Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent: Controversial Miracles and Unconventional Charity

Gospel Reading: John 5:1-3, 5-16

Today, St. John’s Gospel presents us with a miracle and a controversy. Miracles are controversial enough in themselves, but Jesus seems to be especially provocative in this encounter.

First: the miracle. The miracle takes place at the pool of Bethzatha (or Bethesda) on the outskirts of Jerusalem, near the Sheep Gate, which was on the North-Eastern section of the city wall. This is confirmed by a nineteenth century excavation in which the remains of the site described by St. John were discovered. The man who languished before Jesus is in a bad way. We are told he has been ill for thirty eight years, and the man’s protracted suffering is evident to Jesus. But what exactly is he doing at this pool? The explanation is given in passing and is also to be found in the absent latter part of verse 3 (3b) and verse 4, which the Editors omitted from the the New Vulgate and RSV due to their absence in earlier manuscripts. Though not part of the Bible, or today’s Gospel reading, the verses give some useful context: “...waiting for the moving of the water. [4] For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in, was made whole of whatever disease he had.” So the man was waiting to be healed, waiting to be the first one in the bubbling water but without anyone to help him in. One could be forgiven for thinking that his waiting would survive this episode - certainly, even the man himself seems sceptical of his chances. But he was desperate. He had no other hope, it seemed.

Confronted by this tragic scene, Our Lord takes pity. He heals him with the command: “Rise”. Now in so doing, Jesus had broken the law of the sabbath. This was not the first time he had done so (c.f. Luke 6:1-12). And Jesus does not stop there. After, “Rise” he continues, “take up your pallet, and walk”. In adding the first of these two additional instructions, Our Lord further contravenes the law of the sabbath since the carrying of one’s pallet was expressly forbidden.

Why? Why does Jesus break the law? He does so in order to provide a new understanding of the sabbath. The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains: “The Gospel reports many incidents when Jesus was accused of violating the sabbath law. But Jesus never fails to respect the holiness of this day. He gives this law its authentic and authoritative interpretation: ’The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.’ With compassion, Christ declares the sabbath for doing good rather than harm, for saving life rather than killing. The sabbath is the day of the Lord of mercies and a day to honor God. ‘The Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath’” (CCC 2173).

To this we might add some comment from St. Thomas Aquinas: “[Those Jews] in their desire to imitate God, did nothing on the sabbath, as if God on that day had ceased absolutely to act. It is true that he rested on the sabbath from his work of creating new creatures, but he is always continually at work, maintaining them in existence[...] God is the cause of all things in the sense that he also maintains them in existence; for if for one moment he were to stop exercising his power, at that very moment everything that nature contains would cease to exist” (Commentary on the Gospel of St. John, ad loc.) Thus immediately after today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says in his own words, “My Father is working still, and I am working” (v. 17). 

Our Lord’s teaching in this passage is audacious, in that it challenged the Jewish conventions and provoked enmity; new, in that he provided a modified interpretation of the Sabbath - one that represented a significant departure from what preceded it; and true, in that as St. Thomas reflects, it is not as though God ceased to act at all on the sabbath, and likewise His Son, Jesus, did not cease to act when he met a child in need. In Jesus's teaching we find a profound lesson for ourselves. We may not work miracles, but we can act with charity - even when it seems awkward or somehow 'inappropriate'. Put crudely: love is a trump card, and we should play it whenever we can!

Lord Jesus, grant us to see as you see. Prompt us to help those who are needy. Let us never withhold our charity out of misplaced obedience to convention.

Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent: who is conforming to who?

Readings: Isaiah 65:17-21; Psalm 29:2,4-6,11-13; John 4:43-54

Today’s Gospel finds Jesus back in Cana, scene of the first miracle of his public ministry. Once more we have a miracle, and once more the dialogue preceding the miracle is troubling at first sight. An official has made the journey from Capernaum to ask Jesus to cure his son who is ill at home. Surely this is an act of faith which merits a more understanding response than Jesus’s seeming rebuke: “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe” (John 4:48)? Surely the effort to find Jesus and to ask him to heal his son is sign of the official’s belief? In any event, the official persists in his request and Jesus commands him to leave, telling him that his son will live - words which are, of course, then fulfilled.

Perhaps it says something about me and the blasé attitude which can form in me to ‘another miracle’ that the preparatory dialogue to the miracle is what immediately grabs my attention. Is there, however, some explanation for the harsh initial words? There is a potential clue in the penultimate verse of the passage where we are told that on hearing that the healing of his son occurred at the time of his conversation with Jesus, the official “himself believed and all his household” (John 4:53). Perhaps Jesus sensed a faith in the official that was incomplete, one that was dependent on seeing signs, and not a faith based on Jesus’s word? This is the explanation offered by the Venerable Bede who sees in the passage an allegory of our faith being formed gradually. He suggests that the official’s faith begins with the asking; grows when he believes Jesus’s words and returns home, but only reaches its maturity on hearing the servants’ confirmation that his son is in fact well again.

However, maybe there is another more vital lesson that we might take if the dialogue between Jesus and the official troubles us and we spend our time struggling to understand it. This time is valuable if it turns into a contemplation on who Jesus is and leads to a deepening of our relationship with Him. The danger, though, lies in the mental effort being expended on trying to make Jesus palatable to our sensibilities, seeking to ensure that He fits within our mould of what God should be like. We do well to remember who is made in whose image!

What then do we learn about Jesus from this miracle, what does this sign tell us about the one that performs it? It is the message that we will hear many times from this point on in John’s Gospel, that Jesus is life-giving. Where Jesus is to be found, life is renewed and restored, if only we will have faith. All our words pale in comparison to this healing and life-giving Word of God.

Fourth Sunday of Lent: The Man Born Blind

Readings: 1 Samuel 16: 1-13; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

In the today’s Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Lent Jesus heals the man who was born blind, and in doing so manifests His power to the astonishment of His disciples and consternation of the Jewish priests and leaders. Of course, Christ’s acts of healing, and the negative reactions they receive, are a common thread in all the Gospels. When He healed the paralysed man in Capernaum He was accused of blasphemy, or when He cured the crippled woman in the Temple He was denounced for working on the Sabbath.

Yet, what makes this Gospel so interesting is the account it gives of the reactions of the people who surround Jesus. St. John records the question of the disciples: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Christ healing.

The disciples presume that since the man has suffered such a fate it must be on account of some sin. To the disciples suffering seems to be explained as a result of human wickedness, an idea not confined to ancient Israel. Indeed, the belief that people reap what they sow is not uncommon even today. It is often assumed that ‘bad luck’ is a result of ‘bad karma’; wicked folk get what is coming to them. This is not an unattractive notion, that there might be some kind of self-regulating moral force to the universe brings a certain kind of sense to instances of apparent injustice. Even in the face of seemingly undeserved suffering, like that of the man born blind, a person can begin to rationalize the situation when they apply to the world that law that wicked folk get what is coming to them. We might assume with the disciples that the man was born blind on account of the ‘sins of the Father.’ Or perhaps, in modern (though equally ancient in certain places) terms, we might assume ‘he had done something bad in a previous life…’

Of course, the disciples had a little more to go on than a sub-conscious understanding about how the world worked. They could remember Jesus healing the paralytic man in Capernaum, He told him that his sins were forgiven, and this gave him the power to walk. Or they might recall the healing at the pool of Bethesda. There Jesus healed a man and then warned him: “Sin no more, that nothing worse befall you.” Even Jesus seems to say the wicked get what is coming to them!

Thus, upon seeing an instance of human suffering it is not unreasonable for the disciples to ask ‘who sinned that he was born blind?’ Yet, Jesus’s response must have confused them: “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.”

In previous instances Jesus has warned that sin causes human suffering, but it seems not to be so in the case of the blind man. Not only was the blind man not responsible, nor where his parents! However, perhaps what baffles most is not that Jesus does not describe the suffering as punishment for some sin but rather that he gives it an entirely different nature; the suffering of the man born blind is thus so that God might be glorified through it.

So suffering might not be a penalty for wrong doing but a means of glorifying God? Perhaps this idea is even less palatable than the concept of suffering as punishment. Why should God need to allow people to suffer just to manifest His glory? This does not seem to be a particularly nice thing for God to do.

Indeed, these sort of questions may have flooded the disciples’ minds. Suffering as punishment makes a certain kind of sense, it resembles justice, but the suffering Jesus has described, the undeserved but meaningful suffering of the man born blind, doesn’t seem so easy to understand.

So how can it be understood? Three questions can be asked, what is the point of this suffering? Why should God apply it to humans? And is it not still then still some form of punishment? 

The suffering of Job

For Christians, there are two clear cases of suffering, not as a penalty for Sin, but as a means of making manifest God’s wonder. First is the case of Job. The righteous man Job was renowned even in Heaven for his upright life and unswerving piety, yet, he was afflicted with the most grievous of sufferings, and to what end? Well, the stated intention was to manifest the truth of Job’s love for God. It was to show that Job did not merely bless the hand that fed him, but also the hand that struck him. By being put to the test Job learned of the depth of his love for God, and not only that, but he was elevated in dignity, by becoming a precursor for that second case of undeserved suffering which is central to human salvation.

The Passion and Death of Jesus was simultaneously the saddest and most glorious episode in human history. Jesus, Truth and Love incarnate, was rejected and despoiled by men and offered up to die the shameful death of the cross. Man nailed Love itself to a tree. Yet God refashioned this grave betrayal on the part of man into their salvation. Man, in his sins, had offended God who is infinitely good, an offence Man, as a finite being, could never atone for. However Jesus, by virtue of his divinity, was capable of offering to God an infinite act of love and thus, as man, He could please God more than all other men could displease Him. Thus, Jesus took His life into His hands and handed it over to wicked men; for love of the Father He made himself a sacrificial lamb whose blood would atone for the sins of the world. Jesus’s suffering was undeserved: how could goodness incarnate merit any pain; and yet it was an act which made manifest the wondrous work of God. For Jesus, by becoming the sacrificial lamb who gave the act of infinite love to the Father was bestowed with the name which is above every name. Jesus, in His suffering is glorified with the name of saviour. His passion and death was His most grievous struggle, but also His most glorious crown, for it was on Calvary that He made manifest His nature, His being Love unending for the Father and His creation.

The scourging of Christ

When man is redeemed from his sins, he rightly rejoices; it is good to be free of a disease. However, what if a man could not merely be freed from the disease but part of the cure? If those undeserved sufferings, like those of the man born blind, in fact manifest the same suffering that Jesus went through, can the suffering man not glory in it? Does the blind man of today’s Gospel, though his life of suffering, not share in some small way in Christ’s infinite act of love? If this is the case, that undeserved suffering joins one closer with Jesus’s sacrificial act, then maybe it is right that God allows it to befall people; suffering can be like a vaccine. The needle might sting or scare the child, but it imbues into the body a new power, a protection from greater harm. So it is with our undeserved sufferings, they can bring us closer to the one who saved us and make us more like Him, which is another way of stating the meaning of life; to become like the one who made us.

So the Christian then, in the face of suffering, can utter the words of St. Paul: “I am content with weaknesses … and calamities; for when I am weak then I am strong.”

Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

Readings: Hosea 6: 1 - 6; Psalm 51; Luke 18: 9 - 14

The English Dominican Simon Tugwell once observed in his excellent little book Ways of Imperfection (1984) that there is a sense in the sayings of the desert fathers and mothers, the great ascetics of the early Church, that the most dangerous kinds of sins involve not so much our actions as our attitudes to those actions. To put this another way, if we are able to recognize and confess that our sins are indeed sins, if we are able and willing to acknowledge that we have done wrong, then even if we succumb to the same temptations time and time again the venom of these sins is to a large extent drawn. The fact that we are able to acknowledge our guilt in itself opens us up to forgiveness and mercy.

On the other hand, if we are unable to acknowledge when we are at fault and instead direct our energies towards justifying ourselves and excusing ourselves even when we have done what is wrong, then we risk putting ourselves beyond God’s mercy and forgiveness simply because we refuse to accept our need for this mercy. In short, we risk refusing God’s grace through overconfidence in our own righteousness. 

In our Gospel reading, the tax collector leaves the temple at rights with God because he has had the courage to look his sins in the eye and ask for mercy, beating his breast. The Pharisee, on the other hand, is so blinded by self-congratulation that he repents of nothing and does not ask for forgiveness. Now it is clear that the Pharisee is in many ways a good man, it seems that there is much in his life that ought to be commended. Nevertheless, he is a proud man and this pride prevents him from becoming intimate with God, it impedes his journey to holiness. Traditionally, Lent is a season where we make an extra effort to make a good confession. Let us not be like the Pharisee, and allow complacency or pride to prevent us from seeking out God’s mercy. Instead, let us be like the tax collector and have the courage to ask for God’s forgiveness in humility and truth.

Eighth Station: Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem

Br Luke Doherty OP reflects on the meeting of Jesus with the women of Jerusalem, who should be weeping for themselves and their children.

Br Luke will lead the Stations this evening at 5.15pm in the church at Blackfriars, Oxford. 

All welcome.

Thursday of the Third Week of Lent: No compromise

Readings: Jeremiah 7:23-28; Psalm 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9; Luke 11:14-23

Among many paradoxical sayings of Jesus, this is one of the most challenging: ‘He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters’ (Lk 14:23). Isn’t it so much more comforting for us to recall that other saying of his: ‘he that is not against you is for you’ (Lk 9:50)?

I’m not going to resolve this tension in such a short reflection. There are long sermons and books out there which explain the deep unity and wisdom of these sayings of Christ. At least, paradox is not the same as contradiction – this much is clear from such writers as G. K. Chesterton, R. H. Benson, and Henri de Lubac. Paradox is the product of a unified truth being seen under different aspects, as when equally sized circles seem different in the context of an optical illusion. But as a brief comment, one could see the ‘uncompromising’ saying as a subjective call – ‘follow thou me’ – while the ‘compromising’ saying refers to the objective fact – let God alone judge who is really on his side.

For now, though, we should grasp this particular horn of the paradox: Jesus is saying there can be no compromise with those who do not follow him. He is under attack from a crowd of unnamed antagonists, who call him an agent of the Devil. Likewise, St Luke was writing for an early Christian community under great pressure. So the Gospel writer must reassure his audience that Jesus was claiming for himself divine power, not demonic possession. Jesus is the ‘stronger’ one who defeats and despoils the Devil, who would otherwise hold our weak humanity in thrall.

Finger of God

In John’s Gospel (14:30), Jesus warns his disciples that ‘the ruler of this world is coming’, but immediately reassures them that ‘he has no power over me’. This is because Jesus operates a divine power, driving out devils by ‘the finger of God’ (Lk 11.20), echoing Exodus 8.15 (LXX) and revealing Jesus to be the new and definitive liberator of his oppressed people. Whereas his opponents believe in contradictions, thinking that the Devil could or would drive out his own devils (how absurd!), Jesus presents us with a clear choice. We must follow him wholeheartedly, and encourage others to do the same: to gather with him, not to scatter.

Third Wednesday of Lent: Law and Gospel

Readings: Matthew 5:17-19.

It is clear that Jesus’s attitude toward the law seemed remarkably cavalier to some of his religious contemporaries. To the pious Jew of the first century, Jesus’s willingness to apply an apparently lax interpretation of the law's requirements (dining with sinners, healing on the sabbath, etc.) might have been taken as blasphemy against God’s providence, implying that the law was imperfect or subject to change. In today’s gospel, Jesus addresses the allegation head on: not even the smallest mark of the law—neither a jot nor a tittle—will be abolished or diminished by the ministry of Christ, who comes to confirm and complete the law, drawing the economy of the prophets and law-givers to its consummation. 

Jesus's remarks that he comes “not to abolish, but to fulfil the law” are clearly indicative of his respect for the law and an acknowledgment of its validity. Jesus is no antinomian. But are laws written to be fulfilled, or are they to be kept? Is Jesus here appealing to the ‘spirit of law’ against the ‘word of the law’, or positing the law as a maximum target to be reached for, rather than a minimum standard to be expected? Certainly, it seems self-evident that a court of law would take a dim view of someone’s wilful disregard for a written statue on the grounds of their self-appointed efforts to fulfil its spirit. But Christ is emphatically not a self-appointed interpreter of the law: he is one who speaks with the authority of the law-giver, deriving his essential identity from the Father, the one who sent him into the world. 

As God, Christ cannot stand against the law; as the authentic Man, Christ lives in accordance with the law, resisting the temptations to sin that disfigure true humanity. In so-doing, Christ’s fidelity to the law percolates beyond the superficial level of fealty to true obedience. As a man fully alive to God, Christ keeps the law perfectly. The law, however, is not reducible to regulative principles governing a common life. The law is not given as a stand-alone text, but is the form of the covenant, the mode through which God’s decision to dwell with humanity, and to offer humanity the opportunity to dwell with him, is realised in Jewish history. As God made man, then, Christ ‘fulfils’ the law in this sense, realising the fulness of God’s presence in human history. In his person, Jesus makes present the whole covenant of friendship between man and God, offering to us the gift of incorporation into his perfect faithfulness, and—through him—a share in the eternal life of the Holy Trinity.

Solemnity of The Annunciation of the Lord

The encounter between the Angel Gabriel and the Blessed Virgin Mary changed human history forever. It provides the setting of the Incarnation, when “the Word became flesh” (John 1:14).. The sheer profundity of this meeting taxes superlatives both with respect to the remarkable circumstances in which the event took place, and the seminal significance of the Incarnation and what it meant for human history.

The circumstances are familiar to us, not least through our recitation of the Angelus: the Archangel Gabriel, sent as God’s messenger, appears to Mary, a young Israelite girl, living in the seemingly obscure, small town of Nazareth. These humble circumstances befit the immeasurably humble act of God becoming man.  

Fra Angelico's "Annunciation", North Corridor, San Marco

The  Angel greets her, “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28) - familiar words that we echo every time we pray the “Hail Mary”. Now familiarity of the event and the words spoken is no bad thing, but there is a danger that in being so familiar, we somehow overlook, or remain in some way unmoved, by the jaw-dropping situation. 

Certainly, even Mary initially was “greatly troubled” by the angel’s greeting. Then, understandably enough, she was puzzled by the revelation that despite having no husband, she would conceive and bear a son. 

“How can this be?” she asked. Even in her puzzlement, there is a sense of restraint; who amongst us would have asked only one question?

The angel told her that she would conceive by the Holy Spirit, and that her barren cousin, Elizabeth would have a son, “For with God nothing will be impossible.” 

Mary’s response is one of humble submission: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” She accepted everything in perfect faith, hope and charity.

The potency of this account might lie partly in its provenance. We learn of this event through St. Luke’s Gospel alone. But how did St. Luke learn of it? Luke’s source, whether directly or indirectly, must surely have been Mary herself. Who other than Our Lady herself could have provided the original account of what happened during those remarkable moments? Who else could have described how she felt and what was said to her?

St. Bernard reflects upon the seminal significance of the event for the salvation of humanity, and made this most powerful scene his prayer: “You heard the annunciation, Blessed Virgin, that you would conceive and bear a son - not by knowing man, but by the power of the Holy Spirit. Look, the angel awaits your response... We took, condemned to death by divine judgment, live in hope of hearing a word of mercy. The cost of our salvation is in your hands. If you say yes, we will be set free... because the consolation of the sorrowful, the liberation of slaves an prisoners, the redemption of all the children of Adam, your lineage, depends on your response... Open your heart to faith, your mouth to consent, and your chaste body to the Creator” (Laudes Mariae, Sermo 4, 8-9).

Let us celebrate Our Lady’s role in our salvation and entrust ourselves to her peerless intercession, today and always.

Ave Regina Caelorum, the traditional hymn to Our Lady in Lent,

set for 8 voices by de Victoria, sung by The Sixteen

Monday of the Third Week of Lent:

Beheading John the Baptist

Readings: 2 Kings 5:1-15 & Luke 4:24-30

In today’s Gospel Jesus reveals the perhaps unexpected truth that a prophet is never accepted among his own people. Our Lord says in another place, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” (Luke 13:34).

In the Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen Jesus summed up salvation history by the telling of a vineyard owner who sent many messengers to his tenants, only for the wicked tenants to persecute, stone, or kill them all. Of course the messengers refer to the prophets, like Jeremiah or Isaiah, who were persecuted by God’s own people.

In contrast with the Jewish people Jesus points to Gentiles, like Zarephath or Naaman, who received the message of the prophets with joy. Naaman, upon being cured of leprosy, exclaimed “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth, except in Israel” (2 Kings 5:15).

This dichotomy between the hardness of the Jews and the receptivity of the Gentiles can serve two functions. First, it inspires in the hearer humility; the people chosen and raised by God were hardened against His word, they could not recognise Him whom they professed to love. However, more crucially, the mission of the prophets to the Gentiles demonstrates that God’s loving care has never been limited to the Chosen People; His mercy extends to the entire world.

So what made the Gentiles who accepted the prophets different from the Jews who rejected them? At another time, when Our Lord promised to heal the sick servant of the Centurion, the Roman soldier said to Jesus “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed” to this Christ replied “Truly, I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such faith” (Matthew 8:8; 10).

The Faithful Centurion

It is this word, faith, which marks the difference.  By Faith, those who met Christ or the Prophets, like the faithful Centurion, or Naaman, understood that salvation could not be earned apart from the free gift of God’s Grace. The Jews thought that their zealous keeping of the Mosaic Law justified them, their salvation was secure because they had the power to achieve it in their own hands. However, as St. Paul suggests, their knowledge of the Law actually gave sin an opportunity to exercise its power over them; “the very commandment which promised life proved to be death” (Romans 7:10).

In the Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen the owner of the vineyard, upon hearing of the persecution of his messengers, resolved to send his son: "to him they will listen". However, the wicked tenants seized the son and killed him, as his own people did to Jesus when He was sent to them by the Father. In the parable the wicked husbandmen thought they could gain the son’s inheritance, they lived by the law and saw it only as a means of securing personal prosperity, not as a pathway to freedom and true flourishing.

The Prophet was killed by those whom He came to save. He had no honour among his own people. Thus the vineyard was handed over to new tenants, the Old Covenant was superseded by the Eternal Covenant, made manifest in Christ’s body the Church. Adherence to this new covenant comes through the gift of Faith and the Life of Grace it infuses into the soul. God offers to men the grace to turn to the Gospel, repent of their sins and be baptised into Christ’s body. It is not a reward human beings can earn but it is a gift of freedom they can participate in. It is in the Church, outside of which there is no salvation, that God’s children are gathered together, like chicks gathered under their mother’s wings.

Third Sunday of Lent: The Woman of Samaria

Readings: Exodus 17: 3-7; Psalm 94; Romans 5: 1-2.5-8; John 4: 5 - 42

Our Gospel reading today is from chapter 4 of John’s Gospel: Jesus’ encounter with the Woman of Samaria, also known as the Woman at the Well. Now St. John goes out of his way to remind us that the fact that Jesus should have such a conversation with a Samaritan woman is in itself surprising, as St. John himself says, ‘Jews had no dealings with Samaritans’ (John 4:9). This historical enmity between Jews and Samaritans had deep roots that reached far back into Israel’s history to the moment when the twelve tribes, briefly united under Saul, David, and Solomon, once again divided as Rehoboam, son of Solomon, took the throne. We read in chapter 12 of the first book of Kings that the ten northern tribes had sought assurances after Solomon’s death that his son would reduce the heavy load of hard labour inflicted on the people through Solomon’s various building projects. Rehoboam refused, and so the ten northern tribes rebelled against the house of David and instead made Jeroboam their King, leaving only the tribes of Judah and Benjamin loyal to David’s line. 

Yet this new northern Kingdom of Israel faced a problem: the temple in Jerusalem still dominated the religious life of the northern tribes, yet Jerusalem was the capital city of the house of David and the Kingdom of Judah. Jeroboam, the new King of the northern tribes, feared that if he allowed his people to continue to worship in the south then slowly his authority would be undermined, so he fashioned two golden calves and set them up at Dan and Bethel in the north, declaring to the people: 

‘You have gone up to Jerusalem long enough. Behold your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt’ (1 Kings 12: 28). 

This sin is referred to again and again in the Old Testament as the sin or way of Jeroboam: it is the sin of idolatry, of worshiping what is not God, and throughout the Old Testament idolatry is presented as a kind of adultery. The northern Kingdom is an adulterous nation that has turned away from the Law and instead worshiped the work of its own hands. 

Now the Samaritans are the descendants of these ten northern tribes of Israel that rebelled against the House of David. The name ‘Samaritan’ refers to the capital city of this northern Kingdom, Samaria, built by King Omri in the early ninth century before Christ. Samaria was eventually destroyed by the Assyrians around the year 722 BC, and its inhabitants were deported. The Assyrians replaced these deported Israelites with similarly displaced peoples from all over their empire. Now the Jews of the southern Kingdom would later allege that those members of the ten northern tribes that were not deported when Samaria fell collaborated with their conquerors, and rather than maintaining their racial purity, intermarried with the various peoples and nations that the Assyrians resettled among them. As a consequence, hardliners among the Judeans of the south believed that the people of the northern Kingdom had forfeited the right to be called ‘Israelite’. Instead they referred to them as ‘Samaritans’ after the principal city that Omri had built. For the hardliners among the Jews, then, Samaritan history began with political and religious infidelity, and culminated in dubious sexual morals. 

There is a sense in our Gospel reading, then, that the personal history of the Woman of Samaria mirrors the history of her people. In the course of her conversation with Jesus, we discover that this Samaritan woman has had five husbands, yet the man she lives with now is not her husband. The Church fathers saw in this number five a reference to the five books of the Pentateuch, the books of the Law: as the Samaritan woman had left five husbands and now lived in adultery, the Samaritan people had been married to the Law of God, the five books of the Torah, but now they lived in idolatry. This division between the faithful Jews and the idolatrous Samaritans was manifested in racial segregation, especially when it came to worship and liturgy. The woman tells Jesus: ‘Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, yet you say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship (John 4: 20).

Yet Jesus replies that he will overcome these ancient divisions. He tells the woman: ‘The hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for such the Father seeks to worship him’ (John 4: 21-23). 

The reconciliation wrought by Jesus will re-found Israel: Samaritans, Jews, even Gentiles will be united in the blood of the New Covenant, and in the waters of Baptism that flowed from Jesus’s side on the cross, the living water that wells up to eternal life (John 4:14; John 19: 34). We can think of this passage, then, as Jesus calling back God’s wayward bride, Jesus calling back God’s lost sheep in Samaria.

Some of the great figures in Israel’s history found their wives at wells, usually at a time when sheep, or cattle, or camels are being watered. The servant of Abraham, for example, met Rebekah whom he takes home to be the wife of Isaac at the well outside the city of Nahor (Genesis 24). Jacob meets his wife Rachel by at a well in the ‘land of the people of the East’ (Genesis 29). Moses too met his wife Zipporah at a well in Midian (Exodus 2: 14-22). Now Jesus himself is meeting a Woman at a well, but this time the union in question is the marriage between God and Humanity that Jesus himself brings about.

Saturday of 2nd week of lent

Readings at Mass: Micah 7:14-15, 18-20; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Today’s reading is taken from Luke’s Gospel and the parable is often referred to as the Prodigal Son. The parable could equally be termed the parable of the two brothers and the good father. The prodigal son first of all requests or indeed demands his share of the property, and the father divides up the inheritance. The son travels to a ‘far country’ and squanders away his share on wine, women and luxurious things. This son just wants to enjoy himself, and deplete the goodness that has been given. The good father is widely perceived as being God the Father, and the sons represent elements of humanity. This is a similar contrast to rebellion against God and religion, we want our freedom and are given it, and are free not to obey authority or do as commanded. But when a famine hit the far off country, the son is left with nothing. This false autonomy then leads to the son taking a job feeding a herd of pigs even just to survive. From riches to rags, the prodigal son realises that he has made mistakes with his life and returns home to his father. On his return home, the father sees the son from far off, indicating that the father has either been anticipating the return of his son, or been on edge awaiting some sign of return. The joy that the father shows to his son on return is akin to the lost son being an image of all of us, as we are received into the father’s house. After just a short confession of all he has done, the father gathers the servants together and has a fattened animal killed and a feast for the son who has returned.

But there is also the other son who has stayed faithful to the father. Once he returns from working in the fields and sees this great feast the father has put on for the other son, he quite understandably feels anger and resentment. The father responds with kind words and reassures the son who remained loyal, with ‘Son, you have remained with me, and what is mine is yours’. There are two messages here: the first is for the prodigal son, who has come to realise he has not used his freedom and wealth wisely. There is a message of hope, for even in the worst scenario of the prodigal son being left destitute and starving, he can return to the father's house and be forgiven. The second message is for the son who has stayed, that he should rejoice in the fact his brother has returned, and take more joy in the faith he placed in his father and give thanks for what he has.

Come on pilgrimage with the Dominican Youth Movement!

Two members of the Godzdogz team, Br Matthew and Br Jordan, will be leading the way to Canterbury this summer. Join them on pilgrimage, or support them by your prayers!

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Fourth Station of the Cross: Jesus meets his Mother

Br Paweł Szylak OP meditates on how the Virgin Mary's faithful "fiat" before the birth of Jesus 

now reaches its climax as she follows her son to the Cross.

Br Paweł will lead the Stations this evening at 5.15pm in the church at Blackfriars, Oxford. 

All welcome.

Thursday of the Second Week of Lent: A scary thought

Readings: Jeremiah 17:5-10; Psalm 1:1-4, 6; Luke 16:19-31

I find this one of the most uncomfortable passages in the Gospels, and I expect you do, too. I feel far closer to the ‘rich man’ than to the poor man, Lazarus, who has nothing to eat or drink and lies helpless and in pain. The problem is heightened, in fact, when we notice that Jesus is not moralising about the situation. Jesus does not explicitly say that the rich man has done wrong towards Lazarus, nor that Lazarus is a good man. He simply juxtaposes their wealth and poverty, and shows a terrifying reversal of fortunes in the afterlife.

Is it any comfort to realise that all who hear this parable are supposed to identify with the rich man? If we are hearing it, then we are probably not lying outside a rich man’s gate, presumably crippled, with dogs licking our sores to get some meagre hydration under the boiling sun. Lazarus is a desperate man, utterly helpless. So, the hearers of the parable are almost certainly in the relative position of the rich man vis-à-vis someone like Lazarus. Practically all of us are in the same boat. 

Hendrick ter Brugghen, The Rich Man and the Poor Lazarus

And what can we do about it? Yes, you could ‘sell everything you have and give to the poor’ (Lk 18:22). But such dramatic gestures are not appropriate to all. What is required of us all is a firm commitment to social justice. We must not ignore the needy and helpless in our society. That is one of the basic attitudes of the Old Testament, and it is the standard according to which the rich man was judged (Lk 16:29-31). The rich man did indeed do wrong to Lazarus. But it is not only about social justice.

Jeremiah shows us what the Old Testament attitude means: we must love and serve God, and this will flow into our actions towards our neighbours. ‘Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord...He is like a tree planted by water...it does not cease to bear fruit.’ (Jer. 17:7-8) In the end, like the rich man, the Lord will ‘give to every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his doings.’ If that is a scary thought, let us now turn to the Lord again, turn to our neighbour in need, and we will find a blessing.

Solemnity of St Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary: Witness to justice and love

Readings: 2 Samuel 7:4-5,12-14,16; Psalm 88:2-5,27,29; Romans 4:13,16-18,22; Matthew 1:16,18-21,24 or Luke 2:41-51

Next Tuesday we will be celebrating the Annunciation of the Lord, and we will rightly ponder on the faith-filled words of Mary the Mother of God. Today, however, we celebrate the Solemnity of her spouse Joseph, one of the great saints of the Church,  and yet a man from whom we have no recorded words, just his powerful example.

Pope Francis, in the inaugural Mass of his pontificate, described St Joseph “as a strong and courageous man, a working man, yet in whose heart we see a great tenderness, which is not the virtue of the weak, but rather a sign of strength of spirit and a capacity for concern, for compassion, for genuine openness to others, for love.”

We observe many of these qualities in today’s Gospel when we read: [Jesus’s] mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph; but before they came to live together she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph; being a man of honour and wanting to spare her publicity, decided to divorce her informally” (Mt 1:18-19).

This example is something which today’s society finds difficult to grasp and one which causes difficulties for us in the proclamation of the Gospel. If one opens today’s papers doubtless there will be a callous castigation of some public figure who has failed to live up to the standard demanded of him. This barely disguised glee in censuring the shortcomings of others is something which rightly reviles many; yet the common reaction to this – that we ought to do away with all morality whatsoever – is unhelpful and causes society to fall apart all together. Joseph was a ‘just man’ who saw no contradiction between love and the law, but rather saw that they only fully function when brought into unity.

I think this example of St Joseph is one which Pope Francis is consciously trying to follow in his pontificate. In his inaugural homily he goes on to describe Joseph as exercising the role of protector “discreetly, humbly and silently, but with an unfailing presence and utter fidelity, even when he finds it hard to understand”. It is an approach which opens him up to misinterpretation, but in a context where there are divisions in the Church, and between the Church and the rest of society, there is so much that we would all do well to follow in these words.

Tuesday of the Second Week of Lent: to be Christians with Integrity, and Humility

Readings: Is 1:10, 16-20; Ps 49; Mt 23:1-12

“They preach but do not practise” [Mt 23:3] says Our Lord in today's Gospel, describing the Pharisees. These words send a shiver down the spine as they remind us of the times in which we fall short of Christ’s teaching, which we proclaim to the world. But the sentiment is perhaps especially applicable to Bishops, Priests and Deacons who exercise both authority in the Church, and a teaching ministry. As St. Thomas Aquinas says in his commentary on this Gospel passage, “a prelate is given a position of authority so that he may teach not only by his doctrine, but also by his life”. If our lives do not reflect the values we preach, we lack integrity. If we lack integrity, we lose credibility.  If we lose credibility, people will not listen to us. So it is only when we practice what we preach that we become effective communicators of the Gospel. I once heard Gil Bailie, a thoughtful American scholar, put it this way: "The ultimate success of every effort to Christianise the world will be commensurate with the personal sanctity of those making the effort." The way to avoid the example of the Pharisees is to have the integrity to put into practice that which we profess.

Our Lord has more to say than simply castigating the Pharisees, however. There is another element, linked to integrity, which he wants to put into the thoughts of his listeners: humility. Humility, according to St. Thomas , is a “restraining moral virtue” [ST II-II, Q. 161, Art. 1]. Humility stops us getting ahead of ourselves, and becoming proud. Christ’s example is one of perfect humility. His life and loving sacrifice places our own shortcomings in sharp relief. "If the greatest of all, Incarnate God, chooses to be the servant of all, who would wish to be the master?” as Malcolm Muggeridge once asked. Service is humility in action, which is incumbent upon “He who is greatest among you”, and, in fact, all of us who wish to follow Christ. In St. Augustine's words, "We are leaders and servants: we lead when we serve” [Sermones, 340a].

In these two sentiments, there is an echo of the Old Testament Prophet, Micah: “He has showed you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” [Mic 6:8]. During Lent, we renew our efforts to serve God and man in our actions as well as our words; to live as authentic disciples; to be Christians with integrity, and humility.

God Matters: Role of the Virgin Mary

Fr. Richard Conrad OP continued our "God Matters" series last Tuesday with a talk on, "The role of the Virgin Mary". As on previous occasions, Godzdogz feature the video of the talk, below:

Fr. Richard uses art to explore Our Lady's role and there is a very comprehensive handout, which can be downloaded by clicking here: "Handout".

Tomorrow sees the final event in this year's series. There will be a panel of this year's speakers to answers questions and draw together recurring themes over the course of the talks. As before, all are welcome to come and participate at Blackfriars Priory Church at 8pm. Bring a friend or three!

Second Sunday of Lent: Transfiguration and Tents

Readings: Matthew 17:1-19.

What on earth is St. Peter thinking? In the middle of this mystical scene, a moment of profound and unique encounter with God, Peter seems to be concerning himself with practicalities, interrupting the Lord's discourse with Moses and Elijah to talk about camping. It’s tempting to suppose that this is yet another example of the apostolic ineptitude that we see throughout the gospels, of St. Peter getting so close to the truth but then dramatically missing the point. Anyway, isn’t that what we’d expect from Peter, the one who confessed Jesus and then denied him, who tried to defend Jesus with the sword, whose first words to Jesus in St. Luke’s gospel were “leave me alone” (Lk 5.8)?

There’s certainly something in that reading, but on this occasion I wonder whether we might be a little hasty in dismissing St. Peter’s desire to get busy camping. However bizarre we might find Peter’s talk about tents, it nonetheless seems to pre-empt God’s own action: just as Peter suggests they build three tents, God himself builds a single tent over all present, covering them in the shekinah cloud. Whereas Peter’s suggestion keeps apart the messianic figure of Christ, Moses (representing the law) and Elijah (representing the prophetic tradition), God’s action houses them together: Christ personally reflects the fulfilment of the three-fold tradition of priesthood, prophecy and kingship, because he is—as the voice in the cloud says—“God's beloved Son”. The transfiguration of Christ is a moment of revelation and manifestation, in which the three disciples’ knowledge of who Jesus is for them is deepened: just as Moses’ face glowed in reflection of God’s glory after he spoke with the Lord, Christ’s face glows of its own accord and his garments reflect his own glow, because he is the Lord, truly God in human history. 

In the Greek, St. Peter’s remarks about tents don’t so much emerge as offering an interjection as providing an answer (apokrinomai). This remarkable scene has challenged Peter, interrogating his presuppositions. Indeed, the gospel writer explicitly locates the event on the mountain as occurring six days after Peter's confession of Christ's messianic identity at Caesarea Phillipi, days in which Jesus has filled Peter's nascent messianic faith with content, first revealing that his messiahship—despite what Peter may have initially thought—will involve suffering, and now making manifest a foretaste of the glory of the resurrection. In St. Matthew’s account of the incident, we are left wondering what Our Lord discussed with Elijah and Moses. St Luke, however, fills in some of the details, reporting that they were discussing Christ’s exodus (his “departure” from this world, Luke 9:31). Against this backdrop, building a tent makes much more sense as a symbolic gesture: the Jewish festival of booths (sukkoth) recalled those Exodus years of wandering in the wilderness with God, dwelling in tents alongisde the Lord who dwelt in his own tent (the tabernacle). 

Peter’s vocation as the first Pope will, of course, involve building a shelter where man can rest with God. But as at Tabor, so today, it is God's activity that predominates. The cloud descends, preventing Peter from focusing on the distant scene, forcing him to see what is before his eyes. Our Lenten penance should also help us to see what is before our eyes more clearly, but the cloud that descends on the mountain is like no natural cloud that merely conceals and hides, but constitutes a place of light that, in concealing, also reveals the glory of God. It is part of the Christian mystery that in those moments in which God reveals himself most fully he seems most un-Godly: in the incarnation, God’s full revelation in human history, God conceals himself in revealing himself as a helpless baby. The Church too is a place of transfiguration, elevating creation to God in Christ, and thus making it radiant with the Glory of God. We don't wander round sparkling with the dazzling radiance of the Lord’s glory, of course, but the Church remains the place where God reveals himself in the institution that can easily seem to be a concealment.

But, leaving theology aside, there's a human level on which I hope I would have responded as Peter did. His words—“Lord, it is good for us to be here”—reveal a heart fully alive, a moment in which Peter experiences the fullness of life and love in God. Why wouldn't we want to hold on to such a moment of encounter with God, to prolong this joy, to stay in God's presence a while longer, even if it meant building a tent? Yet Christ’s words to Peter suggest that we ought to be wary of such selfishness with regard to the desire for mystical experience: we might be lucky and find that we are singled out for a moment of closeness to God, but then we too will have to head down the mountain. The three disciples are singled out as the inner core of Christ’s followers, those who will become the leading Apostles and have to squarely face up to the difficult task of spreading the gospel to the whole world. They receive this transfiguration as gift, a pledge to secure their hope, but they are sworn to secrecy only until their moment comes. The joy that they receive is a joy to be passed on, to be shared: they taste the promised resurrection before the cross, but the cross will certainly come.

Pray Compline online!

Compline for Sundays III-VI in Lent from godzdogz on Vimeo.

Two years ago, we uploaded this audio recording of Compline for Sundays III-VI in Lent.

The video provides the full text, so that you can follow and pray this beautiful Night Office over the last Sundays in Lent.

It's the perfect way to end the old week and start the new.

Saturday of the First week of Lent

Readings: Deuteronomy: 26: 16 - 19; Psalm 119: 1-8; Matthew 5: 43-48

Today’s first reading is a section from Moses’ long sermon preached to Israel in the book of Deuteronomy as the people reached the very frontier of the Promised Land. Moses urges his listeners to remain faithful to the Law that they had received on Mt. Sinai and to observe its ‘statutes and decrees’ (Deuteronomy 26:16). This Law, Moses reminds Israel, was not given simply for God’s own amusement. This nation had been chosen by God to be ‘a people peculiarly his own’ (Deuteronomy 26:18), ‘a people sacred to the Lord’ (Deuteronomy 26: 19). The justice of the Law, its right ordering of relations between God and humanity, and the right ordering of relations among the people of Israel themselves, is a manifestation of the justice and holiness of God. By keeping the Law Israel becomes, in a certain sense, like God: Israel shares, albeit incompletely, in God’s justice and holiness. 

Jesus, of course, fulfills the Law and the vocation of the people of Israel by perfectly manifesting God’s holiness and justice through living a perfectly loving human life. Jesus is the message: everything he does or says reveals something of what God is like and in our Gospel reading he tells us something about God’s mercy. Jesus declares: ‘love your enemies and pray for those that persecute you’ (Matthew 5:44). Whilst God is indeed just, he is also merciful and this means that he goes beyond the requirements of justice: God is more generous than justice demands and Christ embodies this in the way that he lives. It is not enough, then, for those of us who call ourselves followers of Christ and who are called to re-present Christ to the world to simply love those that love us. We must imitate Christ and pray even for those that crucify us. It is in loving like God, through the Spirit of God, that we become true disciples. In the Spirit we become ‘children of our heavenly Father’ (Matthew 5:45), so perfected in charity by the Spirit that we are ‘perfect, as our heavenly Father is perfect’ (Matthew 5:48).

First Station of the Cross: Jesus is condemned to death

The Dominican student brothers will be leading the Stations of the Cross every Friday in Lent (except Good Friday) at 5.15pm in the Priory church at Blackfriars, Oxford.

A brother will offer a reflection on one of the stations along the way. For those who cannot join us in person, we will share the video recording of each reflection here on Godzdogz.

For the first station, Br Toby Lees OP talks about training oneself in virtue, so that we might be ready for heroism when the moment of trial comes.

Dire Straits - Thursday of the First Week of Lent

Queen Esther (Edwin Long, 1878)

Readings: Esther C:12, 14-16, 23-5, Matthew 7:7-12

A wise missionary sister in the Philippines once told me, 'You realise that God is all you need, when God is all you've got.'

In the context of dire poverty in a Manila slum, I knew that she was speaking from experience. There was very little material support for her life or the lives of her friends in the slum, and yet she counted herself rich in God. She advised me that my forthcoming noviciate in the English province of Dominican friars would be a time of growth in God, if only I would let God be my strength. I won't say that the noviciate is like living in a slum(!), but if we are able to simplify our lives, we open up a way to recognise God as the source of all our strength.

In today's first reading, Queen Esther is in dire straits. She must confront the king, her husband, to prevent the persecution of her people, the Jews. But in so doing, she must put her own life on the line. 'I will go the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.' Queen Esther's prayer to God reveals the same deep wisdom that acknowledges him as the source of all her strength (Esther 14:3):

O my Lord, thou only art our King; help me, who am alone and have no helper but thee.

We might think we are rarely in such dire straits. But we still have daily struggles to cope with, and we need to draw on God's strength in all these. We need to ask, to seek, to knock – as Jesus tells us in the Gospel. We need to ask God for help, because without his help we are lost. But what happens when we do fervently ask God for help? You should read the rest of Esther's story to find out!

On a very different note, today is the first anniversary of the election of Pope Francis. Let us pray that God will strengthen him in his ministry, as Francis strengthens us through his ministry of serving the universal Church.

Happy anniversary, Pope Francis!

Wednesday of the First Week of Lent

Readings: Jonah, 3:1-10, Luke, 11:29-32

The Ten Commandments

It is sometimes supposed that God’s commandments are a bit like the instructions found in the manual of a car: follow the directions and you will have a car that runs well and lasts many years. Ignore the instructions, or worse act against them, and the car will break down and cease to be of any use. God’s commands show men the way they should act in order to flourish as human beings and live long, happy lives. As the Psalmist says, “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so you will live in the land, and enjoy security” (Psalm 119).

Now this is a helpful way of beginning to understand Law, but sometimes it can draw people into the thought that the laws of God are merely directed towards man’s flourishing as a natural creature on Earth. Of the Ten Commandments it is only the fourth to tenth that really matter in the practical here and now. Is this true? Should Christians obey the Law only so that they might flourish in this life?

In today’s Gospel Jesus condemns the people of Israel as “an evil generation”? Why might this be so? When it comes to observing the Law it would be difficult to say the Jewish people of Jesus’s day were not deeply committed. St Paul described himself as he was before his conversion saying “I advanced in Judaism beyond many of my own age among my people, so extremely zealous was I for the traditions of my fathers” (Gal 1:14).

The Jewish People observed the Law and sought a Messiah who would bring them freedom from the Romans, they hoped for earthly flourishing. In His Parable on the Wicked Husbandmen Our Lord tells the Jewish leaders that, after they rejected many messengers, the custodians of the Father’s vineyard would spurn even the Son who was sent to them. The evil generation Jesus condemned was one that sought Earth’s goods first, and gave little actual thought to God for His own sake.

In the season of Lent Christians follow Jesus through his earthly mission towards Calvary. As the Son of God gave Himself up on the Cross for love of the Father and love of man, Christians seek to imitate Him by, like the people of Nineveh, taking up penances and fasting. However, it can’t be a merely following of rules, as if what God wanted and men needed was a matter of ticking boxes. The Crucifixion was the supreme expression of a vivifying love that animated every aspect of Jesus’s being.  Through the gift of Faith God puts that same love into human hearts. In Lent, Christians seek to become more Christ-like: that is, to advance in this God-given love for His sake with no thought for themselves. By their faith Christians gain the hope not only that “God may yet repent and turn from his fierce anger” (Jon 10:3) but  even more that they might “abide in the Son and in the Father” which is Eternal Life (1 John 2:24-25).