5th Sunday in Lent, March 22, 3015

Collect for the Day

Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. 

Reflections: It’s not just that I’m getting older is it:  the world really is changing faster and faster, and increasingly crowding us with things and activities to distract and fascinate. How do we select what deserves our attention? How can we know what is of enduring value? And even if we do know, how can we choose it relying on our own discernment and strength alone?  

First Lesson: Jeremiah 31:31-34

The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt-- a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the LORD. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more. 

Reflections: This is surely one of my (many) favorite passages from Jeremiah (7^th century BCE). What about you?

          In times past, says Jeremiah, God’s relationship to Israel was like a husband to a wife. That’s an imaged used by the earlier prophet Hosea about a century earlier. But even in Jeremiah’s times, the comparison was astonishingly intimate.

But Israel (like us) was repeatedly unfaithful. More unfaithful than not, in fact. The Bible records that Israel interpreted repeated experiences of punishment and a sense of divine abandonment as God’s response to her faithlessness. But even so, like a loving spouse God continued to yearn and agonize over beloved Israel.

Through Jeremiah, God promises not further threats of punishment or abandonment, but an even closer intimacy. A new depth of relationship once again initiated and carried out by God.

Close as one person can be to another, deeply as we may love someone, we remain separated. Our hearts may beat as one, but we remain separated by space. This must be one of the greatest sources of suffering: we cannot be in complete union with our beloved.

And yet, this is precisely what God promises through Jeremiah. God is not external to us, watching us from somewhere “out there.” God closer to us than we are to ourselves. God is, as it says in the Koran, “closer than our own jugular vein.”

          In place of knowledge about God, which comes to us from other sources, God promises knowledge of God: direct, experiential knowledge.

          But here’s a question: is Jeremiah’s prophecy for all God’s people, or only for the future God’s people who would come to know God through Jesus? 

Psalm 51:1-13  Miserere mei, Deus

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness; * in your great compassion blot out my offenses.

Wash me through and through from my wickedness * and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions, * and my sin is ever before me.

Against you only have I sinned * and done what is evil in your sight.

And so you are justified when you speak * and upright in your judgment.

Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, * a sinner from my mother's womb.

For behold, you look for truth deep within me, * and will make me understand wisdom secretly.

Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; * wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.

Make me hear of joy and gladness, * that the body you have broken may rejoice.

Hide your face from my sins * and blot out all my iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, * and renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence * and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Give me the joy of your saving help again * and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.  

Reflections: This is the best loved of the penitential psalms. Throughout Christian history, this psalm has been prayed by the church in liturgy, in daily and weekly personal and monastic prayer, and is particularly associated with the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and with Lent. As you may know, a psalm “title” is the Latin rendering of the first line. That is, “Miserere me, Deus” means “Have mercy on me, O God.” Similarly in English, we refer to the Lord’s Prayer as the “Our Father,” or we recite the “Hail Mary.” 

Epistle: Hebrews 5:5-10

Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him,

You are my Son,

today I have begotten you;

as he says also in another place,

You are a priest forever,

according to the order of Melchizedek.

In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, having been designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek. 

Reflections: Jesus Christ was not elevated because it was his “right” as the Son of God. He did not grasp what was his to claim. Instead, God elevated him because of his humility.

Now, the world—or at least this culture—doesn’t work that way. Modesty doesn’t usually get you the job. Self-assertion seems to be the way to get what we want or deserve. It is a fine line between assertiveness and aggressiveness, between appropriate self esteem and self-centeredness; in a culture like ours finding the balance can be difficult—and we are always at risk of ending up with the short end of the sick.

This passage tells us that it doesn’t work that way with God. God sees in secret—not only what we do anonymously, but the thoughts and motives hidden in our hearts.

The Son, it says, was “made perfect” by suffering. It’s important that we don’t take this to mean that Jesus did everything perfectly, or that suffering made him perfect. The past participle, “perfected,” suggests instead “completed,” just as bread that has been baked is finished, complete, whole. Jesus courageously accepted suffering, trusting in the God who saves from—but may not prevent—death.

Whereas the sacrificial lamb in Hebrew tradition is “without blemish,” Jesus is scarred by his suffering. His wounds are not erased, but in the Resurrection they are transfigured and redemptive: He is the “Wounded Healer.” 

Gospel: John 12:20-33

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

"Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say-- `Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him." Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

Reflections:  Just before this passage, Jesus has entered Jerusalem to much acclaim. The Pharisees and officials feel helpless against his popularity: The Pharisees complained, ‘You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!’” Almost in demonstration, our gospel reading immediately follows: Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. [They] said . . . , "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." The Pharisees clearly feel uncomfortable, perhaps even threatened. Not only is Jesus and his followers a problem, but as we see, he attracting gentiles—outsiders—as well.

          How does Jesus respond to the gentiles? We probably expect him to welcome them and launch into a discourse (like he does on almost every other occasion in the Fourth Gospel). Instead, he muses about the necessity of dying to bear fruit, losing life to find it, finding the highest honor in service. What’s the connection?

          Could Jesus be addressing our tendency to stick tight to people who are like us, and to (label and) resist “outsiders”? In what ways does our sense of identity stand between us and the Christ we seek to serve? What part of us is threatened is it by unfamiliar people and circumstances?

Does Jesus hide or deny his fears? How does he ultimately respond?