Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent 2023
Note: The following reflection was given as a homily at Sacred Heart Seminary and School of Theology in Hales Corners, Wisconsin, during a day of reflection for the seminarians there on March 29, 2023.
In chapter 49 of his Rule, the great Saint Benedict laid out how the monks of his monastery should observe the season of Lent. He begins the chapter by stating, “The life of the monk ought to be a continuous Lent.”
Over the years, as I’ve thought about the value that Saint Benedict was trying to communicate to his monks with those words, I keep coming back to the word freedom. Because, when we think about the austerity of a monk’s life—and of the simplicity of these Lenten days—aren’t we ultimately seeking about an unfettered and intentional sort of freedom?
- Freedom from distractions.
- Freedom from excess.
- Freedom to focus more on who I am, as opposed to what I do.
- Freedom to tend to what is most essential.
It’s worth noting however, that after Benedict gives the instruction that the monks’ lives should be “a continual Lent,” he goes on to say that very few, even among monks, have the strength for such a life. But it’s here that I think Benedict offers each of us—every Christian—an important lesson on the meaning of Lent: We need time and space—we need these days of Lent—to get back to basics, to focus on what truly deserves our attention and energy. Why? So we can remember what it means to be free.
This idea of freedom is fundamental for understanding the Readings proclaimed a few moments ago. First, we have the three young men who were condemned to death by King Nebuchadnezzar because of their unwillingness to submit to his demand that they worship a god of the king’s own design. To the eyes of many, they sacrificed their freedom—and even life itself—because of their unwillingness to submit to the king’s demands. But then, after they’ve been thrown into the white-hot furnace, we hear the king’s shock as he declares: “Did we not cast three men into the fire?... But, I see four men unfettered and unhurt, and the fourth looks like a son of God” (Daniel 3:91b-92).
The three young men—and the angelic figure who was with them in the fire—were unfettered, unchained.
They had found freedom and life not through cooperating with power but in and through their wholehearted commitment to the truth.
Jesus also speaks of the freedom that comes from accepting and living the truth in the Gospels when he tells those who believe in him: “"If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (John 8:31-32).
To live in freedom requires a choice on our part. It means that we have to do the work of Lent and strip away distractions, pretense, agenda, and the masks that we present to the world, to open ourselves to the truth that saves us. As we give up our grasping for power and status, we create space where the grace of God can be at work in our lives, for the sake of others.
And here, I’m reminded of a reflection that Pope Francis shared in 2016[1]. In it, the Holy Father observed that there are three qualities, three characteristics that free a person: Memory, Prophecy, and Hope.
I’d like to conclude our reflection today with a few words about each of these qualities.
First, Memory:
When we look at the story of salvation presented in Sacred Scripture, we hear the stories of God’s love and tenderness as he freed and gathered together his Chosen People, as he provided for them in the desert, and brought them into the Promised Land, making them a blessing for the nations. The People were asked to allow their lives to be shaped by this memory of God’s choice and gift. But think about what happened when the People claimed God’s gifts as a right and began to forget—to let those memories begin to slip into the background.
They lost their identity.
A people without memory, as Pope Francis said, is no people at all.
Memory is necessary for identity. By remembering what God has done, we are able to mindful of what is doing now. Memory helps us to know who and whose we are.
And so, we have Prophecy.
The Prophet is the one who remembers and it is the work of the prophet to see, to look with clear eyes, to name reality as it is. The prophets are those who name God’s presence and action in the world for the sake of helping others move forward.
How often do we[—those of us here in this chapel—]ignore the voices of the prophets?
How often do we fall back into old patterns of behavior, old attitudes, and a reliance on what we know to be true?
It’s easy enough to comply to the demands of formation, the observance of canons or religious constitutions, to move through the tedium of academic work, without allowing ourselves to be transformed.
In those times, we risk losing sight of the Mystery that is God—that Mystery that is always drawing us deeper into Itself, and which is, as Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, described it: “A fathomless and shoreless ocean.”
Prophetic voices call us to memory—to remember the Mystery of who God is and what God has done—and is doing. These prophets call us to more.
And here, we come to Hope.
For the Christian, hope is not that vague sense of optimism that all will be well, that a difficult time will pass and everything will “OK”… whatever that means. Instead, Christian hope is grounded in memory. Because we know what God has done in the past, because we are open to those reality-naming, God-graced prophetic voices, we are able to move into the future
free from fear,
free from doubt,
free from self-reliance because we know God is with us.
Like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we know that the God of Truth, the God in whom we trust, the God who is gracious and merciful (cf. the Responsorial Psalm), is also a God who keeps promises.
Memory.
Prophecy.
Hope.
“You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Amen.
[1] Homily for May 30, 2016.
