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)

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