Sister Eloise Rosenblatt

Father Carroll O’Sullivan, SJ, a dearly loved chaplain for the Sisters of Mercy in Burlingame, once said, “We pray to become someone, not to get something.” This is the message of Luke’s shorter version of “The Our Father.” In today’s Gospel, one of the disciples sees Jesus praying and asks him “Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples.” In Genesis, Abraham pleaded with God to spare the residents of Sodom and Gomorrah - that the good character of a minority be enough to spare annihilation of an evil majority. In Luke the disciple also acts as a representative for others. “Teach us,” not just, “Teach me.” The first quality of a person of prayer is self-understanding as a mediator. Praying makes us a bridge-person, a go-between.

The account of Lazarus’ revival from the tomb includes John’s version of Jesus’ fear of his own death. In the synoptic Gospels this terror is described as the agony in the garden, on the eve of his arrest, crucifixion and death.

It’s probably not historically exact: The scenic image of Mary setting out alone from Nazareth astride a donkey, concerned to visit her older cousin, six-months pregnant Elizabeth, in the hilly village of Ain Kerem, outside Jerusalem. The journey, straight as the crow flies, is 65 miles or 104 kilometers. In Mary’s day, the road would have detoured along the western edge of Israel, closer to the Mediterranean, to avoid passing directly through unfriendly Samaria. No single woman – old or young – would have traveled four or five days alone, exposed to danger like the man who fell victim to thieves, memorialized in Luke’s parable of the good samaritan.

In Numbers, Moses feels overwhelmed by his responsibilities for a restive people in the desert. He begs God for help. God’s response could have been thunder and lightning, to awe the Israelites into submission, so they would stop complaining or interfering, and passively surrender to Moses’ decision-making.