An invitation to respond and embrace new life

Mar 22, 2025

3rd Sunday of Lent (C)
Readings: Exodus 3:1-8, 3-15;
1 Corinthians 10:1-6, 10-12;
Gospel: Luke 13:1-9

In her poem Aurora Leigh, Elizabeth Barrett Browning writes, “Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God.” This line prompts a thought-provoking idea: what if burning bushes aren’t as rare or extraordinary as we often believe? Instead of being a singular, one-time miracle for Moses, the burning bush could be a metaphor for moments that occur throughout our lives. The ancient rabbis suggest that while others passed by the burning bush, Moses was the one who chose to turn aside and take notice. What if the true miracle wasn’t the bush itself, but Moses’ decision to pay attention and listen?

What if burning bushes are present in our lives too, waiting for us to turn aside, pay attention, and respond? These burning bushes may not be literal, but rather, moments — circumstances, people, or events — that disrupt the mundane, calling for our attention. In these moments, we can experience awe, surprise, or even confusion, as our expectations are shattered and new possibilities unfold.

I believe that burning bushes are present in our lives when we least expect them, and the real question is not whether they exist, but whether we will respond when they arise. These moments can stop us in our tracks, forcing us to pause, reflect, and reconsider our path. They challenge our expectations and invite us to think beyond our usual frame of reference. Moses, for example, never imagined seeing a bush that burned without being consumed, nor did he foresee leading God’s people out of Egypt. His life was changed forever because he responded to the unexpected. Similarly, we all experience moments when our expectations are shattered, whether through hardship or unexpected blessings. These disruptions — our own burning bushes — call us to stop and reflect.

In today’s Gospel reading (Luke 13:1-9), the suffering of the Galileans, the collapse of the Tower of Siloam, and the barren fig tree all represent burning bushes. They disrupt the expectations of the people who witness them. The key, however, is not that God causes these events but that, in every situation, God is calling us. God is speaking to us through these moments, offering the possibility of new life. Each call waits for a response, just as Moses had to respond to God’s call. The miracle is not in the fire, but in the choice to turn aside, listen, and act.

God’s words to Moses — “I have observed the misery of my people… I have heard their cry… I have come down to deliver them” — are followed by a call to action: “Come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.” God’s plan of deliverance begins with Moses’ response. What if God’s calls to us are not about fulfilling some divine task but about responding to the needs of justice, love, and deliverance? How often do we fail to respond to these burning bushes, assuming someone else will take action? How often have we walked past our burning bushes, unaware of what God might ask of us? The burning bush story is a powerful reminder that God calls us to respond, to act, to bring justice, mercy, and love into the world. These moments of calling don’t necessarily appear in dramatic, once-in-a-lifetime events but often arise amid our ordinary lives. Just as Moses was tending his flock when he encountered the burning bush, we too find ourselves confronted by these calls while going about our daily routines. They appear in our work, relationships, struggles, and joys. So, where is your horizon of expectation being shattered today? It could be something as simple as a fig tree not bearing fruit or as tragic as the collapse of a tower. Every disruption is an invitation to respond. What is the burning bush in your life right now? How will you respond?

The challenge often comes when we ask ourselves what the “right” response is. How do we know we’re making the right choice? Maybe the answer isn’t about being “right,” but about responding in a way that brings forth life — new life, growth, and potential. Consider the vineyard owner and the gardener’s responses to the barren fig tree. One wants to cut it down, while the other wants to nurture it. Both responses make sense in their context, but perhaps the right response is the one that nurtures life, helps something grow, and believes in its potential.

Moses didn’t have the guarantee that his response would be perfect. He had no assurances, only God’s promise that he would know God’s presence in hindsight: “You will know I am with you when you look back and see how I was there all along.” This echoes the way life often works: we move forward, uncertain and unsure, but we only begin to understand when we look back and see how God was guiding us all along. What if there are no guarantees in the face of every burning bush?

What if the best we can do is respond with hope and trust, knowing that our response will bring forth new life? What if every burning bush is an invitation from God, saying, “Turn aside, listen, and respond. I am here. And I am with you.

(Fr Ravi Alexander OFM Cap is the guardian for the Capuchins at Gethesamany Friary, Cheras.)