Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 14, 2021

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Rejoice! You are loved by God

John 3:14–21

Jesus said to Nicodemus:
“Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness,
so the Son of Man must be lifted up,
15 that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.”

16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,
that whoever believes in him shall not perish
but have eternal life.
17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,
but to save the world through him.
18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned,
but whoever does not believe stands condemned already
because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.
19 This is the verdict:
Light has come into the world,
but people loved darkness instead of light
because their deeds were evil.
20 Everyone who does evil hates the light,
and will not come into the light
for fear that their deeds will be exposed.
21 But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light,
so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done
has been done in the sight of God.

Music Meditations

Opening Prayer

God, you are rich in mercy because of your great love for us, even when we have been steeped on our own bad behavior. Bring us to life in Jesus, raise us up with him, and, when our time on earth is complete, seat us in the heavens with him. For we are your handiwork, created in Christ for the good work you have prepared in advance so we may live with and in Him forever.

Companions for the Journey

By Sara Henrich:

The central verse in this passage is perhaps the best known Bible verse in the world. John 3:16 shows up in many public places. Hoisted on posters, etched on jewelry, and isolated from this passage, “For God so loved the world…” has become emblematic of the central message of Christian faith. This centrality is not undeserved. The power of this verse, however, is enhanced when it is read carefully and in context. The lectionary divides Jesus’ speech to Nicodemus, which begins in 3:11 and extends to 3:21, at verse 14. The passage begins with a play on the word “lift up.” It describes God’s command to Moses to lift up the serpent in the wilderness and the lifting up that is in store for Jesus. The passage makes little sense without the background story from Numbers 21:4–9. In that narrative, the people became “impatient” on their way. Still in the wilderness after their departure from Egypt, and despairing of being able to survive in a land with no food and water, they complained against God and Moses. Consequently, terrible serpents appeared, bit the people, and killed them. When they repented, the Lord told Moses to make a serpent and set it on a pole so that anyone who had been bitten might look at it and live. The serpent was a mark of God’s anger and God’s mercy. God’s people might be saved by the God of life, if only they would look upon the image of that which would have brought about their death. To see the Son of Man lifted up calls for “belief” for the sake of eternal life, not simply a restoration of earthly life. God once saved the people by calling upon them to gaze on the serpent. Now, God would save the people by having them gaze in belief upon the Son, lifted up.

Next comes John 3:16, in which the “so” is often misunderstood. The Greek houtos means “so” in the sense of “just so,” or “in this way,” or the more archaic, “thusly.” We could translate the verse as “This is the way God loved the world, with the result that he gave his only Son, in order that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16 is not about how much God loved the world. It is about in what way God loved the world. The single most important thing to notice about this verse is that God loved the world. God deeply loved the world that God created, and God longs for this creation to live. It is not only God’s own people whom God will save, as in the Numbers story. It is the cosmos that God has loved, precisely by having given the only son. God loved by having given the son, a non-coercive act that sets in motion real consequences. Yet God’s action was not disinterested. The purpose of God’s having sent the Son was to save the world. The son came to save, to grant eternal life because God loved the world. That was Jesus’ announcement. I’m here because the God who loved you of old, still does. He sent me to tell you, to show you, to gather you up into life with him forever. Jesus’ coming is like the bringing of a light into a dark space. The contrast of light and dark is intense. Indeed, the coming of the Son into the world leads to numerous pairs of contrasting realities:

  • condemn and save
  • believe and not believe
  • stay in the darkness and come into the light
  • do evil and doing what is true

These opposites express the sharp distinction that is created when our dark cosmos is entered by the light of God. Like the people in the story in Numbers, we have already been bitten or are in imminent danger of being bitten. Death is inevitable. When the bronze serpent is brought into the world, we look and live, or we do not. As Jesus comes into the world, we trust that which bears God’s gracious love, or we do not. We receive eternal life or we continue to live apart from God, condemned. If this begins to sound like a theology that demands our deciding to believe or not, we have several reminders in the context that help us to hear more deeply what John wants to say.

First, these verses are embedded in a story where Jesus continues to engage, argue, and persuade people who are slowly transformed into believers. In John 3, Nicodemus is the seeker by night who is left in confusion, only to reappear in 19:39 to help care for Jesus’ body. He has emerged from darkness into light over the course of Jesus’ ministry.

So also the Samaritan woman of John 4 whose long conversation with Jesus ends in a tentative belief, far from where she first began. Consider the blind man healed in John 9, whose move from darkness to light happens rather quickly in physiological terms, but more slowly in terms of identifying Jesus. The intense contrast between believing and not believing, darkness and light, and evil and truth are descriptions of realities, but not of the process by which human beings come to recognize truth, light, life, and God’s own son.

Finally, verses 18–21 follow the first and most important contrast, the contrasting ways to depict God’s own goal and longing. God’s way of loving the world was to send the Son to save it. Jesus is God’s expression of love and longing. The light comes to find us, to illuminate our path for our sake, because God wants us. God reaches out through the Son with the sheer purpose of sharing everlasting life with us.

Yes, John tells us there are real consequences in our daily life and our everlasting relationship with God. But he tells us in order to help us see the contrasts, look clearly at our lives, appreciate the gracious gift of God as a gift of love, and live in fearless confidence of that love. Have we ever been so truly and consistently desired by another as we are by God? No indeed. God loved the world in this way that he gave the Son so that we might live forever with God.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

God so loved the world that He sent His only son

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

  • What am I grateful for?
  • Do I find it hard to express gratitude to others in my life? What holds me back?
  • Whom do I resent or whom do I envy? How do those two emotions interfere with my sense of gratitude?
  • Has anyone in my life been a mirror of God’s love for me? Have I told her so?
  • Have I ever withheld love from someone who clearly wanted my love? What was my reason? (I disapproved of his actions, she irritated me, or I liked the power that this person’s apparent “neediness” gave me, or something else.)
    How did it make me feel?
  • From Jude Sicliano, O.P.:
    What do I see when I look at the cross?
    How does the cross affect the Christian life I try to lead?
  • What do I think John 3:16 really means?
  • Do I secretly harbor a fear of being judged by God and do not really believe the words of John 3:16?
    What would help me overcome fear which cannot coexist with love?
  • Am I afraid of perishing?
    What are my thoughts about eternal life?
  • What does it mean to believe in Jesus?
    Is there a corresponding action to my belief?
    Some have suggested that believing in Jesus equates with receiving Jesus… what would it mean to receive Jesus?
  • Have I ever done or said anything that I would prefer never saw the light of day?
  • From Sister Barbara Reid, O.P., PhD:
    Is there a darkness in your life where the Light wants to shine?
    What is the choice you face at this time to embrace more fully the Light?
    What does Earth teach us about coming to the Light?
  • Adapted from “Sacred Space,” a service of the Irish Jesuits:
    God does not force us to be saved; we have free will. Looking back on the last 24 hours, where have I chosen wisely and where have I chosen unwisely?
  • Where is the darkness in the world right now?
    In what instances do people in our world right now love the darkness rather than the light?
  • Are the statements in verse 17 and 18 contradictory?
    Can I think of a time in Jesus’ life when he spoke words of condemnation?
    Can I think of a time in Jesus’ life where he lived out his description of not coming to condemn the world?
  • Do we sometimes forget that we are not required to condemn others—that it is God’s job?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

“God rejoices. Not because the problems of the world have been solved, not because all human pain and suffering have come to an end. Not because thousands of people have been converted and are not praising him for his goodness. No, God rejoices because one of his children who was lost has been found.” (Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son, p.114)

God is continually offering us the opportunity to rejoice with him at his holy banquet, if we can tear ourselves away from our own affairs to attend. What in your life distracts you from being joyful in the Lord? What can you do during this Lenten season to slow down and take joy in God’s love and care for you?

How are joy and gratitude related? What are you grateful for this very moment? If you cannot think of anything, ask yourself what is blocking you from the simple appreciation of the good things you do have in favor of bemoaning the things you don’t have. Once you have come up with something (or maybe even many things to be grateful to God for, sit in God’s presence, expressing your thankfulness and joy.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

We all know someone who is not quite satisfied with his/her gifts. Perhaps she wishes to be taller, more athletic; perhaps he wishes to be smarter, a better artist, or to have a talent for acting. Resolve to spend some time this week reinforcing his sense of giftedness, or helping her to see that she is God’s work of art. Examples:

“Each day is a gift from God. What you do with it is your gift to Him.” (T.D. Hakes)

Keep a gratitude journal, making entries twice a week at least. Note the times you were aware of God’s blessings, and especially God’s presence in your life. Especially note what you did each day to return God’s gift to him. For example: Did you share your joy with him? Did you thank someone for what she has done for you or your family? Did you avoid criticism and judgmentalism and instead, did you extend yourself to someone who seems to need a friend, or simple reassurance that he is valued? Where does your circle of love need to be expanded?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Read Luke 17:11–19 (Jesus Heals Ten Men With Leprosy):

Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

Imagine that border between Samaria and Galilee. What does the terrain look like? What time of day is it? What are the sights and smells that surround you? Now imagine that you are a man with leprosy, waiting along the path for…what? Are others around? What does this disease feel like? Where is your family? When you look at the other lepers, what do you see? Do they smell? Why are you at some distance from other travelers? When you see Jesus, how does he look to you? Is he big, small, handsome, ordinary looking, arrogant? She? Something in between? What is he wearing? Who is with him? Why did you call out to him? Did all of you do as he had commanded? How did you feel as you began to see healing taking place as you were walking to the priests? Why did one of you turn back? Why did you not turn back? Did you ever see Jesus in Jerusalem and get an opportunity to thank the man? Did you feel that he deserved your gratitude? Why or why not?

In your own life, think of a time when you called on God for help. What exactly, did you expect? Did you feel God owed you what you were asking for? Did God answer your pleading? Then what happened? What was your response to God? Did you thank him, no matter what the result was? Why or why not?

Literary Reflection:

Read the following poems. Can you see what habits of the heart we need to cultivate in order to appreciate all that God has done and continues to do for us? Do you focus on what you have or on what you don’t have? Do you ever think of God’s ultimate gift to us—Jesus? Pick one poem to read every day this week:

“On the mystery of the Incarnation”

It’s when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind’s shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.

—Denise Levertov

“Two Questions”

If you provided a marriage feast
and the thankless guests crowded
at the table getting the food
without tasting it, and shoving
one another away, so that some ate
too much and some ate nothing,
would you not be offended?

If, seated at your bountiful table,
your guests picked and finicked
over the food, eating only a little,
refusing the wine and the dessert,
claiming that to fill their bellies
and rejoice would impair their souls,
would you not be offended?

—Wendell Berry

“JOY”

When it comes back to teach you
or you come back to learn
how half alive you’ve been,
how your own ignorance and arrogance
have kept you deprived—
When it comes back to you
or you yourself return,
joy is simple, unassuming.
Red tulips on their green stems,
Early spring vegetables, bright in the pan.
The primary colors of a child’s painting,
The first lessons, all over again.

—Thomas Centolella from Lights and Mysteries

“Praying”

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones, just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest, but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

—Mary Oliver, from Thirst

“The Lanyard”

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

—Billy Collins

Closing Prayer

Adapted from A Book of Hours by Thomas Merton

My Lord, you have heard the cry of my heart because it was you who cried out within in my heart. Hear the cries of those who are ill, lonely, bereaved and despairing, especially… [Take time to think of a particular person you wish to pray for.] Be with them, be with me, now and forever… Amen.