FEBRUARY 25, 2007: FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT

Readings:
Deuteronomy 26:4-10
Romans 10:8-13
Luke 4:1-13

Problems abound when we pull a few lines of Scripture from the context in which a sacred author originally put them. But we do this during every Eucharist. No biblical writer ever intended his or her work to be employed in the way we use it in the liturgy. Liturgies, as we know them today, didn't even exist when our sacred texts were composed.

Biblical writings were intended to be read as a whole, not chopped up and offered in bite size hunks. We know how aggravating it is to have someone come in late to a movie or TV show and constantly badger us with questions like, "Who's she? What are they talking about? Why's he crying?"

On the other hand, Scripture scholars are grateful when someone asks similar questions about a liturgical text. Rarely does anyone inquire why the author wrote this book, or how this particular section fits into the whole writing. We falsely presume the passage should make sense as it stands. And even though it doesn't, we hesitate to let anyone in on the secret.

Just as we cringe when someone quotes us out of context, our sacred authors must wince when we do that to their words. Each of today's three readings has a context - a place in which the author put it or a situation that prompted its writing - that doesn't always come through in the few verses the liturgy gives us.

The Deuteronomy author, for instance, wants no Jew to forget that Yahweh has been part of their history. Only because God entered the lives of their ancestors, liberated them from slavery and guided them into the Promised Land, can these particular Israelites even offer the first and best part of their harvest to Yahweh. This profession of faith in God's saving actions parallels our eucharistic profession of "the mystery of our faith." Jesus' dying and rising has immersed him in our history just as deeply as Yahweh is embedded in Israel's history. That's why it's important to note how a third person narrative quickly morphs into a first person account. "My father (Jacob) was a wandering Aramean . . . But when the Egyptians maltreated and oppressed us . . . ." There's no past to God being part of our lives. What Yahweh did for them, Yahweh does for us. What a context!

Paul carries this concept a step further. One set of circumstances against which all the Christian Scriptures must be heard is the admission of Gentiles, as Gentiles, into the church. Though Jews would agree with the Deuteronomy quote Paul employs - "Yahweh is near you, in your mouth and in your heart." - most would limit such intimate nearness to Jews alone. Paul, and some of his fellow ministers, stepped over the religious line by noticing God's presence even in non-Jews. "There is no distinction between Jew and Greek," he writes; "the same Lord is Lord of all, enriching all who call upon him. For 'everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.'" God's always pushing people to go beyond the faith limits in which they're comfortable.

That's why Luke places these three specific temptations at the start of Jesus' public ministry. Before Jesus steps into his role as the itinerant preacher of God's kingdom, he clarifies his priorities.

He's not giving up a secure carpenter's position in Capernaum to supply people with enough to eat, or to acquire a position of power, or to accomplish stupendous feats. Luke clicks off these temptations in the context of some in his community who believe Christianity should accomplish the three things Jesus rejects.

It's certainly not newsworthy or prestigious to go around pointing out that God's present and working in our day by day, often boring lives. Yet unless we regard this insight as the central part of our faith, we're not living that faith in the context in which our sacred authors thought it should be lived. Outside that context, no biblical faith makes sense.

FEBRUARY 18, 2007: SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
I Samuel 26:2, 7-9,12-13,22-23
I Corinthians 15:45-49
Luke 6:27-38

"Hesed" is one of Scripture's pivotal concepts. Though we have no one English word which translates the idea our sacred authors are trying to convey when they use it, the concept isn't difficult to understand.

Hesed is what you do for someone for whom you have responsibilities that isn't part of those responsibilities. But, if you don't regularly engage in some hesed, you'll soon start cutting corners on your responsibilities. Many ancient treaties and covenants insist on hesed, inserting it immediately after an enumeration of each party's obligations to the other. They simply state, "Beyond these obligations of our contract, we also promise hesed to one another." Performed correctly, hesed makes what we're obligated to do for others a pleasant experience.

A seminary spiritual director once gave a perfect example of hesed. "One of the most difficult jobs you'll perform as priests," he warned, "will be hearing confessions. The secret to creating a good attitude to that ministry is always to go into the confessional at least 10 minutes before your bulletin states confessions are to begin, and stay an extra 10 minutes after they're scheduled to end."

The bulletin is sort of a contract you make with your parishioners. If it says confessions begin at 3:00 and end at 5:00, you have an obligation to be available to the penitents during that two hour period. You have no obligation to arrive early and leave late. That's hesed. But those few extra minutes will make the two hours not only less difficult to endure; they'll create an environment of enjoyment you couldn't create any other way.

Why does hesed have this transforming effect? It brings an element of freedom into situations in which our obligations have removed freedom.

Today's three readings not only give us hesed examples, they also provide us with the biblical reason behind it.

David's refusal to kill his enemy Saul in our I Samuel passage provides us with a classic act of hesed. Abishai can't believe the raiding party's good fortune. "God has delivered your enemy into your grasp this day Let me nail him to the ground with one thrust of the spear; I will not need a second thrust!" David's refusal to let him do so is almost incomprehensible. Yet it's an act of freedom in a situation where few would exercise freedom. He later informs Saul from a safe distance, "Today though Yahweh delivered you into my grasp, I would not harm Yahweh's anointed."

Our gospel pericope is total hesed. It contains some of Luke's Sermon on the Plain, his parallel to Matthew's better-known Sermon on the Mount. "Love your enemies," Jesus teaches, "do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you . . . . Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours, do not demand it back." Jesus' reason for such unexpected behavior is simple: that's the way God works in our lives. "Be merciful just as your Father is merciful . . . . Be children of the Most High."

Paul had already grounded his Corinthian community in the principles of hesed almost thirty years before Luke delivered Jesus' words on the subject. Contrasting Adam and Jesus, he reminds his readers that Adam "was from the earth, earthly," but Jesus is "from heaven." Then he presents his conclusion. "Just as we have borne the image of the earthly one, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly one."

In other words, by imitating Jesus' death and resurrection, we've been transformed into other Christs. We've acquired the mind of Jesus, taking on his value system. If he taught and practiced hesed, we're to do the same. It's a small way to share in the freedom of God. Once we take that step, the things we're obligated to do will become much more enjoyable.

FEBRUARY 11, 2007: SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Jeremiah 17:5-8
I Corinthians 15:12, 16-20
Luke 6:17, 20-25

Though the old Weston Priory song containing the haunting refrain, "Come back to me with all your heart; don't let fear keep us apart," was entitled Hosea, it could just as accurately been called Micah, or Isaiah, or Jeremiah. The goal and message of every prophet in the Hebrew Scriptures is to bring people back to Yahweh. Forming and building a relationship with God is at the heart of all faith.

Yet no matter how deep our faith, we're always tempted to let our God relationship slide into the background of our lives, replacing it with a slavish adherence to rules and regulations. Many of us figure a relationship with a specific structure or institution is more secure, safer than a relationship with a God who's completely "other" from ourselves and the institutions and structures we create.

That's the situation Jeremiah faces in today's first reading. Scholars tell us that this pre-Babylonian Exile prophet has given up on the institution and structures of Judaism. For centuries it had been leading the faithful in directions Yahweh didn't want them to go. Once the Babylonians lay siege to Jerusalem in the early years of the 6th century BCE, he's convinced Yahweh wants the Israelites to throw down their arms, surrender to their enemies, and be marched off into an exile which will effectively destroy the structures and institution which led them away from Yahweh.

Jeremiah dreams that in exile, with the externals of Judaism wiped out, the Chosen People will be forced to return to the most essential part of their faith: their relationship with Yahweh. It'll be all they have left to build on.

The prophet helps prepare them for their exile with the contrast he creates in this passage. "Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings . . . whose heart turns away from Yahweh . . . . Blessed is the one who trusts in Yahweh, whose hope is Yahweh."

Luke imitates Jeremiah's contrast style in our gospel pericope. Though he and Matthew employ the hypothetical "Q" document for their narrative of the beatitudes, Luke reduces them from eight to four, but quickly adds four contrasting curses. Like Jeremiah, he's giving his people a choice. Will they choose the joy and blessings which come from imitating Jesus' poverty, hunger, sadness and persecution, or will they pick the curses which come from their imitating the wealth, satisfaction, laughter, and social status of his enemies? Only those who have formed a deep relationship with Jesus will dare copy the lifestyle choices which brought him a new life.

In a parallel way, Paul, writing almost 30 years before Luke, offers his Corinthian community the same choices. But he goes about it in a different way. Some in his church have come to the conclusion they're not going to rise from the dead. Though they believe Jesus rose, they don't see how that applies to themselves. Just because Bill Gates, for instance, is a billionaire, that doesn't mean I'm a billionaire.

Paul's only recourse is to return his readers to their primary relationship with the risen Jesus. According to his Christian belief, those who believe in Jesus become one with Jesus. To form a relationship with Jesus implies we identify with Jesus; we actually become other Christs. If Jesus dies, we die; if Jesus comes to life, we come to life. To believe Jesus rose from the dead, but we won't rise from the dead means we're the "most pitiable people of all." Our faith really is "in vain."

The Second Vatican Council demonstrated that structures and institutions can and must change. It also reminded us, like today's three sacred authors that our relationships with God and Jesus are at the heart of our faith, the force and reason behind any structural and institutional change.

FEBRUARY 4, 2007: FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Isaiah 6:2a, 3-8     
I Corinthians 15:1-11    
Luke 5:1-11
 
One of the first things students of Scripture learn is the disturbing fact that biblical events are not always presented to us in the order in which they actually took place.
 
As we saw last week with Jeremiah, call narratives usually are the last part of a prophetic book to take form. Yet they're almost always placed at the beginning of the book.
 
Our sacred authors often rearrange historical or chronological order for us, their readers, to help us appreciate up front the meaning of events which the actual biblical participants wouldn't have understood until much later in their lives.
 
The vast majority of Scripture scholars agree, for instance, that the material contained in Matthew's annunciation to Joseph and Luke's annunciation to Mary wouldn't have been understood by either of the recipients in that precise way until much later in their relationship with Jesus or with one another - some of it until after their son rose from the dead!
 
So when Isaiah narrates his well-known temple call in today's first reading, he's most probably sharing with us his reflection on his many years of prophetic ministry, putting pieces together which originally didn't seem to fit together. Only toward the end of his ministry did he begin to understand the "otherness" and force of God's word in his life and his own unworthiness in proclaiming that word.
 
Something similar happens in today's gospel pericope. Just when did this miraculous catch of fish take place? Luke places it before Jesus' resurrection; John puts it after. Scholars believe both narratives basically describe the same event. If it took place, after, why does Luke locate it before, and vice versa? The answer lies in the greatest destroyer of chronology in the Christian Scriptures: Jesus' resurrection.
 
The primary basis for human chronology is birth and death. But something gets thrown out of chronological kilter if death leads to a new birth. This is precisely what happened in the lives of Jesus' followers. One he intersected their daily lives as the risen Jesus; they'd never again look at life and death in the same way. That's why Luke could take a post-resurrection event (and the call to ministry that's an essential part of it) and insert it into a pre-resurrection environment. On one level, it's the same thing Jeremiah and Isaiah did; but add resurrection to the mix, and it becomes even more understandable.
 
Having recently finished our Christmas celebrations, we might think that the first Christians evangelized others by initially telling them about the Bethlehem narratives. Paul informs us in today's I Corinthians passage that the opposite took place. "For I handed on to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins . . . that he was buried . . . that he was raised on the third day . . . ."
 
The first thing about Jesus that perspective converts were expected to believe was that he died and rose. Once someone said, "I believe in Jesus' death and resurrection," then he or she found out about his public ministry, and eventually the circumstances of his birth and infancy. His ministry and early life only made sense against the background of his dying and rising. Unless we're really determined to achieve life, why would we go through the death our faith demands of us?
 
With this "mixed-up" biblical chronology in mind, it might be good to reflect on the actual starting point of our own faith. Where we are in our beliefs now might be far removed from where we started. I presume everyone has a different faith chronology. Yet we might have to live a lot of years before we actually begin to appreciate and understand our personal chronology.