3rd Sunday of Lent

            I have a couple of questions I hope will be answered someday.  They are not profound, but I’m curious nonetheless.  First, why is it that whenever I do laundry I always have an extra sock?  I use the same clothesbasket, the same washing machine and the same dryer.  Where do they go?  Second—and you may see a pattern emerge—how do I keep losing things?  I’ve known this about myself for twenty-nine years, and I still lose sunglasses, cell phones, keys and even my running shoes.  Where is all my stuff?  I pray that, if I get to heaven, there will be a lost-and-found box for me to pickup…and it will probably be full of socks!

            I use these humorous examples to illustrate a fact not only about myself but also about us all.  My former spiritual director stated this fact succinctly as he used to tell me, “Ben, you are a mystery.”  (I should add that my parents used other words to describe me!)  For you married couples, you know that, despite living with your spouse for years or even decades, you still do not fully understand them.  While I’m not married, I do know that you women are utterly mysterious and no man will ever comprehend you.  We are all mysteries, and that is a good feature of our humanity—it keeps things exciting, fresh and new.

            God Himself is the greatest mystery of all.  In the first reading we are reminded how God revealed Himself to Moses in the burning bush that was not consumed.  He spoke through this bush (is that mysterious enough?) and revealed His name—I AM WHO I AM.  This name has kept philosophers and theologians busy for centuries and we don’t even know how to pronounce this name—YHWH—in Hebrew. 

            Jesus touches on another mystery of human life—suffering.  And he clarifies a crucial point—the men of Galilee and at Siloam did not die because of their sins.  This was precisely the belief of the Israelites of the Old Testament.  If you got sick, it was because you sinned.  If the nation was defeated, it was because they sinned.  Jesus shows that it isn’t because of sins that good people suffer, but because that is part of the mystery of God.

            Yet God doesn’t leave us alone.  He provides mysteries of life to confront the mysteries of suffering and death.  In the early Church the Greek word mysterion was used to describe the sacraments.  And what an apt word.  How else should we describe the fact that a little water and a simple prayer eternally changes a soul?  Or that a short conversation with a priest leads to forgiveness of sins?  Or that bread and wine become Jesus’ Body and Blood at Mass?

            We praise God for the gift of mysteries in our lives.  Whether ourselves, loved ones, God and the sacraments, these mysteries keep us going and life interesting.  And the Eucharist—the greatest mystery—will feed us for another week in our Lenten journey.