3 Lent, Year B, March 3
Ex. 20:1-17 • Ps. 19 • 1 Cor. 1:18-25 • John 2:13-22
It is the responsibility of the preacher to make the Word flesh by use of mere words, and so to send the Word from the pulpit so that the Word is joyfully and fruitfully received. Still, this mysterious communication of heart to heart is grounded most deeply, not in words, but in the silence from which all true speech comes. Moreover, there are sounds other than words that come from this hidden ground of silence, and that bespeak the presence of God in all things.
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows his handiwork. One day tells its tale to another, and one night imparts knowledge to another. Although they have no words or language, and their voices are not heard, their sound has gone out into all the lands, and their message to the ends of the world” (Ps. 19:1-4). Nature speaks a wordless gospel of exuberance and beauty. “In the deep has he set a pavilion for the sun; it comes forth like a bridegroom out of his chamber; it rejoices like a champion to run its course. It goes forth from the uttermost edge of the heavens and runs about to the end of it again; nothing is hidden from its burning heart” (Ps. 19:5-6). The sun, greatest of celestial luminaries, is a witness on behalf of all creations. The sun bears witness to the light who is coming into the world.
Listening to creation, we discern, as we discern also in the law, innumerable benefits. Nature “revives the soul,” “gives wisdom to the innocent,” “rejoices the heart,” “gives light to the eyes,” “is of more value than gold, more than much fine gold” (Ps. 19:7-10). Listening, we begin to sense and know that we stand not apart from the world we look upon but are enmeshed in a complex, interconnected web of being. Everything is suspended in being by the will and love of God, and we attune ourselves to this great mystery by the holy silence we observe.
Nature has another face before which we cringe and hide. Nature is in bondage to decay, groaning like a woman in childbirth. Nature waits for a coming renewal. In the words of St. Paul, “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:19-23). Nature is beautiful and brutal, tender and indifferent, life-giving and a force of violent devastation.
In the abyss of silence and the womb of nature, beauty and deep pain live together. In the fullness of time, God saves by entering the creation, feeling and embracing its pain. This is the message of the cross. In the cross of Christ, we see “the power of God and wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor. 1:24-25). God in Christ takes all the pain, all the suffering, all the anguish, and transforms it on the day of the Resurrection. We have the first fruits of this new life, and yet we still groan and wait.
Look It Up: The Collect
Think About It: You are being renewed by a power not your own.
The Rev. Patrick Twomey is a retired priest of the Diocese of Fond du Lac, and has written our Sunday's Readings column for many years.
