VOICE OF THE LOGOS (17): REFLECTION/HOMILY FOR THURSDAY AFTER ASH WEDNESDAY, YEAR I

One of the most common human reactions to wrongdoing is the expectation of immediate divine punishment. Whether in casual conversation, heated arguments, or moments of deep hurt, some people instinctively resort to phrases like “God punish you” or “Thunder fire you.” In some cultures, particularly among Nigerian youths on social media, the sentiment has even evolved beyond God, with figures like Ogun – a Yoruba deity of war and justice, being invoked instead, as seen in phrases like “Na Ogun go kill your papa.” This shift reflects a perception that God does not punish people immediately or in the dramatic ways that human emotions demand; as a result, pagan deities are invoked for prompt action, which still doesn’t yield immediate results. People want to see wrongdoers or perceived offenders suffer, preferably in real-time, but when that doesn’t happen, they begin to question whether God truly punishes at all. Yet, if we examine the biblical witness, we find that divine punishment is not always immediate, nor is it arbitrary – it is often tied to the natural consequences of human choices. Needless to say, what we perceive as divine punishment is simply the consequence of our choices.

This is precisely the reality that Moses presents to the Israelites in today’s First Reading (Deuteronomy 30:15-20). He does not describe God as a vengeful enforcer striking down sinners on the spot but as one who sets before His people two clear paths: life and good on one hand, death and evil on the other. The Hebrew term “רָעָה” (ra’ah), translated as “evil” or “calamity,” does not always imply active punishment from God but rather the disastrous consequences that naturally follow disobedience. In the ancient Near Eastern mindset, there was no strict separation between divine causation and natural consequences. Thus, when Moses tells the people that turning away from God leads to destruction, he is not necessarily saying that God will actively smite them, but that their rebellion will bring about their own ruin. This perspective challenges the human desire for instant retribution – God’s justice operates on a deeper level, one that respects human freedom and the moral order of the universe.

The Responsorial Psalm (Ps 1) bolsters this dynamic of choices and consequences. The righteous, those who delight in the law of the Lord, are likened to trees planted by streams of water, flourishing in due season. The wicked, on the other hand, are described as “כַּמֹּץ” (kammōṣ) – chaff that the wind drives away. The imagery is striking: chaff is not actively destroyed by an external force; it is naturally weightless, rootless, and unstable, making it susceptible to the wind. This mirrors the biblical understanding that divine punishment is often not an arbitrary act of divine wrath but the inevitable outcome of a life disconnected from God. The wicked, by their very nature, become like chaff – fragile, directionless, and ultimately swept away.

In the Gospel reading from Luke 9:22-25, Jesus deepens this understanding by shifting the focus from external consequences to internal change. He speaks of His own impending suffering, death, and resurrection, stating that true discipleship requires self-denial and the willingness to embrace the cross. The key phrase, “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it,” introduces a paradox that challenges conventional human thinking. The Greek term ψυχή (psychē), translated as “life” or “soul,” signifies the deeper essence of one’s being. Jesus is not merely speaking about physical life but about the very core of human existence. Put differently, the person who clings desperately to worldly security, pleasure, or self-preservation at the expense of following Christ ultimately loses what truly matters.

The “Sitz im Leben” (life setting) of this passage is critical to understanding its implications. Jesus speaks these words in a context where His followers expected a Messiah who would bring political liberation and immediate judgment on Israel’s enemies. The idea that the Messiah Himself would suffer seemed incomprehensible. He challenges His listeners to rethink justice – not as immediate retaliation but as a process that ultimately leads to eternal consequences. This speaks directly to the modern human tendency to seek revenge or demand immediate reckoning. God’s justice, as revealed in Christ, is not about striking down enemies on demand but about a redemptive process that invites sinners to repentance while holding them accountable for their choices.

Practically, this calls for a radical shift in how we perceive divine punishment. Many people abandon faith because they see evildoers thriving while the righteous suffer – for them, God does not act, as such they resort to paganism consciously or unconsciously. They ask, “If God is just, why doesn’t He act?” But Scripture teaches us that divine justice is often slow, not because God is indifferent, but because He is merciful. 2 Peter 3:9 reminds us that God is “patient, not wanting anyone to perish, but for all to come to repentance.” This means that the delay in visible punishment is actually an opportunity for conversion. Instead of cursing others and demanding immediate justice, we should recognize that God’s timing is different from ours. He is less concerned with instant retribution and more focused on eternal salvation. Many of the struggles people face are not punishments from God but the outcomes of choices made – whether personal, societal, or generational. A person who indulges in destructive habits cannot blame God when their health deteriorates. A society that abandons moral values cannot be surprised when chaos and suffering ensue. This is not about God inflicting harm but about the world reaping what it sows.

Dear friends in Christ, Lent invites us to embrace self-denial as a means of avoiding spiritual ruin. Jesus’ call to take up our cross is not about enduring suffering for suffering’s sake but about uniting our lives with God’s will, even when it is difficult. Many times, what we perceive as punishment is actually an opportunity for purification. The crosses we bear, whether in the form of struggles, losses, or sacrifices, can lead to deeper spiritual renewal if accepted in faith. The challenge is to shift our mindset: instead of asking, “Why is God punishing me?” we should ask, “What is God teaching me through this?” In the end, true punishment is not a thunderbolt from the sky but the loss of one’s soul, and true reward is not worldly success but eternal life in Christ.