A Lectio Divina Approach to the Sunday Liturgy
BREAKING THE BREAD OF THE WORD (Series 9, n. 18)
3rd Sunday of Lent, Year A – March 27, 2011 *
“Seeds of Love … of God’s Love Outpoured in our Hearts”
BIBLE READINGS
Ex 17:3-7 // Rom 5:1-2, 5-8 // Jn 4:5-42
(N.B. Series 9 of BREAKING THE BREAD OF THE WORD: A LECTIO DIVINA APPROACH TO THE SUNDAY LITURGY includes a prayerful study of the Sunday liturgy of Year A from the perspective of the Second Reading. For reflections on the Sunday liturgy of Year C based on the Gospel reading, please scroll up to the “ARCHIVES” above and open Series 3. For reflections based on the Old Testament reading, open Series 6.)
I. BIBLICO-LITURGICAL REFLECTIONS
The word of God continues to accompany us in our Lenten journey, sowing “good seeds” in our hearts. In the past Lenten Sundays, we have experienced the power of the “seeds of faith” and the dynamism of the “seeds of becoming”. Today, as we contemplate anew God’s initiative to save his people, we are refreshed by the image of “living water” and energized by the “seeds of love” that his life-giving word plants in our hearts.
In this Sunday’s bible readings we verify various “love encounters” between God and his people. The Old Testament reading (Ex 17:3-7) depicts a provident God who encounters his chosen people in the desert to respond to their need and give them an assurance of his saving presence. The Israelites, panic stricken in their thirst for water, grumbled against Moses. Notwithstanding the marvels they had experienced, the chosen people wavered in their trust in the Lord God who rescued them from slavery in Egypt with mighty hands. Through his servant Moses, who was ordered to strike the rock in Horeb with the staff that divided the Red Sea, the Lord God made water spring forth in the desert to slake their torrid thirst. God’s compassionate stance on behalf of his distressed people invites us to trust greatly in his provident care. Indeed, the loving God who gives us water to drink is with us and continues to be in our midst.
The Gospel reading (Jn 4:5-42) presents the great “love encounter” between our Lord Jesus Christ and the Samaritan woman in need of salvation and thirsting for the “water of life”. This remarkable woman who was searching for love in all the wrong places was spiritually thirsty. In his very person, Jesus was offering her the water that springs to eternal life. The Samaritan’s “love encounter” with Jesus thus became for her a journey to faith. Martin Connell remarks: “One sees the Samaritan woman turn from unbelief to faith, and then we hear that she herself is testifying to Jesus. This progress in faith is similar to what happens each year when the faith of the newly baptized at the Vigil sparks an awakening of faith for the entire Church. It is similar too to the progress in faith in each Christian life from baptism until death … It is for the Church a brilliant story of faith development.”
The Second Reading (Rom 5: 1-2, 5-8) underlines the supreme “love encounter” initiated by God and brought to completion by the passion and death of his Son Jesus Christ. It also highlights the divine love poured into our hearts by means of the Holy Spirit, who is God’s gift to us. Indeed, God proved his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. Reconciled with God in Jesus Christ, we experience peace and confident hope. Harold Buetow comments: “In bringing about salvation through Jesus, God offers to slake spiritual thirst by presenting us with peace and hope. Peace, the Hebrew shalom, means all the blessings of God. Jesus offers hope that never fails, because through him we have gained access to God. In short, God’s new gift is grace – water with a difference: living water, life-giving water.”
With the love of God poured into our hearts, we cease to be afraid. The trials that come our way are a preparation for a rich harvest. The authors of the Days of the Lord, vol. 2, assert: “What do we have to fear when we have such a proof, such an experience of God’s love? How could we doubt God’s presence when the Spirit has been poured out into our hearts? As painful as they may be, the trials of our exodus assume their real meaning. We see in them the travail of giving birth to a new world, the toil of the sowing in view of the harvest.”
The following true story, “A Girl with an Apple” by Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida, published in GUIDEPOSTS magazine and circulated through the Internet, is very powerful and fascinating. It gives us insight into the miraculous encounter with grace. It inspires us, moreover, to sow “seeds of love” that bear abundant fruits.
August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland: The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow’s Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.
“Whatever you do”, Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, “don’t tell them your age. Say you are sixteen.” I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, then asked my age. “Sixteen”, I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood. My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, “Why?” He didn’t answer. I ran to Mama’s side and said I wanted to stay with her. “No”, she said sternly. “Get away. Don’t be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.” She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: she was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.
My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers. “Don’t call me Herman anymore”, I said to my brothers. “Call me 94983.” I was put to work in the camp’s crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.
Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald’s sub-camps near Berlin. One morning I thought I heard my mother’s voice, “Son”, she said softly but clearly, “I am going to send you an angel.” Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.
A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called her softly in German, “Do you have something to eat?” She didn’t understand. I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat – a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn’t dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn’t know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such a short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.
Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia. “Don’t return”, I told the girl that day. “We’re leaving.” I turned toward the barracks and didn’t look back, didn’t even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I’d never learned, the girl with the apples.
We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 A.M. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I’d survived. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.
But at 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I’m not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person’s goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years. By August 1957 I opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.
One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. “I’ve got a date. She’s got a Polish friend. Let’s double date.” A blind date? Nah, that wasn’t for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn’t so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.
The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn’t remember having a better time.
We piled back into Sid’s car, Roma and I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, “Where were you”, she asked softly, “during the war?” “The camps”, I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget. She nodded. “My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin”, she told me. “My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers.” I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were, both survivors, in a new world. “There was a camp next to the farm”, Roma continued. “I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day.”
What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. “What did he look like?” I asked. “He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.” My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be. “Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?” Roma looked at me in amazement. “Yes!” “That was me!” I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn’t believe it! My angel.
“I’m not letting you go”, I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn’t want to wait. “You’re crazy!” she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I’d found her again, I could never let her go.
That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.
II. POINTS FOR THE EXAMINATION OF THE HEART
What are the various thirsts in my life? What is my ultimate “thirst”?
Do we long for the “living water” that Jesus gives? Do we seek to drink from “the spring of eternal life”?
Do we welcome with gratitude the “love of God poured into our hearts” through the Holy Spirit? How do we respond to this gracious gift of “love outpoured”?
III. PRAYING WITH THE WORD
Leader: Loving God,
you are in our midst.
You care for us and provide for all our needs.
You slake our spiritual thirst through your beloved Son Jesus,
the “living water” that wells up to eternal life.
We thank you for the love you pour into our hearts
through the Holy Spirit that is your gift to us.
In this Lenten season,
we receive the “seeds of love”
that your all-powerful word sows in our hearts.
May they grow and flourish.
Let the trials and sufferings
that we lovingly experience in our daily life
germinate like “good seeds” sown on rich soil.
Let them be watered by the dew of your grace
and bear abundant fruits for your greater glory,
now and forever.
Assembly: Amen.
IV. INTERIORIZATION OF THE WORD
The following is the bread of the living Word that will nourish us throughout the week. Please memorize it.
“And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (cf. Rom 5:5)
V. TOWARDS LIFE TRANSFORMATION
ACTION PLAN: Pray that the deep spiritual thirst of humankind for eternal life may be fully satisfied. By your acts of justice and peace and by your deeds of charity to the needy, let “seeds of love” flourish in today’s world.
ACTION PLAN: That the “seeds of love … of God’s love outpoured in our hearts” may grow and bear abundant fruit, make an effort to spend an hour in Eucharistic Adoration. Visit the PDDM WEB site (www.pddm.us) for the EUCHARISTIC ADORATION THROUGH THE LITURGICAL YEAR: A Weekly Pastoral Tool (Year A, vol. 7, # 18).
Prepared by Sr. Mary Margaret Tapang PDDM
PIAE DISCIPULAE DIVINI MAGISTRI
SISTER DISCIPLES OF THE DIVINE MASTER
60 Sunset Ave., Staten Island, NY 10314
Tel. (718) 494-8597 // (718) 761-2323
Website: WWW.PDDM.US