Fifth Sunday of Lent
May 6, 2014

Reflection on Lectoring

“We are the children of divine love and nothing can change that fundamental fact about us.”

                                                  -  Desmond Tutu, St. Phillips’s Christmas III Sermon, 1984

Look out at the assembly as you proclaim the Scriptures and ask yourself who are the people seated before you?  So you see mostly strangers?  Do you see your friends?  Do you see people with whom you share one of the most fundamental aspects of who you are?

The idea that we are all children of God can be extraordinarily challenging.  Perhaps it is easier to focus more personally on yourself by saying “I am a child of God.”  Perhaps a person’s identity is adequately defined by his or her own “personal relation with my Lord and Savior.”

Certainly we shall all be judged by God individually.  That point is clear in the Book of Job which tells the story of one man and the blessing and hardships he experienced.

But it is also a story about the people around Job who understood very little.  They fail to recognize that Job was a child of both God’s love and his justice.  They also seemed to miss the point that they and Job together were children of God’s love.  Although Job’s story is filled with ambiguity, it is abundantly clear that Job had a better understanding of his true identity.

Desmond Tutu lived through a time when identity was more constrained and more delimited.  Strict racial and group identities helped to shape people’s individual identities, but they also stood as a barrier to understanding their most basic and universal identity.  Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela changed the course of history because they helped others better understand the foundation of genuine identity and true community.

It is the kind of understanding of identity and community that helps lectors look out at the people seated before them and recognize who we all are.

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First Reading  -  Ezekiel 37:12-14
When Trust is Difficult

The Scriptures often ask us to do a lot of trusting.  A little more than a month ago at Sunday Mass, St. Matthew’s Gospel relates how Jesus advises us not to worry about what we shall eat or wear.  “Do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will take care of itself,” says Jesus (6:24).

That can be a tall order when the rent or mortgage payment is due and there is no money in the bank.  Today’s first reading asks us to trust at an even higher level.  We are told that when we are in our graves God promises, “I will open your graves.”

After seeing their temple destroyed, their freedom taken away, and their God appearing to turn his back on them, the prophet Ezekiel tells the Chosen People they must trust despite everything that has happened.  Despite the troubling question of where God was when the Babylonians destroyed everything, people should still trust.

The same wrenching question can still be asked today in light of Nazi exterminations, interminable civil wars, or even when experiencing the personal grief of losing a loved one.

Many of these questions and realities will be on the minds of the people who hear you this weekend when you say the words:“I will open your graves.”  These are not words to be spoken lightly by the lector.  They must be spoken by someone for whom trust has meaning, and by someone who has confidence that these words can provide comfort.

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Second Reading  -  Romans 8:8-11
I in You and You in me

This week’s Reflection on Lectoring spoke about our identity as children of a loving God.  It is an identity that can easily get lost in the everyday affairs of life.  It is surprisingly easy to lose sight of the fact that “the Spirit of God dwells in you.”  Nevertheless, it is precisely what today’s second reading insists is our most important, distinguishing characteristic. 

In the verses that follow today’s reading the same point is reemphasized: “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God” (8:14).  At the Last Supper Jesus made what may be the ultimate declaration of what makes us who we are when he said, “Remain in me as I remain in you” (John 15:4).

Every day we are intimately connected to God.  We remain his children.  We can be proud of our heritage.  And we can be confident of our true identity.

How do people discover their true identity?  Perhaps the last words of the second reading can reveal to your hearers at Mass part of the answer: “. . . through his Spirit dwelling in you.”

© George Fournier, 2014

Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 30, 2014

Reflection on Lectoring

“The truest beauty is the love of God, who definitively revealed himself to us in the paschal mystery.  The beauty of the liturgy is part of this mystery; it is a sublime expression of God’s glory and, in a certain sense, a glimpse of heaven on earth.”

                                                                        -  Sacramentum Caritatis

Heaven on earth.  That is what the above apostolic exhortation authored by Pope Benedict said about the liturgy.  It is an experience of beauty that transcends the ordinary without bypassing the images and symbols of everyday life.  Indeed, in the ordinary we can see a reflection or a trace of God’s divinity.

In his writings, Catholic theologian Hans von Balthasar strongly makes the case that once the perception of God’s innate beauty disappears, it becomes impossible for the ordinary person to see any value in being religious.   Once you can calculate every aspect of life and eliminate all mystery, there is no need for God (see: The God Question and Modern Man and The Glory of God).

Do the liturgy and the role of the lector keep the beauty and reality of God alive in our lives?  Does the liturgy allow us to see the sacred in our lives?  Is the liturgy truly an essential part of living as a complete human person?  

Lectors play an essential role in making God real to hundreds of people - that is what proclaiming the Scriptures is all about.  Even the most ordinary stories in Scripture such as tending sheep, banquets and physical good looks offer traces of the hand of God (see today’s first reading).

However, two things are necessary for this to happen.  The Holy Spirit must be behind the effort.  And the lector and everyone who participates in the liturgy must believe that the liturgy is truly “a glimpse of heaven on earth.”

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First Reading  -  1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a
Looking in the Right Direction

“The Lord looks into the heart.”

God was not too keen on the idea of a king for his Chosen People.  He was right. Their first king, Saul, soon disobeys God, and God tells Samuel to find a replacement.  That is where today’s first reading picks up the story.

At first, Samuel is not too happy with his assignment.  He is afraid that king Saul will kill him if he finds out what he is up to.  So God and Samuel cook up a little deception.  In the guise of offering a sacrifice, Samuel invites Jesse and his sons to a banquet.  When they get there, there is a surprise announcement waiting for them.

Even Samuel is in for a surprise.  God wants the youngest son to be king.

A few Sunday’s ago in a reading from the Book of Sirach, there is a verse that reads in part, “He understands man’s every deed” (15:19).  Today’s first reading demonstrates how well God understands peoples’ motivations and inclinations.  He knows in advance what will happen.  However, he does not interfere with our free will, no matter how much trouble we get ourselves into.

The story of Samuel, Saul and David makes the message of “living as children of the light” found in today’s second reading all the more imperative for our wellbeing.  We do not always see things as God sees them.  But our vision will be much improved if we look in the direction illuminated by the light provided by God.

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Second Reading  -  Ephesians 5:8-14

How to Live Despite What You May Have Been Told

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem!  Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.  See, darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples; but upon you the Lord shines, and over you appears his glory” (Isaiah 60:1-2).

This is the exuberant passage that was proclaimed a few months ago on the feast of the Epiphany.  Although today’s second reading is more toned down than Isaiah’s proclamation, it tells us that “the light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.”  In simple terms, there really is a way to be happy in life.

The people who attend Mass this weekend have just spent the week being told that happiness comes from possessing things.  The message that success is measured by what you own is in the very air they breathe.  And yet, you, as lector, are going to tell your hearers something completely different.  You are going to tell them to “live as children of light.”

Isaiah and Paul used two different approaches when talking about the light.  However, the truth of what they said has stood the test of time.  Perhaps that is why the need to hear that message never diminishes.  Perhaps that is why your proclamation will still be vitally important this weekend.

© George Fournier, 2014

Third Sunday of Lent
March 23, 2014

Reflection on Lectoring

“Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that full, conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy.”

                                                -  Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (No.10)

This week’s Reflection on Lectoring concludes our discussion of the assembly’s active participation in the proclamation of the Scriptures and the role of the lector in leading that participation.

Just what does “active participation” mean?  Aside from suggesting that worshipers at Mass should be more than passive observers, the postconciliar document entitled, “Musicam Sacram” or “Instruction on Music in the Liturgy” identifies two kinds of participation: internal and external.

Internal participation specifies that “the faithful join their mind to what they pronounce or hear, and cooperate with heavenly grace.”

The document also specifies an external participation wherein the faithful “show the internal participation by gestures and bodily attitudes, by the acclamations, responses and singing.”

There are parallels between the assembly’s response to the proclamation of the Word and to the words that are put to music.  Both involve the participation of the entire assembly.  Both involve some external response - whether a verbal response at the end of each reading, or the singing of hymns and responsorial acclamations.  Both also involve an internal participation in which worshipers find personal meaning in the words, and give praise and thanksgiving to God for the grace to find that meaning.

In their singing, people in the assembly are like a large orchestra with different sounding instruments, each person carrying the tune in his or her own way, with his or her own insights and life experiences.  In a similar way, the people in the assembly also hear and respond to the readings in their own unique and personal ways.

The role of the music minister who leads the assembly in song and the role of the lector who leads the assembly in the proclamation of the Word are remarkably similar.   One of the most important similarities of their roles is their responsibility to invite everyone to participate fully.

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First Reading  -  Exodus 17:3-7
Fragile Hopes

Hope, fear and trust are all mixed together in today’s first reading.  For hundreds of years while in Egypt, the chosen people hoped for the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham.  They hoped for a homeland of their own.  They hoped for a national and spiritual identity that would last.

How fragile hope can be.

Also true is how an immediate need can supersede long-term aspirations, and how fear can overcome trust. The Israelites had just seen hundreds of years of captivity come to an end.  They had just celebrated their freedom with a song, “I will sing to the Lord, for he is gloriously triumphant; horse and chariot he has cast into the sea, My strength and my refuge is the Lord, and he has become my savior” (Exodus 15:1-2).  They also had just seen quail and manna appear from nowhere so they could eat.

Now they were thirsty.  And their trust in God crumbled.

Our lector workbook suggests that the last line of today’s reading might be read with regret at the Israelites’ lack of faith.  Perhaps that is true.  Perhaps equally true is that faith, hope and trust can be very fragile.  Also true is that they often require constant strengthening by each one of us individually in prayer, and by all of us together in a community of faithful believers.  Your proclamation can be a source for keeping faith, hope and trust strong for all those who pray with you at Mass this weekend.

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Second Reading  -  Romans 5:1-2, 5-8

The Antidote to Fear

In today’s first reading we saw how an immediate, pressing need wiped out an entire people’s confidence.  We were left wondering if there is an antidote to intense fear and fleeting hope.

In today’s second reading Paul says there is.

He does more than simply say, “hope does not disappoint.”  Hope must have a foundation.   The last verse of today’s second reading offers us that foundation.  “But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.”

This reading presents a challenge.  Do I really have faith even when fear tries to push out hope?  Do I really believe in God’s love when our human experience of love is scarce or has been taken away?

As you think about the last verse of today’s second reading ask yourself do you really believe what you are about to tell hundreds of people sitting in front of you at Mass this weekend?

© George Fournier, 2014

Second Sunday of Lent
March 16, 2014

Reflection on Lectoring

In last week’s Reflection on Lectoring we suggested that lectors should invite their hearers to join with them in an active reflection on the Scriptures in a way similar to their joining together in prayer and worship during other parts of the Mass.

How does the lector make this invitation?

The Gospel from a few weekends ago offers part of the answer.  Pope Francis offers another part.

In the fifth chapter of Mathew’s Gospel, Jesus speaks about the beatitudes, immediately followed by the description of those who demonstrate those beatitudes in their lives.  They are described as “salt of the earth,” “light of the world” and a “city on a mountain.”  They are people worth listening to because their concern is for others.

In the same way, lectors must approach their ministry with a sincere concern for others.  A very real and personal concern for the people with whom they worship.

However, being “city on a mountain” does not mean standing above everyone else.  Pope Francis certainly qualifies as a “light to the world,” but he does not stand apart from the world.  He is comfortable talking with refugees, sinners and sick people.  He is the kind of person who would happily wave to a stranger on the street.

People are naturally drawn to people who genuinely care about them and treat them as friends.

Effective lectoring requires effectively connecting with others.   Effective connecting requires genuine caring for others. The next time you serve as a lector remember you are talking to your friends.   Your friends will accept your invitation to meditate with you on the Scriptures.

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First Reading  -  Genesis 12:1-4a
Cast Adrift

There are times in life when you can feel completely cast adrift.  When you lose a loved one.  When you lose a job.  When you can’t find a sense of direction.  When you feel alone.

In today’s first reading it is easy to see only a simple story of obedience.  Abram is getting up in age, living comfortably, and looking forward to retirement.  Then God comes along and tells him to pack up his belongings and go to a foreign land where his new neighbors might not be as friendly.

There certainly was reason to be apprehensive.  Very quickly a famine hits, and Abram becomes concerned for his life when the Egyptian Pharaoh has designs on his wife.  You can read for yourself how this part of the story turns out.

However, despite all the turmoil and the uncertainty about the path ahead, Abram had something extremely valuable going for him.  He did not have to feel cast adrift.  He did not have to feel alone. God made it very clear to Abram about what he should do, and what would happen if he did it.

For people who feel uncertain about the proper direction their life should take, a simple reading of Abram’s story may not be very satisfying.  It does not often happen that things are so clearly spelled out.  This is a reading that must be read with an empathetic understanding of the variety of feelings experienced by those who hear it.

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Second Reading  -  2 Timothy 1:8b-10
From Abraham, to Paul, to Timothy to You 

Today’s second reading is also about following the path laid out by God.  However, it is a description of that path offered by someone who has come to the end of the line.

In this second letter to Timothy, Paul says, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race” (4:7).  In this letter he also complains of loneliness and abandonment, “You know that everyone in Asia deserted me” (1:15). Unlike in the first reading, Paul’s description of the path is mixed with personal sadness and a recognition that his time on earth is short.

In this letter Paul also acknowledges that it is Timothy’s turn to guide the church in Ephesus.  It has not been easy for Paul, and it will not be easy for Timothy, “Bear your share of hardship for the gospel.”  But, as with Abram, Timothy can be confident that God has “his own design” for how it should be done.

It is a challenge for every Christian to acknowledge his or her real feelings while also believing that God also understands those feelings.  They are, in fact, part of his plan.  As with the first reading, a proclamation of this reading should avoid the suggestion that God’s plan is always easy to discern.  Perhaps proclaiming the last part of today’s second reading with real conviction might offer some reassurance, “. . .  our savior Christ Jesus, who destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.”

© George Fournier, 2014

First Sunday of Lent
March 9, 2014

Reflection on Lectoring

“The Christian faithful who come together as one in expectation of the Lord’s coming are instructed by the Apostle Paul to sing together Psalms, hymns, and spiritual canticles.”

                                               - General Instruction of the Roman Missal

At Mass the entire assembly is encouraged to participate fully in the singing of hymns and psalms.  Singing is a communal act of worship in which all should actively participate.

You may ask yourself how this relates to the proclamation of the Word.  Can the assembly actively participate in some fashion?  Or should their most appropriate response be characterized as “attentive listening” so as not to miss anything that is being said to them?

In last week’s Reflection on Lectoring we suggested that lectors do more than just speak clearly in a manner that facilitates attentive listening.  Rather, lectors work hard to eliminate the distance between them and their hearers.  They offer an invitation to gather in a shared space to fully experience the wonder of God speaking directly to them.  Lectors invite the assembly to engage their hearts and minds in a joint act of worship.

Lectors come from the assembly when they approach the ambo, but they never leave the assembly behind.   The ambo is a place from which to reverence the Scriptures.  Not a place to separate the lector from the assembly.

For lectors there is a difference between providing a service and performing a ministry.  A service can be something requiring no interpersonal connection between the service provider and the service recipient.

Ministry can never be like that.  Lectoring can never be like that.  The act of proclaiming the Scriptures requires the entire assembly’s very active and very mutual participation.

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First Reading  -  Genesis 2:7-9, 3:1-7
O Happy Fault

O felix culpa - O happy fault.  These words are taken from the Exsultet sung during the Easter Vigil.  It was the sin of Adam that necessitated the birth of a savior who would restore the possibility of salvation to our fallen nature.

It is possible to see in today’s first reading nothing more than a story of tragic loss.  Had Adam and Eve not sinned, they would have continued to live in a state of idyllic bliss.  And, after a period of time on earth, they would then move on to heaven.

While this state of affairs may seem highly desirable, it also seems somewhat fanciful.  A life without struggle is beyond any narrative that any human being has ever experienced.  And that includes Jesus.

One phrase toward the end of the first reading is especially significant when reflecting on our human condition: “Then the eyes of both of them were opened.”  Evil had become for Adam and Eve, and for all of us, a reality that people living in Eden could not understand.

Evil is a still a mystery that we cannot fully understand.  But we know that it is real.  Nevertheless, we can also be certain that God continues to love us.  And his love is a very real part of our human condition.

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Second Reading  -  Romans 5:12-19
No Comparison

For a summary statement of today’s second reading from Romans, you might read the verse that immediately follows the reading.  In part it says, “but, where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more.”

In today’s first reading we reflected on the Fall - an event sometimes referred to as the “happy fault,” the fault that necessitated the Incarnation and the sacrifice of the cross.

Today’s second reading goes one step further, stressing that Jesus did more than just balance the scales.  He did more than just make up for Adam’s sin.  “The gift is not like the transgression.”  “And the gift is not like the result of the one who sinned.”

The season of Lent follows an inevitable trajectory to the cross.  During the course of six weeks we are reminded of our culpability in the tragedy.  We acknowledge our rejection of our savior.

Nevertheless, the cross is also a clear demonstration of how much God loves us.  Somehow we remain lovable to a God who has the kind of love that surpasses anything we can fully comprehend.

© George Fournier, 2014