VOICE OF THE LOGOS (29): REFLECTION/HOMILY FOR THE THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR C

Stop Blaming Others — You Might Be the Problem

First Reading: Exodus 3:1-8,13-15
Responsorial Psalm: Ps 102(103):1-4,6-8,11
Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 10:1-6,10-12
Gospel: Luke 13:1-9
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It’s one of the easiest reflexes in human behaviour – when something goes wrong, blame someone else. A failed relationship? “They were hot-tempered.” A struggling parish? “It’s the Parish Priest’s fault.” A jobless and lazy youth? “Society is corrupt.” Even in personal sin, we shift responsibility: “It was the devil’s work,” “It’s how I was raised,” “The pressure was too much,” “People pushed me to it.” This tendency to externalize guilt is as old as the Garden of Eden, when Adam blamed Eve and Eve blamed the serpent. But this habit, while comforting in the short term, is spiritually dangerous – it prevents repentance. If the problem is always outside of me, then I am never required to change. Yet, one of the most sobering truths of Scripture is that sin does not begin in systems but in hearts – mine included. Today’s liturgical readings for the Third Sunday of Lent speak directly to this: to a crowd eager to point fingers and a God who instead asks, “What about you?” Jesus doesn’t soothe their anxieties; He confronts their assumptions. And if we are honest, we often hide behind Church attendance, cultural piety, or blame-shifting to avoid the only question that leads to real change: Is it me, Lord?

In the First Reading (Exodus 3:1–8a, 13–15), we meet Moses in the wilderness of Midian, tending sheep far removed from Egypt, where his people are enslaved. His life has moved on from the trauma of Egypt and the shame of his murder of an Egyptian. His sitz im leben (his life setting) is one of retreat and personal security. But God interrupts him with a burning bush and a call to act. What stands out is that God does not permit Moses to dwell in detachment; He draws him back into the very story Moses fled from. The key Hebrew root here is shālah (שָׁלַח), “to send.” God tells Moses, “I am sending you” – He refuses to allow Moses to keep blaming Pharaoh, the Hebrews, or his past. Moses must own the mission now. Every excuse Moses offers – his identity, his fear of rejection, his lack of eloquence – is met with divine insistence: stop looking outward and start responding inward. God is not looking for a scapegoat but for a servant. Similarly, in our lives, we are often content to talk about what’s wrong with the world, the Church, or our families, but avoid the moment when God says, “I am sending you.” You are not just a commentator; you’re called an agent of change.

The Responsorial Psalm (103) provides the theological and emotional backdrop to this confrontation. “The Lord is kind and merciful,” the psalm proclaims, but also “slow to anger” and one who “redeems your life from destruction.” Mercy in this psalm is not automatic; it is directed to the one who comes to God in humility, not defensiveness. God is compassionate, yes, but His compassion has a direction: it lifts the lowly, not the proud. Those who justify themselves, who cast blame on others, and who refuse to acknowledge their faults, close themselves off from healing.

This leads directly to the Gospel (Luke 13:1–9), where people come to Jesus with a report about a political atrocity: Pilate’s massacre of Galileans; and expect Him to offer theological commentary. But Jesus doesn’t entertain their blame-shifting. Instead, He throws the issue back at them: “Do you think they were worse sinners? Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” The sitz im leben of the Gospel reflects a people trying to interpret current events through a lens of divine judgement, wanting to identify whose sin caused the tragedy. But Jesus uses the Greek word metanoeō (μετανοέω)—“to change one’s mind, to turn around” – to call them inward. He warns that unless there is personal conversion, external events won’t matter. The parable of the fig tree that follows captures this: the tree has had years of care but has not borne fruit. There is no blame to shift; it’s a question of response. How long can you remain unchanged while still receiving God’s attention and grace?

The Second Reading from 1 Corinthians 10:1–6, 10–12 drives the point home with sobering clarity. Paul speaks of the Israelites who all shared in the blessings of God: baptized in the sea, fed with manna, guided by the cloud; yet most of them fell. Their downfall was not due to external enemies, but internal rebellion. Paul draws a direct line to the Church in Corinth, and to us: “Let anyone who thinks he is standing beware lest he fall.” The warning is not to outsiders, but to insiders. It’s easy to think we’re safe because we’re in Church, receive the sacraments, and follow traditions. But if our hearts are full of pride, judgement, or blame, we are already in danger. The true problem may not be society, government, or even poor leadership, it may be the unchecked areas of our own lives that we refuse to bring under the lordship of Christ.

The first lesson is that blaming others is often a defence mechanism to avoid the discomfort of truth. Jesus, in the Gospel, never denies that the world is broken or that injustice exists. But He refuses to let that distract from the central issue of personal repentance. We cannot keep pointing to the world’s sins while ignoring our own. Families won’t be healed, parishes won’t be renewed, and society won’t be transformed until each person asks: What do I need to change in me?

The second lesson is that God confronts not to condemn, but to correct. Moses could have stayed a shepherd forever, but God loved him enough to call him back into the place of pain and responsibility. The fig tree could have been cut down at once, but the gardener pleads for another year. God gives space, but that space is meant for action. He doesn’t confront us to humiliate us, but to awaken us. However, if we keep explaining away our faults and blaming everything on others, we will never produce fruit, and mercy has a limit.

Dear friends in Christ, Lent is not about pointing at Egypt or blaming the wilderness, it’s about dealing with the Egypt within. Paul’s warning to the Corinthians forces us to look at our own faith journey. Are we walking with God externally but rebelling internally? Are we honouring God with our lips while our hearts are far from Him? Lent is not a show of piety, it is a season of truth. The question is not who else needs to change. The real question is: what in me needs to die so that something holy can live?

Above all, the fruits of true conversion are visible. Lent is not just about fasting or giving up things, it’s about change. Have I become more honest? More patient? More generous? More responsible? If not, then perhaps I’ve only been blaming and not repenting. Moses had to return to Egypt. The Israelites had to walk the desert. The fig tree had to produce fruit. And we? We must stop shifting the spotlight and ask for the grace to look inward. It’s not easy, but it is the only way real change happens. And perhaps the first sign of growth is the humility to admit: Maybe I’m the problem. Only then can grace begin to rebuild what pride and denial have broken. Stop blaming others, you might be the problem. But the good news is, if you are the problem, by God’s grace, you can also be the change.

O that today you would listen to his VOICE, harden not your hearts! (Ps. 95:7)

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Shalom!
© Fr. Chinaka Justin Mbaeri, OSJ
Seminário Padre Pedro Magnone, São Paulo, Brazil
nozickcjoe@gmail.com / fadacjay@gmail.com

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Have you prayed your rosary today?