Reflection for March 21, 2021

Fifth Sunday of Lent (B)

Jeremiah 31:31-34 | Psalm 51:3-4, 12-13, 14-15 | Hebrews 5:7-9 | John 12:20-33

The season of Lent is drawing to its conclusion. We are longing for the Alleluias of Easter. Our readings for this Fifth Sunday of Lent are filled with anticipation. "The days are coming," Jeremiah prophesies in today’s First Reading. "Suffering would be a part of our lives but has a purpose," the author of the Letter to the Hebrews teaches in our Second Reading. "The hour has come" — His Death, Resurrection, and Ascension to the Father’s right hand — Jesus says in the Gospel.

Junie, 7 years old, was diagnosed with a severe heart defect. This was before MRIs or CT scans or other advanced technology. But his heartbeat was irregular, and he was not expected to live very long. His family happened to live in a small city that was the home of Dr. Ramiro Cruz, one of the country's most respected cardiothoracic surgeons. Dr. Cruz was a crusty old character, near retirement, and usually refused to work with children. After hearing the pleas of the boy’s parents, he finally conceded to take the youngster as a patient. After the examination, Dr. Cruz knew that surgery was required and that it would be very risky. There was something badly wrong with the boy’s heart. The old man told the boy, “Junie, I’m going to try to fix your heart. I will have to cut it open, and I’m not sure what I will find there.” Junie brightened when he said this, and said, “Don’t worry, Doc, when you cut open my heart, you’ll find Jesus, ‘cause he lives there!” Dr. Cruz was silent. Dealing with life and death on a daily basis had embittered him horribly, and he had long ago abandoned any pretense of faith. As they prepared for the surgery, Dr. Cruz was determined that the little boy understood what was happening, so he repeatedly warned him of the risks involved in this surgery. Each time Junie smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Doc. When you cut my heart open, you’ll find Jesus, ’cause he lives there.” In this process the bitter old doctor began to have his own heart touched by this little boy. He was so ill! But he was so happy! On the day of the operation, just before they wheeled Junie into the operating room, Dr. Cruz tried one last time, and said, “I want you to be brave, because when I cut your heart open, I’m not sure what I will find.” Again, Junie beamed at him and said, “Don’t worry, Doc. When you cut my heart open, you’ll find Jesus, ’cause he lives there.” After the surgery, the doctor went to the waiting room to give some horrible news to the parents: Junie had died on the operating table and he had been unable to save him. They were people of great faith, but now they were deeply upset and agitated. As the father grasped for something to explain what had happened, he asked the surgeon, “Doc, when you opened his heart, what did you find?” And the hardened, cynical old man gave the slightest of smiles and said, “I believe I found Jesus.” And for the first time in many years, his tears flowed, too.

Covenants were ancient pacts usually entered into between parties. The relationship brought obligations in exchange for protection and privileges. In the case of Israel, the pact was simple: “You will be my people; I will be your God.” But there were also clear terms: “Keep my commandments.” The priests and people of Israel routinely disobeyed the commandment and added infidelity to infidelity. Now, both kingdoms had fallen into the hands of foreign powers, major cities were captured and lay in ashes, and the unfaithful, disobedient, covenant-breaking people were taken away as captives. But God never gives up on them no matter how many times they failed him. In today’s First Reading, Jeremiah speaks words of comfort to Israel. Through him, God announces a new covenant with both Israel in the North and Judah in the South. This new relationship with God will not be carved on tablets of stone but will be written on the people’s hearts. Jesus Himself will teach us how to know and love Him by speaking to us in many ways amidst our daily lives - through prayer, through Scripture, through the Sacraments, through daily encounters with other people, but especially through suffering. We will be given a new nature that is able to obey God. We will live it so powerfully that no instruction will be necessary. Written on our hearts, it will effect an interior transformation. That is the covenant to which you are invited to join yourself.

Back in the days when I was young, when an enormous thunderstorm would develop outside, my grandmother would always make me turn off our Sanyo black and white TV or our Hitachi solid state transistor radio because, as she puts it, “God is talking.” So we would all sit there in the silence as “God talked.” Actually, it was just thunder, but the principle holds true when things become shaky in our life. God is talking and He wants us to listen.

The Second Reading speaks of the obedience of Jesus Christ brought about our salvation. Clear allusion is made to his suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane. The word used for cry in Greek is κραυγή (krauge), which is a loud cry pressed out of someone experiencing tremendous tension or searing pain. This means that Jesus learned obedience from what he suffered. Though God can speak to us in many different ways, our sufferings often give us the greatest opportunities to learn. Of course, God hates seeing us suffer, but we live in a fallen world. Whether we follow God in this life or not, we will experience much suffering. We must, therefore, give our lives over to Him, so that He can use our suffering for a greater purpose: to teach us how to better follow Him. Every situation we find ourselves in, no matter how painful, is an opportunity to learn how to love the Father more deeply.

Benito, an eremite, regularly meditates on the bank of the Manguao Lake, northern Palawan. One morning, finishing his prayers, he saw an Asian Black Forest Scorpion floating helplessly in the waters. As the scorpion was pulled closer, it got caught in roots that branched out far into the lake. The scorpion struggled frantically to free itself but got more and more entangled. He immediately reached out to the drowning scorpion, which, as soon as he touched it, stung him. The hermit withdrew his hand but, having regained his balance, once again tried to save the creature. Every time he tried, however, the scorpion’s tail stung him so badly that his hands became bloody and his face distorted with pain. A passerby who saw the holy man Benito struggling with the scorpion shouted, “What’s wrong with you, fool! Do you want to kill yourself to save that ugly thing?” Looking into the stranger’s eyes, he answered, “Because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting, why should I deny my own human nature to save it?”
​
Jesus’ words in the Gospel point ahead to the Cross. We hear that Jesus is troubled and that he will be lifted up. Though anguish fills his words, hope also is within them. The New Covenant flips everything we thought we knew about the world on its head. Death yields life. Suffering brings glory. Obedience leads us to freedom. Jesus recognized that his life had to be laid down for the potentiality of eternal life to come to fulfillment. Not only will God be glorified when the hour has come, but Jesus will draw all people to the Father. Christ says that we must die to ourselves, to the world, in order to grow. He tells us that discipleship entails imitating him. Let me say this: there is no real living until there is first a dying. Because it is clear the secret to living is dying. Henri J. M. Nouwen taught, "We will all die one day. That is one of the few things we can be sure of. But will we die well? That is less certain. Dying well means dying for others, making our lives fruitful for those we leave behind. The big question, therefore, is not 'What can I still do in the years I have left to live?' but 'How can I prepare myself for my death so that my life can continue to bear fruit in the generations that will follow me?'" We have to let the seeds of our current life break apart for the new plant to grow. Except the corn of wheat falls to the ground and die, it abides alone. It’s useless, life is not released. <enrique.ofs>