Fifth Sunday of Lent Readings of the day: Ez 37:12-14; Ps 129 (130); Rom 8:8-11; Jn 11:1-45.

The prophet Ezekiel carried out his ministry among the exiled in Babylon. In 597 BC, Jerusalem surrendered to the Babylonian army, and King Jehoiakim was deported to Babylon along with the most important people of the city. Among the deportees was also Ezekiel.

At first, the exiled maintained an unshakable trust in God and in the destiny of the people. Jerusalem will not be destroyed, they thought; the exile will be only a brief interlude (a just but temporary punishment from God), and soon they will return to their homeland. But then, faced with the new defeat of 586 BC, and with the destruction of Jerusalem, their illusions were shattered and despair set in. It is precisely to this very dangerous state of mind that the first lines of our passage (cf. 37:12-14) refer: "Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone, we are lost" (v. 11). But no, the prophet replies in the name of God: "I will open your graves, I will raise you from your tombs" (v. 12). The entire passage is based on this contrast: on the one hand, the despondency of the exiled (We are lost), on the other, the word of God ("I will open your graves”): the purpose is to bring the people to a turning point, a reversal of trust.

The situation of the people in exile is described by the prophet in the form of a vision: The Lord [...] set me down in the plain that was full of bones; he made me pass along among them on every side. I saw that there were very many [...] and all of them were dried up (37:1-2). A humanly hopeless situation, comparable to death, such as to push the exiled to conclude: "Our hope is gone, we are lost." It is a dangerous state of mind: from discouragement one inevitably passes to disengagement.

What's the point?, they say. And they give in. This is precisely what happened to the dispersed Jews (and not only to them): there is no more hope, it is useless to continue struggling to live a life of our own among a foreign people, it is useless, let's do as everyone else does and blend in with the others.

But is it really a hopeless situation? True believers, like the prophet Ezekiel, always answer no, because they know that every situation, even the worst, is always in God's hands. Indeed, on all those dry bones, on the disappointed exiled who had lost heart, the word of the Lord falls like a whip: "I will bring you out of your graves, my people" (v. 12). A solemn and sure word: "I have said it, and I will do it" (v. 14). However, one has to understand that, it is always and only a question of faith, or rather, everything depends on knowing how to anchor one's trust in the right foundation, that is, in the Lord. Not in a reversal of the situation at the hands of men, nor in the so-called submerged energies of the people, nor in the belief that when you fall, you can always rise again, but in the Lord. If you look around, you might think it's foolish to continue to hope. But if God is watching, then suddenly all hope is permitted again.

Even Lazarus in the tomb, as recounted in the Gospel of John (cf. 11:1-45), is the symbol of a humanly hopeless situation, a situation that Jesus, despite loving Lazarus deeply, inexplicably allowed; But the faith of Martha and Mary has not failed. Perhaps there is even a slight rebuke in their words ("If you had been here, my brother would not have died," v. 21), but faith nevertheless prevails: "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day" (v. 24). Admirable faith, and yet not yet complete; we must hope for more. Jesus responds by shifting the emphasis in two directions that then converge. The first is chronological: the resurrection of the dead is not an event of the end times, but is happening now. The second is personal: the resurrection of the dead is not a work accomplished by God alone at the end of time, but is an event that Jesus brings about. So, Martha thought: "There will be a resurrection of the dead at the end, through God"; Jesus replies: "There is the resurrection of the dead now, through Christ." Martha hoped for a distant future ("on the last day"), Jesus speaks in the present tense: "I am the resurrection and the life" (v. 25). Yes, the future, but much is already possible today: it is possible to convert, conquer our sin, build more evangelical Christian communities, initiate a process of justice in society.

Happy Sunday!

†John I. Okoye

Bishop of Awgu

 (graphics by Chukwubike)

Doctrine and faith First Sunday of Lent Gen 2:7-9; 3:1-7; Ps 50 (51); Rom 5:12-19; and Mt 4:1-11

The passage of Genesis (cf. 2:7-9; 3:1-7) contains at least three teachings that remain relevant today. Regardless of the linguistic form, it could be a passage written today.

First: Man is captured in his transience and his greatness, especially in his drama. He is taken from the earth and destined to return to the earth: thus the circle opens (cf. Gen 2:7) and closes ("You are dust, and to dust you shall return," Gen 3:19). Yet man comes from God and is loved by God: God is faithful to him; here lies all His dignity and hope. Man struggles with a seemingly irresolvable contradiction: on the one hand, there are many signs that assure us that God is good and that He created man and the world according to a wise plan; on the other, the spread of evil, violence, and death. Faced with the many forms of evil, we must not blame God, our own actions testify; the responsibility for sin lies with man. Evil has a historical origin, not a metaphysical or cosmic one; it depends on man's freedom. History is full of contradictions because man persists in wanting to create it by disobeying the Lord.

Second: Sin - that of Adam and that of all others - does not remain locked within man, but spreads outward, translating into mentalities and habits, creating culture, bonds and conditioning, fossilizing in structures. In short, there is a solidarity in sin from Adam to us. His sin conditions us, and ours, in turn, conditions future generations. And to highlight this history of sin, the first accounts of the Bible unfold according to a genealogical pattern: one sin depends on another, the sin of Cain depends on the sin of Adam, and so on.

Third: Adam's sin is not only the first sin, but also the model for every other sin. In his temptation, we see our own temptation photographed. As the dialogue between Eve and the serpent shows, the strength of temptation lies in doubting God, in believing that he imposes a law to prevent us from becoming like him (therefore, to humiliate us and preserve his privileges), rather than to prevent us from dying (that is, for our own good). The temptation lies entirely here: believing that God's law is alienating and that man lives better outside of it. A very current temptation that seems to describe - in a sort of prophecy - the mentality of modern man, who, in obedience to the Lord and listening to his word, fears diminishing himself, losing freedom and autonomy. It is not for nothing that many people try to present atheism as humanism. And yet, the opposite is true, says our passage, which is both the fruit of revelation and experience: when man transgresses his limits and poses himself as a master, and wants to build a story on his own, it is then that freedom is lost and violence is generated, and man is reduced to an instrument.

The temptation of Jesus (cf. Mt 4:1-11) that we find in the Gospel essentially re-proposes the same temptation of Adam. On the surface, the temptations are many, but at the root there is always only one: To follow the messianic path indicated by God (the way of the cross) or to choose one's own path according to the judgments of men (the path of prestige, success, dominion)? Twice (v. 3 and v. 6) Satan addresses Jesus, saying: "If you are the Son of God..." For Jesus, being a son is expressed in radical obedience and total dedication to the Father. For Satan, however, being a son means being able to use divine power at one's own will and for one's own glory. Unlike Adam, Jesus chose obedience, thus also showing us the path of return.

In perfect contrast to Adam's attitude, Christ's final response to the tempter is: "For it is written, 'You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve'" (v. 10). It is a response that every man must make his own. And let no one forget Satan's sincere admission: "All these things I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me" (v. 9). It is true: all those who abstain from God to do things alone and to set themselves up as masters of the world are in reality forced to worship Satan. They do not want the true Lord and find another, tyrannical. A tyrant who has many names (money, success, power), but only one face: he is against man.

Happy Sunday!

†John I. Okoye

Bishop of Awgu

DOCTRINE AND FAITH Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

DOCTRINE AND FAITH 

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

READINGS OF THE DAY: Is 58:7-10; Ps 111 (112); 1 Cor 2:1-5; Mt 5:13-16

 

The prophetic passage of Isaiah (cf. 58:7-10) takes a stand against a religiosity based entirely on rites and practices and devoid of any concern for humanity. The inspiration comes from the practice of fasting, which was required on certain days and on certain liturgical occasions.

 

But God wants something else, insists the prophet, meticulously listing three times the behaviours that constitute true fasting, the kind that pleases the Lord. One might object that our current situation has profoundly changed from the one that gave rise to the prophet's polemic; ours is no longer the time of frequent fasts, numerous ritual practices, and frequent prayers offered for ostentation. However, if the prophet's polemical framework has lost its relevance, the most important core of his discourse has not: what pleases God is your good attitude toward your fellow man or woman. This is the core of the prophet's discourse, which retains its modernity intact. The God of the prophets never ceases to amaze us: rather than being concerned primarily with what his faithful do for Him, this God is concerned first with what his faithful do for other people.

 

Among the concrete ways of helping others, two are closest to the prophet's heart. The first is "untying the chains," breaking the yoke of oppression, restoring freedom to prisoners - in a word, liberation. Certainly, the prophet here reflects the experience of Israel, which in exile understood the meaning of the lack of freedom. Helping individuals and peoples to regain freedom is more pleasing to God than practices of personal mortification. The second is sharing one's bread with the hungry. The prophets know well how hunger can humiliate a man. Liberation from slavery and the fight against hunger are the two things the God of the prophets expects of his people. Indeed, he is a God concerned about the ever-growing multitude of the disinherited, and he speaks of them to anyone who comes to the temple to meet him.

 

In the Gospel (cf. Mt 5:13-16), the two comparisons used by Jesus - the disciple must be like "light" and like “salt” - are clear and should be taken in their literal sense. The brief discourse is addressed to the group of disciples (the verbs are plural), not to the individual. Being salt, being light must apply to the group, to the community, and not simply to individual Christians. The discourse is therefore addressed to the entire community.

 

The two images (salt and light) are expressed in the indicative form ("you are"), and this shows a fact, a reality: Jesus affirms, with great force and simplicity, that the disciples must be a point of reference, of purification, of transformation, under penalty of complete uselessness (for what good would salt have served if it becomes tasteless, or of what use is a hidden light?). If the disciples lose the strength of the salt that should be always in them, they are useless ("thrown out") and even despised ("trampled underfoot”).

But what does it mean, then, to be salt, and to be light? And what are the concrete good works to be displayed, or good works capable of inducing men to glorify the Lord? The prophetic reading comes to our aid once again, which agrees with the Gospel in its response: breaking chains and sharing bread with the hungry, these are the works to be displayed to the world, works capable of inducing men to glorify the Lord and capable of transforming those who perform them into a light that illuminates and salt that gives flavor, that is, into a point of reference that attracts, stimulates, and encourages.

Happy Sunday!

 †John I. Okoye

Bishop of Awgu

 

THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME 25/01/20326

Doctrine and Faith

THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

READINGS OF THE DAY: Is 8:23-9:3; Ps 26 (27); 1 Cor 1:10-13,17; and Mt 4:12-23

 The Gospel of Matthew begins the account of Jesus' public life (cf. 4:12-23) by reporting a seemingly simple fact, but which in reality constituted a great surprise, if not a scandal, for the religious expectations of the time: "Jesus withdrew to Galilee and went to live in Capernaum" (vv. 12-13). It was logical to expect that the messianic announcement would come from the heart of Judaism, that is, from Jerusalem, but instead it came from a region generally despised because it was contaminated by paganism ("Galilee of the Gentiles"). But precisely what is surprising for Matthew is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy contained in the book of Isaiah (cf. 8:23b-9, 1-3).

 

The territory occupied by the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali was located in the far north of Palestine, near Sea of Tiberias: Galilee, also called "the district of the Gentiles." Isaiah's oracle was probably pronounced shortly after the Assyrian king Tiglath Pileser III occupied the northern regions of the kingdom of Israel in 732 BC. These were very harsh times. The darkness and the gloom express the anguish of a lost people; the heavy yoke, the rod upon their shoulders, and the rod of the oppressor evoke the plight of an oppressed people. It is therefore to a lost and oppressed people that the prophet addresses, reminding them of the certainty of liberation. Whatever happens, there is always, the certainty that the Lord is with his people. And in a poverty so absolute that the prophet speaks of oppression as if it were already a past event: "In Naphtali he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali" (v. 23). The subject is the Lord, and oppression is his punishment, a consequence of the people's idolatry.

 A situation, however, not definitive, since the prophet continues, announcing the passage from humiliation to glory, from darkness to light: the contrast is stark and the transition is sudden, like when a wayfarer lost in the darkness suddenly emerges into the light. The joy is uncontainable, so much so that the word occurs four times in a single verse, and the prophet's emotion is expressed with two images and a memory: the joy of a bountiful harvest and the division of the spoils - one peasant, the other warrior - and the allusion to the "time of Midian" that evokes Gideon, who with a handful of men crushed the arrogance of the Midianites (cf. Judg. 6-7). The lesson is clear: it is the Lord who saves his people, not the strength of armies. The essential thing is therefore always one thing: trust in God. Just as in the time of Midian: "The Israelites did what was evil in the sight of the Lord," the Book of Judges recounts, "and the Lord delivered them into the hands of Midian" (Judges 6:1). But liberation is also in His hands, and His hands are stronger than our sin.

 The ancient prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled, therefore, in Jesus' choice to begin his mission from the geographical and religious periphery of Judaism, thus breaking with every form of particularism. His message - a habitual, repeated message (“from that Jesus began to preach," v. 17) - is summarized in an extremely concise formula: the arrival of the kingdom ("the kingdom of God is at hand," v. 17) and the moral imperative that it entails ("repent"). The episode of the calling of the first disciples is set on the shore of the lake, where Jesus was walking and where the men were intent on their work. God's call reaches men in their ordinary surroundings, in their workplace: no sacred setting, but the scenery of the lake and the backdrop of the harsh daily life. Let's try to highlight the essential features of this story, which are four.

 First: the centrality of Jesus. His is the initiative ("he saw [...], said to them [...],  called them," vv. 18, 19, 21): it is not man who self-generates a disciple, but Jesus who transforms man into a disciple. The disciple, then, is not called to take possession of a doctrine, nor even primarily to live a life project, but to solidarize with a person ("Come after me," v. 19): attachment to the person of Jesus comes first.

 Second: discipleship requires a profound detachment. James and John, Peter and Andrew leave their nets, the boat, and their father; they leave their trade and their family. The trade represents security and social identity, the father represents their roots: it is therefore a radical detachment.

 Third: starting from Jesus' call, discipleship is expressed with two movements - leaving and following - that indicate a shift in the center of life. Jesus' call does not place us in a state, but on a path.

Fourth: there are two coordinates of the disciple: communion with Christ ("follow me") and a race toward the world ("I will make you fishers of men"). The second follows the first: Jesus does not place his disciples in a separate, sectarian space; he sets them on the paths of men.

Happy Sunday! 

†John I. Okoye