Fifth Sunday of Lent - Year B

Here is the notes I used for my radio program on Southeast Radio on the readings for this Fifth Sunday of Lent (Year B). The readings are New Jerusalem Version, which we use here in Ireland. Enjoy!

In today's readings, God tells us:

Then I shall be their God, and they will be my people,

and through Christ, who became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation,
I shall draw all people to myself.

First Reading

A reading from the prophet Jeremiah:
'Look, the days are coming, Yahweh declares,
when I shall make a new covenant
with the House of Israel (and the House of Judah),
but not like the covenant I made with their ancestors
the day I took them by the hand to bring them out of Egypt,
a covenant which they broke,
even though I was their Master, Yahweh declares.
No, this is the covenant I shall make
with the House of Israel when those days have come, Yahweh declares.
Within them I shall plant my Law, writing it on their hearts.
Then I shall be their God and they will be my people.
There will be no further need for everyone to teach neighbour or brother, saying,
"Learn to know Yahweh!"
No, they will all know me, from the least to the greatest, Yahweh declares,
since I shall forgive their guilt and never more call their sin to mind.'
Then I shall be their God and they will be my people.
God tells us that He will plant His Law among us, that He will write His Law on our hearts. We have the luxury - a luxury that the Jewish people didn’t have - of knowing the fulfillment of this and of all God’s promise. The Jews heard the prophets’ calls and sermons, but they never quite took the messages to heart. They couldn’t comprehend the layers of truth and warning and anticipation woven into the calls of their prophets. We, the Christian people who know the One who has fulfilled God’s promise, have the reality of Christ. We have the key to the puzzle. We know the story, the salvation-history, the narrative in which God became man and entered into our history in the most amazing way. We know that Christ lived, died, and rose again so that we might live and die and rise again in Him and know the forgiveness and salvation that He won for us.
The idea of a “people” in the Old Testament is ubiquitous, as much of the story revolves around the Israelites. The Jewish people come from the covenant God made with Abraham, promising him a vast amount of descendants, a promise that proceeded from Abraham's grandson, Jacob, who God re-named Israel and made the father of His Chosen People. God watched carefully over Jacob's 12 sons and the tribes that grew from each of them. He rescued them from Egyptian captivity, guided them through the desert, and helped them win their promised land. Their history is full of fidelity and lapses, piety and idolatry, obedience and waywardness.

They lived by The Law, and in time, Jesus came as the Law that God said he would plant among His people. Jesus told us that He came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it. He did not seek to end the designation of God's chosen people. He sought to come to them in love as the Savior that God had promised to them. Christ came to fulfill the hopes of the Israelites as the One who would save them forever. He came not just for the Jews but for all people, offering the Good News and salvation through Himself to all who sought it. When Jesus died on the cross, the veil of the temple's sanctuary was torn in two; the barrier that separated the Holy of Holies, where only high priests could go, had been eliminated. Christ came so that we all could know God, so that all could receive Him and be numbered among His Chosen People. Christ came to us so that His Father could be our God and we could be His people.

Then I shall be their God, and they will be my people,

and through Christ, who became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation,
I shall draw all people to myself.

Second Reading

A reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Hebrews:
During his life on earth, he offered up prayer and entreaty,
with loud cries and with tears,
to the one who had the power to save him from death,
and, winning a hearing by his reverence,
he learnt obedience, Son though he was,
through his sufferings;
when he had been perfected,
he became for all who obey him
the source of eternal salvation.

He became for all who obey Him the source of eternal salvation.

Christ's ministry of preaching, healing, and presence was not a consolation to everyone. Some people tried to trap Jesus in order to make him blaspheme or contradict the letter of the Law. Others hatched plots to kill Him. Jesus Christ is the Savior of everyone, but for some reason, He isn't for everyone. Christ makes the offer of salvation to all who come to Him, but many people reject Him.

The new wording of part of the Eucharistic Prayer at our Mass changed the formula describing the blood of Christ from “shed for you and for all” to “poured out for you and for many.” This adjustment evoked criticism from some people. If Christ died on the cross for all people, shouldn't the words have stayed “for you and for all”? Isn't that a better reflection of universal salvation offered on the cross? These questions are difficult because they come back to this challenging reality that, though the redemption by Christ on the cross is available to all people through baptism and faith in Him, not everyone believes that to be true. We are left with a tension when we reflect on the conflicting sentiments – if salvation comes through Christ, are my non-Christian friends going to hell? Should I be doing something about that? What if they're not baptized but live and act in accordance with the Gospel values and Christ's example?

Only God has the answers to these questions. We believe that the Church is the best means we have to prepare ourselves and our hearts for eternal life with God. For those outside the Church, I just pray that they may remain open to Christ's truth and love and not go out of their way to condemn or disparage Christ or the Church. Ultimately, we believe that for all people, Christ became for all who obey Him the source of salvation.

Then I shall be their God, and they will be my people,

and through Christ, who became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation,
I shall draw all people to myself.

Gospel

A reading from the Gospel according to John:
Among those who went up to worship
at the festival were some Greeks.
These approached Philip, who came from Bethsaida in Galilee,
and put this request to him,
'Sir, we should like to see Jesus.'
Philip went to tell Andrew,
and Andrew and Philip together went to tell Jesus.
Jesus replied to them:
‘Now the hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified.
In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies,
it remains only a single grain;
but if it dies it yields a rich harvest.
Anyone who loves his life loses it;
anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
Whoever serves me, must follow me,
and my servant will be with me wherever I am.
If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him.
Now my soul is troubled.
What shall I say:
Father, save me from this hour?
But it is for this very reason that I have come to this hour.
Father, glorify your name!’
A voice came from heaven, 'I have glorified it, and I will again glorify it.'
The crowd standing by, who heard this,
said it was a clap of thunder;
others said, 'It was an angel speaking to him.'
Jesus answered, 'It was not for my sake that this voice came, but for yours.
'Now sentence is being passed on this world;
now the prince of this world is to be driven out.
And when I am lifted up from the earth,
I shall draw all people to myself.'
By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.

Here, Jesus gives us a direct insight into who He is and what He has come to do. He preaches to the people about the necessary role that death plays in giving new life, and in case there was any doubt in the hearts of the listeners, God speaks from heaven to affirm that Christ is doing His will. We will reflect more upon the Passion and death of Christ in our Lenten observances of the Stations of the Cross, Palm Sunday, and Good Friday. For now, I want to focus on a beautiful line that concludes this reading.

In one of our Eucharistic Prayers, the priest prays, “You never cease to gather a people to yourself, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting, a pure sacrifice may be offered in your name.” This line draws directly upon John's Gospel to invoke Christ's prophecy.

Taken on its own, Jesus' line is a beautiful reflection on His love: Christ gathers people to Himself. He does not simply sit on a throne and grant wishes to desperate people; Christ comes among us to show us God's Love and build relationships with us.

Looking at the larger context of the reading, Christ says he will draw all people to Himself when He is lifted up from the earth – a clear gesture toward the Resurrection, the final moment when Christ ascends to Heaven forever and brings us with Him to live in eternal life. But there's even more to it than that; the reading concludes, “by these words, He indicated the kind of death He would die.” This contextualizes Christ's message. This beautiful image of Christ drawing us to Him for His ultimate ascent into Heaven is inherent in His death. Christ's death fundamentally includes this reality. When we reflect upon His death, we must reflect also on His Resurrection. The death of Christ defeats death forever and makes it the door to Heaven. Christ tell us, “I shall draw all people to myself.”

Then I shall be their God, and they will be my people,

and through Christ, who became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation,
I shall draw all people to myself.

A Sacramental Life in Christ

A week ago, while I was on one of my many runs these days leading up to the Wexford Half Marathon, I was thinking of my sins in light of my Lenten pledge and the effort for solidarity with Christ in engaging temptation and trying to face it down with His courage. I thought about how I sometimes just lack the strength to overpower a protracted moment of weakness. I allow myself a deviation from what I know to be right. And I can feel, deep inside me - in the shallow, kiddie-pool parts of me too - that I have the capacity and ability to be stronger than that.

I thought about our belief in original sin. Humanity has fallen; humanity is fallen. Catholics point to the sin of Adam as the moment when our perfect nature was corrupted, when the perfect freedom - known only by Christ since the sin of Adam - was violated by man, who willed something different than what God willed. We live in this condition and pass it on from generation to generation, seeking to thrive despite our propensity to fall time after time.

It can seem so futile and defeatist. How do we rise above it? Well, it can all start with the sacraments, and unsurprisingly, it starts with baptism. And as I've discussed before and continue to reflect upon constantly, we don't have the slightest sense of the dignity of our baptism.

In baptism, we are initiated into the redemption of Jesus. We are baptized into His life, death, and resurrection. We are called to emulate the selfless, self-giving love of Christ's life; we are brought into unity with our Lord who died on the cross; and we joyfully join in His cross because, through it, we find the strength to carry our own crosses toward the salvation He won for us in His Passion, death, and rising from the dead. Jesus died, sinless in the sinners' stead. His innocence on the cross made satisfaction for the sins of those who come to believe in Him who is Love. By being baptized into Christ, we can know the purification of our original sin. We endure, living in a state of fallen humanity, but we do so in the salvation of Christ. Our baptism invited us into a life that triumphs over sin and death.

In our baptism, we were brought into Christ and His primacy over sin. Boom.

But we don't reserve baptism for our deathbeds like Constantine and old-school people used to; we go to the waters as babies in our parents' and godparents' care or otherwise as consenting adults in RCIA. So how do we rediscover the salvation into which we were initiated in baptism? Reconciliation. Eucharist. Boom.

I am the last person who should be soapbox-ing on reconciliation, but I'll give it the basic plug it deserves while I continue to warm up to it better in my heart. We are humans who need faith to work with reason; we can't understand the entirety of our faith, its mysteries, and God. So, we have sacraments and sacramentals - visible signs of invisible realities that utilize our senses to give our minds and hearts a better sense of the truth and reality of our faith. Reconciliation utilizes the priest - the man who has consecrated his life to God as his sacramental and spiritual servant and shepherd of God's people - as a sacramental. You come to confession to tell your sins to God, and God is there speaking back to you. The priest isn't God, but He manifests the love, compassion, justice, and forgiveness of God. You still tell your sins to God, and He offers you one of His ordained servants to physically manifest the grace and absolution of Christ. Woot.

But what about people like me who are reconciliation slackers and only really go during Holy Week and maybe Advent? EUCHARIST! It's not to say that reconciliation isn't important or that it shouldn't be incorporated into a well-rounded life of faith, but I just have more credibility to yak on about Eucharistic life. So, yak on I shall.

First off, receiving Christ in the Eucharist forgives us our venial sins. We have an opportunity to examine our consciences in the opening rites of the mass, and we can pray over them throughout mass. Christ brings forgiveness to us first-hand in the Eucharist. Beyond that simple practical thing (which is pretty awesome), the mass is an amazing vehicle for the Eucharist to ride to us in.

We gather to pray and sing together, share our struggles and triumphs (even if nonverbally), and hear the Word. The Body of Christ is enfleshed all around us in our brothers and sisters even before it is enfleshed in the Eucharistic prayer. Then, we share in the Eucharistic prayer, following Jesus' command to "do this in memory" of Him.

Have you ever thought about that phrase, too? What does "this" mean? I think it refers to more than just the act of memorializing His Passion and the Last Supper. I think the whole of all the implications of "The Body of Christ" are manifested when we do this. So much good stuff is going on there. The long and short of it is that we share our triumphs and struggles with each other and put them on the altar so that the priest's sacrifice and ours may be acceptable to God. And then we, as individual sons and daughters of Christ and as brothers and sisters to one another and as a communal Body of Christ, are taken, blessed, broken, and shared. We, like the bread, are gathered to Christ in the mass. We are blessed in our prayer. We are broken into individuals as we each have our moment of intimate encounter with Christ in our reception of the consecrated hosts. And we are shared as the priest sends us forth to - and this is my favorite closing rite - glorify God with our lives!

So what does all this have to do with original sin? Our sacraments give us a chance to live a sacramental life, a life in Christ - a Eucharistic life. We can enter into a Eucharistic rhythm of examining ourselves, sharing and repenting for our sins, and knowing peace in the forgiveness of Christ through the mass and the Eucharist. And for the times when we create thoroughly negative patterns of sin and need fuller, deeper healing, God comes to us with His forgiveness in Reconciliation. So really, our only sin - original sin, which proliferates through the shortfalls we experience - had its stain taken off of us in baptism by our Risen Lord. And we have the freedom to come to God to be washed clean in the sacraments.

Christ made us immaculately clean in our baptisms, and part of answering our call to strive toward His example in love, service, and praise of our God is to embrace the way God comes so close to us in love and mercy. We can realize the dignity of our baptisms by living Eucharistically.

Mystically and Mysteriously Close

During my time back in the States, I went to Sunday mass in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on campus at Notre Dame. In the shadow of the choir loft full of my favorite liturgical choir on earth, in the basilica where I had been to so many beautiful and nourishing liturgies (from weddings to memorial masses, Tenebrae to Ordinations), I went up to receive the Body of Christ with my brothers and sisters who, with me, are the Body of Christ. And as I moved forward to reach out and receive the Risen Lord, I thought to myself, "This is exactly how I can be so far away and so close."

It started as a question, a reflection growing out of a beautiful mysticality in our Eucharist that has been popularized and articulated in a nice phrase by sacred-musician Danielle Rose: she says, "See you in the Eucharist." I first heard it in earnest from friends I met and grew close with on Catholics on Call in summer 2010. After we went home on Friday and texted over the weekend, one friend reassured the rest of us with the consolation that we'd be together in the Eucharist.

This warm outreach in faithful friendship manifested the beautiful ties we can know as faithful Catholics in our Eucharist. Jesus comes to us, transforming the bread and wine on our altar tables into His Body and Blood. His outreach comes to us as the pure Love that is God. Our God is above time and reaches all parts of time and space and beyond. The bond we know in Him through His Son Jesus Christ diffuses through our lives when embrace a rhythm of Eucharist. When we work to come to God and prayer in the Eucharist, we learn in our hearts how we can be nourished by being taken, blessed, broken, and shared by Christ and in Christ. Living a Eucharistic life gives us thorough, holistic consolation that upholds the hours and days of our lives in great light.

So as I've navigated the waters of a year abroad, living and serving in Ireland, the challenges of being far away from my parents, brothers, girlfriend, and dear friends are mitigated - or even baptized - by the strength of a Eucharistic life. Going to daily mass almost every day and 2 or 3 or more masses each weekend can sometimes leave me a bit "massed out," but the way that the Mass is weaved into the fabric of my life has entrenched the consolation that the bonds of the Body of Christ provide. How can I be so far away yet, even if not feel exactly close to my near and dear ones, not feel not so far away? The mystical bond with my loved ones through our shared belief and being within the embrace of the Body of Christ.