THE THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT – C

Exodus 3:1-8a, 13-15

1 Corinthians 10:1-6

Luke 13:1-9

A wise confessor once asked me: If you knew that this would be the last Lent you would live to make, what would you do with it? The funny thing is, I think about that question every Ash Wednesday.  Unfortunately my Lents tend to be routine, no one differing dramatically from the one that preceded it.  Here we are, half way through this Lent and I wonder, what if this one proved to be my last Lent?  That isn’t meant to be a depressing question.  We all are mortal, after all, which means that anyone of us can die on any day.  What I wonder is, if we were more aware of that fact, how many of our experiences would become far more enriching.  I listened to Mahler’s Third Symphony the other night and wondered, would this hearing thrill me even more if I thought I would never hear it again?  Does anyone ever forget the last kiss or the final wave goodbye?

The point is we ought to seize the moment and make the most of it.  Lents are rich moments in our faith journeys and can make all the difference for the rest of our lives.  These forty days give us an opportunity to reflect, to readjust our perspectives, and to be renewed in our baptismal faith and union with Jesus.  If we have become overly dazzled by material bling and worldly wealth, fasting and giving alms, two important works recommended to us as Lenten practices, can do wonders in helping us to regain a proper focus.   Prayer is the third recommended practice for our Lenten discipline.  Spending time with Jesus, keeping him before our eyes and strengthening our awareness of his presence in our hearts will help us find new ways to imitate him and so rid ourselves of less than virtuous practices, assist us in effecting reconciliations with those we have offended and grace us in forgiving those who have offended us.  An important part of Lent is remembering.

This Sunday we hear of Moses’ life-changing encounter with the burning bush.  Amazed that fire leaps from the shrub and yet does not consume it, Moses’ curiosity compels him to draw closer.  Moses has no way of knowing that after this moment he will never be the same again.  The Voice cries out to him telling him to take off his shoes because he is standing on holy ground.  Not only does Moses take off his shoes, he prostrates himself knowing that he is in the presence of the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. This is a vocation moment for Moses.  The God of his ancestors is sending Moses to be the leader of the enslaved Israelites, to unite them as a people.  Then, when his leadership role is clearly defined in the Israelites’ minds, when they are convinced that God has appointed him to be in charge, Moses’ vocation will morph into his being the one to go before Pharaoh to negotiate the liberation of the enslaved Israelites.  As is often the case when God calls someone to an important task, the one being called demurs, suddenly conscious of unworthiness or weakness in light of the momentous work he is being asked to accomplish.  Moses apparently did not speak well.  His brother Aaron was much more gifted in speech.  But God insists that it is Moses who is being called.  So Moses says, if they ask me “What is (God’s) name?” what am I to tell them? If God tells Moses God’s name, an intimacy of relationship is implied, a personal relationship and one that will endure.  I AM who am.  Then he added, “This is what you are to tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.” “(I AM) is my name forever.”

A challenge to faith in every age, a challenge to believing that I AM is present and continuing to be intimately involved with God’s people, is the terrible things that happen to believing people.  In the Gospel, Jesus is told about the abusive things Pilate ordered done to some of the Galileans.  Pilate mingled their blood with the blood of their sacrifices.  Why did God let this happen?

You know well that when disasters happen the tendency is for some to conclude that the horrible event happened as a punishment from God for sins committed.  A popular evangelist broadcast his conclusion that the recent earthquake in Haiti was a judgment on the people’s sinfulness.  Don’t we say when something unfortunate happens, What did I do to deserve this? What did they ever do to deserve that? Don’t we continue to ask why bad things happen to good people?  It is as though we believe that our God is a habitually punishing God, not at all reluctant to grind people into the dust.

Hear Jesus put those thoughts to rest.  That is not what I AM does.  That is not the type of abiding relationship I AM has with the objects of I AM’s creative love.  Jesus tells the parable of the seemingly barren fig tree.  The owner is tired of looking for figs in season and finding none, so he tells the worker to cut the tree down and burn it.  But the worker asks for a stay of execution, if you will, for time to water and fertilize the tree to see if next season there will be figs.  And the owner relents.

What is the point of the parable?  There is warning in the parable that we ought not miss.  If the fig tree does not produce fruit by next season, then it will be cut down.  But I wonder if the gardener wouldn’t intercede again should there still be no fruit.  Jesus tells his audience and us that we should not be lackadaisical about our faith walks.  Each of us is a fig tree, so to speak, and our lives of faith ought to bear the fruit that are recognized as good works.  We are to imitate Jesus in seeking to do God’s will and to imitate Jesus through lives of service.  The warning is that if we do not respond as believers, judgment will come.  But more important is the teaching that it is never too late to begin.  Even if we have not been active, productive, and committed in faith, we can set ourselves to the task this Lent.  Grace is present for us; the water and fertilizer are God’s Spirit indwelling in us and God’s grace animating our faith.  All we have to do is respond.

Remember the works that are recommended to us to be practiced during Lent.  Prayer.  Fasting.  Alms giving.  All three are good for us.  Prayer helps us to focus on Jesus and to invite him to activate our baptismal priesthood, to awaken in us a sense of responsibility for God’s people we call the church.  Prayer helps us to be aware of and responsive to Jesus living in us – the divine indwelling that is called.  How different would our lives be if we were habitually aware that we are constantly embraced by God’s love?

For what do we hunger?  Those who tell me they are glad when Lent comes around because the season gives them an opportunity to diet and take off the weight that accumulated through winter amuse me.  They say it will be so good to get back into clothes they were able to wear last spring.  That may be a side benefit to fasting, but that is not its purpose in Lent.  Fasting does induce an emptiness.  The longing ought to be for God to fill the emptiness in our lives and restore our sense of being loved by God.  Fasting is sitting in the silence and listening.

Jesus commanded us to love one another as a sign that we are disciples.  If we love we care.  If we care we notice the needs of our brothers and sisters.  Remember the tremendous outpouring of food, money, and service that followed the earthquake in Haiti.  That was alms giving on a grand scale.  Lent gives us an opportunity to have that sense of responsibility reawakened.

I read an amazing story of a family’s coming to grips with their need to share their wealth with those less fortunate.  A teen-aged girl was riding in a car with her father.  They were stopped for a light and the girl was struck by the contrast between the Mercedes car in front of them and, by the side of the road, an obviously homeless man.  She told her father that if the Mercedes driver had a less expensive car he could give the excess funds so that that other man could find shelter and food.

Condensing the story, when the girl and her father got home they had a meeting with mother and brother.  The family lived in a million dollar home.  The girl asked why they didn’t downsize and then give the leftover money to charity.  If they were going to do this, the family had to agree.  The mansion was sold.  The family moved into a much more modest home.  The mother and daughter took the $880,000 dollars left over after the new purchase and flew to Ghana and to a particularly poverty stricken community where they built a corn-grinding mill that made all the difference in the world for the people who lived there.  The family continues to be involved in raising the awareness of others to what can happen when wealth is shared.

Each Sunday of Lent we gather for the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  Each nourishes us.  Each transforms us.  Look around you this Sunday at those with whom you gather and imagine what life in the parish would be like if we were all awakened to the truths the Lord puts before us today.  What would happen if we all went forth from this Eucharist convinced of our responsibility to be Christ to those we meet, to make sure that all are welcome in our midst, to make sure that the hungry are fed, the naked are clothed, and the sick and imprisoned are visited?  Imagine the difference this parish could make if we all lived this Lent is if it were our last and became committed to sharing the wealth.

Don’t worry if it hasn’t happened yet.  It’s not too late for the fig tree.  It’s not too late for us.  What an Easter we will celebrate this year when we realize that Christ is truly risen and is alive in our midst.

Sincerely,

Didymus