In any great story, the meaning of what happens at the beginning of the story is only fully revealed at the end of the story. My favorite example of this comes from the Lord of the Rings.
In “The Hobbit,” the prequel to the Lord of the Rings, Bilbo Baggins goes on an adventure with 13 dwarves to take back treasure that was stolen from them by the dragon Smaug. In the course of his adventure, Bilbo finds a golden ring. He also encounters the previous owner of this ring: the vile creature known as Gollum. Now Gollum is truly vile. His mind is full of mischief and his heart is full of hate. And there comes a point when Bilbo has the chance to kill Gollum. But he chooses not to, out of mercy. At the time, Bilbo’s action, though certainly commendable, doesn’t seem particularly meaningful. Its full meaning is only revealed in the final book of the Lord of the Rings. At the end of this story, it becomes clear that had Bilbo not spared Gollum, the ring, which turned out to be evil, would never have been destroyed. For it is not Bilbo, nor his nephew Frodo, nor his dear friend Sam, nor any of the other heroes who eventually destroys the ring. It is Gollum.
Now the Bible is the greatest story ever told. And, so, we shouldn’t be surprised that the meaning of what happens at the beginning of the story is only fully revealed at the end of the story. We should not be surprised, as St. Augustine famously said, that the meaning of the Old Testament is only fully revealed in the New Testament. We see a beautiful example of this in our first reading today.
At first glance, our first reading seems like an obscure story from the Old Testament. But the earliest theologians of our Church, known as the Fathers of the Church, saw that the deeper meaning of this story was only fully revealed in the events of the New Testament, specifically the events of Jesus’ crucifixion. In fact, they saw this story as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ crucifixion. In Exodus 17, where this story is from, the Israelites have left Egypt and are on their way to the Promised Land. But they are prevented from going forward by their enemy the Amalekites, who wage war on them. To defeat the Amalekites, Moses ascends a hill in a mountainous region and stretches out his arms. And he does so with a man on either side of him. And with Moses’ arms outstretched, as the light of the Sun is fading, Joshua defeats the Amalekites, making it possible for the Israelites to continue their journey to the Promised Land.
Since the Fall of our first parents, all of us have been on a journey to the Promised Land of heaven. But we have been prevented from going forward by the enemy which we call Sin, an enemy which wages war on us. To defeat Sin, Jesus—who is both the new Moses and the new Joshua—ascends a hill in a mountainous region and stretches out his arms. And He does so with a man on either side of him. And with arms outstretched, as the light of the Sun is fading, Jesus defeats Sin, making it possible for us to continue our journey to the Promised Land of heaven. The Fathers of the Church saw all these connections. They knew that Jesus was crucified on the hill known as Calvary, which was located on Mount Zion. They also knew that He was crucified with a man on either side of Him: the two thieves. And they knew that at the time when Jesus was crucified, the light was fading because the Sun was eclipsed.
The Fathers of the Church saw all of these connections and they realized that the meaning of this obscure Old Testament story was only fully revealed in the events of the New Testament. In light of these later events, it became clear to them that the story of Moses’ and Joshua’s defeat of the Amalekites in Exodus 17 was a foreshadowing of Jesus’ defeat of Sin in His crucifixion.
But what does this mean for us? Whenever we face a difficult situation in life—a painful addiction, an unexpected diagnosis, the loss of a loved one—whenever we face a situation like this, we often struggle to understand its meaning. Our prayer to God often becomes: “Why is this happening to me? What is the meaning of this? I don’t understand!” And when God does not seem to answer our prayer, we may become like the widow in our Gospel: we may even want to strike God in the face, to give Him a black eye, for His apparent silence.
Such difficult situations in life call for an act of faith: Faith that God will eventually answer our prayer. Faith that the meaning of that painful addiction, that unexpected diagnosis, that almost unendurable loss will eventually become clear. Faith that even as the meaning of the Old Testament was eventually revealed in the light of the New Testament, so also the meaning of our earthly stories, with all their joys and difficulties, will eventually be revealed at the end of our stories, in the light of eternal life, when Jesus comes again. This is the kind of faith that we are called to have.
When we find it difficult to have such faith, let us follow the example laid out for us in our Responsorial Psalm. Let us look toward the mountains. Let us look toward THE mountain: toward Mount Zion, and to Calvary, which Jesus ascended in order to stretch out his arms. In Christ crucified we will find a sure help. For He kept His faith in His heavenly Father, even when it seemed as if He had abandoned Him. So, let us look toward the mountain. Let us look toward THIS mountain, the mountain of the altar, upon which Christ, crucified and risen, will soon become present. And let us pray to Jesus: Lord, increase our faith, so that when you come again, you will find faith on earth.
