The second reading for the Mass of Ember Wednesday in September: “And the people wept when they heard Ezra reading the Law”.
Ember Wednesday. Most Catholics have never heard of an Ember Day, this despite the fact that the Ember Days, the Quattuor Tempora in Latin, the four seasons, are among the oldest of liturgical celebrations, at least back to Leo the Great in the fifth century. They have their roots in the four seasons of the year, and hence before each season of the year—Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer—the liturgy provides three days, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday that are a call to prayer in anticipation of the seasons and what they mean for man in nature, but more deeply each Ember Day calls us to fasting and prayer to remind ourselves of the goodness of the Lord in all aspects of our life, especially our Catholic faith. Ordinations became associated with these days, and one can understand why, for these days in a sense join the natural and supernatural in a liturgical way.
The Ember Wednesday in September has the wonderful reading from Ezra describing him reading the Law to the people of Israel. Ezra the scribe and priest, joined by Nehemiah, have returned from exile in Babylon, that exile bereft of the sacrifices of the Temple, that exile in which there was a forgetting by the Jews of what it meant to be a Jew in the religious sense. When the exiles returned the Jerusalem, the wall around Jerusalem was rebuilt, the first step in re-understanding the city of Jerusalem as the center of their homeland and faith. In the reading for this Ember Day, Ezra calls an assembly of all the Jews who had returned from exile. And he does so with one purpose: to read to them the Law, the Law given by God to the Jewish people that was not only central to their identity as a people but also the source of what it meant to live as a Chosen People.
So Ezra stands on a podium and reads (chants?) the Law to the assembly of people. He does so from sunrise to noon. And the people weep. They weep. For they realize how far they have strayed from the mark of the great Covenant between God and his Chosen People. They weep. But Ezra tells them not to weep, for this day is a day of great rejoicing. The exile is over and they now know again who they are and how they are to live. Ezra tells them to rejoice, to go home and eat fine food, drink fine wine, for they have regained their identity, they know again who they are in the deepest sense.
When I read this passage every September Ember Wednesday I cannot help but relate this to the current state of the Catholic Church. The past fifty years in many ways has been a time of exile, but this time no potentate from afar came and subjected the Catholic people. This exile was a self-imposed exile brought about by those within who with itching ears and glib tongues, who lusted after the Hanging Gardens of Secular Modernity, and as a product of that lust, like all lust that obliterates the reality of humanity, they forgot who they were.
What is going on with the Amazon Synod, the German bishops hell bent to form their own synodal government, the fact that so few Catholics go to Mass regularly on Sunday, the continuous decline in vocations to the priesthood and religious life: these are symptoms of people in exile. But again, this is a self-imposed exile.