February 26, 2006: EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Hosea 2:16b, 17b, 21-23
II Corinthians 3:1b-6
Mark 2:18-22

Accustomed to Judaism and Christianity being two distinct religions, it's difficult for us to appreciate the attempts our earliest Christian authors made to clarify the unique approach to Judaism which the historical Jesus offered his followers.

Originally Christianity wasn't looked upon as separate from Judaism. If Paul of Tarsus, for instance, were asked to state his religion a few minutes before his early 60s martyrdom, no doubt he would have responded, "Jew!" Throughout his ministry, he never seems to have thought of himself as practicing a new religion. He simply bought into the reform of Judaism which the resurrected carpenter from Nazareth had proclaimed.

When pressed by his fellow Jews to define the difference Jesus had brought to his practice of Judaism, Paul would probably respond as he does in today's II Corinthians passage. Going back to Ezekiel's dream of a new covenant, he reminds his readers, "You are a letter of Christ . . . written not with ink but by the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets that are hearts of flesh. . . . God has qualified us as ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter, but of spirit, for the letter brings death, but the Spirit gives life." Jesus of Nazareth had simply demanded that his followers be true Sprit-filled Jews.

As a prophetic reformer, Jesus understood that humans are always prone to fall into the trap of believing that written and rules and regulations are at the heart of faith. Throughout his earthly ministry he asked people to return to the frame of mind which existed in Judaism before the written law came into a being: to develop a way of looking at Yahweh working in their lives that went deeper than any law could penetrate.

Hosea called his 8th century BCE people to do the same: to return mentally and emotionally to that period when Yahweh spoke to people's hearts; to go back to the Exodus when Yahweh wasn't a great law-giver, but a husband espoused to Israel "in right and in justice, in love and in mercy." It was a time when the Chosen People worked at "knowing Yahweh." (If the Hebrew word for "know" is applied to humans, it usually connotes an "intimate" relationship.)

His quest for people to change the way they perceive God seems to be why the historical Jesus so often used parables. Teachers only employ parables when they're not just interested in helping people acquire new knowledge, but are attempting to help them create new ways of processing the knowledge they already have. Jesus' goal is to instill a new mentality in his followers; a new way of understanding their relationship with Yahweh. This is clear from the two mini-parables he uses in today's gospel pericope.

When someone criticizes his disciples for not fasting, Jesus not only gives an immediate defense of their behavior, but also explains that their refusal to fast demonstrates that they're approaching their faith with a frame of mind shared by few of their contemporaries. He talks about the folly of sewing an unshrunken patch on a shrunken cloak, or pouring new wine into old wineskins. In each case, the new destroys the old. His point: to appreciate his actions and teaching, one must start from scratch, acquiring a new way of looking at God and our relationship with God. If someone has a law-oriented relationship, then refusing to fast can be a destructive element in the community. On the other hand, if someone approaches God from a position of mutual love, then fasting or not fasting is insignificant.

Christians today still need parables. Though we learned in great detail the "practice" and laws of our religion, some of us are still ignorant about the proper frame of mind and emotion to approach our faith. It's not what we learn that's important. It's how we learn and interpret that makes our faith unique.

February 19, 2006: SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Isaiah 43:18-19, 21-22, 24-25
II Corinthians 1:18-22
Mark 2:1-12

Today's passage from Deutero-Isaiah contains some of the most powerful concepts in all of Scripture. "Remember not the things of the past," Yahweh proclaims, "the things of long ago consider not. See I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? . . . You burdened me with your sins, and wearied me with your crimes. It is I, I who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more."

The prophet is addressing people who have spent over 50 years in exile. They've little hope that they'll ever return to the Promised Land. That place of peaceful security has become just a memory which the community's old folks try to keep alive. Most have bought into a theology that constantly reminds them that they're in Babylon because of their sins, and an unforgiving God is going to keep them there. That's why Deutero-Isaiah's words are difficult to swallow, and also why he's so direct in announcing the "something new" which Yahweh is bringing about.

Not only are the people to start preparing for a return to Israel, but they can no longer fall back on their "punishment for sin" theology. One of those new things is Yahweh's forgiveness. Deutero-Isaiah informs them that the basis of their theology is no longer valid. Though they've done nothing to merit it, Yahweh is forgiving all of them for whatever they did in the past.

Yet it's clear in the prophet's 16 chapters that many in his audience are more comfortable with Yahweh's vengeance than with Yahweh's forgiveness. As bad as their situation is, they're more familiar and secure with what's expected of them when they're guilty than when they're guiltless. They're now expected to respond to Yahweh in a new way. And they find it difficult to adapt to this new relationship.

Looking at today's gospel, it's no accident that first in Mark's famous series of "conflict stories" is a narrative about forgiveness. Marcan scholars tell us that in these stories the evangelist zeroes in on the particular conflicts which those in his community face every day. They're constantly defending their association with sinners and their breaking of laws for the sake of a higher good. Yet all these conflicts seem to spring from their belief in forgiveness.

Notice that the forgiven person is paralyzed. Mark couldn't have chosen a better symbol. Only after Jesus forgives the man does he cure his paralysis. The evangelist seems to be saying that the principal cause of paralysis in a Christian is unforgiven sin. Our past stops us from experiencing both the new things the risen Jesus is doing in our lives and the new things he expects us to do because of his forgiveness.

Paul falls back on this belief in our II Corinthians pericope. Stung by the community's claim that he's wishy washy, the Apostle declares, "My word to you is not 'yes' one minute and 'no' the next." How are his readers to know that he's always "yes?" His answer is simple: he's convinced that he's too important to be wishy washy. He's been given an importance which comes from Jesus' forgiving relationship with him. "The one who gives us security with you in Christ and who anointed us is God; he has also put his seal upon us and given us the Spirit in our hearts as a first installment."

No doubt most of us would be inspired to do heroic new things in the faith if we were just convinced of the high esteem in which God holds us. Before anything else, we must listen to those who preach and live out God's forgiveness. If we don't, our old comfortable theology of constantly being punished for unforgiven sin will see to it that nothing which God wants us to accomplish will ever be accomplished.

February 12, 2006: SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Leviticus 13:1-2, 45-46
I Corinthians 10:31-11:1
Mark 1:40-45

When those who study biblical manuscripts give examples of scribal mistakes, today's Marcan passage about Jesus curing the leper is always in their top ten list. The scholarly consensus is that the evangelist originally wrote, "Moved with anger, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him . . . ." That's how the oldest and best manuscripts of Mark describe Jesus' emotion during the miracle; a day and night difference from the "moved with pity" which we have in our modern lectionary. Erasmus, who gave us the first printed edition of the Christian Scriptures in Greek in 1516, simply used a manuscript of Mark which contained the error. Our modern translations of the Christian Scriptures are based on Erasmus' text.

One of the reasons scholars believe anger is preferable to pity in this passage is that it's easier to explain why a Christian scribe would adjust the text to read pity than to read anger. Most of us are uncomfortable with a Jesus who shows anger.

No one's certain why Jesus is angry in this situation. Some think it's because the leper challenges him with the remark, "If you wish you can make me clean," not knowing about Jesus' constant quest to rid us of evil. Others believe his anger is a reaction to the community's isolation of lepers.

We need only listen carefully to today's Leviticus pericope to understand the horrible exclusion lepers experienced in the not too ancient world. "Those who have the sore of leprosy shall keep their garments rent and their heads bare and shall muffle their mouth; they shall cry out, 'Unclean, unclean! . . .' They shall dwell apart, making their abode outside the camp." No wonder only a priest at the local shrine or temple could verify either someone's leprosy or its cure. An unfounded, anonymous accusation could destroy someone's life.

Knowing these regulations, we can appreciate the impact of Jesus touching the man, something no clean person would ever deliberately do. Only lepers touched other lepers.

In this context, Paul's statement at the end of our I Corinthians passage takes on a biting significance. "Imitate me," he writes, "as I imitate Christ." The Apostle has just finished three painful chapters, encouraging his community to get rid of anything which would isolate certain people in the community from others. In this case, the isolation springs from one group eating food which others, on theological grounds, refuse to eat. That's why he begins his summary of the problem with the command, "Whatever you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God." Any action which would cause some people to be on the "outside looking in" is to be eradicated from a Christian community. Paul would have understood why the historical Jesus could be angry because of the leper's exclusion.

Coupling this emotion with Paul's command to imitate Jesus might embarrass some modern Christians. Like the scribe who changed Jesus' anger to pity, we prefer a calm, balanced and peaceful Jesus. Such a picture of him lets us other Christs off the hook. We're not expected to be angry about situations in our communities or churches which either mandate or accept exclusion for whole groups of people; exclusion rooted in race, gender, theological beliefs or social status. On the contrary, those with "level heads" warn us that such anger is counter-productive.

As disturbing as it might be for some full-of-pity Christians, perhaps the best way at times to imitate Jesus might be to imitate the Peter Finch character in the movie Network. I wonder what would happen if one or two of us stood up in church next Sunday and yelled, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" We'd certainly run the risk of being excluded.

February 5, 2006: FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Job 7:1-4, 6-7
I Corinthians 9:16-19, 22-23
Mark 1:29-39

One of our faith's most important concepts is expressed in just one Hebrew word: hesed. Unfortunately we have no one English word which does justice to this Hebrew term. Hesed is anything you do for someone which isn't part of your obligations toward that individual. It can only be done for those with whom you have entered into some sort of an agreement or contract, those who can demand certain behavior from you. It's an action which goes beyond the obligations of the relationship.

Paul describes one of his acts of hesed in today's I Corinthians pericope. "If I preach the gospel," he writes, "this is no reason for me to boast, for an obligation has been imposed on me, and woe to me if I do not preach it. If I do so willingly, I have recompense, but if unwillingly, then I have been entrusted with a stewardship. What then is my recompense? That when I preach, I offer the gospel free of charge so as not to make full use of my right in the gospel." Preaching the gospel is one of the Apostle's responsibilities; it flows from his relationship with the risen Jesus. Preaching it "without charge" is his hesed.

If we don't sprinkle some hesed into whatever we must do, the latter eventually will become so unbearable we'll stop doing it. Hesed is a free action in the midst of "unfree" actions.

In our Job reading we hear what happens to someone from whom all freedom has been taken. "Is not peoples' life on earth a drudgery? Are not their days like those of a hireling, slaves who long for the shade, hirelings who wait for their wages?" No one enjoys such an existence.

That's why followers of Jesus love today's Marcan passage.

It's important to understand that Jesus prays in Mark's gospel only when he's under "messianic stress:" a technical way of saying he's not certain what he should do. After praying, he always takes a step into faith's unknown dimension. In this situation Jesus has just finished his "first day" of public ministry. He's exorcised a demoniac in the Capernaum synagogue, cured Simon's mother-in-law, and finally ". . . cured many who were sick with various diseases, and . . . drove out many demons. . . ." Everyone's anxious to see the tremendous things he has planned for tomorrow.

His disciples are worried and confused when they can't find him the next morning. When they finally track him down, they're amazed when he tells them to pack up and start down the road to the next village. It's evident to them that he could spend the rest of his (and their) ministry in Capernaum, accepted by everyone, doing good things, and eventually die peacefully in his own bed with his approving, grateful family surrounding him. If he did this, Jesus certainly would be fulfilling his responsibilities to God and his community. But as a good Jew, he knows there's much more to his faith than just taking care of his obligations. Going to the other villages and preaching in their synagogues is his hesed.

On Good Friday night, some of those bewildered disciples must have thought back to Jesus' fateful early morning decision to walk away from security and into the unknown. It didn't take him long to preach in "a synagogue too far" from Capernaum. The closer he got to Jerusalem, the more he provided his enemies with opportunities to destroy him. Yet Jesus' ministry would never have been the unbelievable, life-giving experience for him and his followers that we reflect on today without the hesed which both cost him his life and brought about his resurrection.

Perhaps the reason many of us find the "practice" of our faith so burdensome is because we rarely integrate hesed into our daily actions. Hesed works wonders for a marriage. Dare we imagine what it could accomplish for our faith?