As
the Church reads through the Gospel of Luke this year, we reach a transition
point in this Sunday's text (Luke 9:18-24) where the focus of the Gospel begins
to shift toward Christ's coming passion and death. Sorrowful though his suffering will be,
ironically it shall serve as the source of the life-giving “water” about which
the other readings speak.
1. Our First Reading is from Zechariah 12:10-11; 13:1:
I will pour out on the
house of David
and on the inhabitants
of Jerusalem
a spirit of grace and
petition;
and they shall look on
him whom they have pierced,
and they shall mourn
for him as one mourns for an only son,
and they shall grieve
over him as one grieves over a firstborn.
On that day the
mourning in Jerusalem shall be as great
as the mourning of
Hadadrimmon in the plain of Megiddo.
On that day there
shall be open to the house of David
and to the inhabitants
of Jerusalem,
a fountain to purify
from sin and uncleanness.
There
are two main divisions of the Book of Zechariah: Zech 1-8 and Zech 9-14. Like several other Old Testament prophetic
books, the second half (Zech 9-14) is devoted to visions of the final
restoration of Jerusalem and God's people.
Zechariah 9-14 is extremely cryptic. It is often very difficult to
identify what events in his own time or in the future the prophet intended to
describe. This is certainly the case
with the oracle read for this Sunday's Mass.
It is difficult to determine what the prophet intended to communicate to
his original audience. Who is this one “whom
they have pierced” and for whom they “mourn … as for an only son”? Different proposals have been made. In my opinion the most plausible explanation
is that our text refers in some way to the death of Josiah, the “firstborn son”
of the House of David, whose death at the hands of Pharaoh's soldiers in the
great battle on the Plain of Megiddo in 609 BC constituted one of the most
traumatic events in the history of God's people. Josiah was a great religious reformer, who restored
the people of Judah to worship of the LORD after a half century of paganism
patronized by his father, King Manasseh.
Josiah was also an able king who greatly increased Judah's military and
political might, to the point that, in 609 BC, he was confident enough to
attempt what no Judean king had risked before: a direct confrontation with the
Egyptian army. The waning empires of
Egypt and Assyria had joined themselves against the rising threat of Babylon to
the east. Josiah had allied himself with
Babylon. When the Pharaoh marched northward
up the coastal plain of Israel to join forces with Assyria, Josiah attempted to
stop him in the Plain of Megiddo. He
failed and was fatally wounded by archers.
The Davidic dynasty never fully recovered from this disastrous
event. Forever after, the valley of
Megiddo would symbolize the catastrophic conflict between God's people and
their enemies: thus in the Book of Revelation, “armeggedon” (from har
megiddo, “hill of megiddo,” that is, the location of the fort that guarded
the southern end of the valley) is the scene of the Final Battle.
While
some reference to a future recapitulation of the grievous events surrounding
the death of King Josiah seems intended in Zech 12-13, it is only in light of
Christ's passion and death that this passage becomes theologically explicable.
In the events of Pentecost (Acts 2), the Spirit of God is poured out in
Jerusalem, in the “city of David,” and those who hear the apostolic preaching
are “cut to the heart” in remorse for having condoned the piercing of the Son
of David (Acts 2:36-37). They are then
washed, three thousand of them, in the waters of baptism. Incidentally, the site of the mass baptism in
Acts 2:38ff almost certainly was the Pool of Siloam, which caught the waters of
the Gihon spring which flowed out of the side of the Temple mount. The Pool of Siloam was one of the few places
in Jerusalem with enough water for the baptism of so many.
But
the Gihon, flowing from the side of the Temple Mount, is mystically connected
to the “spring” of blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ on the
cross (John 19:34), Christ whose body was the true Temple (John 2:20-21). This flow from the side of Christ is a sign
of the Holy Spirit, who comes to us through the body of Christ, the body we now
experience in the Sacraments.
It
is a gift of grace of the Holy Spirit to understand that we are personally
responsible for the piercing of the Son of David on the cross. It was and is our sins that put him there.
To mourn for our sins, for our responsibility in the death of the Son of
God, is the first step toward reconciliation with God and the life of
blessedness: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt
5:4). Yet paradoxically, from the wound
formed by our piercing flows the river of God's mercy, the river of the Holy
Spirit that washes us in the Sacraments (esp. Baptism and Eucharist).
2. The Responsorial Psalm is Ps 63:2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9:
R. (2b) My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
O God, you are my God whom I seek;
for you my flesh pines and my soul
thirsts
like the earth, parched, lifeless
and without water.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
Thus have I gazed toward you in the
sanctuary
to see your power and your glory,
For your kindness is a greater good
than life;
my lips shall glorify you.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
Thus will I bless you while I live;
lifting up my hands, I will call
upon your name.
As with the riches of a banquet
shall my soul be satisfied,
and with exultant lips my mouth
shall praise you.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
You are my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I
shout for joy.
My soul clings fast to you;
your right hand upholds me.
R. My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.
The Psalm
picks up on the image of the “fountain” that God will open to satisfy the “House
of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.”
In Psalm 63, David uses powerful poetic images to speak of the longing
of his soul--of our souls too--to experience God. It reminds us of St. Augustine's famous line,
“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it
rests in you.”
This
psalm begs to be put into dialogue with the Gospel of John, in which--to our
surprise--we find that God in turn “thirsts” for us! Thus Jesus asks for a drink from the
Samaritan woman (John 4) and again for a drink on the cross (John 19). Both times there is an allusion to Gen 24:17,
where the request for a drink was the sign by which the true bride would be
identified. Yes, we thirst for God, and
he thirsts for us. There is a mutual
longing. The only thing that stands
between the fulfillment of this longing is our sins. Why should we hold on to them?
3. The Second Reading is Gal 3:26-29:
Brothers and sisters:
Through faith you are all children
of God in Christ Jesus.
For all of you who were baptized
into Christ
have clothed yourselves with Christ.
There is neither Jew nor Greek,
there is neither slave nor free
person,
there is not male and female;
for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ,
then you are Abraham’s descendant,
heirs according to the promise.
Baptism,
mentioned here by St. Paul, is a quenching of our thirst for God with the
life-giving waters of the Holy Spirit.
Afterwards we are “clothed with Christ”--a reality that used to be symbolized
by the white garment given to each adult baptizand as they exited the baptismal
pool. Baptism establishes a spiritual
unity that transcends our differences without erasing them. Yes, we are still
men and women, and still have cultural and ethnic characteristics—these things
are not bad in themselves, and are still present even in heaven (Rev.
7:9). Nonetheless, we are united in
Christ. We share equally in his Spirit. Our physical characteristics do not form an
impediment or limit to our experience of God or growth in holiness. Since Christ is the Son of Abraham par
excellence (Matt 1:1), when we are baptized into Christ and become members
of his body, we thus share with him his inheritance from Abraham, who becomes
our father since we have become his heir (Jesus).
4. Our
Gospel is Lk 9:18-24:
Once when Jesus was praying in
solitude,
and the disciples were with him,
he asked them, “Who do the crowds
say that I am?”
They said in reply, “John the
Baptist;
others, Elijah;
still others, ‘One of the ancient
prophets has arisen.’”
Then he said to them, “But who do
you say that I am?”
Peter said in reply, “The Christ of
God.”
He rebuked them
and directed them not to tell this
to anyone.
He said, “The Son of Man must suffer
greatly
and be rejected by the elders, the
chief priests, and the scribes,
and be killed and on the third day
be raised.”
Then he said to all,
“If anyone wishes to come after me,
he must deny himself
and take up his cross daily and
follow me.
For whoever wishes to save his life
will lose it,
but whoever loses his life for my
sake will save it.”
The
Gospel of Luke divides roughly into four major sections: the infancy narratives
(chs. 1-2), the early ministry (chs. 3-8), the “travel narrative” (chs. 9-19),
and Holy Week (chs. 20-24). The first
and third sections of Luke contain most of Luke's unique material. Luke 9, from
which we read this Sunday, forms a transition into the “Travel Narrative,” so
called because it is the account of Jesus' final journey to Jerusalem, during
which the inevitability of his suffering and death looms ever larger. The “travel narrative” is like a parable of
the Christian life. Like Jesus' journeying to his death in Jerusalem, each one
of us is on a journey toward our own physical death, a journey that involves
suffering and sacrifice if we wish to share in God's glory in the life to come.
Our
passage divides into two units: the question of Jesus' identity, and the truth
of Jesus mission. Jesus asks the
disciples how people identify him, and how the disciples themselves view
him. Peter speaks for the Twelve: “You
are the Christ of God.” “Christ”
translates the Hebrew “Meshiach” (i.e. Messiah), “one smeared with oil,” or “Anointed
One.” The “Anointed One of God” referred
to the Jewish belief in a savior figure who would combine all the “anointed”
roles (king, priest, and prophet) into one, and deliver the people of Israel in
a definitive way.
One might
ask, why does Jesus “rebuke” the disciples for saying this? Probably the Greek word epitimao has
the sense of “to warn or charge in a solemn and/or stern manner.” Most people thought the Christ of God would
be a supernaturally empowered political figure, a victorious king who slew his
enemies supernaturally. Jesus does not
want to promote that image, because it would attract too much and the wrong
kind of attention, distracting from his true mission.
Jesus
proceeds immediately to define what kind of “Christ of God” he is. He is the “Christ” who will suffer greatly,
die, and be raised. And all who come
after him must be prepared to suffer the same fate. Being a follower of Jesus of Nazareth is to
have something of a “death wish”: “if anyone wishes to come after me, he must
deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me.”
We have
become so accustomed to this phrase “take up his cross” that it no longer
shocks us. But crucifixion was a
terrible form of execution in the first century A.D. that horrified and
traumatized the peoples of the Roman Empire.
It was so excruciating that some Roman orators insisted that it was
impolite to even mention crucifixion in the presence of decent citizens. The modern equivalent would be the electric
chair: “if anyone wishes to come after me, let him take up his electric chair
daily …” But the electric chair is mild
compared to the cross. The only persons
who carried crosses were condemned criminals on their way to execution. So Our Lord's words indicate that those who
would follow him on the path of discipleship must already have reconciled
themselves to the prospect of their own deaths.
So we see
that Jesus was no mere teacher or philosopher who offers a lesson in return for
tuition. Jesus openly calls his
disciples to commit themselves to him to the point of death, and promises that
such self denial is in fact the way to eternal life.
Blessed
John Paul II comments in Veritatis Splendor:
Christ's
witness is the source, model and means for the witness of his disciples, who are
called to walk on the same road: “If any man would come after me, let him deny
himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Lc 9,23). Charity, in conformity with the
radical demands of the Gospel, can lead the believer to the supreme witness of martyrdom.
Once again this means imitating Jesus who died on the Cross: “Be imitators of
God, as beloved children”, Paul writes to the Christians of Ephesus, “and walk
in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and
sacrifice to God” (Ep 5,1-2).
How far
we are from this radical discipleship today, when giving even one-tenth of
one's income to the support of the Church and her missions is considered “radical,”
and tossing out one's contraceptives is unthinkable. May the Lord help us when the real
persecution hits!
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