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Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Numbers 21: 4–9
Psalm 101: 1–2, 5–17, 18–20 (R. 1)
John 8: 21–30

The Serpent and the Cross

Today the Church gives us a passage from the Book of Numbers that, from earliest times, the liturgy and the Fathers have associated with the mystery of the Cross. This same passage provided Father Luc de Wouters, O.S.B. with the title of his biography of the foundress of the Congregation of the Benedictines of Jesus Crucified, Mother Marie des Douleurs Wrotnowska: Le Serpent et la Croix, The Serpent and the Cross.

The Bite of the Serpent

Father Luc writes: “The episode of the bronze serpent recounted in the Book of Numbers seems to us extremely significant. It projects onto the mystery of the redemptive Cross a light, the importance of which we do not sufficiently grasp.” He writes that Mother Marie des Douleurs encountered the Cross, as we all do, in her own sin. For her, as for all of us, sin was the bite of the fiery serpent. It was, nonetheless, upon this cross, the cross of her own brokenness, weakness, and sin identified with the Cross of Jesus, that she was united with the Saviour, l’Homme des douleurs. The cross of her disfiguration by sin and weakness, assimilated to the Cross of the “Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Is 53:3), became the Cross of her transfiguration by grace.

The Mystery of Iniquity

Father Luc, with no little eloquence, emphasizes that the Cross is the last word of the Incarnation. We are certain of meeting the Cross at every moment of our existence. Whenever we find darkness all about us, the darkness of our own sins and of the sins of the world, the Cross shines like a saving beacon. Personal sin causes an intimate anguish that only the Cross can alleviate. Consciousness of the evil that inhabits us, and of the evil that stalks the world, brings with it a terrible anguish. Our Lord’s agony in Gethsemani was the manifestation of the anguish of His Heart in the face of the mystery of iniquity.

Wounds Uncovered

It is easy to become hypnotized by the shadow of evil cast by the serpent. How many souls, instead of lifting their gaze to the Crucified, turn in on themselves, see their sin, and sink in the quicksand of despair. Sin, our own sin and the sin of others, exercises a morbid fascination on us. The remedy is to look upon “Him who they have pierced” (Jn 19:37), and to believe in the love of Jesus Crucified. The remedy is to expose our wounds, however purulent and shameful they may be, to the wounds of the Crucified, for “by his wounds we are healed” (1 P 2: 24). One of the prayers before Mass in the Roman Missal has us say: “To thee, Lord, I uncover my wounds; to thee I lay bare my shame. My sins, I know, are many and grievous; they fill me with fear, but my hope is in thy countless mercies.”

Caravaggio's Resurrection of Lazarus depicts a dead man stunned by his sudden return to life. The head of Christ is the very one Caravaggio painted in his Calling of Saint Matthew, but here it is reversed.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Ezekiel 37:12-14
Psalm 129: 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8
Romans 8:8-11
John 11:1-45

The Divine and Mystic Gospel

Over the past three Sundays of Lent, the Church has opened for us the Gospel of Saint John, the divine and mystic Gospel, the Gospel that, on every page, shines with the brightness of Christ’s divinity. The Lenten series of Johannine gospels are directed, first of all, to the catechumens, men and women in the last stages of preparation for the mysteries of initiation that will be celebrated in the night of Pascha. The same Gospels are addressed to the penitents, men and women who, having fallen, seek to rise again, washed in the pure water of the Spirit, and infused anew with the life-giving Blood of the Lamb. The Lenten liturgy is profitable to us only insofar as we identify inwardly with the catechumens and penitents, only insofar as we walk with them towards the mysteries of regeneration and reconciliation that ever flow from the Passion and Resurrection of Christ.

Our Lady Saint Mary, Saint John the Beloved Disciple,
and the Wounded Side of Christ

With First Vespers of the Fifth Sunday of Lent we enter into the last phase of preparation for the Pasch of the Lord: Passiontide. The Church places on our lips the great hymn of Christ’s Cross and Passion, and so we sing: fulget Crucis mysterium, “the mystery of the Cross shines out.” The second to the last verse of this age-old hymn is a confession of hope, hope in the power of the Cross:

O Cross, all hail! Sole hope, abide
With us now in this Passiontide:
New grace in loving hearts implant
And pardon to the guilty grant!

The station today is at Saint Peter’s Basilica. The solemnity of this Fifth Sunday of Lent required that the faithful of Rome assemble at the tomb of Saint Peter. The purple veils that, during these last two weeks before Pascha, will hide our sacred images, recall the great veil that in ancient times was stretched across the whole sanctuary, obliging the faithful to go by faith and longing into the inner sanctuary, the invisible one, where Christ is Victim, Altar and Priest.

In the traditional Franciscan calendar, the First Friday of March is kept as the feast of the Via Crucis, the Way of the Cross. The texts of the Proper Office for the feast are magnificent; most of them are taken from Isaiah 52:13 —53:12. As a Cistercian, I was especially pleased to note that in the Franciscan Breviary's Third Lesson at Matins of the feast, the sons of Saint Francis recognize the role played by Saint Bernard, the Abbot of Clairvaux, in the development of devotion to the Passion:

Saint Bernard in the 12th century had already directed the attention of the faithful to the human aspect of Christ's love in his sermons and writings. But it was Saint Francis and his followers who, with great love, immersed themselves in this mystery. Devotion to the suffering Christ was a characteristic of the Franciscan spirit. The writings of Bonaventure added much to this devotion, a tradition which was continued by several saints and by the best preachers of the Order. This tradition found special expression in meditation on the Lord's Passion, following spirit the sorrowful way which he trod in Jerusalem. This exercise of the Way of the Cross was specially promoted by the preaching of Saint Leonard of Port Maurice and strongly recommended by the Popes who enriched it with many spiritual favours.

The antiphons at Vespers are full of compunction:

1. Christ suffered for our sakes, and left us his own example; we were to follow in his footsteps.

2. He did no wrong, no treachery was found on his lips.

3. He was ill spoken of, and spoke no evil in return, suffered, and did not threaten vengeance, gave himself up into the hands of injustice.

4. So, on the cross, his own body took the weight of our sins; we were to become dead to our sins, and live for holiness; it was his wounds that healed us.

5. Till then, we have been like sheep going astray; now, we have been brought back to him, our shepherd, who keeps watch over our souls.

Wednesday Within the Fourth Week of Lent

Isaiah 49:8-15
John 5:17-30

An Inward Quickening

In every single line of today's prophecy from Isaiah, there is a grace of consolation that penetrates the soul. One reads Isaiah 49:8-13 — or hears it read — and straightaway one experiences its effect: an inward quickening of hope, of confidence, and of thanksgiving.

God's Word is efficacious. The Word of God accomplishes what it announces, so often as we receive it with humility and with faith. The Word of God is a sacramental infusion of divine grace. Hold the Word in your heart, and it will change your life.

If you have ever felt forgotten by God or insignificant in His sight, ponder today's First Reading (Isaiah 49:8-16). Savour the last verse given in the Lectionary and the one that follows it in the Bible. I prefer Monsignor Knox's translation, and so give it here.

I Will Bring Thee Aid

Did Sion complain, the Lord has forsaken me, my own Master gives me never a thought?
What, can a woman forget her child that is unweaned, pity no longer the son she bore in her womb? Let her forget; I will not be forgetful of thee.
Why, I have cut thy image on the palms of my hands;
those walls of thine dwell before my eyes continually.

Tuesday Within the Fourth Week of Lent

Ezechiel 47:1-9, 12
Psalm 45:2-3, 5-6, 8-9
John 5:1-16

All You That Thirst

Today’s texts are just waiting to be developed into a pre-baptismal catechesis. “All you that thirst, come to the waters: and you that have no money come, and drink with joy” (cf. Is 55:1). The Entrance Antiphon is addressed to all who thirst; there is nothing to purchase. The waters flow freely. The last phrase of the antiphon — “drink with joy” — is not found in the biblical text. It is the Church’s word, making clear for us here and now, the prophecy of Isaiah.

Flowing Waters

The Responsorial Psalm sings of the river that irrigates the Church, the new Jerusalem: “The city of God enriched with flowing waters, is the chosen sanctuary of the Most High” (Ps 45:5). The Communion Antiphon praises Christ the Shepherd who, in the Eucharist, “leads us by refreshing waters” (cf. Ps 22:1-2). In the Gospel we see the waters of Bethesda, a bath of healing stirred by an Angel of the Lord. All around the pool of Bethesda lie the diseased, the blind, the lame, and the disabled seeking to recover from the infirmities that oppress them. Bethesda is an image of the baptismal pool of regeneration, the bath from which in a few weeks the catechumens will emerge clean, healed, and altogether new.

Vidi Aquam

The centerpiece of today’s Mass is the reading from the prophet Ezekiel. The title printed in red above the text in the lectionary is most unusual. It reads: “I saw water flowing from the temple, and all who were touched by it were saved.” It adds, “See Roman Missal.” Where in the Roman Missal are we to look? Go to the antiphons sung at the Rite of Sprinkling with Holy Water: the Asperges me, taken from Psalm 50, and used outside of Paschaltide; and the Vidi aquam, taken from Ezekiel 47, and sung at the Paschal Vigil and on the Sundays of Paschaltide.

Look for a moment at the text of the Vidi aquam. The prophet Ezekiel, in a mystical rapture, sees the Temple as the wellspring of an immense river irrigating the whole country and making stagnant waters fresh. The Temple is the abode of the Glory of God (Ez 43:1-12). It is the source of a river, teeming with fish, and on both sides of its banks grow fruit bearing trees because the water for them flows from the sanctuary.

The glorious body of the of the crucified and risen Christ is the new and indestructible temple of which he himself said, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” (Jn 2:19). At the death of Christ, the veil of the Temple was “torn in two from top to bottom” (Mt 27:51); Saint John, by recounting how the side of Jesus was pierced by the soldier’s lance, translates the same mystery. Out of the pierced Heart of Jesus flows blood and water (Jn 19:34), recalling the water from the rock struck by the rod of Moses in the desert (Num 20:2-13), the fountains of salvation prophesied by Isaiah (Is 12:3), and the great river of Ezekiel’s vision.

Tuesday Within the Third Week of Lent

Daniel 3:25–43
Matthew 18:21–35

Azarias Found Utterance

Look for a moment at the context of today's First Reading: the magnificent prayer of Azarias "as he stood in the heart of the fire" (Dan 3:23). If you opened the Book of Daniel in your lectio divina this morning, you will have remarked that the prayer of Azarias comes just before the Canticle of the Three Young Men. It is the first of three movements in a glorious symphony of prayer: Daniel 3:26–45; Daniel 3:52–56; and Daniel 3:58–88.

The Benedicite

The Benedicite or Canticle of the Three Young Men is familiar to all who pray the Divine Office. The Church places its lyrical verses on our lips every Sunday, Solemnity, and Feast at Lauds. In addition, the Roman Missal proposes that the priest say the Canticle of the Three Young Men daily after Mass. It is part of the official liturgical Thanksgiving After Mass. Blessed Abbot Columba Marmion was faithful to saying the Benedicite after Mass all his life. In Christ, the Life of the Soul, he writes:

The Church, the Bride of Christ, who knows better than anyone the secrets of her Divine Bridegroom, makes the priest sing in the sanctuary of his soul where the Word dwells, the inward canticle of thanksgiving. The soul leads all creation to the feet of its God and its Lord, that he may receive homage from every creature . . . . What a wonderful song is that all creation sung thus by the priest at the moment when he is united to the Eternal High-Priest, the one Mediator, the Divine Word by whom all was created!

The Flames of Vice

The Missal provides an incisive little Collect after the Canticle. The Roman Rite never minces words when it comes to sin . . . and grace. I so appreciate the realism of this prayer that the Church would have her ministers say daily after Mass.

"O God who didst allay the flames of the furnace
for the three young men,
in thy mercy, grant that we thy servants,
may not be consumed by the flames of vice."

Monday Within the Third Week of Lent

2 Kings 5:1-15a
Luke 4:24-30

Water

What is the link between yesterday’s liturgy and today’s? It is water. Yesterday: the water of Jacob’s well: a sign of “the spring of water welling up to eternal life” (Jn 4:14. Today: the water of the Jordan by which Naaman was cleansed of his leprosy, the water of Jesus’ own Baptism.

Psalm 50

In the Holy Rule, Saint Benedict places Psalm 50 at the beginning of Lauds seven days a week. Why? Because he understood it as a daily renewal of Baptism, as the psalm of resurrection to new life with the joy of a heart made clean. What makes every day so exhilarating is the possibility of a fresh start, of a clean slate, of a new beginning. Each morning we can say, “Today, I begin” (Ps 77:11). Try saying that every time you take Holy Water: “Today, I begin, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

In Psalm 50 we repeatedly and persistently ask God to cleanse us. “Blot out my iniquity” (Ps 50:3). “Wash me clean from my guilt” (Ps 50:4). “Purge me of my sin” (Ps 50:4). “Sprinkle me with a branch of hyssop, and I shall be clean” (Ps 50:9). “Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow” (Ps 50:9). We cannot cleanse ourselves because we do not see where we are soiled. We are as blind to our own sins as we are quick to notice the sins of others. The stain of sin has seeped deep into the very crevices of our souls. God alone can reach into those hidden places and make them clean.

Holy Water

I don’t know why, but a lot of folks, even among practicing Catholics, seem to pooh-pooh the use of Holy Water just the way Naaman, in his pride, pooh-poohed the water of the Jordan River. They find it hard to believe that God would make use of something so simple. Do you remember what Saint Teresa of Avila, Doctor of the Church, wrote about Holy Water?

“From long experience I have learned that there is nothing like Holy Water to put devils to flight and prevent them from coming back again. They also flee from the Cross, but return; so Holy Water must have great value. For my own part, whenever I take it, my soul feels a particular and most notable consolation. In fact, it is quite usual for me to be conscious of a refreshment which I cannot possibly describe, resembling an inward joy which comforts my whole soul. This is not fancy, or something which has happened to me only once. It has happened again and again, and I have observed it most attentively. It is, let us say, as if someone very hot and thirsty were to drink from a jug of cold water: he would feel the refreshment throughout his body. I often reflect on the great importance of everything ordained by the Church and it makes me very happy to find that those words of the Church are so powerful that they impart their power to the water and make it so very different from water which has not been blessed.”

Saturday With the Second Week of Lent

Micah 7:14-15, 18-20
Psalm 102:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Draw Near to Hear

The first line of today’s Holy Gospel is perhaps the key to all the rest: “The tax collectors and the sinners were all drawing near to hear Jesus” (Lk 15:1). Draw near to hear. This is the listening that changes life. One cannot hear rightly while remaining at a distance.

God Seeking Man

Our Lord says, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (Jn 6:44). The Father seeks us to draw us close to the Son. What did we sing in this morning’s Canticle from Deuteronomy? “He sought them out in the wilderness, there in the fearful desert spaces, gave them the guidance, taught them the lessons they needed, guarded them as if they had been the apple of His eye” (Dt 32:10). When we consent to God finding us, a flame of desire begins to flicker within: a yearning to be enfolded in His protecting love and sheltered in the “shadow of His wings” (Ps 16:8).

Repentance

Turning one’s life around begins with the painful awareness of one’s need for God. Look at the prodigal son. “Then he came to himself and said, How many hired servants there are in my father’s house, who have more bread than they can eat, and here am I perishing with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and say to him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee’ I am not worthy now to be called thy son; treat me as one of thy hired servants” (Lk 15: 17-18).

Feeling the Pain

We experience this painful awareness of the need for God in different ways. Loneliness, for example, can be an immense grace if it orients the heart towards God alone. Failure can serve the designs of God’s mercy when it obliges us to seek Him, to call to Him out of the depths of brokenness. Illness can become a gift; the awareness of our weakness can be for us the discovery of His unfailing strength. Disappointments in human love can lead to drive one to the one Love that never deceives nor disappoints. God alone can satisfy the deepest longings of the heart.

Upon my Bed by Night

The bride of the Song of Songs describes the experience of every human heart tormented by the desire for God: “Upon my bed by night, I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him but he gave no answer. I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves” (Ct 3:1-2). Her nocturnal disquiet is the image of our restlessness of our souls. Within each of us there is an appetite more relentlessly gnawing than the appetites of the senses: the appetite for intimacy with God.

The Word of God Himself has come down into the streets and squares of the city in search of all who search for him, just as in the first pages of Genesis, the Father walked in paradise in the evening breeze (Gn 3:8) and called to Adam, saying, “Where art thou?”

Wednesday Within the Second Week of Lent

Jeremiah 18: 18–20
Matthew 20: 17–28

Beata Passio

On Sunday last we celebrated the Transfiguration of the Lord. Today, three days later, the liturgy sets before us the mystery of His beata Passio, as the Roman Canon calls it, His blessed Passion. The Passion of Our Lord is as blessed as it was bitter; its bitterness contains the source of all blessedness, that is, of all our bliss, of eternal beatitude.

The Prayer of Jeremiah

The prophet Jeremiah threatened, hated, and rejected by his enemies, is a figure of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The First Reading gives us Jeremiah's prayer in great anguish:

Give heed to me, O Lord,
and listen to my plea . . .
Remember how I stood before Thee to speak good for them,
to turn away Thy wrath from them.

The Prayer of Jesus

Jeremiah's prayer announces the prayer of Jesus in His Passion. The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that, "In the days of His flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to Him who was able to save Him from death, and He was heard for His godly fear" (Heb 5:7). From the Cross, Jesus interceded for those who hated Him, and for those who nailed Him to the awful Tree: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do" (Lk 23:34). Down through the ages, the Holy Spirit has moved the Church to enter into the prayer of Christ: to pray as He prayed.

The Prayer of Mary

So deeply did today's text from Jeremiah penetrate the heart of the Church that it became the Offertory Antiphon of the Mass of September 15th, the feast of the Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary:

Recordare, Virgo Mater Dei . . .
Be mindful, O Virgin Mother of God,
when thou standest in the sight of the Lord,
to speak good things for us,
and to turn away His anger from us.

The Church recognizes in the Mother of Sorrows the New Eve, the Woman in whom the whole mystery of the Church is contained and revealed. The prayer of Christ becomes her prayer. Mary, the spotless image of the Church, stands with her Son in ceaseless intercession, "since He always lives to make intercession for those who draw near to God through Him" (cf. Heb 7:25). The prayer of Mary passes entirely into the prayer of Jesus, and His prayer passes entirely into hers.