APRIL 29, 2007: FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Readings:
Acts 13:14, 43-52
Revelation 7:9, 14b-17
John 10:27-30

A driving force behind the writing of Luke/Acts was the evangelist’s quest to explain how a reform movement which had been 100% Jewish in the early 30s of the first Christian century had become almost 100% Gentile by the mid-80s.

Some in the Jewish community contended this upheaval in their religion was part of Jesus’ master plan from the beginning. He and his followers had been bad Jews, subverting the basic tenets of their faith and turning their heretical teaching over to non-Jews.

Luke disagrees. He believes Gentiles became Christians not because Jesus and his first disciples intended them to do so, but because Jews rejected the message they proclaimed, enabling Gentiles to step into the breach. Luke is so driven by this thesis that, except for a forced encounter with Pontius Pilate, his Jesus never even talks to a non-Jew throughout his entire gospel. (Notice how ingeniously Luke handles Jesus’ cure of the Gentile centurion’s boy in chapter 7. Jesus never comes face to face with the Roman officer.)

Today’s first reading presents us with Luke’s premise. Paul and Barnabas first preach the word in the Pisidian Antioch synagogue. Initially well received, their proclamation is eventually rejected. But instead of leaving town, the two begin to convert Gentiles, defending their actions by stating Luke’s thesis: “It was necessary that the word of God be spoken to you (Jews) first, but since you reject it and condemn yourselves as unworthy of eternal life, we now turn to the Gentiles.” Luke then has Paul turn to Deutero-Isaiah for scriptural defense of such a radical move. “For so the Lord commanded us, ‘I have made you a light to the Gentiles that you may be an instrument of salvation to the ends of the earth.’”

No matter how Luke and his fellow biblical authors explain this unexpected development, most first century Christians believed it was part of God’s larger plan for the world.

By the time the book of Revelation was written, the Gentile mission was so far along the author could speak about the great eschatological gathering as a “great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people and tongue.” What had started as a small Jewish reform movement was now envisioned to be a world-wide faith community.

The shepherd image of Jesus John the evangelist created is used by the Revelation author to broaden the risen Jesus’ ministry. “For the Lamb who is in the center of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to springs of life-giving water and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Even Gentile eyes!

It’s clear from such a drastic change in direction that Jesus’ second and third generation disciples had to listen carefully to their shepherd’s voice, calling them to go into territories they’d never thought they’d have to enter. No doubt many in the biblical communities wondered where those who followed that voice would eventually end up.

In a recent issue of Theological Studies, Fr. Stephen Schloesser treats the now almost forgotten historical context of Vatican II. The Jesuit historian demonstrates how that mid-60s gathering stepped beyond the confines in which the church had positioned itself for centuries. The bishops, like our first century predecessors, produced documents which “excite us to wonder and admiration . . . focusing attention on the ‘big issues’ . . . . Keeping one’s eyes on cosmic concerns leads the reader to rise above all pettiness and to strive for an expansive vision and a generous spirit.”

Our shepherd’s voice constantly calls us to go beyond restrictions and smallness, to experience the whole universe God created. People heard that voice in both the middle of the first and twentieth century. I presume it’s still calling us in the same direction in the 21st century.

APRIL 22, 2007: THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER

Readings:
Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

Hans Walter Wolff often reminded us that Scripture teaches proper obedience and proper disobedience: obedience to the word of God; disobedience to those who would lead us away from that word.

Though this Lutheran scholar never had Luke in any of his classes, I take for granted when the two finally met in heaven ten years ago they had a terrific time comparing notes. Luke presumes all disciples of Jesus are influenced by the scriptural principle Wolff surfaced. That's why, early in his second volume, he describes an encounter between the apostles and the Jerusalem Sanhedrin.

"We gave you strict orders," the high priest proclaims, "to stop teaching in that name." Peter and the apostles' response is immediate and to the point. "We must obey God rather than men."

Luke constantly points out that such obedience always brings suffering and pain. This seems to be why he grounds the apostles' faithful witnessing in the Holy Spirit, the force both motivating and strengthening them.

Luke's ideal reaction to any oppressor's prohibition to preach the word is disobedience. "They left the presence of the Sanhedrin, rejoicing that they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name."

Students of the book of Revelation agree that the community to which the writing was originally directed was also suffering dishonor for the sake of the name. Almost all apocalyptic literature is composed in the midst of persecution, during those periods when the faithful are tempted to believe God doesn't give a darn about them and their situation.

The scene the sacred author paints is meant to strengthen his reader's belief in Jesus' power in their lives. Yet at the same time, he includes one phrase which ties Jesus into their own suffering. "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain . . . ." The glory which permeates the vision is only possible because Jesus achieved it by enduring suffering and death.

John treats the same topic at the end of today's gospel passage. Jesus warns Peter, "When you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."

It's interesting to reflect on the scriptural context of this warning. Johannine scholars are convinced this chapter is a later addition to John's original gospel. Yet they also believe it contains one of the earliest accounts we possess of a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus.

The seven disciples seem to have had no prior encounter with the "new-creation" Jesus. After their disastrous Jerusalem Passover pilgrimage, they simply return to Capernaum and hang out, depressed, knowing he's dead, but reluctant to go back to what they did before he entered their lives, else they'd have to come face to face with the reality of his death.

Though the late Elizabeth Kubler Ross frequently claimed she wasn't a religious individual, she would have loved this passage. She always reminded her audiences that we only deal correctly with a loved one's death after we painfully decide to "go back to work."

The seven are fishermen. When Peter says, "I'm going fishing!" he's not talking about taking a day off. He's saying, "I'm going back to fishing!" In other words, "Jesus is really dead, and so are the dreams he taught us to believe in." Ironically, only when Peter does something which seals his belief in Jesus' death does he discover him alive in his life in a new way.

If we commit ourselves to the obedience/disobedience format of Jesus and our sacred authors, and accept the suffering and death coming from such a commitment, we'll also step into a life we could never have imagined; the life which Jesus' faithful obedience and disobedience opened for him.

APRIL 15, 2007 – SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER

Readings:
Acts 5:12-16
Revelation 1:9-11a, 12-13, 17-19
John 20:19-31

Luke composed his gospel and the Acts of the Apostles not only to tell his readers about the things Jesus said and did during his earthly and risen ministry, but also to teach his readers how to participate in that ministry.

We especially hear this latter aspect of his writing in today's Acts pericope. Luke begins by mentioning, "Many signs and wonders were done among the people at the hands of the apostles." Then, after describing how the sick tried to have Peter's shadow "fall on one or another of them," he ends by stating, "A large number of people from the towns in the vicinity of Jerusalem also gathered, bringing the sick and those disturbed by unclean spirits, and they were all cured."

It appears Luke, and all our early Christian authors, interpreted Jesus' Last Supper words, "Do this in memory of me!" as applying to more than just his words and actions during that particular meal. They believed everything they said and did should be geared to carrying on his ministry. By the way his followers lived their lives; this crucified leader lived and functioned in the world. In this situation, if the historical Jesus healed "the sick and those disturbed by unclean spirits," then his disciples were expected to do the same.

The author of Revelation suffers because of this concept of ministry. "I found myself (in exile) on the island called Patmos because I proclaimed God's word and gave testimony to Jesus." The writer isn't banished to this remote, insignificant piece of real estate because of the color of his eyes or his politics. He carries on Jesus' work, so he encounters the same opposition which tried to destroy Jesus.

That appears to be why he's granted the vision of Jesus he describes in this passage and hears the words all imitators of Jesus long to hear, "Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, the one who lives. Once I was dead, but now am alive forever and ever. I hold the keys to death and the netherworld." Today's Christians would have an easier row to hoe if they could share in such an intimate experience of Jesus at least once a week.

The truth is that most of the time we're carrying on Jesus' ministry, we feel like Thomas felt late Easter Sunday night. We only hear from others that Jesus is alive among us. Considering the pain involved in imitating Jesus, we'd prefer to have a more person, tangible encounter with him.

Respecting such a longing, John both describes Thomas' experience a week later, and also has the risen Jesus say something for the benefit of those who weren't in that locked room on either Sunday night. "Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."

We're obviously expected to apply this last statement to ourselves, we who live 20 centuries after Jesus' historical ministry. Yet, the field of those unseeing believers is significantly broader than we sometimes imagine. It includes not only ourselves and most of our faith predecessors, but four people we normally don't put in that category: the four evangelists.
Scripture scholars tell us that none of our gospel writers ever encountered the historical Jesus. Each experienced only the risen Jesus. Unlike the author of Revelation, they never mention any special visions of Jesus intersecting their daily lives. They, like us, had to surface Jesus in their imitation of Jesus.

John deliberately puts his Thomas episode in the context of Jesus' command to forgive. No other action helps us come face to face with the dying/rising Jesus in our midst. And it's also the most dying/rising imitation of Jesus we'll ever take part in.

APRIL 7, 2007: EASTER VIGIL

Readings:
Exodus 14:15-15:1
Isaiah 55:1-11
Romans 6:3-11
Luke 24:1-12

(Ideally, all nine readings should be proclaimed tonight. But because of space limits, I can only comment on four.)

No other liturgy compares to this night's celebration. When Jesus' earliest followers tried to explain the impact of the resurrection on their lives, their Jewish faith and culture led them to create analogies from the greatest event in their history: the Exodus. That's why, no matter what readings we foolishly leave out, we're obligated to include the Exodus 14 narrative of the crossing of the sea. It begins with Yahweh's command, "Tell the children of Israel to go forward!"

These words set the theme for our Easter reflection. Probably the most difficult action for people of faith is simply to go forward.

When Yahweh ordered the runaway Hebrew slaves to head into the sea, they thought it to be a step into death, not step into the most life-giving event they'd ever experience. Their trust in God's ability to lead them to life and freedom is the only force impelling them to go forward.

No wonder Paul, a Christian Jew, writes so eloquently about being buried in the waters of baptism and rising into new life with Jesus. His people annually commemorate a similar 1,200 year old dying and rising experience.

Our four sacred authors are convinced that the one obstacle standing in our way of going forward is a belief that going in such a direction is against "common wisdom." As Luke mentions in our gospel pericope, when the women inform the eleven of what they found at the tomb that Sunday morning, "their story seemed like nonsense and they did not believe them." We always feel more secure when the majority of those around us agree with the direction in which we're moving. To commit ourselves to the movement of a small minority can't win us lots of friends or influence many in our community.

Here our Deutero-Isaiah passage kicks in. I always remind my students that prophets rarely put their oracles into the order we find them in the books bearing their names. Only after the prophet's death will his or her followers sit down, reflect on their mentor's influence in their lives and arrange their sayings in the pattern which best conveys that influence. Deutero-Isaiah's disciples saved tonight's words for the very end of their collection, a summary of what they believed the prophet was all about.

They begin by assuring the Israelites that Yahweh will freely give them what they're really seeking in life. Then the prophet reminds them of the contradiction all followers of God face daily. God is both the closest and the most distant element in their lives.

But the last two verses best apply to our go forward theme. "For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth. It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it."

We go forward into our daily deaths only because we believe God's word that such actions will bring us life. As Christians we share in the dream which God's word instilled in Jesus' heart 2,000 years ago; the word-based dream he shared with his first followers. No wonder Luke's Easter Sunday angels insist that the women, "Remember what (Jesus) said to you . . . ."

Bishop Thomas Gumbleton recently reminded his Detroit community, "It's important for us to develop our dream, to see a vision of what could be - what will be, if we allow God to work in and through us."

Those who let themselves be led forward by trusting God's word will experience the life that word gives, the same life Jesus eventually received by trusting in God's word.

APRIL 1, 2007: PASSION SUNDAY

Readings:
Isaiah 50:4-7
Philippians 2:6-11
Luke 22:14-23:56

Though the four passion narratives sound similar to the untrained ear, each is unique. Every evangelist emphasizes different aspects of Jesus' suffering and death - the aspects he believes his particular community needs to hear.

As we listen to Luke's narrative today, notice how considerate and forgiving Jesus is throughout his horrible ordeal. Probably the words we most remember from these two chapters are those Jesus says as he's being nailed to the cross: "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." Though scholars agree this part of 22:34 wasn't in Luke's original gospel, it's easy to understand why some scribe eventually inserted these memorable words. Luke's Jesus is always considerate, always forgiving. Only Luke, for instance, passes on the parable of the prodigal father and the story of Jesus' encounter with Zaccheus the tax collector. He alone teaches the lesson of the Pharisee and tax collector praying in the temple. This theology carries over into his passion narrative.

As I remind my students when we deal with these powerful sections of the gospels, our evangelists are far less interested in telling us about Jesus' physical suffering and death than they are concerned with pointing out ways in which we can imitate Jesus' suffering and death. Since no one in the early church thought we were to accomplish this imitation by actually being scourged, crowned with thorns and nailed to a cross, the evangelists never emphasize those parts of Jesus' passion. (For instance, in none of the four narratives is it ever said that Jesus was actually nailed to the cross!)

The normal way Christians join in Jesus' dying is to imitate his psychological suffering. For Luke, more than the other three, that imitable pain revolves around Jesus concern for others, especially on a forgiving level.

Notice at the beginning of the narrative how only Luke, during the Last Supper, inserts Jesus' command, "Let the greatest among you be as the youngest, and the leader as the servant." This command sets the pattern for the remainder of Jesus' passion behavior. He not only promises to pray for Peter's conversion, but only in Luke's account of his arrest does he heal the severed ear of the high priest's servant. Then, later in the night, in one of the most poignant passages in Scripture, he "turns and looks at Peter" immediately after he denies he even knows Jesus.

Along the road to Golgotha he diverts attention from himself to the future sufferings the residents of Jerusalem will endure. "Weep for yourselves and for your children . . . ." And just before he dies we reach the height of his forgiving concern when he promises the repent-ant thief, ". . . Today you will be with me in Paradise."

Reflecting on Luke's unique passion theology, we begin to notice some overlooked aspects in our other two readings. In Deutero-Isaiah's third song of the suffering servant, it's significant that the prophet's pain comes from his mission "to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them." If he weren't so concerned for others, he wouldn't have to endure such suffering.

And in Paul's well-known Philippians hymn, we're forced to zero in on the words, "He (Jesus) emptied himself and took the form of a slave . . . he humbled himself . . . ." The form which the emptying and humbling takes is rooted in Jesus' day by day openness to those around him.

As I said above, Luke geared his passion narrative to his community's needs. No biblical writing is ever composed in a vacuum. If there weren't needs and problems in the communities for whom the writings were composed, we'd have no Scripture. It's interesting that of all four passion accounts, Luke's contains so many "memorable" events. I presume they're only memorable for us because we have the same needs his community had.