Lenten Reflection : Third Sunday of Lent
Praying for those involved in cinema and theatre
St Francis of Assisi had a revelation from the Lord. Living the life of a young man about town, with all the dreams and fantasies of that state, he had little interest in God despite the fact that his mother had always tried to instil authentic faith in him. Thanks to a military defeat, Francis entered into a crisis and this would bring him to recognise Jesus Christ. Various events eventually brought him to a ruined church not far from the city of Assisi; there he prayed that God would show him what he wanted him to do with his life: “Lord Jesus, what do you want me to do?” Suddenly it seemed as if the cross was coming to life and the voice of Jesus spoke to him. “Francis, go now and repair my Church which, as you see, is falling down.” Astounded, Francis took the words literally and he set to work clearing the ruin, finding stone and reconstructing the walls. His days were spent labouring and his nights in prayer. When San Damiano was finished he went in search of another: was he called to be a church builder? Later he would understand that this call from the Lord was one to renewal - to help reform the Church. Guided by the Holy Spirit he learned that this renewal was to be achieved through his own renewal and the founding of a new religious family. Was Francis mistaken in rebuilding the ruined San Damiano? I do not think he was; what he was to accomplish in a spiritual sense he did in a physical sense so today San Damiano stands as a symbol of St Francis’ work, his dedication to his call and his holiness. Indeed the Franciscan genius is wonderfully personified in the physical rebuilding of this simple church.
St Francis in the ruins of San Damiano
“Francis, go now and repair my Church which, as you see, is falling down.”
“Francis, go now and repair my Church which, as you see, is falling down.”
In our Gospel today we hear of another sacred building, but this time it concerns destruction and then rebuilding. As Jesus enters into the courts of the Temple of Jerusalem, in a righteous anger clears it of the traders and money-changers who have made it in to a shopping mall. The Pharisees and Scribes are horrified, “Who are you to decide what goes on in here?” they ask him in their anger. His answer shocks them: destroy this Temple and I will rebuild it in three days. The Jews are taken aback, like Francis they think he is speaking of a building, but Jesus speaks of a greater Temple, the New Temple - his Body.
Herod’s Temple was a most remarkable building. Solomon, as we know, built the first Temple in Jerusalem on what was believed to be the spot where Abraham was about to sacrifice his son Isaac. That Temple was destroyed at the time of the exile, as the prophets had foretold. When the Jews returned from Babylon the Temple was rebuilt and this referred to as the Second Temple. Later, when King Herod came to the throne, he decided to raise an ever greater Temple, not so much as a offering to the glory of God, but as a peace offering to the Jewish people who were not so keen on their Idumaean king. This Herod, a paranoid man in many ways, was the one responsible for the massacre of the Holy Innocents but yet he was also a great builder and political figure who brought some degree of stability to the nation, so much so that he is known to history as Herod the Great. The relationship between the Jews and Herod and his successors remained cool - the Herodians were just a little too close to the Romans for their liking, but the Jews were happy with their Temple and fiercely proud of it. For the Jewish people the Temple was the place where God’s presence was on earth, his footstool. The Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was preserved until it was lost at the time of the Exile, was at the heart of the Temple complex and was the focus of the life of the Temple cult. The Temple, however, had more than religious significance for the Jews: it was also the symbol of their nationhood, of their freedom as the chosen people. Even as the Greeks and Romans ruled their land, the Temple remained as the potent symbol of the Jewish people’s autonomy, even if was a limited autonomy. Indeed to the occupiers of Israel the Temple often stood as the symbol of a defiant people and its destruction in 70 AD was a message from the Romans to the Jews that the state of Israel was no more and they would have to toe the line like every other subject people in the empire.
Herod’s Temple was a most remarkable building. Solomon, as we know, built the first Temple in Jerusalem on what was believed to be the spot where Abraham was about to sacrifice his son Isaac. That Temple was destroyed at the time of the exile, as the prophets had foretold. When the Jews returned from Babylon the Temple was rebuilt and this referred to as the Second Temple. Later, when King Herod came to the throne, he decided to raise an ever greater Temple, not so much as a offering to the glory of God, but as a peace offering to the Jewish people who were not so keen on their Idumaean king. This Herod, a paranoid man in many ways, was the one responsible for the massacre of the Holy Innocents but yet he was also a great builder and political figure who brought some degree of stability to the nation, so much so that he is known to history as Herod the Great. The relationship between the Jews and Herod and his successors remained cool - the Herodians were just a little too close to the Romans for their liking, but the Jews were happy with their Temple and fiercely proud of it. For the Jewish people the Temple was the place where God’s presence was on earth, his footstool. The Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was preserved until it was lost at the time of the Exile, was at the heart of the Temple complex and was the focus of the life of the Temple cult. The Temple, however, had more than religious significance for the Jews: it was also the symbol of their nationhood, of their freedom as the chosen people. Even as the Greeks and Romans ruled their land, the Temple remained as the potent symbol of the Jewish people’s autonomy, even if was a limited autonomy. Indeed to the occupiers of Israel the Temple often stood as the symbol of a defiant people and its destruction in 70 AD was a message from the Romans to the Jews that the state of Israel was no more and they would have to toe the line like every other subject people in the empire.
Inner Courts of Herod's Temple
The life of the Temple was vibrant even in the midst of Roman occupation. We read in the Gospels of a number of episodes which take place in the Temple. In the Gospel of St Luke, for example, we meet Zechariah as he is fulfilling his priestly duties in the Holy of Holies. Later Jesus is presented in the Temple forty days after his birth; the sacrifice offered to redeem him reminds us that the sacrifices of the Covenant were still offered every day. Holy people lived and worked in the Temple, saints like Simeon the holy priest who was waiting for the Messiah; and Anna the prophetess who spent her days and nights in prayer. Israel’s faith may have grown cold, so cold that it did not recognise its Messiah when he came, but there were those who remained faithful to the Lord, flowers of Judaism for whom the Covenant was also a most personal union between them and God. If we reflect for a moment in their holiness achieved through faithful service in the presence of God in the sacred Temple rather than the political symbolism of the Temple, we get a sense of why Jesus was so angry.
Jesus loved the Temple. Yes, he was going to assume its role when the New Covenant was established, but as the Son of God, this was the place where he was present in the days of old. In that place the Holy Trinity known as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Israel, lived in the midst of the Jewish people, accepting the prayers and sacrifices of the holy, and seeking to touch the hearts of those who had grown lukewarm or cold. There in the Temple the Holy Trinity inspired the holy prophets, some of whom died for God as they witnessed to the Covenant, and tried to prepare the people for the coming of the Messiah and a New Covenant. We read in the Scriptures that Jesus spent time in the Temple, praying and preaching; after his ascension, until the persecution began, the first Christians also went to the Temple for their prayers and to evangelise.
And so, St John records, when he had come up to Jerusalem for the Passover, Jesus came into the Temple. All four evangelists preserve the story of what happened during that visit. Jesus sees the traders and money-changers and he is furious. He takes a cord and makes a whip out of it and begins to attack the stalls, driving the animals and traders out, overturning the tables and cages of birds. It must have been quite a sight! The disciples are taken aback, but the words of the Psalm come to their minds: “Zeal for your house will consume me”. The Jews, John’s designation of Jesus’ enemies rather than the whole Jewish race, are appalled. They ask Jesus where he gets the authority to do this; after all have they, the Temple authorities, not given permission for this trade? Are not the animals needed for the sacrifices? The money must also be changed into acceptable coinage - it is an offence to have the image of Roman gods on coins used in the sacred sanctuary of Israel.
The reason for Jesus’ attack is obvious: they have turned the sacred Temple into a commercial venture. It is one thing to have a market to supply the Temple outside the holy place, but within - that is unacceptable. One wonders if Jesus thought about all their impassioned arguments about ritual cleanliness and uncleanliness and here are animals and raw trade in the Temple - a blatant double standard if ever there was one! But there is another reason why Jesus is angry, and this relates to our reflection today: they do not know where they are. For all their talk and religious practice they do not know that where they are is sacred and that one who is in their midst and speaking to them is the Holy One of Israel. Jesus defends the Temple because it prefigures him. He tries to explain this to them in the prophecy of his passion, but they do not understand him: they think only of earthly things, of brick and mortar. This Temple will fall, as Jesus foretold, and there will be no rebuilding: forty-six years will pass, as will centuries and it will remain a ruin. But he is speaking of himself: he is the new Temple, and that Temple, his body, will be destroyed on Good Friday and be rebuilt three days later as he rises from the dead bringing a new assembly into being: the Church. God’s presence is about to leave the Temple of Jerusalem never to return: as he hangs on the cross and dies this is symbolised by the tearing of the veil from top to bottom. If they now seek the presence of the living God they will find it in him and in his Church.
Jesus loved the Temple. Yes, he was going to assume its role when the New Covenant was established, but as the Son of God, this was the place where he was present in the days of old. In that place the Holy Trinity known as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Israel, lived in the midst of the Jewish people, accepting the prayers and sacrifices of the holy, and seeking to touch the hearts of those who had grown lukewarm or cold. There in the Temple the Holy Trinity inspired the holy prophets, some of whom died for God as they witnessed to the Covenant, and tried to prepare the people for the coming of the Messiah and a New Covenant. We read in the Scriptures that Jesus spent time in the Temple, praying and preaching; after his ascension, until the persecution began, the first Christians also went to the Temple for their prayers and to evangelise.
And so, St John records, when he had come up to Jerusalem for the Passover, Jesus came into the Temple. All four evangelists preserve the story of what happened during that visit. Jesus sees the traders and money-changers and he is furious. He takes a cord and makes a whip out of it and begins to attack the stalls, driving the animals and traders out, overturning the tables and cages of birds. It must have been quite a sight! The disciples are taken aback, but the words of the Psalm come to their minds: “Zeal for your house will consume me”. The Jews, John’s designation of Jesus’ enemies rather than the whole Jewish race, are appalled. They ask Jesus where he gets the authority to do this; after all have they, the Temple authorities, not given permission for this trade? Are not the animals needed for the sacrifices? The money must also be changed into acceptable coinage - it is an offence to have the image of Roman gods on coins used in the sacred sanctuary of Israel.
The reason for Jesus’ attack is obvious: they have turned the sacred Temple into a commercial venture. It is one thing to have a market to supply the Temple outside the holy place, but within - that is unacceptable. One wonders if Jesus thought about all their impassioned arguments about ritual cleanliness and uncleanliness and here are animals and raw trade in the Temple - a blatant double standard if ever there was one! But there is another reason why Jesus is angry, and this relates to our reflection today: they do not know where they are. For all their talk and religious practice they do not know that where they are is sacred and that one who is in their midst and speaking to them is the Holy One of Israel. Jesus defends the Temple because it prefigures him. He tries to explain this to them in the prophecy of his passion, but they do not understand him: they think only of earthly things, of brick and mortar. This Temple will fall, as Jesus foretold, and there will be no rebuilding: forty-six years will pass, as will centuries and it will remain a ruin. But he is speaking of himself: he is the new Temple, and that Temple, his body, will be destroyed on Good Friday and be rebuilt three days later as he rises from the dead bringing a new assembly into being: the Church. God’s presence is about to leave the Temple of Jerusalem never to return: as he hangs on the cross and dies this is symbolised by the tearing of the veil from top to bottom. If they now seek the presence of the living God they will find it in him and in his Church.
The cleansing of the Temple
And so we understand that this passage is about faith in Jesus. While he does not ask directly, as we ponder over this story we can hear the Lord’s question to his apostles: “Who do the people say I am?” The failure to recognise who Jesus is frames this episode. The Jews do not know who he is, and as we see at the end of the Gospel his own disciples do not know who he is - many of them follow him and believe in him because of the signs and miracles he works. As we continue to read the Gospel of St John we will see at the end of chapter 6 that these fair-weather disciples will abandon him because they cannot accept his teaching on the Eucharist. All of this of course fulfils what St John said in the Prologue of the Gospel: he came to his own but they did not accept him. None of this surprises Jesus: we are told in this passage that Jesus knew the measure of those around him. He knew that the seemingly devout were looking for miracles or advancement just as he knew that those he picked as Apostles, while they made mistakes and struggled with what he asked of them, would be the most reliable of all: the men who would stand by him and offer their lives for him. In this light, the evangelist now challenges us to believe. Do you know who Jesus Christ is? St John places the cleansing of the Temple at the beginning of his Gospel, unlike the other evangelists who put it near the end of theirs. There are a number of reasons for this; if we look to this episode as one drawing our attention to see who Jesus is, the evangelist may be teaching us that we must first come to know the Lord before we can fully enter into the mystery of his life.
The story of St Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus sheds light on our reflection. This dramatic encounter between Jesus and Paul is one which speaks to the heart of every Christian because in it we see an invitation to every disciple of the Lord to come and know him in a deeper way. The question asked by Paul is tantalising: “Who are you, Lord?” The answer would change Paul’s life and reveal the plan and mission God had for him. The answer would force Paul to reassess his attitudes, his actions and even his faith. Today, in this season of grace, as part of our Lenten observance we are now being asked to reassess our own attitudes and our actions in the light of our relationship with Christ. Last week we had the vision of the Transfiguration which, taking the theme of our first week’s meditation, was the vision in the desert to help us in our Lenten journey, the vision which sustains us. Today our attention must turn to our relationship with Jesus, with understanding who he is, not so much the historical details, not even the theological dimension, but the other dimension which may make us nervous - the personal dimension - coming to know him in the depths of our being. This is an important theme for our Lenten observance because in Lent we seek to deepen our love for Christ, come to know him more intimately so we can truly enter into the events which are about to unfold for us in the blessed days of the Easter Triduum. Lent is the time when we strive more earnestly to penetrate into the mystery of his life and become part of it ourselves: the desert is a place where we do not look to be alone, but a place where we want to be alone with Christ.
The beautiful Song of Songs comes to mind. For me, this book of the Old Testament sums up the spirit of the Gospel: a book which reveals Jesus Christ as the Lover and the soul as the Beloved. In it we see the relationship which Jesus wants to have with each one of us - a most personal relationship, one which is intimate and profound. When you read this book recognising Jesus as the Lover, you cannot help but hear him speak softly in the depths of your soul, wooing you, consoling you, asking you to embrace him and allow him embrace you. Taking the image of human love and marriage, we can understand the union into which Jesus calls us - the closest of all unions. No human relationship can compare with this. If we take the words of the Lover Jesus to heart, Holy Communion will never be the same again - it becomes a consummation. Saints like St John of the Cross endorse this view. As St John was dying he asked that the Song of Songs be read over him and he died listening to the love songs sung by Christ to his soul. He lived that profound union and sought to teach others how to attain it: while his great mystical books are renowned for their great teaching (and difficulty), he tells us that it all begins with coming to know and love Jesus - that is the first step and it is that simple: we need only surrender to him.
Knowing and loving Jesus brings us to understand the Church and her mission. We live in an age in which people mistrust authority. In an attempt to shake off authority, many Christians have managed to separate Jesus from his Church, painted him as a revolutionary or a liberal who seeks to set people free from doctrine, a papacy, and organised religion. Jesus has been reinvented as a Palestinian Che Guevara. Nothing could be further from the truth. But while this vision of Jesus must be corrected, so must the opposite: that Jesus is the founder of an institution which seeks power and wealth; an institution invented to further human ambition. The episode of the traders in the Temple reminds us of attitudes which seek to use the Church of Christ as a means of advancement or power broking. Those who enter into the offices of the Church should not do so for what they can get, but for service: to serve God and his people - this is the example Jesus offers us. The symbol of destroying and rebuilding of the Temple will raise questions of reform within the Church: of purifying the work and vision of Catholicism. As a priest I often meet people who tell me that the Church must change in order to become more relevant to the people of our time. After a few minutes it usually becomes clear what they mean by change: they want a revolution, a reinterpretation of the Gospel to make it conform to what modern society thinks (or what they think); the shedding of doctrines and particular moral teachings, and the introduction of a more democratic system.
While I agree with them that there is a need for reform in the Church, I cannot, as a priest of Christ, agree with the means or the outcome. The reform of renewal is one in which we become holier so as to be better members of Christ’s Body, it is not about changing the Gospel in order to conform to the peccadilloes and social mores of any given age. In all my conversations with these people not one of them has mentioned holiness; when I mention it I am immediately dismissed, told to come into the real world. Yet reform is supposed to be about holiness, pure and simple. The Second Vatican Council made it quite clear that the renewal the Church was putting in place was one which sought to assist the sanctification of the people of God. When we accept this we realise that all authentic renewal must be centred on Christ - personal renewal and institutional renewal - in that order, and is aimed towards sanctification. Contrary to what the philosophies of the world think, Marxism for example, institutional renewal comes as the fruit of personal renewal and not the other way around. We might attempt to force systems to change, but if people do not change for the good, then our efforts will prove fruitless. As experience teaches us (and some very hard historical lessons in the 20th century) where ideology seeks to impose renewal on a system and thinks the system can then force renewal on people it becomes the foundation for tyranny. If there is an unjust system, instead of producing another tyranny, those who have responsibility for that system must have a change of heart and be renewed, even converted, themselves, and then the system will change. Revolution produces nothing but destruction, it is not the answer: it is sacrifice and prayer which will achieve a more just society. Jesus reminds us of that as he tells the Jewish leaders that his house is a house of prayer. It is holiness which brings us to love God and our neighbour.
The story of St Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus sheds light on our reflection. This dramatic encounter between Jesus and Paul is one which speaks to the heart of every Christian because in it we see an invitation to every disciple of the Lord to come and know him in a deeper way. The question asked by Paul is tantalising: “Who are you, Lord?” The answer would change Paul’s life and reveal the plan and mission God had for him. The answer would force Paul to reassess his attitudes, his actions and even his faith. Today, in this season of grace, as part of our Lenten observance we are now being asked to reassess our own attitudes and our actions in the light of our relationship with Christ. Last week we had the vision of the Transfiguration which, taking the theme of our first week’s meditation, was the vision in the desert to help us in our Lenten journey, the vision which sustains us. Today our attention must turn to our relationship with Jesus, with understanding who he is, not so much the historical details, not even the theological dimension, but the other dimension which may make us nervous - the personal dimension - coming to know him in the depths of our being. This is an important theme for our Lenten observance because in Lent we seek to deepen our love for Christ, come to know him more intimately so we can truly enter into the events which are about to unfold for us in the blessed days of the Easter Triduum. Lent is the time when we strive more earnestly to penetrate into the mystery of his life and become part of it ourselves: the desert is a place where we do not look to be alone, but a place where we want to be alone with Christ.
The beautiful Song of Songs comes to mind. For me, this book of the Old Testament sums up the spirit of the Gospel: a book which reveals Jesus Christ as the Lover and the soul as the Beloved. In it we see the relationship which Jesus wants to have with each one of us - a most personal relationship, one which is intimate and profound. When you read this book recognising Jesus as the Lover, you cannot help but hear him speak softly in the depths of your soul, wooing you, consoling you, asking you to embrace him and allow him embrace you. Taking the image of human love and marriage, we can understand the union into which Jesus calls us - the closest of all unions. No human relationship can compare with this. If we take the words of the Lover Jesus to heart, Holy Communion will never be the same again - it becomes a consummation. Saints like St John of the Cross endorse this view. As St John was dying he asked that the Song of Songs be read over him and he died listening to the love songs sung by Christ to his soul. He lived that profound union and sought to teach others how to attain it: while his great mystical books are renowned for their great teaching (and difficulty), he tells us that it all begins with coming to know and love Jesus - that is the first step and it is that simple: we need only surrender to him.
Knowing and loving Jesus brings us to understand the Church and her mission. We live in an age in which people mistrust authority. In an attempt to shake off authority, many Christians have managed to separate Jesus from his Church, painted him as a revolutionary or a liberal who seeks to set people free from doctrine, a papacy, and organised religion. Jesus has been reinvented as a Palestinian Che Guevara. Nothing could be further from the truth. But while this vision of Jesus must be corrected, so must the opposite: that Jesus is the founder of an institution which seeks power and wealth; an institution invented to further human ambition. The episode of the traders in the Temple reminds us of attitudes which seek to use the Church of Christ as a means of advancement or power broking. Those who enter into the offices of the Church should not do so for what they can get, but for service: to serve God and his people - this is the example Jesus offers us. The symbol of destroying and rebuilding of the Temple will raise questions of reform within the Church: of purifying the work and vision of Catholicism. As a priest I often meet people who tell me that the Church must change in order to become more relevant to the people of our time. After a few minutes it usually becomes clear what they mean by change: they want a revolution, a reinterpretation of the Gospel to make it conform to what modern society thinks (or what they think); the shedding of doctrines and particular moral teachings, and the introduction of a more democratic system.
While I agree with them that there is a need for reform in the Church, I cannot, as a priest of Christ, agree with the means or the outcome. The reform of renewal is one in which we become holier so as to be better members of Christ’s Body, it is not about changing the Gospel in order to conform to the peccadilloes and social mores of any given age. In all my conversations with these people not one of them has mentioned holiness; when I mention it I am immediately dismissed, told to come into the real world. Yet reform is supposed to be about holiness, pure and simple. The Second Vatican Council made it quite clear that the renewal the Church was putting in place was one which sought to assist the sanctification of the people of God. When we accept this we realise that all authentic renewal must be centred on Christ - personal renewal and institutional renewal - in that order, and is aimed towards sanctification. Contrary to what the philosophies of the world think, Marxism for example, institutional renewal comes as the fruit of personal renewal and not the other way around. We might attempt to force systems to change, but if people do not change for the good, then our efforts will prove fruitless. As experience teaches us (and some very hard historical lessons in the 20th century) where ideology seeks to impose renewal on a system and thinks the system can then force renewal on people it becomes the foundation for tyranny. If there is an unjust system, instead of producing another tyranny, those who have responsibility for that system must have a change of heart and be renewed, even converted, themselves, and then the system will change. Revolution produces nothing but destruction, it is not the answer: it is sacrifice and prayer which will achieve a more just society. Jesus reminds us of that as he tells the Jewish leaders that his house is a house of prayer. It is holiness which brings us to love God and our neighbour.
Reformer, St Teresa of Avila
If we look at the history of the Church we see that all the great reform movements began with, holy lives and those holy lives allowed the Holy Spirit to renew the Church. Martin Luther sought to reform the Church but his revolution created division and spawned countless splinter groups and as many versions of the Gospel. If look at the saints of renewal - St Gregory VII, St Francis, St Catherine of Siena, St Ignatius of Loyola, St Teresa of Avila, the Venerable John Henry Newman, for example, we see a different picture: men and women dedicated to Christ and his Church, bringing reform through the holiness of their lives: through their intimate relationship with Christ, and yes, even in embracing suffering for him. It is union with Christ which leads to the repair of the Church because the fruit of that union is missionary. The saint touches the hearts and lives of others and leads them in a personal reform which in turn leads to reform of the Church. Destroy this Temple, Jesus said, and I will rebuild it in three days: Jesus would redeem mankind and reform it, not through a social revolution, but by his holiness and by his death on the cross; in a love that transforms. Our faith in Jesus Christ, our deep love for him, is not for our spiritual lives alone: it is for the Church. Our personal renewal has ecclesial and social consequences. The Gospel today, then, not only challenges us to deepen our relationship with Christ, to love him more deeply and serve him more generously; it also asks us to assist him through our love for him in the repairing of his Church and the reform can only be achieved through holy lives.
Fr John Hogan,
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius,
Sunday 15th March 2009
Fr John Hogan,
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius,
Sunday 15th March 2009