Of Sandwiches & Earthquakes

 Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord (A)

Readings: Matthew 21:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 21 (22):8-9, 17-20, 23-24; Philippians 2:6-11; Matthew 26:14-27:66

Picture: By Crunch on Unsplash 

(At the Entrance:) My dear friends, in the gospel passage we just heard, we’re told that when Jesus entered Jerusalem, all the city was stirred… Later, near the end of the Lord’s Passion, we will hear that, after Jesus dies on the Cross, the earth quaked… Actually, these two English words, stir and quake, translate the same Greek word, which means to shake violently. So today our scriptures begin and end with two instances of violent shaking. The first is felt in the hearts of all the people of Jerusalem, as they watch Jesus enter their beloved city. The second is suffered by the whole earth, after the Lord dies on the Cross. A stirred city and a quaking earth. Like the slices of bread in a healthy sandwich, these events hold between them a filling that nourishes us unto eternal life. So let us pay close attention, and feed on this rich spiritual food, as we follow Jesus on his Way.

(At the Ambo:) What’s it like to be caught in an earthquake? Even if we’ve never experienced one first-hand, we can imagine what it feels like… When the earth suddenly starts shaking. Walls shuddering… Roads cracking… Buildings crumbling. And ourselves powerless to stop it. How terrifying it must be! But even before it fills our hearts with terror, doesn’t the violent motion have the power first to grab our attention? Like how the recent earth-shaking events in the Middle East have grabbed the attention of the whole world?

The terrifying, attention-grabbing power of an earthquake. Isn’t this the experience of the Roman soldiers guarding Jesus? Shaken out of the boredom and complacency of their daily routine, they receive the grace to see and acknowledge who Jesus really is. This apparently deranged prisoner, whom they had stripped and scourged, made fun of and spat at, before fixing to a cross, and watching him die. Incredibly, in the person of this condemned criminal, they are able now to recognise the presence and action of God. The Divine King, who comes among us so humbly, riding on an ass. The Suffering Servant, who shows compassion, not just by speaking words of comfort to the wearied. But also by courageously standing up to, and speak out against, those who oppress them. Lovingly submitting to the trials that come as a result. Even to the point of accepting a shameful death. What a grace to be able to recognise God, in a lifeless body hanging on a cruel cross.

But there are also those who react in the opposite way. Instead of recognising and acknowledging God’s surprising presence, both the religious authorities, who plotted to have Jesus killed, and the Roman governor, who pronounced the unjust sentence, work actively to deny and suppress the Truth. They resist grace, and choose to cling instead to their own disordered attachments. Nor is overt denial the only possible form of resistance to grace. Despair and apathy serve just as well. Could this be the deeper reason why Jesus keeps encouraging his disciples to keep awake with him, and to pray not to be put to the test? In order not to miss the subtle presence and action of God, even as the very earth begins to shake.

And isn’t all this a useful reminder for us, who live in such tumultuous times? When both denial and despair remain tempting options. Sisters and brothers, even as the very foundations of our world continue to shake, how might we help one another to keep awake with the Lord and to pray?

Prioritising The Periphery

4th Sunday of Lent (A)

(Laetare Sunday)

Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1, 6-7, 10-13; Psalm 22 (23); Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

Picture: By mohammed dawleh on Unsplash

What is the opposite of glaucoma? According to the Singhealth website, glaucoma is a group of diseases… resulting in irreversible loss of vision. It’s a scary one-way process leading to blindness. Usually this is caused by the build-up of pressure in the eyeball. Fluid accumulates in the eye faster than it is able to drain away. And the resulting pressure damages the optic nerve irreparably. But because vision is initially lost around the edges, or the periphery, sufferers don’t realise they’re going blind, until it’s too late… A process leading to blindness… involving the build-up of pressure… where vision is lost beginning at the periphery. Process, pressure and periphery. It’s helpful to keep these three characteristics in mind, as we ponder the scriptures on this Fourth Sunday in Lent. For what we find here is not just something like glaucoma, but also its opposite. Not just the tragic loss of sight, but also its joyful restoration.

In the first reading, the prophet Samuel is obviously undergoing a process, by which he is gradually being taught how to see as God sees. How to look beyond appearances to the very heart of reality. Samuel is being given the ability to do what the second reading encourages all of us to do: to discover (or to discern) what the Lord wants, and so to walk in the light of God. Actually, more than just Samuel, the whole people of Israel is being offered new sight. For, as we may recall, back when Samuel was still a boy, he lived with the old priest Eli, who was then going blind, in more ways than one. Not only had Eli’s eyesight… begun to grow dim so that he could not see (3:2, NRSV), he had also turned a blind eye to the sins of his two sons (2:22). They were stealing the sacrifices offered to God, and abusing the women who served at the tent of meeting. Nor was Eli the only one losing his sight. The scripture also says that the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread (3:1). In other words, the whole nation was growing spiritually blind. Likely due to the pressures exerted by its own idolatry, its worship of false gods. So by teaching Samuel to see, God is reversing this spiritual glaucoma, restoring the people’s sight.

And isn’t it remarkable how, even though one after another of Jesse’s sons are rejected by God, including Samuel’s own preferred candidate, the prophet doesn’t seem to feel any pressure? Rather than clinging stubbornly to his own preference, Samuel is quite happy to listen to the Lord, to follow God’s direction. And isn’t it striking how peripheral a figure the boy David is at this point in the story? So peripheral is he, that his father Jesse might well have forgotten all about him, had Samuel not asked, perhaps with more than a touch of irritation, Are these all the sons you have? And yet, it is precisely this peripheral character whom God sees fit to anoint as king. To be God’s chosen instrument to help restore the people’s sight.

 

Process, pressure and periphery. Don’t we find these in the gospel too? Like Samuel, the man born blind is undergoing a process, in which he is gradually receiving his sight. Not just his physical sight, but more importantly, his spiritual vision. The reading marks the progress of this healing process by the titles the man uses to address Jesus. First, he refers to him simply as the man called Jesus. Then, he calls him a prophet. And, finally, he recognises and worships him as Lord. In contrast, even as the man’s vision gradually sharpens and deepens, the people around him are going blind. From his neighbours, who should know him well, and yet now have trouble recognising him. To his parents, who seem unable to acknowledge their son’s healing, let alone to share his joy. To the religious authorities, who have clearly already made up their minds about Jesus.

And isn’t this blindness caused by pressure? Pressure experienced by the authorities, who wish to paint Jesus as nothing more than a breaker of the Law, but can’t explain how a sinner is able to give sight to the blind. And pressure that these same authorities then place on others to suppress the truth. In contrast, after experiencing Jesus’ healing touch, the once-blind man seems remarkably immune to pressure. Such that he is able even to talk back to those who have power to cast him out of the community. And who is this man, really, if not a peripheral figure? One whose name isn’t even recorded in the gospel. Yet it is this same peripheral figure in whom God chooses to show God’s power. As Jesus tells his disciples. he was born blind so that the works of God might be displayed in him. 

Even if glaucoma currently remains irreversible, God still has power to restore lost spiritual sight. This is the good news proclaimed in our readings today. This is the gift we are joyfully preparing to celebrate, when we renew our baptismal vows at Easter. But the scriptures also tell us that the sharpness of our spiritual sight depends on how well we attend to the little things and little ones that are too often pushed to the peripheries of consciousness by the pressures of modern life. Little things, like being kind, showing respect, and even getting enough rest and exercise, not just physically, but also spiritually. And little ones, like innocent civilians displaced by war, and children burdened by the so-called education arms-race, as well as migrant workers still relegated to riding precariously at the back of lorries.

Sisters and brothers, how shall we help one another to keep walking in the light of the Lord today?