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The linkages among today's Mass readings offer opportunities for contemplation on several levels. Intercessory prayer is one of them. In the first reading from Exodus, the Lord tells Moses that the Hebrew people have made for themselves a molten calf that they are worshiping, "sacrificing to it and crying out, 'This is your God, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!'" (Exodus 32:8). These actions by God's People, whom He has just saved from their 400-plus year bondage by the Egyptians, seem unthinkable to us. How could they so easily and quickly forget what God has just done for them?

In the first reading, Isaiah tells us, “In a time of favor I answer you, on the day of salvation I help you.”

“Do you want to be well?” Scary question. But Jesus is good at asking scary questions. Like “who do you say that I am?” and “can you not stay awake with me for one hour?” What's scary about the question Jesus asks the man at the Bethesda Pool is that the answer should be obvious to any right-thinking person: “Yes! I want to be well!” That another answer is even possible seems, well, scary. To respond – “No, I don't want to be well” – points to a disease and a dis-ease deeper than anything physical. To fail to recognize that this response reveals a fundamental dis-ease is even scarier.

Like so many stories from the Scripture, this one is so familiar that we sort of ‘take it for granted’.  That seems to be the way Jesus is feeling in this reading: “A prophet is not welcome in his hometown.”  He is familiar and the locals from his town don’t see beyond the carpenter’s son.  Perhaps, it’s short sightedness or jealousy (he’s getting too much attention/recognition).  At any rate, they seem to take him for granted.

Where St. Paul says that Christ became sin, he does not mean that he was a sinner. “Sin” describes the unsettledness of the human condition. Women and men can live holy lives, much like angels whose only desire is to serve the Lord. Unfortunately, many choose the opposite. They focus on selfish pursuits. They do not think of God, much less of others. The second son in the parable of today’s gospel opts for the egotistical road.

This passage from today’s Gospel reminds me of an experience I had in my early days in Religious life. As I crossed the threshold into the convent, I wanted to mark the moment with a special prayer. Under my breath I prayed, “Holy Spirit, help me to love others as you love them.” This prayer would be answered time and time again throughout my Novitiate. I was entering in the 7th group of a burgeoning Dominican community. There were 48 women all under one roof. You can imagine the clashes with the various personalities. But why do personalities clash? Is it because we are all women? Or is it because we, in our fallen human nature, tend to make ourselves greater than those around us? Isn’t it true if someone rubs us the wrong way, we are quick to place the blame on them without a thought to our own devices?

In the midst of daily routine, the Holy Spirit of God invites Mary, in some mysterious way to bear Jesus, the savior of the world. Mary’s strength of body is matched only by her sense of logic and inquisitiveness as she engages God actively with her questions, “How can this be…” (LK 1:34). After hearing the answer, Mary responds to the invitation with her whole being, “Yes!”

It is no news for me to mention the great divides that exist in our lives these days. We know that division exists in just about every corner of our lives. Starting in our own homes, or communities, we see divisions in our church, our society, our government, our country, and our world. Unfortunately, these divisions spill over into violence and death at times to often.

Today’s Gospel contains an interesting element if a person is receptive to it. Jesus tells his disciples: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets.” “I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Jesus is talking about the Mosaic law. In our modern time cafeteria Christians are not uncommon. They chose to believe this and not that. According to some scholars, there was 1600 years between Moses, the Passover and the birth of Christ. The Mosaic law was still being practiced from the First Covenant at Mount Sinai, and he is telling the disciples something important about change.

We probably need some context for what is happening in the first reading. (Or you can read all of Daniel 3 and skip this paragraph). King Nebuchadnezzar built an idol out of gold and ordered everyone to fall down and worship it, or they would be burned alive. Three administrators (Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego/Azariah) refused to worship it because they recognized the LORD as the One true God. Thus, Nebuchadnezzar was enraged and ordered to heat the furnace seven times more than usual, to bound up these three administrators, and to throw them into the fire. However, the three were not consumed by the fire; instead, they praised God while dancing in the fire. That’s the reading we have today, a prayer of petition for continual help and recognition of God’s greatness. By the end of the chapter, Nebuchadnezzar recognized that the three men worshipped the true God and decreed that everyone worship the LORD instead.

The Aramean military leader, Naaman, was a man who at first glance appeared to have everything going for him. There was only one thing that detracted from his overall image of power and success. He had leprosy. His skin disease seemed to be making him more desperate by the day. Finally, God called to Naaman in an unexpected form - a young Israelite girl captured in a raid who was now a slave in Naaman’s home. The girl’s faith was so strong it inspired Naaman to seek out a cure for his problem.

At first, the parable of the fig tree in the Gospel according to Luke (13: 1-9) seems to convey a harsh and unjust owner who is willing to uproot and, thus, kill the tree for not having figs. But, as in all the parables of Jesus, the meaning of this parable is quite the opposite; it’s about mercy and “agape” love.

It is so easy to “put Joseph on a pedestal with a lily in his hand.” Or reduce him to the phrase: “he was a righteous man.” But Joseph was a husband, a foster father, a human person.

"What is to be gained by killing our brother and concealing his blood?" This was Judah's way to persuade his brothers to save the life of his brother Joseph. Thanks to Judah's intervention, Joseph was not killed but sold to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. In Jesus’ parable, we hear a similar story about a landowner who sent his son to the tenants to obtain his produce and was killed by the tenants. The landowner thought ‘They will respect my son.’ But instead, the tenants said to one another ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’

The most pitiable of all creatures in the scene of Lazarus and the Rich man is the rich man. For his life is a game of taking calculated risks at his ability to profit from others. Lazarus is a zero-sum game for the rich man: 100% risk, no return… in worldly thinking. Lazarus is Christ offering the rich man eternal life – wealth beyond his wildest dreams, treasure like no other. The rich man is blinded by his love of the world. Like most modern-day wealthy narcissists, there probably exists behind this man a trail of tears of those from whom he has profited and left hurt or harmed, those perhaps with whom he was dishonest in conduct and speech, and perhaps a trail of others whose reputations he destroyed with words in order that he might elevate himself. All the rich man’s trust was in human beings. Somewhere in the rich man is a part of all of us. All of Lazarus’ trust was in God, yet his needs could only be met by other human beings. Lazarus’ trust was certainly not in the rich man’s response.

In today's Gospel, Christ speaks three times on how to be humble. First, he shares with his disciples that he will soon be mocked and scourged and crucified, even though he is the Messiah who has come to save them. Second, he tells the sons of Zebedee that they, too, will one day drink from the chalice of suffering just like him. Third, he teaches his disciples as a group that those who wish to be great must be servants, "for the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve." Each of these statements provide examples of how we should be humble, but also present the promises of Christ: that he will be raised on the third day, that the Father has prepared a place for those who suffer with Christ, and that those who serve others shall become great.

Perhaps we have at one time or another experienced or reflected upon that common feeling of excessive guilt bordering on scrupulosity often referred to as “Catholic guilt.”  It is a phenomenon that can plague both practicing and non-practicing Catholics alike and can be the result of shame over past actions or a general sense that one is inherently bad.  It is especially burdensome when it begins to feel as if one’s sins cannot be forgiven or as if there is no hope for ever meeting the high moral standards the Church holds. In some ways Jesus’s words for the scribes and Pharisees in today’s Gospel describe this scenario well: “They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them.”  The season of Lent, sadly, can mistakenly be interpreted in this way as a time to reinforce guilt over our sins through penances and fasting.

Lent is a period of intimately uniting ourselves to Christ, of embracing what He underwent to better understand–not only His glory–but His love for us. This love is expressed in His merciful acts, and those merciful acts culminate with His forgiveness toward our tawdry transgressions. In the first reading of today, the prophet Daniel’s contrite heart acknowledges–not only the awesome might of God, that is, His mercy–but his sins as well. We join Daniel’s chorus by exclaiming: “Lord, do not deal with us according to our sins.” Like Daniel, we acknowledge Him as Lord, and recognize our sins–all the while we petition for His love, mercy, and forgiveness to wash over our souls. Thus, we come to a gradual understanding that His words are Spirit and Life. More specifically, of everlasting life.

What makes Peter so lovable is that he is so relatable always blurting out the kinds of things we might say or think. Today’s Gospel is no exception. Awaking from sleep along with John and James, he sees Jesus transfigured and conversing with Moses and Elijah. He proposes pitching camp, so they won’t have to leave.