"I am who am"
Luke 13: 1-9
The Word for Sunday: http://usccb.org/bible/readings/032419-yearc.cfm
In the midst of our journey through Lent, this Sunday we are
confronted with an age-old question about the nature of God and the seeming
random events of life. Many of you are
likely familiar with the statement: “Nothing happens by chance.” Frankly, I often wonder is it purposeful or is it random? Does God permit rather than cause? And if so, why?
The implication is that God is the cause of everything that
happens. That behind what may seem
merely random, without any purpose, is in fact purposeful. It may be a bit of a
stretch to take that too literally, however.
On the one hand, it is true that God is in control of things. His wisdom
is beyond our own and he remains forever the kind of burning bush experience we
hear of in our first reading today. God
speaks to Moses from a bush that burns with fire but is not consumed: “I am who
I am” is the name God gives to Moses, sent to deliver God’s message of
liberation from slavery in Egypt to the suffering Hebrew slaves. Was God the
cause of their suffering or now the liberator?
Yet, “I am who I am” isn’t a name as such it is a statement
beyond a limited name. It is a God who remains totally other and distant and
mysterious to human comprehension, the great I AM, yet he communicates in a
personal way to his creation and to humankind in particular. God cannot be limited or contained nor can we comprehend his fullness and ultimate purpose.
But to assume that God’s purposeful hand is the cause of all
that happens is to assume that God is both the determined cause of tragedy and
blessings. If that is true, then God
appears to be both a sadistic dictator and a compassionate healer at the same
time. He takes some sort of perverted pleasure in the suffering of the guilty
and allows the righteous to enjoy blessings. Our Gospel from Luke this Sunday
is a classic example of this viewpoint.
Here, it might seem unusual that such a question was brought to
Jesus by a crowd: “Some people told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood
Pilate had mingled with the blood of their sacrifices. Jesus said to them in
reply, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they
were greater sinners than all other Galileans?” (Lk 13: 1-2).
In other words, the crowds revealed a general understanding of
that time: sinners were punished by God and the innocent were blessed. So, in this example, what seemed a great
abomination by Pontius Pilate was really God using him to punish these
Galileans who were notorious sinners.
In answer to their inquiry, Jesus does a very Jewish thing – he
answers a question with another question and uses the example of a tower in
Siloam which fell upon and killed eighteen people: “Do you think they were more
guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem? By no means!” (Lk 13: 3-4).
Jesus statement: “By no means” is telling. So does our God go around causing tragedy and
suffering as retribution upon the guilty?
I don’t think so. Yet, it’s clear
he permits it and the death on the cross of the most innocent human being ever
who walked this earth is the model for that mystery.
God’s purposeful will is beyond us yet up close. Before him we stand as Moses did before the
theophany of God: “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you
stand is holy ground . . . Moses hid his face for he was afraid to look at
God.”
Yet, this God beyond us, reveals his compassionate care, his
desire to save and set free, his promise to take action on behalf of the
suffering. “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and I have
heard their cry of complaint . . . I know well what they are suffering.” (Ex
3). Does that sound like a God who
deliberately inflicts misery, even on the guilty?
If we put it all together, we find a God of mercy who walks
with us in our sadness and our joy. Is
there randomness to life uncaused directly by God but permitted by him? Doe he cause it or allow it? It seems most unlikely that the God who Jesus
presented to humanity would buy in to the misunderstanding about suffering as
divine retribution.
In support of this, Jesus uses the image of barren fig tree as
a symbol of the ancient chosen people.
The planter of the tree recognizes that the tree is unproductive,
lifeless, and just stealing much needed nutrients from the soil that could be
used by other more lively plants. The
gardener (God) recommends, however, “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I
shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the
future.” (Lk 13: 8-9).
One more chance, one more opportunity. For this merciful God in Christ Jesus, has
come to walk among us and show us the way to life. No retribution or vengeance
but an invitation to conversion and a new way of life based in mercy and love.
This Lent is the time to wake up and embrace this great truth. Don’t let the towers of our pride and selfish
choices be the cause of our misfortune.
In the end, hard times and sadness produce life: the call to
compassion, to deeper faith and trust, to mercy for others, to generosity
towards the suffering and unfortunate, a call to leave our personal comfort
zones and reach out in selfless love.
Such “fruit” may well be why God permits suffering. In the face of great suffering and tragedy,
however, we are certainly challenged of our perception of God as one of love:
“Why?” we may indeed ask.
Our best answer may not be to challenge God but to worship and
obedience, to compassion and humility, to an imitation of his mercy towards the
suffering. “I AM who I AM.” In the
presence of mystery we are called to be more a Moses than a scientist who does
all he/she can to find a verifiable solution to a problem. God is beyond us and
will forever be mystery this side of eternity.
Our Eucharistic gathering is a moment of connection with both
joy and sadness in everyone’s life. We
are not there alone for Christianity and Catholicism in particular is not a
private devotion. It is a call to
imitate the God who comes into our lives as a living word and a real
presence. This is the God who loves,
forgives, and who offered his life in suffering for our salvation. We stand before both mystery and mercy.
O God, author of every mercy and of all goodness,
who in fasting, prayer
and almsgiving
have shown us a remedy for sin,
look graciously on this confession of our lowliness,
that we, who are bowed down by our conscience,
may always be lifted up by your mercy.
(Collect of Sunday)
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