Lent IV

But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all.
                                      (Gal. iv. 26)

At the beginning of Lent, Jesus said to his disciples, Behold we go up to Jerusalem. (St. Luke xviii. 31) Going up to Jerusalem is what our lives are all about. We go up with Jesus to see how He conquers the temptations of Satan and triumphs over sin for us. We go up with Jesus to discover that, like the woman of Canaan, we are more like dogs than men, aliens, and exiles to God’s promises, and yet still wholly craving the crumbs that fall from His table. So, we learn to long humbly for that mercy that persists in obtaining Jesus' mercy and healing. As dogs, we learn also that we are, often, dumb and mute, incapable of hearing God’s Word and expressing His will until His inward Grace opens our spiritual senses to His desire.
         
Our Lenten pilgrimage, our going up with Jesus to Jerusalem (St. Matthew xx. 18) will not be easy. If we fast, and if we pray, we might become distracted and even lose our way. The pull and tug of certain temptations may well have been overcome, but seven other demons worse than ourselves (St. Matthew xii. 45) overwhelm us. Satan realizes that he is losing our spirits, and so he attacks our bodies with renewed vigor through the elements of this world. (Galatians iv. 3) We have the best of intentions and yet feel ourselves the children of the proverbial Hagar, the bondwoman – enslaved to this world. We do want to become free men, children of promise, and followers of Jesus, who go up to Jerusalem which is above… and is free. (Galatians iv. 26) Yet the more we try, the further back we fall.
         
Today, Jesus Christ and His Bride, Mother Church, provide us with what we need. Today is Dominica Refectionis –Refreshment Sunday or Mothering Sunday–the day on which Mother Church feeds us with love and hope. Today, we are asked to stop for a while to contemplate God’s merciful care. Today, rather than feeling pulled down, we go up. Jesus went up into a mountain, and there He sat with His disciples. (St. John vi. 3) We go up to the mountain with Jesus so that He might remind us of our heavenly destiny. He knows that we are in danger of spiritual languor and sloth. He intends to provide us with that spiritual food that will give us dogged and dauntless determination to press on.…Jesus said, Make the men sit down…So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. (St. John vi. 10) St. John Chrysostom tells us:

That Jesus calls us up to rest at intervals from the tumults and confusion of common life. For solitude is good for the study of wisdom. (St. J.C.: Sermon…) 

Quiet contemplation and study, going up into the presence of God are necessary for spiritual sanity and restoration. And yet in Lent, the earth constantly drags us down. Whence shall we buy bread that [we all] may eat? (St. John vi. 5). Jesus asks this question of Philip. He intends to enlarge and deepen Philip's faith so that he might find hope in heavenly and not earthly nourishment. Philip has seen the finger of God at work in the miracles that Jesus has performed. Will he believe that Jesus can provide food that no man can afford and that can satisfy far more than the physical hunger of a paltry five thousand? What measure of faith does Philip have? Is he a child of Hagar born after the flesh or a child of promise? (Gal. iv. 23) Philip answers as one in bondage to the elements of this world. (Gal. iv. 3) He responds that even two-hundred penny worth is not enough for this crowd. (St. John vi. 7) Philip is thinking in earthly terms of an earthly solution. Too many people, too little money, he conjectures. Thus, Jesus intends to reveal the smallness and poverty of Philip’s faith. His faith should be in Christ’s power to fulfill all his needs. His faith should have seen, too, that if Christ has asked whence shall we buy bread, He intended to remind Philip that God alone provides our every need and want.

Philip’s faith is small and weak because of what he does not have. Andrew’s faith is small and weak because of what they do have. There is a young lad who hath five barley loaves and two fishes, but what are they among so many? (St. John vi. 9) To offer so little to so many makes a mockery of hunger. Andrew says there’s not enough. Andrew’s faith is as small and weak as Philip’s.
         
True faith and spiritual contemplation are always tempted to distraction over earthly things. We postmoderns spend far too little time in prayer, Bible reading, or contemplation. Jesus tells us to sit down, listen, and think. He asks us to remember that we are going up to Jerusalem, that we are dogs eating from the crumbs that fall from His table. (St. Matt. xv. 27) Crumbs will be more than enough. We only need a little food to strengthen us on our spiritual journey. We must not only hear the Word of God but keep it. (St. Luke xi. 28) Jesus says sit down. (St. John vi. 10) With the disciples, we must obey the Master.

And Jesus took the loaves; and when he had given thanks, he distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were set down; and likewise of the fishes as much as they would. (Ibid, 11) 
 
Thanks for what seems to be so little is essential. What Christ gives to us will be more than sufficient to satisfy our hunger.  Andrew’s poverty will become Philip’s plenty. If we have faith, something small will be more than enough to keep us journeying to the Kingdom. 

The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field. Which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof. (St. Matthew xiii. 31,32) 
 
If our faith is like a small mustard seed, and if we plant it in our hearts, it will greatly support us through the whole of life. Jesus says, gather up the fragments that remain that nothing be lost. (St. John vi. 12) Mustard seed faith feeds us and provides leftovers. The children of Hagar, living in bondage to the elements of this world (Gal. iv. 3) perceive only the smallness of mustard seeds, loaves, and fishes. They are like Christians whose faith is feeble, whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, who mind earthly things. (Phil. iii. 19) and will not trust Christ to provide all that is needed for salvation.

Faith’s nourishment is food for men wayfaring. As St. Hilary suggests, the substance [of the five barley loaves and two fishes] progressively increases. (The Passing of the Law: St. Hilary of Poitiers) Faith’s food is God’s love in Jesus Christ, which is never exhausted but continues to multiply itself in the hearts of those who believe. If we allow it, Christ’s love will feed our souls. He will feed our faith and cause it to grow. The seed of faith will embrace Christ’s all-powerful spiritual love. His love intends always to fortify and strengthen that faith that must follow Him up to Jerusalem, which is above, and is free. (Gal. iv. 26)
         
Faith feeds on and trusts in Christ’s continuous provision. Faith begins to acquire a taste for God’s love. In the fragments that remain are hidden gifts of mystic meaning. But, of course, if we persist in our addiction to material things, the earthly food and drink, clothing, riches, and treasures that perish, we are in real trouble. Not only will we, the proverbial children of Hagar, fail in spiritual things, but we will also be damned for want of greater faith in a higher love. Jerusalem, which is above, is free and the mother of us all. The hard question we must ask ourselves today is this: Are we intent upon reaching God’s Kingdom, and will we do what we must to get there? To get there, we must have faith in Jesus. To get there, we must grow this faith. To get there, we must be fed chiefly from Jesus’ hand, with spiritual food. To get there, we must begin to see that the fragments and crumbs of earthly food are enough. What we want is an increase of spiritual nourishment that strengthens our souls for digesting what comes next in our Lenten journey.
Amen. 
©wjsmartin