“I urge you to remain steadfast in faith, so that at last we will all reach heaven and there rejoice together.”
— St. Andrew Kim Taegon
//The Catholic Company//
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“I urge you to remain steadfast in faith, so that at last we will all reach heaven and there rejoice together.”
— St. Andrew Kim Taegon
//The Catholic Company//
Today we have the third Servant Song for our First Reading, which is a memorable set of striking images: “an open ear,” “a well-trained tongue,” that “knows how to speak to the weary.” “I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard, I did not shield my face from buffets and spitting…I have set my face like flint.” (Isaiah 50:4–7). If this is ascribed to Jesus, as we Christians always have, then it clearly portrays one who is totally subject to the human condition, all the way to the bottom. He is a good listener and speaker, but in the end, his is an act of trust that another will “vindicate” him with utter confidence “that he will not be put to shame.” The “Suffering Servant” here portrayed is a human being just like you and me. He does not know the outcome ahead of time, or his confidence would be in himself and God to pull it off, which would then largely be a matter of the willpower of belief. Faith is so much more than strong willpower. In Matthew’s Gospel text, Jesus certainly appears to know ahead of time that Judas is going to betray him, and as much as tells him so. But he also appears to be saying that it is destiny or fate and “foretold by Scripture.” Is this foreknowledge the pattern of the Suffering Servant that he is referring to? We do not know for sure, although John sees it predicted in Psalm 41:10: “Even my closest and most trusted friend, who shared my table, rebels against me,” which he quotes (13:18). If this is the psalm Jesus is referring to, then the fuller meaning is clear: “Yahweh take pity on me, and raise me up!” (41:11). His victory is a dramatic reliance upon God, a mammoth leap of faith, not a superman stunt by a man who knows the full outcome ahead of time. We have done the believing community a major disservice by so emphasizing his divinity that his humanity was all but overridden. “He did not really have to live faith or darkness as we do, he knew everything from his youngest years,” most Christians naively assume. Yet Hebrews beautifully calls Jesus the “pioneer and perfector of our faith” (12:2). We cannot believe that his was a totally different brand of faith than the rest of humanity. Many scholars believe that it was only at the Resurrection that Jesus’ human mind and divine consciousness became one. Until then, he “was like us in all ways, except sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Now I believe you are much better prepared to walk through the sacred days ahead with a Jesus who shares, suffers, and trusts God exactly as you and I must learn to do. He walked in darkness too.
—from the book Wondrous Encounters: Scriptures for Lent
by Richard Rohr, OFM
//Franciscan Media//
“The same God who called Abraham and made him come down from his land without knowing where he should go is the same God who goes to the Cross in order to fulfill the promise that he made. He is the same God who in the fullness of time will make that promise a reality for all of us. What joins that first instance to this last moment is the thread of hope. Therefore, what joins my Christian life to our Christian life, from one moment to another, in order to always go forward— sinners, but forward—is hope. Yet, what gives us peace in the dark moments, in life’s darkest moments, is always hope. Hope does not disappoint: it is always there, silent, humble, but strong.”—Pope Francis
These powerful words from Pope Francis remind us that hope is one of three “theological virtues,” along with faith and love. With St. Paul, we believe that the greatest of these is love, but hope is the virtue that keeps us going when even love seems to fail. Sometimes our ordinary use of the word hope can reduce it to something like wishful thinking: I hope I pass this exam. I hope my test results are good. I hope my children will be happy and successful. We use the word for things that are out of our control. We use it for times when perhaps our efforts have fallen short. We use it for all the uncertainties in our daily lives. Pope Francis reminds us that the real source of our hope is always in God’s faithfulness and mercy. Abraham has always been the prime example of this kind of hope. He left everything to follow God’s call. We all have times in our lives when we, too, find ourselves going forth into the unknown darkness. In those times, hope in God’s promise is all we have to cling to—and cling we must, sometimes with only our fingertips. The image of hope keeping us from drowning can seem all too real at times when we are overwhelmed by life’s struggles: addiction, despair, depression, death. The theme of our Lenten reflections is hope. The hope of Lent is clearly Easter and the resurrection. But there’s a deeper hope that is with us each and every day, that knows no times or seasons. It’s the ground on which we stand, the bedrock of our foundation. That thread of hope runs strong and resilient through our lives, caught at each end by the grace of God’s merciful love.
— from the book The Hope of Lent: Daily Reflections from Pope Francis
by Diane M. Houdek
//Franciscan Media//
“I entrust myself to you because you do not disappoint; I do not understand, but even without understanding, I entrust myself to your hands.—Pope Francis
The plight of Susanna in today’s first reading from the Book of Daniel (13:1-62) is familiar to anyone who has been abused by someone with greater power, more authority, a high reputation in the community. The judges used their position to take advantage of someone with no power, no voice, seemingly no defense. In a similar way, the woman in our Gospel reading is brought before Jesus by those who are more interested in defending their authority than in treating her as a fellow human being. In each case, someone steps forward to defend the innocent, to raise up the oppressed, to speak for justice and righteousness. But we know all too well that this doesn’t always happen. Even in the Gospel, those who drifted away at Jesus’s challenge returned to kill him and so reject his law of compassion. And so we come to the pope’s words. Trusting God when we are suffering, when we are being treated unjustly, when we are abused goes against everything our human instincts tell us is right. We long for a Daniel to swoop in to vanquish the villains and save the day. We want a super hero. But the Gospel reminds us that what we have is in fact a savior, an advocate. But sometimes we have to wait for the plan to unfold fully.
Call to mind an experience of injustice from your own life or the life of someone you love. Recall your response to the situation, your anger, your hopes, your fears. Take all of those feelings and offer them to God. Let your heart struggle to feel the faith and the trust that all will be well.
— from the book The Hope of Lent: Daily Reflections from Pope Francis
by Diane M. Houdek
//Franciscan Media//
The Gospel reading explains the great love of God for His people. Do I love Him in return?
First reading: 2 Chronicles 36:14-17, 19-23
Psalm: 137:1-6
Second reading: Ephesians 2:4-10
Gospel: St. John 2:14-21
In today’s Gospel reading, we hear one of the most beloved verses in Sacred Scripture:
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” – St. John 3:16
Maybe we have heard these words so often that they are not surprising anymore, but if we stop to reflect on this verse, it is the very definition of the “Good News.” God Himself gave His Son for you and for me. God, who made Heaven and earth, loves us.
How do I respond to this love? Do I follow His commands? Do I pray often? God has given us a gift that we can never repay. But like a child who makes simple presents for his parents, we can love Him as much as we are able.
In this Gospel passage, Jesus goes on to say that some prefer the darkness to the light. As Christ is the Light of the World, some people did not–and some still do not–want His Light to expose them or their sins. As Christians, we must love the Light, love the Truth, and be transformed by the Light. Do I allow God to transform me with His Light?
For more information on how you can grow in your faith during the Lenten season, we encourage you to visit the EWTN Lent page here: ewtn.com/lent
In Jesus,
Father Joseph
What startled me over and over in so many of the psalms is the emotional contrast. First there’s often a lament, not sugar-coated or minimized, not swept away or judged. Instead, the suffering is eloquently described. For example, the early lines of Psalm 69: “I am wearied with crying out, my throat is sore.” Guilt, shame, reproach, and bitterness follow. Then, a but appears. “But I lift up this prayer to thee.” Over and over I found these sudden reversals. How did they make sense? After a few months of a daily morning practice, I understood the pattern. I would read many lines of anguish. Once the painful truths are expressed, in detail, not rushed, there’s a sense of being deeply heard and listened to—heard by God. Once that internal, intimate ache is honored, we find space in our heavy hearts to move around. We can take that leap of faith and trust, again and again. What the psalms began to teach me is to stay true to my human grief, to articulate it, to bring the fear and frustration straight to God. By doing that, faith will appear, often suddenly, always the balm we have been seeking.
—from the book What Was Lost: Seeking Refuge in the Psalms
by Maureen O’Brien
//Franciscan Media//
Faith is precisely nothing. It is nothing you can prove to be right, or use to get anywhere else. If you want something to believe in (which is where we all must start!), you had best be a totem and taboo Christian, with clear ground, identity, and boundaries. But that is not yet faith! That is merely securing the foundations for your personal diving board.
Faith is the leap into the water, now with the lived experience that there is One who can and will catch you—and lead you where you need to go! Religion, in some sense, is a necessary first half of life phenomenon. Faith is much more possible in the second half of life, not necessarily chronologically but always spiritually. As the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard wisely said, “Life must be lived forward, but it can only be understood backward.” Jonah knew what God was doing, and how God does it, and how right God is—only after emerging from the belly of the whale. He has no message whatsoever to give until he has first endured the journey, the darkness, the spitting up on the right shore—all in spite of his best efforts to avoid these very things. Jonah indeed is our Judeo-Christian symbol of transformation. Jesus had found the Jonah story inspiring, no doubt, because it described almost perfectly what was happening to him!
—from the book Wondrous Encounters: Scriptures for Lent
by Richard Rohr, OFM
//Franciscan Media//
“God sees you in secret. Know that he sees into your very depths, infinitely farther than you do yourself. Make a simple, lively act of faith in his presence. Christian soul, place yourself entirely under his gaze. He is very near. He is present, for he gives being and motion to all things. Yet you must believe more; you must believe with a lively faith that he is present to you by giving you all of your good thoughts from within, as holding in his hand the source from which they come, and not only the good thoughts, but also whatever good desires, good resolutions, and every good act of the will, from its very first beginning and birth to its final perfection. Believe, too, that he is in the souls of the just, and that he makes his dwelling there within, according to these words of the Lord: ‘We will come to him and make our home with him’ (John 14:23). He is there in a stable and permanent way: he makes his home there. Desire that he should be in you in this way. Offer yourself to him as his dwelling and temple. Now come out, and with the same faith that enables you to see him within you, look upon him in Heaven, where he manifests himself to his beloved. It is there that he awaits you. Run. Fly. Break your chains; break all the bonds that tie you down to flesh and blood. O God, when shall I see you? When will I have that pure heart that enables you to be seen, in yourself, outside of yourself, everywhere? O Light that enlightens the world! O Life that gives life to all the living! O Truth that feeds us all! O Good that satisfies us all! O Love that binds all together! I praise you, my heavenly Father, who sees me in secret.”
— Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet, p.4-5
“It is not the actual physical exertion that counts towards a man’s progress, nor the nature of the task, but by the spirit of faith with which it is undertaken.”
— St. Francis Xavier
“And so the idea of peace came down to do the work of peace: The Word was made flesh and even now dwells among us. It is by faith that he dwells in our hearts, in our memory, our intellect and penetrates even into our imagination. What concept could man have of God if he did not first fashion an image of him in his heart? By nature incomprehensible and inaccessible, he was invisible and unthinkable, but now he wished to be understood, to be seen and thought of. But how, you ask, was this done? He lay in a manger and rested on a virgin’s breast, preached on a mountain, and spent the night in prayer. He hung on a cross, grew pale in death, and roamed free among the dead and ruled over those in hell. He rose again on the third day, and showed the apostles the wounds of the nails, the signs of victory; and finally in their presence he ascended to the sanctuary of heaven. How can we not contemplate this story in truth, piety and holiness?”— St. Bernard, p. 186