obvious one. A similar choice is placed before us. We know the demands of our culture and the circumstances of our lives. Are we able to acknowledge the sins of which we are guilty, recognise the grace that is being offered to us, and make the right choice?
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.
The first reading reminds us of our fragility. We are made of the dust of the ground, the very stuff that represents death and decay. We were reminded of this when ashes were used to sign us on Ash Wednesday. At the beginning of Lent we are invited to acknowledge honestly and realistically our fundamental human weakness. Despite our weaknesses, the situation within which we find ourselves is not hopeless. Somewhere deep within ourselves we know that we are not helpless prisoners of our limitations. God has not deserted us to our guilt. The form that God’s compassion takes is outlined in the reading from Romans. It is in the death and resurrection of Jesus that we see the extent of this divine compassion. God’s gracious gift far exceeds the effects of human transgression. As we look to Jesus in the Gospel Reading, we see humanity at its best, tempted but not overcome. There will certainly always be human limitations, human weaknesses that will open the door to temptation. But Jesus shows us that we are not thereby doomed. Jesus is a model for our own journey to new life.
The readings focus our attention on the nature of true wisdom. It is this true wisdom which prompts us to choose the right course of action and directs us in our interpretation of the law. The longer we live, the more we realise that life experiences open up for us a series of choices. With these choices we chart the path that we will take. Circumstances might be thrust on us, but we can still make choices about how we will deal with them. Obedient people do what they are told; wise people choose what good they will do. True wisdom calls us to choose life and whatever enhances life. If we are truly wise, we will come to realise that what was acceptable and life-enhancing in one situation may not be appropriate in another. Life is fluid, and our thinking and acting must be flexible enough to adapt when necessary. True wisdom, which comes to us through the Spirit, will enrich us with insight into life in ways we never thought possible. We will realise where and how we fit into the vast and interrelated ecosystems of the universe, and we will be overawed with the majesty and intricacy of its workings. We will understand once and for all that the value of anything is determined by its capacity to enrich life, and we will commit ourselves to and cherish every manifestation of that life.
Jesus employs two metaphors to characterise the essence of discipleship: salt and light. These metaphors point to what the disciples do for others rather than to what discipleship does for the disciples themselves. It is the Spirit and power of God that work the wonders, and God works them through mundane elements of life such as light and salt. True disciples are the light that shines forth in the darkness of ignorance or faithlessness. They enlighten others not by words but by their manner of living. Jesus teaches us that what we do flows from who and what we are. We can enlighten the world with the message of the gospel, because our lives have been transformed by that gospel and now we ourselves are light for others. We can serve others in various ways, only because we have been saved by God’s grace and now we are agents of that grace in the lives of others. Our own renewal becomes the means through which God renews the world. We may not be asked to perform extraordinary feats, but all disciples of Jesus are called upon to do the ordinary things of life in an extraordinary way. It is this manner of living that declares to the world that the reign of God has indeed been established in their midst, and that the age of fulfilment has dawned.