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A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, October 10, 2010 | Carl E. Olson

Readings:
• 2 Kgs 5:14-17
• Ps 98:1, 2-3, 3-4
• 2 Tm 2:8-13
• Lk 17:11-19

Recently, while preparing to teach a Bible study, I was reading the story of Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4). I was struck again by how difficult it is for modern-day Americans to appreciate how radical it was for Jesus to have had a conversation with a woman who was a Samaritan and who was living a life of dubious moral quality, to put it mildly. After all, an ancient rabbinic saying declared that it was better to drink the blood of a pig than to accept Samaritan water! Thus, many ancient Jews often went out of their way to avoid contact with non-Jewish people, often for fear of embracing pagan practices, but sometimes because of the belief that they alone were meant to be God’s covenantal people.

This exclusive attitude is addressed in varying ways in today’s readings. The Old Testament reading describes the plight of Naaman, the army commander for the king of Aram, who was both a pagan and a leper. With these two strikes against him, it was understandable that the king of Israel would view with distressed suspicion the king of Aram’s request for Naaman to be cured by Elisha, “the prophet in Samaria” (2 Kgs 5:1-7).

Elisha, however, intervened and directed Naaman to wash in the muddy waters of Jordan, which elicited a cranky response from the impatient warrior: “Are not the rivers of Damascus … better than all the waters of Israel?” That response is a fitting metaphor for how many people today, used to the seemingly neatly packaged answers of modernity, are perplexed by the apparent dustiness of the teachings of the Catholic Church. How can something that seems so muddied by human weakness offer forgiveness of sins?

But Naaman, at the urging of his servants, finally relented and was “plunged into the Jordan seven times.” Here, too, is an appropriate reminder of how the lowly—the “servants” of society—often have a more clear and reasonable understanding of what God is doing. The number of plunges symbolizes the complete nature of the cleansing, for seven is the biblical number of perfection and of the covenant. Thus, Naaman’s washing in the Jordan River foreshadowed the waters of baptism, which wash away the leprosy of sin and make a new creation—“a little child” of God. For, the Catechism states, “just as the gestation of our first birth took place in water, so the water of Baptism truly signifies that our birth into the divine life is given to us in the Holy Spirit” (par 694).

Namaan, who was not a Jew, represents those countless peoples and nations who will finally be drawn into the new and everlasting covenant established by the greatest prophet, Jesus Christ, who not only utters the words of God, but is the Word of God. This same truth was proclaimed by Jesus at numerous times, including in the actions described in today’s Gospel.

In this story, which is unique to Luke, Jesus encounters ten lepers. Unclean and shunned by society (cf., Num 5:2-3), they call to him from a distance. Apparently they had heard something about this mysterious traveling teacher, for they address him as “Master,” the only time Jesus is called such by a non-disciple. Also remarkable is their faith. Having been told to go to the priests, who would see if they were clean and able to rejoin society, they obeyed—and were healed. Yet only one, a Samaritan, returned to offer thanks to the one who had delivered him from a living death. “By this,” writes Cyril of Jerusalem in his commentary on Luke’s Gospel, Jesus “shows that Israel is hard of heart and utterly unthankful.”

Like the Samaritans, the pagans, and the lepers, we also were once outcasts in need of God’s mercy. Through the waters of baptism and the saving work of the Master, we have been cleansed. May we present ourselves daily at the feet of Jesus, glorifying God and giving thanks for His gift of faith.

(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in a slightly different form in the October 14, 2007, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)

Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost

Quietness of mind is a priceless blessing. And so we ask for it in today's Collect. Quietness of mind -- serenity, tranquility, or inward security-- is the fruit of the pardon and peace that only God can bestow. According to the Collect, it comes together with a cleansing of the soul from sin; for quietness of mind cannot cohabit with sin. Sin causes anguish, fear, restlessness, and insecurity. Once sin has been washed away, the soul begins to experience quietness of mind.

Collect

Grant, we beseech Thee, O Lord,
to Thy faithful people pardon and peace,
that they may be cleansed from all their sins,
and serve Thee with a quiet mind.

Translation by the Marquess of Bute, 1879

O Lord! we beseech Thee bestow upon Thy faithful people pardon,
and of Thy forgiveness, peace:
that they may be cleansed of all their offences,
and likewise serve Thee with quiet minds.

Translation by J.D.C., 1852

Epistle: Ephesians 5:15-21

See therefore, brethren, how you walk circumspectly: not as unwise, But as wise: redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Wherefore, become not unwise: but understanding what is the will of God. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is luxury: but be ye filled with the Holy Spirit, Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual canticles, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord: Giving thanks always for all things, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to God and the Father: Being subject one to another, in the fear of Christ.

In the Epistle, Saint Paul, tells us to walk circumspectly, or cautiously, watching where we place our feet. We cannot walk circumspectly if we are always rushing about, from one thing to another. The frenzied pace foisted upon us by the secular culture must be resisted calmly by a peaceful pace, one marked by Benedictine gravitas, and by a tranquil assessment of the things that surround us. Thus are we given grace to "redeem the time", that is to make a difference in the culture that surrounds us, by giving an example of peace in turmoil, of serenity in anguish, of purity in licentiousness, of quietness in the infernal din that alienates so many from themselves and from God's perfect will for them.

Nolite inebriari vino, says the Apostle, sed implemini Spiritu Sancto. Is this not Saint Ambrose's inspiration, in the hymn for Monday Lauds?

Christusque nobis sit cibus,
potusque noster sit fides;
laeti bibamus sobriam
ebrietatem Spiritus.

And Christ to us for food shall be,
from Him our drink that welleth free,
the Spirit's wine, that maketh whole,
and mocking not, exalts the soul.

The "sober drunkenness" of the Holy Ghost gives rise to singing. But, here again, Christians do not sing as the world, intoxicated by passing pleasures, sings. The melody that rises from the heart of the Church is not of this world. It is the sound of heaven while we are yet on earth. And so, "psalms and hymns and spiritual canticles" find a very pure expression in the Church's plainchant. Plainchant is the song of those who have drunken deeply of the Holy Spirit. It is also one of the chief means given us by the Church to acquire the quiet mind for which we pray in the Collect.

Holy Gospel: John 4:46-53

He came again therefore into Cana of Galilee, where he made the water wine. And there was a certain ruler, whose son was sick at Capharnaum. He having heard that Jesus was come from Judea into Galilee, sent to him and prayed him to come down and heal his son: for he was at the point of death. Jesus therefore said to him: Unless you see signs and wonders, you believe not. The ruler saith to him: Lord, come down before that my son die. Jesus saith to him: Go thy way. Thy son liveth. The man believed the word which Jesus said to him and went his way. And as he was going down, his servants met him: and they brought word, saying, that his son lived. He asked therefore of them the hour wherein he grew better. And they said to him: Yesterday at the seventh hour, the fever left him. The father therefore knew that it was at the same hour that Jesus said to him: Thy son liveth. And himself believed, and his whole house.

Driven to Jesus Out of Desperation

The noble ruler of the Gospel is driven to Jesus out of desperation. His son is sick with a life-threatening fever. He comes to Jesus for his son's sake, being ready in his child's last critical hours to do whatever may save him. Jesus knows that the ruler has come to him, not out of faith, but as a last recourse. In His Heart, Our Lord decides to give the man not only his son's life, but also the gift of faith. "Go thy way, thy son liveth."

Thy Son Liveth

The ruler, clinging to the word of Jesus, sets out for his home. This is the real beginning of his journey in faith. Every step marks the growth of faith in his heart. His obedience to the word of Jesus brings about an increase of faith. And, lest he become discouraged along the way, he is met by his servants bearing news of his son's miraculous recovery at the very hour when Jesus said to him, "Thy son liveth."

The ruler, accompanied by his retinue, continues the journey home where, undoubtedly his son came out to meet him. Thus did the whole household come to believe, with him, in Jesus.

When Jesus Speaks A Word

It sometimes happens that we are driven to Jesus out of desperation. The circumstances and changes of life call us to change, and yet fear holds us back. Insecurity threatens us from all sides. And so we go to Jesus, worn down by suffering and ready to receive His word, if only it might save us. Jesus speaks His word. Ours it is to cling to or to reject. If we cling to it, we will begin to walk with it, perhaps in the very direction of what we fear most.

And then, while we are yet walking by faith, Our Lord sends us bearers of good news. Heartened by their testimony, we complete the journey with a lighter step and with the first stirrings of thanksgiving in the heart.

A Monastic Vocation Story

I have seen this very drama play itself out in the discernment of a monastic vocation. Am I called to the cloister or not? Will it be for me the place of death or the place of life? Should I not remain where I am, in spite of the inward restlessness that tells me that I am called to something more? And then, there comes a moment of capitulation to Jesus. He sees that I have come to him, not out of faith, but of sheer weariness after sleepless nights and ghostly struggles. What does He give me? A word. Mine it is to obey His word by taking the next step, or to turn away from Him, like the rich young man who refused to journey in the insecurity of faith.

If I set out, there will be bearers of glad tidings to meet me along the way. If I refuse to walk in faith, clinging to the word of Jesus as I put one foot in front of the other, I risk never finding the home He has prepared for my soul.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Washed and Healed of the Leprosy of Sin

With a quiet mind