A powerful artefact grants its owner special powers. That’s one of the most common themes in books, films and video games. The Lord of the Rings, the Harry Potter series, Pirates of the Caribbean, many video games… to list just a few. This cliche should be tired by its extensive use, avoided at all cost by publishers and media producers. Surprisingly, it remains as popular as ever; even badly made films or poorly written books can’t kill it. The secret of its vitality is that it’s deeply ingrained, almost instinctive in us. We have that need for tangibility because it gives us a sense of ownership and – consequently – of control and power. By extension, we tend to assign special powers to inanimate objects; for example, stones emanating special energy. Unless they are radioactive, they don’t emanate energy; at best they might release mineral vapours at a very slow pace… And yet, ‘powerful’ artefacts remain very popular; some people have made their fortunes out of peddling such nonsense.
We are not much different from our ancestors. The form may be different, but the idea remains the same. Today’s first reading presents a very concise briefing of one episode – spanning over a hundred years – in the history of Israel. The full story behind it is fascinating and can be very useful to us. I will try to be as concise as I can. The story started when Israel left the slavery of Egypt for the promised land. They didn’t travel directly to their destination but to the Mount of Horeb, where a covenant between them and God was established. The tangible sign of the covenant was the Ark of the Covenant, a highly decorated wooden box that contained the Law written on two tablets of stone. That piece of furniture was the centrepiece of a mobile temple called the Tabernacle. In their journey towards the Promised Land and during the conquest of Canaan the ark played a vital role in keeping up morale. As often happens, every victory and every success imperceptibly associated special powers with that piece of furniture, and superstitious belief replaced faithfulness to God. The symbol of God’s presence became the idol. The religious rituals of devotion were kept going while social and moral standards collapsed. Defeated by the Philistines, the Israelites brought the Ark to the battlefield to ensure their victory, perhaps as it did in the film ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark.’ Instead, the Israelites lost the battle, suffered heavy losses and the Ark was captured by the Philistines. Fast forward to the time of King David, who moved the recovered Ark into Jerusalem, Mount Zion, and established a central place of worship there. His successor, King Solomon built a splendid Temple with the Ark as its centrepiece, though traditionally hidden away in the room called the Holy of Hollies. The Temple was the sole centre of worship, busy with people making their ritual sacrifices, pilgrimages and devotions, while social and moral standards gradually collapsed. As often happens, special powers were imperceptibly associated with that place and superstitious belief replaced faithfulness to God. The symbol of God’s presence became the idol. That’s what the opening part of today’s first reading refers to: ‘The Lord […] tirelessly sent them messenger after messenger since he wished to spare his people and his house. But they ridiculed the messengers of God, they despised his words, they laughed at his prophets.’ One of them was Jeremiah, who proclaimed in the name of God: ‘Amend your ways and your doings and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: “This is the temple of the Lord, […] we are safe!” – only to go on doing all these abominations.’ The announcement of the destruction of the Temple followed. In response, Jeremiah was imprisoned and nearly sentenced to death. He survived by the skin of his teeth, unlike the Temple, which was totally destroyed by the Babylonians. The Ark of the Covenant was lost and the Israelites were deported to Babylon. That’s what the second part of today’s first reading refers to: ‘Until this land has enjoyed its sabbath rest; until seventy years have gone by, it will keep sabbath throughout the days of its desolation.’
Think about it. The Israelites lost their only way of worshipping their God for seventy years; in other words, two or three generations. Were the Israelites happy and content there? Judging by the sound of it, they were. But the lyrics of the psalm tell a different story: ‘By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion. […] How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you; if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.’ Effectively, the exiles had two options regarding their faith. Either to abandon it completely (because it couldn’t have been practised as it used to be) or to find and develop new forms and ways of worshipping God. They chose the latter. Deprived of the ritualistic, irreflective devotions of the Temple they turned to study the Law of the Covenant. Effectively, they returned to what was the essence of their religion: obedience to God’s word and practical implementation of it in everyday life. Incidentally, a big chunk of what we know as the Old Testament is the by-product of that development. Having refreshed and renewed their covenant with God, the Israelites were permitted to return to Jerusalem and to rebuild the Temple, as the closing part of today’s first reading tells: ‘Thus speaks Cyrus king of Persia, “The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth; he has ordered me to build him a Temple in Jerusalem, in Judah. Whoever there is among you of all his people, may his God be with him! Let him go up.”’
I can see some similarities between that story and our current predicament. Almost exactly one year ago our lives were pretty much turned upside down. The sheer number of dead, as well as various problems and troubles caused by the pandemic, can be really depressing. Our way of life was no more, including communal worship and access to the sacraments. Like the exiles in Babylon, we had two options regarding our faith. Either to abandon it completely (because we couldn’t practise it as we used to) or to find and develop new forms and ways of worshipping God. But, let’s put things into perspective. It’s only been one year, not seventy. We have not been completely deprived of the sacraments; our churches were open for half of the pandemic, though admittedly in a rather unusual way. Thanks to modern technology we have been able to participate in Masses and services. In fact, many parishioners expanded their consumption of the word of God. One parishioner made me laugh when she arrived at St Joseph’s for Mass and told me that she had already attended Mass in Singapore and somewhere else. Another parishioner listens to a sermon in Australia for spiritual enrichment, then switches to our online Mass and listens to my sermon – I guess as part of his Lenten self-mortification – and then switches to another sermon in the USA or Canada to spiritually recover after my rants. Some people opened up their dusty Bibles to read them, supported by a variety of online help, like the substandard ‘Bible Myths Debunked’ series. These are just a very few examples out of hundreds of emails and conversations I’ve had since we entered this virtual exile. Has it been frustrating? Undoubtedly! Has it been irritating? Certainly! But, most importantly, for many of us, it’s been transformative in a positive way. In two weeks’ time, we will start gradually returning to our church. Hopefully, we will re-build and build up this vibrant community with a better understanding that its power comes not from powerful artefacts but from hearts obedient to God.
Image by u_uf78c121 from Pixabay