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.
The sermon of the mount was directed toward the establishment of the reign of God, the type of behaviour or values that Jesus advocates is frequently the opposite of that espoused by society at large. This fact offers us a way to understand the challenges set before us in the beatitudes. Perhaps the way to interpret them is to look first at the blessings promised. We may see that the behaviour that Jesus is advocating is at odds with what society would say will guarantee the blessing that we seek. It is clear that each and every beatitude invites us to turn our standards and our way of life upside down and inside out. At the heart of Jesus’ teaching was the promise of a new age when society would be reshaped so that all would gain access to the blessings that life has to offer.
In the Gospel today, Matthew symbolically presents Jesus as a great light for a people who have lived in darkness and the shadow of death and oppression. Jesus offers the hope of an alternative reign and invites his hearers to expand their horizons, for the all-embracing empire or kingdom “of the heavens” has come near. He then calls four fishermen to follow him, to join him on his mission of proclaiming the empire or reign “of the heavens”. The verb “to follow” is an invitation to live out in their lives/in our lives the pattern of Jesus’ life. They “immediately” leave their boat and their father and follow him. Later in the story we find they still have their boat, an indication that, at some levels, the story is to be read symbolically. At times we need to distance ourselves from family expectations for the sake of the gospel. At times we have to decentre our material possessions even while we affirm the goodness of their materiality and their significance for the work of the mission. We are all invited to turn our lives around and to live out in our lives the pattern of Jesus’ life.
To understand the full significance of what John is saying we have to look forward to the climax of the Fourth Gospel. The moment of Jesus’ death upon the cross is not simply a final expiration of breath; it involves a majestic imparting of the Spirit (19:30). In the person of his Mother and the Beloved Disciple, the Church comes to birth at this moment through the gift of the Spirit and then in the hint of the sacraments (Baptism and Eucharist) in the flow of water and blood from his pierced side (19:33-34). Because his legs are not broken, Jesus dies as the Paschal Lamb. In the evening two days later, the risen Lord will stand among his disciples, breathe upon them and say, ‘Receive, the Holy Spirit; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven; whose sins you shall retain, they are retained’ (20:22-23). Only when we have learned all this at the close of the Gospel will we truly grasp why John the Baptist points out Jesus, as ‘the Lamb, that takes away the sin of the world’ (1:29; cf. v 36). In this way, as Isaiah foretold, he is the instrument of salvation for the entire world.
The baptism of Jesus inaugurates his ministry as the anointed one of God. The passage from Isaiah indicates the kind of messiah he will be. He will not exercise harsh justice, nor will he wield the sword of vengeance on the battlefield. He will be a servant, who, though mighty is gentle; one chosen by God, yet committed to the needy and the marginal; the Son of God who attends to the least within the community. The messiah of God may have come from an insignificant village like Nazareth, but he was anointed with the Holy Spirit and with power. Filled with the Spirit of God, he acts out of a gentle, compassionate spirit and comes for all people without distinction.