For this reason, I have likened this season of Lent to a very important DYI refinishing project: Performing some basic “woodworking”—stripping off the inauthentic veneer and sanding down the glue and any other appliqués and finishes to expose the hardwood’s original glory…the authentic, genuine article.
Focusing only upon “fasting”—the veneer—when Lent ends on Holy Saturday, it’s effects are virtually guaranteed to be nil, with the fasting having accomplished nothing more than the equivalent of polishing the veneer. Nice and shiny, perhaps even spiffy, it’s inauthentic and fake, a knockoff similar to those illegally sold from the trunks of cars and SUVs parked on Broad Street in downtown Philadelphia.
Why has nothing changed? Pride that we have fulfilled the letter of the law but have conveniently forgotten to “feast” upon its spirit.
That’s what it’s like with what are called the “Ten Commandments,” which we heard about in today’s first reading and the third of which in today’s gospel Jesus angrily used to justify condemning the money changers in the Temple on the Sabbath day. What was the source of Jesus’ righteous anger? The money changers were complying with the letter of the law but not observing its spirit, transforming God’s dwelling place among humanity into nothing but a “den of iniquity.”
That thought alone could make for a timely homily, couldn’t it? Today, most families keep holy the Sabbath by feasting to the point of indulging themselves in everything other than God. But, that would be to focus upon the veneer not the hardwood—the infant in the Christmas manger of Bethlehem, not the Good Friday Crucifix of Golgatha.
The reason so many Catholics pay so little attention today to the Third Commandment is because they’ve inherited a centuries-old, longstanding tradition, dating at least seventeen centuries back to the translation of the Bible from Greek into Latin (the “Vulgate” or “vulgar” language) and more recently, five centuries ago into the local vernacular and, in our case, English (the Douay-Rheims version). It’s that particular translation in which the text of the first line of today’s first reading is translated: “And God spoke these commandments.”
That’s how many of us view the Ten Commandments: God’s ten rules for life. Chiseled into stone, painted on sheepskin or parchment as illuminated manuscripts, and printed in calligraphy or typescript on ordinary paper, they’re intended by God for us to follow...or else!
That represents the problem because the Greek language from which the text originates literally states: “And God spoke these ten words” (that is, “Decalogue”). The error wasn’t due to the Greek translators; no, they were entirely faithful to the Jewish Torah which states “the ten Words.” Not only that, the Greek translators captured the Torah’s idea perfectly—using the word “logos” which denotes a “word.” But this word isn’t a mere word. No, it’s a word that is active and alive, capturing the rapt attention and captivating the mind of the person hearing it while concurrently growing increasingly passionate and motivating the heart to action. This word cannot be written down on anything and have the same direct impact.
This word is the experience of the parent upon hearing an infant’s first spoken word, a bride or groom saying for the first time “I love you” to one’s newlywed spouse, or someone we’ve hurt saying “I forgive you” and really meaning it. When that word is spoken, its power changes people by breathing new life into them and their relationships. All they have to do is to allow this word to move them and motivate them to respond from their hearts…in love.
In short, the Decalogue is God’s living Word that was been breathed into humanity at the moment of Creation. It’s not the words chiseled into stone tablets in the form of laws, illuminated upon sheepskin or parchment, or printed in calligraphy on ordinary paper. The Decalogue is God’s ten words of life that are made incarnate and, most perfectly, in God’s only begotten Son about whom the people said, as the gospels teach us, “You have the words—the Ten Commandments—of eternal life.”
The Decalogue contains the ten Words God has spoken to humanity concerning the definitive and inerrant way to live a very good life—the “words of life”—and, more substantively, the “words of eternal life.” Today, this third Sunday of Lent, God awaits our hearts to be moved and motivated to respond to those ten words...in love.
In that sense, calling the “Decalogue” the “Ten Commandments” does violence to God’s ten Words. It reduces a very good life to following rules, our conduct to mere compliance with those rules, and faith to an insurance policy that makes the Creator subservient to His human creatures. It’s the same violence perpetrated upon marriages when spouses don’t speak the words that give life to one another, upon families when parents and children don’t speak the words that give life to one another, and upon friendships of utility when the words spoken imply a quid pro quo.
This kind of violence—reprehensive and evil as it is—is the consequence of perhaps unknowingly treating God’s ten Words as commandments. It’s especially pervasive today because, moved neither in mind or heart by those ten Words but instead speaking the words of death, marriages, families, friendships, and even the Church are crumbling into dust all around us. Even so, inauthentic Catholics take comfort from the fact they have that “insurance policy”—that quid pro quo with the Creator—because, like the money changers in the Temple, they’re quick to say “I fulfilled the law this Lent,” meaning “I polished the veneer...take a look at its gleaming and shining beauty!” What they’re not saying—but is the truth—is “I don’t have a relationship with God because the hardwood remains in need of repair. I’ll take care of that...sometime.”
Some might be wondering: “How can he be so judgmental?” But, I respond: “Look to yourself! What evidence do you offer that God’s ten Words have moved your mind and motivated your heart! That’s not possible because you don’t speak the Words of life. The fact is: You’ve pushed God out of your life!”
This third Sunday of Lent, today’s scripture presents each of us a question we must answer: Do I believe God imposes rules upon me like a slave master or loves me as a father? The answer to that question opens a Pandora’s casket of far more difficult questions: Am I God’s subject or child? Are the Ten Commandments mere laws to be fulfilled or the ten Words of life demonstrating God’s paternal care for me? These questions expose an interior conflict: To choose between adopting the mentality of a slave or that of a child.
For Catholics, God’s ten Words are those of a father, the Creator who has given life to and loves His children, not a master who owns his subjects and who are obligated to fulfill the duties and obligations coercively imposed upon them...or else! The former is the Word of life. The latter is always ends in violence, rejecting the master, and death.
It’s so very easy to see which mentality a Catholic has adopted:
- When God’s ten Words are nothing but commands, a Catholic’s heart isn’t moved and that person isn’t motivated to love either God or neighbor. When this person grows angry, words of death spew from his mouth, intended to hurt others because they aren’t complying with what’s expected of them. This Catholic may even go so far as to exclaim, “I wish you were never born!” or “I wish you were dead!” I’ve personally witnessed many Catholics—spouses seeking to be divorced, parents and children at wit’s end, and friends who’ve betrayed one another—uttering those words of death. I’ve also personally experienced people saying very those words of death to me and about me.
- In contrast, when God’s ten Words move a Catholic’s heart and motivate that individual to act, like Jesus, this person speaks the words of life. Even when this person must speak those words in anger—again, like Jesus, it could be an angry spouse, parent, child, or friend—it’s righteous anger. How so? This person loves God and neighbor so much that he or she can’t countenance any of those ten Words being violated. Why? Doing so is sure to end in the beloved’s spiritual death.
As we approach the coming Passiontide and the hardwood of the Crucifix, today’s readings remind us of those ten Words—the Decalogue—because while we may deny we’re like the Israelites in the desert who cried out, grumbled, and complained about Moses or those people in Jerusalem who mocked, jeered, and condemned Jesus to death—God’s Word made Incarnate—on Good Friday. Yet, the simple truth is that we are very much like the Israelites in the desert and those people in Jerusalem when we extend their tradition of viewing God’s ten Words as His ten commands and use them to justify ourselves before God and humanity all the while spewing words of death to others. Slaves to the law, the veneer might be shiny and spiffy indeed! But, not living the spirit of the law, the hardwood being neglected and perhaps beginning to rot.
The world doesn’t need more laws and lawyers. What’s desperately needed are Catholics whose hearts are moved by and motivated to act in love by proclaiming the ten Words of life. In this way, faith isn’t complying with the letter of the law but fulfilling its spirit by making God’s love for his children incarnate, just the Archangel Gabriel proclaimed the Word of life Mary, “You shall name him ‘Emmanuel’—‘God [is] with us’” (Matthew 1: 23).
In his encyclical “The Splendor of Truth,” St. Pope John Paul II wrote:
The gift of the [ten Words] was a promise and sign of the New Covenant, in which the law would be written in a new and definitive way upon the human heart (Jeremiah 31:31-34), replacing the law of sin which had disfigured that heart (Jeremiah 17:1). In those days, “a new heart” would be given, because in it would dwell “a new spirit,” the Spirit of God (Ezekiel 36:24-28). (#12)
Our lives are a journey from birth to death and our Catholic faith teaches us how to our lives very well by allowing God’s ten Words to enter into and motivate our hearts to respond by acting out of love for God and neighbor.
In an act of generous love, God acted first on our behalf by breathing into us those ten Words into us because God is desperate that we live our lives very well. Those ten Words remind us that we don’t discover happiness and fulfillment when we live the journey of life starting with ourselves and spending our days seeking to self-actualize because, in the end which is death, that inauthentic journey of servitude to self, to sin, and to death only brings back to ourselves.
In contrast, God’s ten Words remind us that we discover happiness and fulfillment when we start that journey—the authentic journey of faith—with God’s ten Words and respond in love by speaking words that give life to others. Those ten Words free us from selfishness because the love of God moves us forward from and beyond ourselves. In this way, our salvation hinges not upon our strength of will to fast from what yields pleasure but feasting upon God’s love and accepting God’s ten Words as our ten Words of life. Then, experiencing faith’s goal—salvation—we will freely and willingly consent to live God’s ten Words because our hearts will continuously remind us that we must do these things. Why? We know in our personal experience that God has saved us.
In this regard, gratitude is one of, if not the characteristic virtue residing in the hearts of Catholics who have experienced salvation. Filled with wonder and awe at all the beautiful things has God done for them, gratitude commands them to love others as God has loved them!
That represents our challenge from scripture for this third week of Lent: To fast from speaking the words of death and instead to feast upon the ten Words of life.
How shall we do that?
Before having dinner each day this week, take five or ten minutes and in the silence of your heart answer this question: How many wonderful things has God done for me today? Identify those many thing—the blessings of life, family, liberty, health, food, shelter, and clothing, just to name a few—and seeing perhaps for the first time what you’ve been missing all along, feast upon them. Recognizing that God’s love is actually being made incarnate in your personal experience, God will liberate your heart from the attitude of a slave.
Then, before dinner pray aloud with those gathered around the table as the Church recommends:
Bless us, O Lord, and these Your gifts, which we have received from Your goodness through Christ our Lord.
Beholding the people and food, realize how God has blessed you with these gifts and feast upon them. Then, strengthened spiritually and physically, allowing your heart to be moved by God’s ten Words each day this upcoming week to make those words incarnate.
Gradually, you will discover the words you speak changing: No longer will you cry out, grumble, and complain about everything you don’t have in your life and want, just like the Israelites in the desert or mock, jeer, and condemn others, just like the people in Jerusalem did to Jesus on Good Friday when they demanded “Crucify him.” No, consenting to the spirit of the law, you will discover yourselves possessing an abiding awareness that God loves you and is concerned about you just as God was concerned about and loved the Israelites in the desert and His only begotten Son in Jerusalem. In this way, God’s ten Words will liberate you from the chains of slavery evident in selfishness and sin which only beget death.
Today’s scripture reminds us about what the Israelites, the faithful Jews of Jesus’ day, and we ourselves have forgotten and what St. Paul reminds us about in today’s epistle: God didn’t create us to live in oppression as slaves to sin but to live in freedom to enjoy this wonderful life God has breathed into us as well as the many blessings God has showered upon us in abundance. Each day this week, recall how those many blessings so that, feasting upon gratitude for them and with hearts motivated by God’s ten Words, like Jesus, we will speak the words that not only give life but are the words of eternal life.
As Pope Benedict XVI spoke about this teaching from scripture in his encyclical Deus caritas est:
The love-story between God and humanity consists in the very fact that this communion of will increases in a communion of thought and sentiment, and thus our will and God’s will increasingly coincide: God’s will is no longer for me an alien will, something imposed on me from without by the commandments, but it is now my own will, based on the realization that God is in fact more deeply present to me than I am to myself. Then self-abandonment to God increases and God becomes our joy.” (#17)
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