Third Sunday of Lent
Readings: GENESIS 15:5–12, 17–18, PSALM 26(27):1, 7–9, 13–14, PHILIPPIANS 3:17–4:1, LUKE 9:28–36
23 March 2025
Gospel Reflection: Conviction, not condemnation
As we accompany Jesus this holy season, we started in the depths of temptation and weakness, and followed him to the heights of the transfiguration and contemplatio. But we know that Lent leads us inexorably to Jerusalem, and to the events of Holy Week. At the Last Supper, the Lord consoles us with promises of the Holy Spirit, whom he sends as our Advocate. When the Holy Spirit comes, Jesus explained, he convicts the world of its sin (Jn 16:8). In contrast, the devil condemns the world.
That juxtaposition illuminates our Lord’s warning in today’s Gospel. “Unless you repent,” he tells us, “you will all perish” (Lk 13:3). Unless you repent. This, right there, is what differentiates conviction from condemnation. Conviction fosters guilt, which in turn invites conversion—metanoia. Conviction offers hope for something different. Condemnation is nothing like that. Condemnation fosters shame, not guilt. Guilt is a catalyst for change, which leads us to the light. Shame does the opposite. Shame compels us to stay in the dark; to hide. Shame thrives on secrecy and silence. When we’re condemned, we get stuck in our past; stuck in our sinfulness. We let our sins define us. That is the work of the devil. Satan defines us by our past and fosters despair.
Condemnation fosters shame, not guilt. Guilt is a catalyst for change, which leads us to the light. Shame does the opposite. Shame compels us to stay in the dark; to hide.
At the moment of death, we will stand before God the Son and render an account for the time we were given. Did we love as he loves? Was our life fruitful? St Jerome had a near death experience which illustrates what awaits us. Jerome’s funeral arrangements were underway when he found himself before the Divine Throne, blinded by light. He saw nothing, but he heard several voices. An account was sought: “Who are you?” “I am a Christian,” Jerome tremulously replied. “You lie,” the voice declared. “You are a Ciceronian [an expert on the study of the works of Cicero]. For where thy treasure is, there will thy heart be also.” Jerome blushed at the memory of his secular library which he clung to, and indulged in, even as he detached himself from everything else.
He was condemned to be scourged by a cruel lash, and Jerome’s conscience silenced him. But other voices spoke in his defence. “He is young.” “Give him another chance.” “He can do much good.” Jerome joined this chorus and promised to spurn worldly authors and devote himself solely to the Scriptures. With that, Jerome was returned to life, shocking the attendants who were preparing his body for burial. As Jerome related what he experienced, they were astonished to see wounds on his back, sustained by the lashing he described.
God is not out to get us, eager to exercise divine retribution. God is a gardener who lovingly tends to us.
We might take the voice which condemned Jerome to be God’s and imagine that the voices which defended him belonged to the angels and saints, chief among them Our Lady, who also intervened at Cana. But the parable in today’s Gospel suggests another possibility. Perhaps the devil interrogated Jerome and condemned him. Perhaps it was God the Father, and God the Holy Spirit—our Advocate—who sprung to Jerome’s defence.
The parable of the fig tree makes one thing clear: God is not out to get us, eager to exercise divine retribution. God is a gardener who lovingly tends to us: “Leave it one more year. Give me time to bestow more blessings. To bring out the best.” As Jesus calls us to metanoia, he offers us hope. We grasp it with both hands.
Fr John Corrigan
Spiritual Direction: From the inside out
Here Jesus has told a story of two people who were looking at the same tree and seeing it differently—one looking perhaps from the viewpoint of efficiency and productivity, and the other from the viewpoint of compassion and hope. We so often tend to see things through different lenses and then wonder why others can’t see what we see!
In the book Mr God This is Anna, the author and narrator Fynn, recounts the time when fouryear- old Anna was looking through a telescope. As was her want, she automatically drew a comparison with her constant companion, Mr God, and shared it with Fynn: “I know the difference between Mr God and people. Mr God looks at things from the inside out, and people look at things from the outside in.” I wonder if that is what was happening with the two men in today’s Gospel account. What we find is so often a matter of how we look at things.
I remember in my young days in religious life visiting a home in a very socially disadvantaged area. I was arranging for the Confirmation of one of the children in the parish. I took along one of our quite elderly sisters, Mother Mary Thecla, who was visiting our outpost at the time. The smell in that house was unbelievable. It looked as though someone had simply picked up the contents of a garbage bin and strewn it all over the floor. The woman whose house it was offered us a seat. Space had to be cleared and a mangy bad-tempered cat dislodged from a stained chair to make that possible. Mother thanked our host most graciously—one would have thought she was in Buckingham Palace. Then we were offered a cup of tea. I saw the woman grab two absolutely filthy cups and run her hand around the inside with cold water. I was almost sick trying to think of a way out of this when I heard Mother say, “How kind, thank you. That would be lovely.” I have no idea how I swallowed the tea, but Mother Mary Thecla relished every sip and expressed her obvious gratitude. I have never forgotten that visit. Mother engaged with this woman at a level of respect of which I was incapable. She saw the person the way God did; she looked at her from the inside out. As we left, I clearly remember the way the woman helped her down the three front steps; I saw the way she bade Mother goodbye, and I noticed a new demeanour. Metanoia had happened as though she had grown a couple of metres in stature because someone had come to her home, not her house, and had found it not wanting.
Metanioa had happened as though she had grown a couple of metres in statue because someone had come to her home, not her house, and had found it not wanting.
Metanioa came to me that day, too. My heart was changed as I began to wonder what Mother had seen that I had missed. I only saw a dirty house and an unkempt woman. Mother saw a lonely, depressed woman who could not cope. I saw someone I wanted to write off as being incapable. Mother saw someone who needed acceptance and encouragement. Mother looked from the inside out. Like the gardener in the Gospel account, she was saying: “Give things a little time, treat the person with what is really needed, and let’s see what happens.”
I heard later that her heart had been touched, too. She told everyone that she wished she was 40 years younger so she could go back and live in that place, too. And why not? She was at home in the heart of God.
Mother Hilda Scott OSB
Artist Spotlight
The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree (c. 1585) Carl Rahl (1812–1865) Oil on Canvas, 25 cm x 31.5 cm. Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna, Austria. Public Domain.
The theme of metanoia is well brought out in the parable of today’s Gospel. Jesus was a clever catechist, using images from nature easily identifiable by his audience. He uses the parable to illustrate his plea, “Unless you repent.” It was the cry of John the Baptist at the beginning of the Gospel story.
But repentance, literally, a re-think, does not always happen suddenly. It may take time to let go of a former way of life. In Carl Rahl’s painting The Parable of the Barren Fig Tree, the vineyard owner, dressed in a bold red robe, stands tall and points assertively at the lifeless tree. His stern expression conveys clear frustration as the tree has failed to bear fruit for three years. With its broad, barren trunk, the fig tree symbolises impending destruction, contrasted by the green bushes and plants on the left of the painting.
But the gardener is kneeling and pleading. He wears a simple tunic, his expression marked by concern, embodying both hope and patience. The whole scene highlights the tension between justice and mercy.
St Peter, of course, experienced Christ’s Gospel as the Gospel of the Second Chance. And St Paul saw himself as “the greatest evidence of Christ’s inexhaustible patience” (1 Tm 1:16). No matter what our past may have been, this Lent, God is giving us another chance. Our barren selves can be brought back to life with the nourishment especially of the sacraments. On Easter Sunday, Christ will appear to Mary Magdalen as the Divine Gardener of souls.
Carl Rahl was born in Vienna in 1812 into a family deeply rooted in the arts, with his father being a renowned portrait painter. This early exposure ignited his passion for painting. Throughout his life, Rahl travelled extensively across Europe, drawing inspiration from the great masters of the Renaissance and Baroque periods. He made a lasting impact on the art world, especially through his grand murals and frescoes that focused on historical themes. His work is celebrated for its technical brilliance and the emotional intensity it conveys. Rahl passed away in Vienna in 1865.
Monsignor Graham Schmitzer
Fr John Corrigan is an assistant priest in the Diocese of Ballarat. He currently ministers in the parish of Sunraysia, centred on Mildura in the far north of Victoria, although he is also known in other parts for his “Blog of a Country Priest,” and for regular appearances on Network Ten and Foxtel’s Mass For You At Home.
Mother Hilda Scott OSB is the former abbess of the Benedictine Sisters at Jamberoo Abbey, NSW. Before becoming abbess, she served as prioress, novice mistress, and vocation director, and engaged in spiritual direction, retreat giving, and talks at the Abbey Retreat Cottages. She gained wider recognition through the ABC TV documentary, The Abbey. Before 1990, she was in a different religious order, teaching, working with youth and children, and doing pastoral work in parishes. Just before joining Jamberoo, she lived in a caravan park among the most disadvantaged in society.
Monsignor Graham Schmitzer is the retired parish priest of Immaculate Conception Parish in Unanderra, NSW. He was ordained in 1969 and has served in many parishes in the Diocese of Wollongong. He was also chancellor and secretary to Bishop William Murray for 13 years. He grew up in Port Macquarie and was educated by the Sisters of St Joseph of Lochinvar. For two years he worked for the Department of Attorney General and Justice before entering St Columba’s College, Springwood, in 1962. Mgr Graham loves travelling and has visited many of the major art galleries in Europe.
With thanks to the Diocese of Wollongong, who have supplied this reflection from their publication, METANOIA – Lenten Program 2025. Reproduced with permission.
