NOVEMBER 26, 2006: CHRIST THE KING

Readings:
Daniel 7:13-14
Revelation 1:5-8
John 18:33-37

Those of us who faithfully used Pius Parch's Year of Grace during our pre-Vatican II seminary days don't have to be reminded that Christ the King ". . . is the most recent feast in honor of the Lord." The learned liturgist made certain his readers understood that "the solemnity was instituted by Pope Pius XI on December 11, 1925."

Only when I began studying Scripture did I begin to appreciate how exceptional it is to have a feast commemorating one of the many titles the Christian Scriptures give to Jesus. There's no feast, for instance, of Christ the Teacher, or Christ the Prophet, or Christ the Shepherd. Why Christ the King?

Historians point out that lots of "stuff" was going on in 1925 to put Christ's kingship front and center. The church had steadily been losing its political clout. Its civil authority over a large section of Italy had been forcibly terminated in 1870. By the beginning of the 20th century, almost every "Catholic" king and queen had been replaced with democracies. Our feast met the church's need at the time.

But, by emphasizing Jesus' kingship, the church chose to stress the one title of Jesus which demands most explanation. The teachings and ministry of Jesus are at right angles to what we think about kingship. Though some of our sacred authors refer to him as a king, they're always forced to give a new definition to the term.

That's why the gospel Jesus is never given the title without some clarification. When Pilate in Mark, Matthew and Luke asks Jesus, "Are you a king?" his response "You say so!" is taken by scholars to mean, "That's what you say! I've never called myself a king." Even in today's pericope from John, when Pilate asks, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus contrasts his idea of kingdom with Pilate's. "My kingdom does not belong to this world . . . . As it is, my kingdom is not here."

Even when the Roman procurator thinks he's succeeded in forcing Jesus to admit he has a "kingly agenda," Jesus gives a completely different interpretation of his mission. "For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." The power and authority which Jesus exercises goes deeper and touches more people than any earthly king ever could. Because he opens up the truth to us, he'll always be our leader.

Ancient Jews could only dream of an apocalyptic future when God would give one of them (or their whole nation) the "dominion, glory and kingship" which the author of Daniel believed they deserved.

Yet, as we hear in our Revelation passage, what elevated Jesus to that high position wasn't his birth or an office he assumed. He only becomes the "ruler of the kings of the earth" because he's the faithful witness, the first born from the dead." As we read some weeks ago in chapter 10 of Mark, Jesus believes his importance comes from the importance of those he serves.

That's why this Christian apocalyptic writer looks into the future and sees Jesus exalted because " . . . he loves us and freed us from our sins by his own blood . . . (he's) made us a royal nation of priests in the service of his God and Father . . . ."

In other words, Jesus planned that we would discover his importance only after we learned about our own importance, shown by his love of us. Those who share the faith of Jesus turn the idea of kingship upside down.

Perhaps these verses from Revelation are one of the reasons Quakers have no division of clergy and laity in their communities. They contend that no one is more important than others. Jesus has transformed all of us into "a royal nation of priests." That's one of the truths he came to teach us.

NOVEMBER 19, 2006: THIRTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Daniel 12:1-3
Hebrews 10:11-14,18
Mark 13:24-32

One of the reasons Scripture scholars prefer to talk about "the Scriptures" and avoid using the term "the Bible' revolves around their realization that our sacred writings are actually a library, not a book.

Walking into a library, most of us quickly grasp the obvious: a library is a collection of books, written at different times and places by different authors. But notice the signs displayed above the various shelves: fiction, biography, poetry, history, reference, etc. Each section of the library offers a different "literary genre;" a different style or form of writing which the authors have chosen to convey their message.

Only by first recognizing a writer's genre can we eventually understand the writer's message. Poets, for instance, can have animals and the wind talk, something biographers can't do. Novelists can describe in great detail a person's innermost thoughts, something a historian can only speculate about.

The literary genre of today's first and third readings is apocalyptic. This form of writing normally originates during periods of persecution, when people find it difficult to concentrate on the pain their present situation brings. Apocalyptic authors focus their readers' eyes on the future, describing the salvation God has promised to provide, all the time making certain their readers also understand the "cosmic" significance of the suffering they're enduring. Their distress isn't being ignored by God; on the contrary, God is using it to bring about a future in which the just will no longer suffer such anguish.

Apocalyptic writers often predict events which have already happened years before they write. Though such a practice causes historical authors to cringes, it's as much a part of this genre as a farmer's scarecrow speaking to someone in a line of poetry.

Today's Daniel reading, for instance, was composed several centuries after the Babylonian Exile it describes, during the Seleucid persecution of the Jews. By making it appear it was written in the 6th century BCE instead of the 2nd century BCE, the sacred author is conveying the message that just as Yahweh delivered the Chosen People back then, so Yahweh will take care of them now, even if that care might not be evident until those people step into eternity. (It's significant that this passage contains the earliest biblical reference to heaven: "Some shall live forever . . . .")

Mark's apocalyptic pericope seems to have been triggered not so much by an actual persecution as by a general fear that persecutions were just around the corner for Jesus' disciples. Employing the commonly accepted idea of how the world would one day end, the evangelist wants his people to understand that, no matter what, Jesus will be present, guiding and protecting "his chosen" from the distress others will experience. They should stop worrying about the unknown, painful future, and put their trust and confidence in Jesus. That's why he ends this section with Jesus' words, "As to the exact day or hour, no one knows it, neither the angels in heaven not even the Son, but only the Father." In other words, don't let your fear of something you can't control stop you from doing the things you can control.

After all, the Hebrews author tells us, no matter what the future holds, the most important thing has already been taken care of. "Jesus offered one sacrifice for sins and took his seat forever at the right hand of God . . . . By one offering he has forever perfected those who are being sanctified."

Whatever genre our sacred authors employ, the Scriptures they produce consistently remind us both of what God has already done for us, and what we are expected to do because of those actions.

NOVEMBER 12, 2006: THIRTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
I Kings 17:10-16
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44

I can't think of a Scripture passage more misunderstood than today's gospel pericope. Even those who chose our first reading probably did so because they misinterpreted our third reading.

I presume each of us has heard this widow's mite passage proclaimed by pastors or finance committee chairpersons encouraging us to either increase our weekly donation or give generously to some special parish fund. The irony is that if they'd understood what Jesus actually thinks about the widow's contribution, our pastors and chairpersons would have avoided this particular example like bankruptcy.

Scholars point out that Jesus never praises the woman for what she does. Listen carefully to what he says. "Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them.’Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the teasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.'" He's simply pointing out something his followers might have overlooked. Though this person gave very little, because of her financial situation, she gave everything she had.

If Mark's Jesus isn't praising the widow for her generosity, why does he single her out? It's because of what he says immediately before the widow comes on the scene. "Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplace, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a severe condemnation."

When we couple the widow's action with Jesus' attack on her religious leaders who "devour the houses of widows," we realize he's simply pointing to the woman and saying, "I rest my case!" Obviously these well-fed, well-clothed and well honored individuals, under the pretext of "I'll say one for you," have given this poor widow the impression that she's obligated to support their sumptuous lifestyle, even to the point of destroying herself. Jesus' message is that those leaders should be taking care of her, not vice versa. "What a shame," he's telling his followers, "that some leaders use religion as a cover for selfishly taking instead of a stimulus for generously giving."

Once we understand the message Mark is actually trying to convey, we're forced to look at our other two readings from a different perspective.

Though Elijah, in our I Kings passage, asks the widow of Zarephath for a super act of generosity, he's also super-generous to her. "She was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well; the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry . . . ." The prophet did more than just take the food and promise he'd pray for her and her son to have a happy death.

In a parallel way, the author of today's Hebrews reading reminds us of Jesus’ generosity. He sacrificed himself first "to take away sin," then "to bring salvation to those who eagerly await him." Nothing should stop us from imitating such generosity toward others.

Years ago I read a Life magazine article on Mother Theresa of Calcutta. The reporter mentioned something which happened while she was interviewing one of the sisters working in the community's house for the dying. The nun was scrubbing the floor as she answered the interviewer. But at one point, she looked up and said, "Why do you keep asking me these questions when you can see all the work that needs to be done here. Why don't you put down your pen and notebook and help me?"

Our sacred authors agree: true generosity always leads us to give ourselves to others, even if we get sidetracked at times by the heretical belief that giving to religion is more important than giving to people.

NOVEMBER 5, 2006: THIRTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Deuteronomy 6:2-6
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 12:28-34

Carroll Stuhlmueller once mentioned in class that prophets rarely say anything new. Their oracles revolve around ideas, beliefs and divine commands that have been present in a specific religion for centuries. The prophet simply rearranges the "spiritual geography." He or she pulls a concept from the perimeter of that religion and places it at its heart; at the same time, relegating what was front and center to its outskirts.

That's precisely what happened during the Second Vatican Council. Our bishops took beliefs and practices we hadn't focused on for a long time and put them directly in front of our eyes, enabling those who didn't welcome or refused to accept the council's reforms to get themselves off the theological hook by arguing that the church wasn't giving us anything new. It had always taught what the bishops were decreeing.

Often these council critics were correct. But they forgot to mention that such beliefs and practices were at the bottom of our "what to teach list," ignored, overlooked, or reserved for extra credit. The reforming bishops turned the list upside down.

That's also what Jesus, as prophet, tried to accomplish during his earthly ministry. Listen carefully to how he compliments the scribe for his insightful answer in today's gospel pericope. "You are not far," he says, "from the reign of God."

Regular readers of this column will immediately understand that Jesus isn't stating that the scribe is close to getting into heaven. The technical term "reign of God" refers to the ability to experience God working in our life here and now, long before we begin our eternal experience of God in heaven. That's why it's important to remember the scribe's original question. "Which is the first of all the commandments?" In other words, he's asking Jesus. "What, in your practice of Judaism, have you positioned directly in front of your eyes?"

Jesus responds as he believes any good Jew would respond. He begins his list by repeating the core of today's Deuteronomy passage, and then quickly adds what he regards as Leviticus' most important command. "This is the first: 'Hear O Israel! Yahweh our God is Lord alone! Therefore you shall love Yahweh, your God, with all your heart . . . soul . . . mind, and . . . strength.' This is the second, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."

According to Jesus, only those who pull these commands from the perimeter of their faith and position them at its center will be able to achieve what he achieved: experiencing God working in his daily life.

The author of our Hebrews selection dwells on the terrific effect Jesus has in the lives of Christians. He's our one priest, intercessor, and savior. The writer eventually reminds his readers that what others did in a partial, imperfect way before Jesus, he "made perfect forever." It's easy to understand why anyone so deeply changed by Jesus would eventually develop a faith in him.

Yet, from the picture Mark paints of Jesus in our gospel, it makes sense why Fr. Ed Hays constantly reminds us that Jesus' earliest followers imitated him long before they worshipped him. Instead of acquiring faith in Jesus, they tried to instill in themselves the faith of Jesus. Every day they worked at making Jesus' priorities their priorities. The religious "stuff" that cluttered their vision before they met and followed him probably would have gotten them into heaven. But it never excited their faith and fulfilled their lives like the ideas Jesus positioned in the center of their faith and lives. Only these newly centered ideas and practices helped them discover the God who is at the center of their faith and lives.