DOCTRINE AND FAITH
(Isaiah 43,16-21; Philippians 3,8-14; John 8,1-11: 5th Sunday of Lent, Year C, 2019)
(Isaiah 43,16-21; Philippians 3,8-14; John 8,1-11: 5th Sunday of Lent, Year C, 2019)
The first reading is a part of a proclamation of salvation in which God describes the uniqueness of the regeneration that His own saving power will effect. By the use of phrases like remember not ... consider not the prophet most likely was calling the people away from inordinate dependence on the past, a dependence that prevented them from seeing the astonishing new thing God was accomplishing before their very eyes. The new thing God desires to accomplish is a new creation, a new reality so overwhelming that the people of Israel could never have imagined it by themselves. In order to assure them that something extraordinary would indeed be brought forth, the prophet begins this oracle of salvation by reminding them just who it is that is promising a new creation. It was no other person than the mighty warrior God who defeats the forces of chaotic water, harnessing their power and taming their fury. Surely the God who was victorious in the primordial battle and who created the magnificently ordered universe out of its wreckage can create something new from a people who had recently been released from the control of their conquerors. The water theme is evident throughout this passage. The God who controls primordial water, the waters of the sea, and the refreshing waters of life can certainly fashion this defeated people into a new and vibrant race. This is the promise of salvation proclaimed by the prophet.
In the second reading, it comes out clearly, according to Paul, knowing Christ is the supreme good and everything else is loss, and more than that, it is rubbish. Paul no longer sees anything valuable in what he has prized before because as noble as they might be, they cannot bring him to Christ. What is Paul’s expectation in this unique relationship with Christ? He wants simply to be made righteous through union with Christ, and he wants to share in Christ's sufferings in order to attain resurrection from the dead. Paul came to realise that it is union with Christ and not obedience to the law that makes one righteous. The righteousness he previously sought by obeying the law now appears useless; righteousness comes only from God. Christ was faithful to God and, therefore, participates in God's righteousness. It is through union with Christ that Paul will, as well, participate in this righteousness. Paul is very much aware that mere profession of faith does not bring about the union of Christ he is seeking. This union can come about through participation in Christ's suffering, for he knows that it was only through identification with Christ's death that he will really know Christ and the power of his resurrection. It is only by taking on the day-to-day struggle with the realities of life in a manner that conforms to the example set by Christ that this identification is possible. Paul sees this struggle as ongoing: he has not yet taken hold of it; he has not attained it; he continues his pursuit; he strains forward. He is confident he will achieve his goal not because he has been faithful but because Christ has taken possession of him. Throughout this reading Paul rejects any thought of self-achievement. He admits that righteousness is conferred upon him and that Christ has taken possession of him. On his part, he can only be faithful to the course to which he has committed himself.
The gospel narrative is about the woman caught in the very act of adultery. This is really a story of conflict between Jesus and some of the religious authorities of his time. It begins with the scribes and Pharisees testing Jesus about fulfilling an injunction of the law, and eventually, ends with Jesus turning the tables on the ones who put him to the test. The woman herself seems to be of little importance to those who challenged Jesus. However, Jesus treated her with compassion. There is no question about the woman's guilt, only about the suitable sentence to be carried out. If Jesus said she should be stoned as the law required, he would be appropriating to himself the right to pass a death sentence, a right that belonged to the Romans alone. He would also be acting against his own teachings on mercy and compassion, and he would probably alienate those in the community who already opposed this particular death sentence. If he forgave the guilty woman, he would be disregarding the legitimate Mosaic sentence, and he would probably alienate those who interpreted the law more literally. His opponents had carefully devised a complex problem that would trap him one way or the other. Without contesting the death sentence, Jesus invited the one without sin to be the first to carry it out. Realising they had been thwarted, those who sought to trap him departed in shame, one after the other. Jesus is left alone with the woman. He treats her with the respect and compassion he has always shown those who are open to him and his message of salvation. As he has done in so many other situations, he disregards proper protocol, and he speaks to this woman who is a stranger to him, a sinner, and he does this in a public place. He neither condemns her nor exonerates her. Acknowledging her obvious sinfulness, he exhorts her to sin no more. Compassion and mercy have won out.
The first reading that proclaims that something new is about to appear indicates what could be one of the leading themes in today’s liturgical readings. In the gospel, this new thing unfolds before our eyes. Here we see Jesus neither rejecting the law nor changing it. Instead, he shows that the law, as good as it might be, serves something higher. The first reading does not condemn the things of the past. It merely says we should look beyond them to something new. Neither did Jesus condemn the things of the past. He simply shows that God’s mercy and compassion exceeds the authority of the law. God has done something new; Jesus has turned the law on its head. If he accomplished this with the adulterous woman, who would image what he can do in our lives, in our world? Once again we see that the readings of Lent are less concerned with mortification and penance than with divine graciousness and our response of joy and thanksgiving. We rejoice in our deliverance by God; we rejoice in the abundant blessings bestowed upon us. We rejoice that we have been called into God's family; we rejoice that we have been forgiven our offences. Though we knew weeping in the past, we have been given the opportunity of living in the present and entering the future with rejoicing. The cause of our joy cannot be over emphasized. It has nothing to do with ourselves, with our strengths and our successes. The cause of our joy is our God who is so good! So generous! So forgiving! God has done great things for us; we are glad indeed! Paul seems to be the most exuberant. He is not satisfied with the blessings of the past. In fact, he considers them rubbish when compared with knowing and being united with Christ. The blessings of the past were as barren as a desert; life with Christ is like a desert transformed, like a pathway through the wilderness. Life with Christ transforms us from people who are caught in sin to women and men who have been forgiven. Life in Christ is the new thing God has fashioned for us. The suffering associated with Lent is the stripping away that must occur if we are to be made anew; it is the birth pangs that precede the new birth. Penance that does not flow from this is pointless self-denial, the rigor we take upon ourselves merely to pump up our own muscles. God is the one who creates something new; we are the ones who are re-created. This process of re-creation may be painful, but the new life that emerges causes us to rejoice. May we in today’s Eucharistic Celebration dispose ourselves in such a way that God’s re-creative power become fully effective in us. Happy Sunday! +John I. Okoye
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