Homily at Our Lady of the Valleys for the 2nd Sunday of Lent, Year B.
“I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though — I do not know the way.”
In this classic line from The Lord of the Rings, the hobbit Frodo Baggins sets out on a quest to do the right thing. Other companions pledge themselves to him: “I will give you my sword” – “and my bow” – “and my axe” declare his allies. These will become the Fellowship of the Ring. But ultimately they are pledging themselves to a cause, not to a person; and this is typical of the adventures we see on our screens all the time.
On the side of Right, we generally have some noble cause that everyone can get behind. If the team have already saved the world, then now it’s probably some threat to the whole universe or even the Multiverse. If we’re dealing with a much more local kind of hero, it’s someone trying to do the right thing to redeem a terrible mistake. In the bad corner, there’s usually some kind of evil genius. If they have henchmen, these are either motivated by money, because the big bad can pay them well – or by power, because they hope to one-day replace the big boss as controller of the evil Empire.
Do you see the subtle message? Noble causes are good. Powerful individuals are bad. Even the most righteous comic book hero can be corrupted: Batman forms a plan to defeat Superman should the Man of Steel ever turn from trusty to rusty. The atheist Philip Pullman took this to the extreme with the series of novels called His Dark Materials, in which we gradually discover that Pullman’s equivalent of the Christian God is actually a power-mad angel with dementia who has now been overthrown in the Republic of Heaven.
What we find in the Bible is something totally different. Abraham has not pledged himself to a noble cause; he’s fallen in love with a person, and that person is God, who created the universe. But neither are we dealing with a romantic comedy. This is not a person in love throwing all reason out of the window to do something for the beloved.
No. The Bible offers us something unique. God who loves us, who offers us love in return, and who embodies goodness and righteousness itself. This is why Jesus keeps pointing to himself in his preaching. I am the Bread of Life – eat me! I am the Good Shepherd – follow me! I am the true vine – stay attached to me! To reinforce this message, Peter, James and John hear the voice of the Father Himself speaking from heaven: “Jesus is my beloved Son. Listen to him. Follow him. Obey him.”
Listen. Follow. Obey. Demanding words! We’ve just heard one of the most uncomfortable stories in the whole Bible. God says to Abraham, “Go sacrifice your son, your only begotten son” and Abraham meekly gathers up what he needs and makes his way to the top of the mountain. The Bible clearly tells us that this is a good thing; it is the very reason that Abraham is rewarded with descendants too numerous to count.
What isn’t obvious, but is really important, is that Isaac too is a willing victim. Maybe at the beginning, he doesn’t realise that he is meant to be the sacrifice, for he asks why they are not bringing a creature to offer to God. When he does realise what is meant to happen, he allows his father to bind him. In that culture, a parent would be understood to have the power of life or death over their child, even as adult; in our day, when we tend to focus on individual rights, the story might have been told emphasising that Isaac too would be rewarded with innumerable descendants, because of his own willingness to become a victim to satisfy the demands of God.
In St John’s Gospel, we read that God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son to be a sacrifice for our sins; but later in the same gospel, Jesus says that he lays down his own life, and takes it up again. So it’s the wrong question to ask whether it was the father’s choice, or the son’s, that Isaac should be sacrificed, or that Jesus should die upon the cross; both father and son understood what was required, both of them consented to the sacrifice that needed to be made.
Today, I’m not going to focus on that deep question of why our Lord had to die for our sins. Rather I want to focus on Abraham, and Isaac, responding to God’s request with obedience. In the end, they didn’t have to ask why it was necessary for Abraham to sacrifice the son who was promised; they just had to be certain that this is really what God was asking of them. And for both of them, if they knew that God willed it, that would be sufficient reason to go ahead.
The question for each one of us today, is this. How willing would I be to obey a direct command from God? Do I follow the teachings of the Catholic Church because I happen to agree with them, or because I believe they have a special authority which comes directly from God? If I only follow instructions that I agree with, then I’ve set myself up as God’s judge. But if I believe Jesus is Lord, and I know that someone is speaking with the voice of Jesus, then I don’t need to pass judgement on what is asked; I must obey my Lord and trust that what He asks will work out for the best.
Do you trust Jesus to always guide you to do the right thing?
Do you trust the official teachings of the Catholic Church to speak with the voice of Jesus?
I will carry the Cross God chooses for me. “I will take the Ring to Mordor.” And I do know the way: His Name is Jesus Christ, my love and my Lord.