A quick question: how many will be watching the Super Bowl today. I don’t know about you but I’m rooting for the 49ers. Yesterday was the beginning of the Chinese New Year. And Wednesday is not only Valentine’s Day but Ash Wednesday.
The word of God takes us back to one of the early books of the bible: Leviticus, named for the tribe of Levi. It’s a rule book that describes, among numerous things, religious rituals and rubrics, festivals, health protocols, and a how-to-behave code regarding covenantal relationships.
The author here gives a guideline about so-called leprosy, which in those days referred not to what we know as Hansen’s disease, but to skin ailments of various kinds. These were thought to be contagious, person declared “unclean” was banished from the community. He or she had to live alone and isolated.
The word prompts us today to reach out compassionately to the lonely, the sick, the needy and the forgotten.
St. Paul, in his letter to the Christian community at Corinth, is adjudicating a dispute about whether Christians can eat meat or other foods associated with the temple rituals of ancient Rome. Paul says: yes, you can eat these foods but don’t do it if it scandalizes your fellow Christians.
Paul then urges us to do everything for the glory of God.
In the Gospel, a so-called leper begs Jesus to restore him to health. This man was not supposed to be around people. He’s isolated…unable to live with his family, or work, or attend religious services…rejected. Yet he chooses to face yet another rejection by approaching Jesus. And Jesus, “moved with pity,” heals him. Jesus goes on to say: “Tell no one” -- the so-called Messianic secret.
The highlight for me is this: the leper’s prayer was answered. Sometimes our prayers are answered. More often, they’re not, at least not the way we want. A Franciscan colleague wrote a book titled “When God Says No” that makes this point. We sometimes receive a no, and later realize that some good came out of that “no.”
We may pray to God for one thing or another, and we sense silence. We’re ill, or someone we love has cancer, we feel insecure about our work, anxious about our family, we ask God for peace and understanding in our families, we pray that a particular wrong will be righted, and so forth.
And God sometimes seems silent. We may even feel like giving up on God; or we may start thinking negatively about ourselves. What to do? Let us pray not to succumb to negative feelings, but to rise above those feelings by reflecting on certain faith themes. Let's:
- Re-examine our image of God. Some think of God only as a judge. But the bible offers a collage of God-images. God is a walking companion in Genesis, a passionate debater in the Book of Job, an anxious parent and a comforting mother in Isaiah, a prodigal father in the Gospels. What is our image of God? God is our ever-faithful companion.
- Remember God’s providence and care for us. Yes, count our blessings. How often the ancient Hebrews forgot the wonders God worked for them. Like a skilled pickpocket, God is present in many different ways and we don’t know except by the evidence afterward. He may seem absent, but our faith says he’s with us always.
- Know that you are in good company. Many others have known the silence of God. Job in his misfortunes. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. The point is: keep praying. Because God is God. God’s ultimate purpose is for us to be like God, to see God face to face. And never forget: God is our all-mighty creator, ultimately in charge; we are simply his creatures, marvelously created out of nothingness.
So, as we think of the leper whose prayer was answered, and as we think about our own prayers and relationship with God, remember God’s blessings and God’s continuing care for us.
The great 16th century saint Teresa of Avila, declared a Doctor of the Church, gives us this perspective:
“Let nothing disturb you;
Let nothing dismay you;
all things pass;
God never changes;
Patience gains everything;
they who have God
lack nothing:
God alone suffices.”
