Joyce's Blog

12^th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Our first reading this weekend is a mourning rite. (John J. Pilch) But just who is being mourned is unclear. Christians readily identify “him whom they have pierced” with Jesus. But the ministry of the prophet Zechariah predates Jesus by 500 years. Zechariah prophesied during a time of discouragement for the Jews. Although many of the Hebrews had returned from Babylonian exile, the temple had not been completed; Jerusalem had not been restored. The people of Judah felt that the Lord had forsaken them. Zechariah’s prophecy is a beacon of hope: God will give his people a new spirit that will cleanse them from their sins.
Because of their grievous transgressions, the lamenting will be extreme, “the kind of grief brought on by the death of a firstborn or an only son. Such grief arises from more than profound emotional attachment. This is a child on whom hangs the hopes of the future; the one who will carry the bloodline into the next generation. This child is the next generation. To mourn such a child is to grieve the irretrievable loss of one’s future.” (Sr. Dianne Bergant)
Zechariah next compares the grief to the mourning of “Hadadrimmon in the plain of Megiddo.” This passage continues to baffle scripture scholars. Some believe Hadadrimmon is a compound of two names, Hadad and Rimmon, Syrian nature deities, whose demise was ceremonially mourned each year at the end of the growing season. Others believe Hadadrimmon was a sanctuary on the plain of Megiddo for the worship of Hadad-Rimmon, god of thunder. Some scholars surmise that it was a place of human sacrifice, perhaps of the first-born, given Zechariah’s reference to the loss of an only son. Although the exact meaning is lost, Hadadrimmon seems to have represented the acme of desperate grief. (Jewish Encyclopedia)
Zechariah’s reference to “the plain of Megiddo” would likewise call to mind great suffering. Megiddo was an ancient fortress near the mouth of the Jezreel Valley in modern-day Israel. Some historians believe that this city was the site of more battles than any other place in history. It guarded the Via Maris, the Way of the Sea, the most important trade route between Egypt and Mesopotamia. Virtually every invading army that came through the region fought battles for control of not only Megiddo but the whole Jezreel Valley. Perhaps this is why the author of Revelation chose Armageddon, a corruption of the Hebrew Har Megiddo (the mount of Megiddo), as the place where the cataclysmic battle between the forces of good and evil will unfold at the end of time.
The reading ends on a promise that “in the day of the Lord,” the inhabitants of Jerusalem will be washed clean of their sins. “They are my people, “says the Lord. And God’s people will answer, “The Lord is my God.” (13:9)

11^th Sunday in Ordinary Time
“Pardoned! After all the things she’d done wrong, after all the investigations, all the court proceedings, all the years on death row -- pardoned, for no reason other than sheer mercy. How could she possibly tell the governor what this release from prison meant to her? What would she say if she met him face to face -- a no-account, murdering prostitute speaking to the highest authority in the state? ‘Worry about the words later, honey. Worry about the clothes now’ The charcoal gray dress -- she’d never be recognized. She gathered her long tresses into a neat French twist and plunged a wooden hair clasps into the center to hold it in place. She reached for her cologne, then thought better of it and slipped it into her purse. ‘For later maybe.’ She didn’t want to risk offending the governor. Didn’t she owe him? For her life. Her freedom. Her soul. For everything. The honored guest at tonight’s public reception was the man who’d unlocked her prison cell door. One way or another she intended to show her gratitude for his eleventh-hour pardon.”
So begins Liz Curtis Higgs’ short story, “I Beg Your Pardon,” inspired by the “sinful woman” in today’s gospel. The scene, a dinner, or perhaps, more correctly, a banquet, hosted by Simon, a respected Pharisee, in honor of the rabbi, Jesus. Though Simon obviously wanted to be seen with this powerful healer, he ignored the rules of common hospitality. Typically, a basin would be provided so guests could wash their feet; for honored guests a servant washed their feet. Scented olive oil was offered to anoint a guest’s hair and a kiss of welcome was the norm. Simon offered none of these marks of a gracious host.
Enter the “sinful woman.” Says William Barclay, “It was the custom that when a Rabbi was at a meal in such a house, all kinds of people came in -- they were quite free to do so -- to listen to the pearls of wisdom which fell from his lips.” Though her reputation was known throughout the city, it is interesting that Simon made no attempt to keep her out. She stood at the feet of Jesus and wept so hard her tears bathed his feet. Then she did the unspeakable: she let down her hair in public, wiped his feet with her hair and then kissed them, a sign of deep reverence for this man. Her last expression of love: she extravagantly poured the precious contents of her alabaster jar over his feet. This woman provided the hospitality Simon had neglected. And she was rewarded with unconditional forgiveness.
In his homily on April 15, Pope Benedict said, “We Christians have often avoided the word penance, which seemed too harsh to us. Now..we see that being able to do penance is a grace, and we see how it is necessary to do penance, that is, to recognize what is mistaken in our life, to open oneself to forgiveness, to prepare oneself for forgiveness, to allow oneself to be transformed. The pain of penance, that is to say of purification and of transformation, this pain is grace…”
The heart that has been forgiven is deep enough to hold the love of God and to share it with others. Extravagance begets extravagance. May our prayer this week be for a forgiven and a forgiving heart.

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