JULY 30, 2006: SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
II Kings 4:42-44
Ephesians 4:1-6
John 6:1-15

Readers of last week's column will appreciate the tension homilists experience on the Seventeenth Sunday of Cycle B. If we've be doing our job conscientiously we've been developing and stressing the major points of Mark's theology. Now, just as we reach one of the most important stages of that theology - Mark's first bread miracle - we're forced to shift gears and preach on John's bread miracle theology. (It gets even more perplexing next Sunday when we abandon John for the feast of the Transfiguration, jump three chapters ahead in Mark and preach on his account of this special revelation.)

But, back to the miraculous feeding. One of the major contrasts between Mark's account and that of John revolves around who does the actual feeding. The disciples do it in Mark; Jesus carries it out in John. The difference is significant. No scholar doubts that all six gospel bread miracles are about the Eucharist. That means that today's Christians who contend that the Eucharist is a community action will get their "Scripture proofs" from Mark; those who stress the role of the presider will turn to John. Yet we must always remember that neither account was originally written to stoke the fires of our modern "liturgical wars."

John, for instance, could care less about the presider's eucharistic role. He's more concerned that his readers appreciate the importance of the risen Jesus in their lives. It's John who, two chapters before, provides us with his "living water" theology. Now he offers us the concept of the "bread of life." In each, he gives his community the essentials for living a life of faith.

Notice that Jesus never "institutes" the Eucharist in John's Last Supper narrative. He does it here in chapter 6. (Very important for us also to note that John replaces Jesus' words of institution with another "sacramental" action: the foot washing. The evangelist employs that self-giving gesture to instruct his readers about the frame of mind they should have during the celebration of the Eucharist.)

In this age of diminishing Eucharists, it's important to understand that John (and all our Christian sacred authors) believed the celebration of the Lord's Supper was at the center of Christian life.

We know from their writings that they would never be content with "communion services." Elisha's multiplying 20 barley loaves to feed 100 people in our II Kings passage wasn't the model used for the Eucharist in the Christian Scriptures. Their bread miracles are always more than just a simple feeding of a lot from a little. John not only emphasizes Jesus' part in the feeding, he also demands faith in Jesus from the community, as we will hear at the end of the chapter.

Paul expects the same faithful participation in his Ephesian community. He sets out the eucharistic pattern which all later Christian authors (especially the evangelists) will follow. For these writers, the key to a valid celebration of the Lord's Supper doesn't revolve around the proper words said by a proper person over the proper elements. It revolves around the proper self-giving frame of mind which those who participate in the celebration share. Paul's words here simply repeat what he says in I Corinthians 11. Followers of Jesus should always relate to one another " . . . with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace: one body and one Spirit . . . ."

No matter what biblical eucharistic theology we employ, one biblical truth always haunts us: finding the risen Jesus in the community is much harder to do and requires much more faith than finding him in the bread and wine.

JULY 23, 2006: SIXTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Ephesians 2:13-18
Mark 6:30-34

Often people don't understand why Scripture scholars talk about "Mark's Jesus" or "John's Jesus." Such terms are relatively new; they only came into existence after World War II when "redaction criticism" became part of our biblical regimen. Redaction critics discovered that our four evangelists weren't simple collectors of "Jesus stories:" as the great Rudolf Bultmann had taught after World War I. Though they collected such stories and used them in their gospels, each evangelist edited the narratives which were passed on to them by the Christian preachers, from other gospel writers, or those they copied from a now lost early scroll containing Jesus sayings, consistently changing these three sources to make them agree with the person of the risen Jesus which they and their communities had experienced. They then arranged these passages into unique patters to convey the special theology for which each writer has become known over the last 60 years.

What prompted these four Christian authors to employ such a literary process? Why didn't they just pass on their sources exactly as they received them? The answer is simple. They were more concerned with surfacing the risen Jesus active in their Christian communities between 70 and 95 CE, than they were impelled to pass on the exact actions and words of the historical Jesus who lived between 6 BCE and 30 CE. The only Jesus with whom they had come into contact was the risen Jesus, and each had encountered that "new creation" in a different way.

That's the key which unlocks our Christian Scriptures and makes them relevant for today. The authors of the various writing aren't trying to give their readers a collection of historical reminiscences, teaching and dogmas. On the contrary, they're driven by a passion to reveal a person - the person of Jesus - alive and working in their midst.

For instance, when Mark, in today's gospel pericope, refers to Jesus teaching the crowd "many things," it's possible his Jesus will teach something different from Matthew's Jesus. Mark might change some of the teachings, or at least arrange them in a unique way.

More than 600 years before our Christian Scriptures were written; Jeremiah understood the force and power that came into being when special people enter the lives of others. That's why he assures his audience that Yahweh is about to give them a "new shepherd," a new leader who will convey Yahweh's care and concern for Yahweh's people. Knowing that nothing can destroy the spirit of a community of believers more than the wrong leader, Jeremiah proclaims, "Behold the days are coming, says Yahweh, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; as king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land." The king's personality will help change the community's personality.

Paul believes in the same concept. But for him, as for the four evangelists, the risen Jesus is the leader who gives the Ephesian community its personality. In this case, it's a personality which differs from other Christian communities, a personality which is the unifying force among them, uniting people who come from completely different backgrounds: Gentiles and Jews. The Ephesians aren't made one by doctrine, but by a person. "He (Jesus) is our peace who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his flesh, abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims, that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two . . . ."

Perhaps we later Christian communities aren't as unique as the biblical Christian communities because many of us have replaced an experience of the risen Jesus with an experience of doctrine.

JULY 16, 2006: FIFTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Amos 7:12-15
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:7-13

Some years ago in a lecture, Fr. Ed Hays asked, "Is it possible to do everything Jesus wants us to do and eventually achieve salvation without belonging to a church?" Since the well-known writer understood that the historical Jesus never founded a church as such, he answered, "It's certainly possible." But then he immediately added, "Since the vast majority of people, including myself, need some sort of formal structure to help them carry out the good news Jesus proclaimed, you can see why churches as we know them came into existence."

Yet, as today's sacred authors presume, institutions originally created to convey God's message can get so bogged down in "institutional things" that God's message is rarely proclaimed. Hays treats this tragedy in his perceptive parable The Cobbler in his book The Ethiopian Tattoo Shop. Amos addresses the same issue in our first reading.

Notice how often prophets do their prophesying in "sacred places:" shrines and temples. Like the falsely attributed Willie Sutton quote that he robbed banks because, "That's where the money is," prophets proclaim God's word at shrines and temples because that's where the "good" people are. These consciences of the people never try to convert pagans to the true faith; they're sent by God to convert those who already believe in a faith they've rarely practiced.

That's why today's Amaziah/Amos confrontation takes place. As high priest at Bethel, Amaziah doesn't need a "dresser of sycamores" from the Judean wilderness to confuse the flock he's cultivated for years at this national shrine. He has dozens of "prophets" on his payroll: flunkies who faithfully tell the pilgrims what Amaziah wants them to be told. Only when Amos arrives at Bethel's gates do people actually hear Yahweh's word.

The prophet is emphatic about one point. Yahweh, not Amaziah, took him "from following the flock and said . . .’Go prophesy to my people Israel.'" No wonder Amaziah wants Amos out of there. The institution which the priest helped create and sustain is more important to him than the word of God which the institution originally was meant to proclaim.

Something similar seems to be behind Jesus sending out his Twelve to preach repentance. As we know from Jesus' original proclamation of the good news in Mark 1, repentance is a total change of one's value system, a 180 degree turn in one's life. Before anyone can be a follower of Jesus, he or she must be willing to admit that no matter how serious they are about practicing their religion, they must always leave enough space to make the turns God wants them to make. That's why Mark goes into detail about what the proclaimers are to wear and eat, they living arrangements and behavior. They're not even to worry about success or failure. Their job is simply to proclaim the healing word of God, not to create a safe, comfortable environment for themselves.

We don't have to go far today to surface the word which Christian institutions were created to proclaim. We need only listen to our Ephesians pericope. Paul's words should echo throughout our whole Eucharist. "God . . . has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the word, to be holy and without blemish before him. In love he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ . . . . In him we were chosen . . . so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, we who first hoped in Christ." What a message!

If any of our religious institutions fail to proclaim that message, we can be certain a new dresser of sycamores is standing outside that institution pounding at its gates, trying to bring God and God's word to the people living snugly inside.

JULY 9, 2006: FOURTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Ezekiel 2:2-5
II Corinthians 12:7-10
Mark 6:1-6

The key to appreciating all three readings today is Paul's statement, "Power is made perfect in weakness."

Knowing we'd rather operate from a position of power than weakness, our sacred authors force us to reflect on the strength we possess when we actually are weak, a strength which comes not from us, but from God, a strength we'd never fall back on if weren't forced to be weak.

Ezekiel quickly discovers his vulnerability when he begins to prophecy to his fellow Israelites during the Babylonian exile. Though he's proclaiming Yahweh's word, no one listens to him. His only consolation is that Yahweh recognizes the prophet's situation. "Hard of face and obstinate of heart are they to whom I am sending you," Yahweh points out. All prophets eventually learn that success isn't an option when one works for Yahweh. Ezekiel's mission is simply to let those rebels know "that a prophet has been among them."

Jesus faces a similar situation in our gospel pericope. But the attack on him is more personal than the one Ezekiel encountered. "Where did this man get all this?" the synagogue crowd asks. In their mind, there's no way Jesus could be a real prophet. "Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? Are not his sisters here with us?" Those whom God sends to convey God's message can't possibly be so common or familiar to us as Jesus is to his hometown community.

The crowd's lack of faith in Jesus leads Mark to write one of the most interesting lines in the Christian Scriptures. "He (Jesus) was not able to perform any mighty deed there . . . ." It makes no difference that Jesus is God. His ability to help people is limited by their ability to have faith in him. At this point, he couldn't be weaker.

When Matthew later copied Mark's passage and inserted it into his own gospel, he made two significant changes in the text. Instead of being a carpenter, Jesus now becomes the son of the carpenter in Matthew 13:55. (Carpenters didn't make "big money" back then.) But more significantly, four verses later, Matthew switches Mark's statement that Jesus "was not able" to "he did not perform . . . ." A huge difference. Some third and fourth generation Christians were also bothered by Jesus' weakness.

At least ten years before Mark described Jesus' vulnerability, Paul writes about his own. No one knows for certain what his famous "thorn in the flesh" actually is. Years ago, most thought it had something to do with his sexuality. Today, many believe it's as unexciting as malaria. Whatever it is, it puts Paul in a position of weakness, taking away the force he originally thought he needed to successfully proclaim the risen Jesus.

Yet in spite of Paul's fear of being inadequate, many of the people to whom he preaches still end up converting to the Way. Instead of being a drawback, his thorn becomes a force they can't resist. It leads the Apostle to state, "I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ, for when I am weak, then I am strong."

One of the most difficult faith-things to learn is that we best proclaim God's word when we put no obstacles of our own into the proclamation. Through the centuries, organized religions have always been tempted to become powerful entities, organization which wow people by their strength and influence. We forget that we can be prestigious without being people of faith. Perhaps we, like Jesus' Nazareth audience, are faithful individuals who impede God's actions, by expecting them to appear in our strength, not God's weakness.

JULY 2, 2006: THIRTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings
Wisdom 1:13-15, 2:23-24
II Corinthians 8:7, 9, 13-15
Mark 5:21-43

At several points in his gospel, Mark will begin a story, interrupt it with another narrative, then go back and finish off the original story. He does this as a literary device, to show a passing of time, just as movie directors rip off calendar pages or depict a tree going through the seasons. In today's passage, it takes time for Jesus and Jairus to travel to the latter's house where his 12 year old daughter lies sick, time for the girl to die before the pair arrives. Mark fills that interval by having a woman along the way brave a crushing crowd to touch Jesus' cloak and be cured of her uterine bleeding.

But, as in all these situations of interrupted and completed stories, the interruption conveys the same message as the original narrative. In Mark 3, for instance, when Jesus' family sets out to "seize him, for they said, 'He is out of his mind!'" Mark's interruption revolves around scribes from Jerusalem who claim, "He is possessed by Beelzebul. By the prince of demons he drives out demons." Both passages deal with a Jesus whom people presume is not in his right mind.

Here the basic issue which holds our two narratives together is faith. (But also notice that both stories deal with women for whom the number 12 is significant.)

Mark makes a big thing about the crowd pressing upon Jesus only because he's trying to distinguish the suffering woman's touch from that of others. Jesus emphasizes that only she touches him with faith, the same faith which he demands of Jairus when he's told his daughter has died. "Do not be afraid," he says. "Just have faith."

Christians might do many of the same things others do, but our sacred authors expect us to do them with faith, recognizing something in our actions that other's don't perceive.

That's why Paul can ask his Corinthians community to be generous in giving to the famine-plagued churches in Judea. These were the communities which most hassled Paul over his practice of baptizing Gentiles without first converting them to Judaism. In some sense, they were the "enemy." That seems to be why he begins his request by reminding his readers that they excel in faith. Only people of faith would be willing to help those who didn't want them to exist. Among other things, this collection was Paul's way of testing the faith of the communities he evangelized. Would they cooperate with his passion of unifying all Christian churches, even those who held different theologies from their own? One had to have lots of faith to participate in such a project.

The author of Wisdom demands the same faith from his readers. With death and destruction playing a part in their daily lives, he begs them to believe in a God who "did not make death nor . . . rejoices in the destruction of the living." Only faith can draw them out of their frustrating existence and help them form a relationship with a God who offers them something better.

The late Scripture scholar Roland Murphy always insisted that the words "justice is undying" in this passage were the basis for Jewish belief in an afterlife. Though the vast majority of the Hebrew Scriptures know only this life, about 100 years before Jesus' birth, Jews eventually began to understand the implications of building a relationship with Yahweh. If Yahweh never dies, and you have a relationship with Yahweh, then, they reasoned, as long as Yahweh maintains that relationship, you'll never die. (The word "justice," as used here, refers to that relationship.)

All three authors agree: faith brings us life. We simply have to have enough faith to die to ourselves and reach out to form the relationships that guarantee we'll live.