By the fourth week, Lent can feel like a slog. The initial enthusiasm of Ash Wednesday has faded, and Holy Week and Easter are not yet on the horizon. Here at Creighton, spring break is a distant memory, yet final exams are still six weeks away. At this juncture, it is easy to feel beat down, or simply fall into rote routines.

As if right on cue, this week’s lectionary offers rays of hope. Today’s reading from Isaiah 65 paints a beautiful portrait of eschatological hope for a new heavens and new earth, where sounds of rejoicing replace cries of pain. Tomorrow’s famous Ezekiel 47 passage poetically describes the Temple as a source of life-giving water. Wednesday’s reading from Isaiah 49 promises comfort and mercy for the afflicted, the imprisoned, and the hungry.

Such visions of hope are inspiring, yet can also seem utopian, far removed from our own world of war, pandemic, and social division. What Jesus shows us in John’s gospel, however, is that the Kingdom of God is not simply a dream deferred. Rather, Jesus’ healing power extends down into our world of doubt, suffering and death. As the royal official says, “Sir, come down before my child dies.” Despite his initial skepticism, Jesus is moved by this man’s faith, and he restores the child’s life.  

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to visit with the Brothers of Charity in Gatagara, Rwanda. Since the early 1960s, the Brothers and their lay companions have offered a remarkable array of medical and community services for the blind, the deaf, the disabled, and the mentally ill. On this particular visit, I attended morning Mass at the Gatagara church, which requires congregants to walk down a hill to enter the sanctuary. I will never forget the scene as the sun rose that morning. Scores of children and teenagers, many in wheelchairs, others on crutches, helped each other walk into the church, singing in unison. Like Isaiah, I had witnessed a small foretaste of a new heaven and a new earth. God had come down.