SEPTEMBER 30, 2007: TWENTY-SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Amos 6:1a, 4-7
I Timothy 6:11-16
Luke 16:19-31

No religion can claim to be rooted in biblical faith if "social justice" isn't at the top of its "to do list." Jesus of Nazareth didn't go town to town, synagogue to synagogue teaching people how to set up an institution, shape an authority structure or build houses of worship. Wherever he went, he simply stated his belief that God's kingdom is so close we can put out our hands and touch it. But to even perceive that kingdom, we must change the way we relate to others; undergo a "metanoia:" a 180 degree switch in our value system. People and their welfare must become the focus of our existence. Only when we begin to relate with the most insignificant individuals around us will we begin to notice God working effectively in our lives.

The author of I Timothy has this in mind when he writes, "Man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness." In Scripture, people are "righteous" who form and maintain the proper relationship with God and those who intersect their everyday lives.

We know from our biblical prophets that if our relationships are domineering, arrogant or controlling, they're not righteous. Only selfless, giving relationships fall into the righteous category.

Amos leaves no doubt where he and Yahweh stand on the issue. Condemning the wealthy in both Jerusalem and Samaria, the prophet perfectly describes their "me first" mindset. "Lying on beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, they eat lambs taken from the flock, and calves from the stall! Improvising to the music of the harp, like David, they devise their own accompaniment. They drink wine from bowls and anoint themselves with the best oils."

In themselves, none of these actions is wrong; but they have a divisive component. Amos zeroes in on this evil in his last line. "Yet they are not made ill be the collapse of Joseph!" They don't give a darn about the poverty and devastation destroying almost everyone in Israel (Joseph). Wealth blinds them to the plight of the less fortunate.

Luke's Jesus gives the identical message in our gospel pericope. Little has changed in the Promised Land in the 750 years between Amos and the Galilean carpenter.

The "rich man" in Jesus' story isn't condemned for being rich, but for letting his wealth become the center of his life. It's possible he doesn't even notice Lazarus "lying at his door." Instead of using his money to help those, like Lazarus, who are poor and "covered with sores," the rich man "dresses in purple garments and fine linen and dines sumptuously each day." Only the dogs who "come and lick Lazarus' sores" seem to notice he exists.

As a good Pharisee, Jesus presumes the tables will be turned after the beggar and rich man die. The latter, because of his refusal to be socially just, finds himself in the netherworld "in torment," while Lazarus is rejoicing "in the bosom of Abraham." Though the rich man now wants to set up a relationship with Lazarus, he can't. Abraham reminds him of the "big chasm between me and you." Communication is now impossible.

Though many of us do good simply to avoid the "flames of the netherworld," it makes more sense to avoid the "internal" punishment of our actions instead of the "external." Fire is external; the inability to communicate is internal. Jesus believes we'll enter eternity with the same frame of mind with which we leave this world. Heavenly joy has little to do with harps, white robes or angelic choirs. According to our Christian ancestors, it consists in a terrific opportunity to relate with everyone with whom we share those sacred precincts.

Jesus teaches that those who aren't socially just here, won't have a chance to be so in the afterlife.

SEPTEMBER 23, 2007: TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Amos 8:4-7
I Timothy 2:1-8
Luke 16:1-13

On a recent radio program, I learned that when someone asks, "How are you?" you're simply to respond, "Fine. How are you?" Unless you're speaking with your doctor or some other medical personnel, you're to presume the questioner really isn't interested in your actual physical or mental well-being. All cultures have parallel conventions. After a while one learns what to take seriously and what to slough off.

One of the problems our sacred authors surface today revolves around some people not taking their faith seriously. Though these individuals employ the proper religious words and gestures, they don't expect anyone to take what they say and do literally. Certainly they themselves don't. Their faith is as much a cultural convention as someone's request to know how you are.

Amos, the first "book prophet," confronts such people. "When will the new moon be over," they ask, "that we may sell our grain, and the Sabbath that we may display the wheat?" Determined not to break any of the laws regulating the use of sacred times, they wait to buy and sell their products until those holy periods are over. But when they finally return to business as usual, they "diminish the ephah, add to the shekel and fix (their) scales for cheating." In other words, they're planning to defraud the poor with false weights and measures. "We will buy the lowly for silver, and the poor for a pair of sandals (a biblical idiom for a bribe); even the refuse of the wheat we will sell."

It's logical to ask why these dealers so scrupulously keep every religious law governing the Sabbath and full moon, yet deliberately connive to break Yahweh's law to love one's neighbor. They're simply not serious about living and growing in their faith. As long as it's culturally convenient, they're faithful. When it's not, they're faithless.

Yahweh's judgment on such behavior is classic: "Never will I forget a thing they have done."

Luke's Jesus, fearing some of his followers will also adopt the religious attitude Amos condemns, gives an example of a dishonest servant who plots, schemes and conspires to avoid his master's punishment, eventually coming up with a strategy to impoverish his master and enrich himself.

Jesus uses the dishonest servant's ingenuity in doing evil as a goad to get his followers to be just as ingenious in doing good. "For the children of this world are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light." Amos and Jesus agree: evil people frequently spend more time honing their field of expertise than good people exert developing their area of specialization.

That's why Jesus returns to his basic message of repentance, encouraging us to undergo a change in our value system. "No servant can serve two masters. He or she will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and mammon (dishonest wealth)." In other words, put your money where your values are.

The author of I Timothy is committed to the same belief. Though he presumes Christians will lead a life different from non-Christians in the community, he encourages them to live that unique life in a "quiet and tranquil" manner, not calling attention to themselves. Still, nothing should alter their conviction that ". . . There is one God. There is also one mediator between God and the human race, Christ Jesus, himself human, who gave himself as ransom for all."

If this short, early Christian hymn isn't at the heart of our faith, then our practice of that faith eventually will become just as insipid as our telling people, "Have a happy day!"

SEPTEMBER 16, 2007: TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Exodus 32:7-11, 13-14
I Timothy 1:12-17
Luke 15:1-32

Though every line of Scripture was written by Semitic thinkers, today almost everyone who reads and comments on this sacred collection are Greek thinkers. Among other things, that means we're "analyzing" words of "synthesizers." We Greek-minded individuals mentally tear things apart when we think of them. Semitic-minded people mentally pull things together. We passionately endeavor to eradicate contradictions; they just as passionately try to surface contradictions. Since the middle of the second Christian century, when Greek thinkers captured Christianity, we've lost an essential key for understanding our sacred writings. We continually search for "either/or" components in "both/and" literature.

This is particularly true when we reflect on biblical concepts of God, especially as we find those concepts in today's first and third readings.

In our Exodus pericope, Yahweh's clearly has had it with the Israelites. God intends to wipe out this recently freed band of Hebrew slaves, and make Moses and his family the new Chosen People. "I see how stiff-necked this people are," Yahweh tells Moses. "Let me alone, then, that my wrath may blaze up against them to consume them. Then I will make of you a great nation."

We know from Deutero-Isaiah that you can take Yahweh's word to the bank. In chapter 55, God reminds us, ". . . My word that goes forth from my mouth . . . shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it." In this Exodus situation, that can only mean the Israelites shouldn't invest in any long-term life insurance.

But, flying in the face of Deutero-Isaiah's theology, the Exodus author tells us Yahweh eventually "relented" in the punishment he had threatened to inflict on his people." No matter Moses' argument, how can Yahweh go back on Yahweh's word?

Semitic thinkers have no problem with such a contradiction. They simply reply to our either/or objections with the comment, "On one hand, God must keep God's word. But on the other hand, God can change God's word."

Luke's Jesus creates a parallel contradiction when he teaches his enemies about God's forgiveness of sinners. On one hand, God is obligated to follow strict norms of justice. But on the other hand, God is unbelievably merciful. Such contradictory behavior surfaces in Jesus' parable about the prodigal father. Though obligated and expected to follow strict justice toward both sons, the father puts that obligation in the background when he finally encounters his long-lost prodigal son. As he explains to his justly complaining older son, "You are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found."

Perhaps the key to understanding these contradictions lies in a comment the great Hans Walter Wolff once made during a lecture on Jonah. There, too, Yahweh "repents" and, to the chagrin of the prophet, doesn't destroy the Ninevites. "Yahweh doesn't have to be faithful to Yahweh's word," the German scholar stated, "as long as Yahweh is faithful to Yahweh's people." Only a fool would keep his or her word when circumstances change enough to make that word "counter-productive." God's relationship with us is more important than God's reputation.

The author of I Timothy recognizes that divine attribute. "Christ Jesus," he writes, "came into the world to save sinners. Of these I am the foremost. But for that reason I was mercifully treated . . . ."

Real relationships never revolve around either/or. Such a mentality will eventually kill them. They only grow and prosper when they're both/and.

SEPTEMBER 9, 2007: TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Wisdom 9:13-18b
Philemon 9-10, 12-17
Luke 14:25-33

Every three years I encourage liturgical presiders to have their lectors proclaim Paul's entire letter to Philemon today. It's only 25 verses, much smaller than many of the Lenten gospel passages from John. In the long run it'll save time. You won't have to give lots of background for the passage during your homily.

Though short and directed to just one person, the letter contains a practical application of one of Paul's fundamental faith tenets: God calls us to be free, to break through the limits which normally restrict our relations with other.

The Wisdom author reflects on some of these limits in our first reading. "The deliberations of mortals are timid, and unsure are our plans. For the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns." A force in us wants to break out, but our humanity keeps it chained down. There's a dimension in our lives we're never able to express.

For Paul, one of these repressed components revolves around our desire to freely give ourselves to others. We all realize that many of our acts of giving aren't free. We're forced into them, afraid of the consequences which will come our way if we don't do them, worried because we have a reputation to maintain or an image to convey. Freedom rarely is in the mix.

In the Apostle's communication with Philemon, he creates a situation in which both the recipient and the carrier of the letter can freely do something.

Philemon is one of Paul's converts, a wealthy person, a leader in the Christian community in Colossae, and a slave owner. One of his slaves, Onesimus, ran away (after possibly "wreaking some havoc"), and came to Paul, asking, after being baptized, to help him in his ministry. Though most of us in this non-slave era would apply the principle of "possession is 9/10th of the law," Paul operates from the principle of freedom.

He not only sends this letter to Philemon, asking him to freely release his slave and permit him to return to Paul, but he gives the letter to Onesimus to deliver! The slave is freely asking his master for his freedom. What Paul preached, he expected himself and his followers to practice.

We possess no return letter from Philemon to Paul. But since the early church saved and circulated the first half of the correspondence, we presume Philemon freed Onesimus.

For Christians, such free and freeing actions don't happen by accident, or on the spur of the moment. They result from people reflecting deep and long on what it means to share the faith of Jesus: the very point Luke's Jesus brings up in our gospel pericope.

Nothing should stand in the way of our determination to imitate Jesus' dying and rising. "If anyone comes to me without hating father and mother, spouse and children, brothers and sisters, and even their own lives, they cannot be my disciple." Though we know the word "hate" in this context is a Semitic exaggeration - not meant to be taken literally - Jesus' message is still clear: "I'm #1; everyone or everything else in your life is #2."

Not everyone can live such a radical existence. That's why Jesus reminds "the crowds" that true discipleship involves lots of planning. If we engage in intense preparation in other levels of our life, we should also do it in those elements which concern our faith.

Without such determined planning, our Christian response to people and situations often depends on "how I feel today." It's precisely from such emotional limits that our faith is geared to free us.

SEPTEMBER 2, 2007: TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Readings:
Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29
Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-24a
Luke 14:1, 7-14

I learned in my grade school religion classes that to be humble simply means to be honest. God never expects us to deny the gifts or talents we have. We're just not to think more of ourselves than we should. This concept of honesty coincides not only with the first lines of our Sirach reading, but also with our two other scriptural passages.

"My child," Sirach writes, "conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts. Humble yourself the more, the greater you are and you will find favor with God." The sacred author insightfully reminds his readers that "greatness" can be a cause of "blindness." The glare of our own personal gifts can obscure the gifts of others.

Jesus makes this very point in our gospel pericope. He first cautions his fellow dinner guests not to value themselves more than others value them. Those who make that mistake might end up being publicly embarrassed. Then he zeroes in on one of his most demanding teachings, one we conveniently forget. "When you hold a lunch or dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers, sisters or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors . . . ." Rather when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

Embedded in this command is one of Jesus' fundamental beliefs: We're all in this together. One of the things which most bug Jesus' enemies is his insistence that there are no "ins or outs." For him, everyone is in. The limits which separate one from others are almost always human inventions, not divine creations. Remember how harshly he condemned the priest and Levite in his "Good Samaritan" parable for refusing to help the Jew mugged and left to die alongside the Jerusalem-Jericho road? According to the pair's religious restrictions, their "in" position in the clerical hierarchy required them to cautiously pass by the man, who, because of his bloody condition, was "out." Ironically, it was another "out" person who came to his aid.

Scholars remind us that even Jesus' habit of traveling with "The Twelve" was meant to be an inclusive sign to his Jewish audiences, demonstrating that all Jews were included in God's kingdom, every member of the twelve tribes, not just those from a small handful of "pre-eminent" tribes. (This explains why the Twelve were all men; the original twelve were Jacob's twelve sons. Its Jewish inclusive symbolism is also why John rarely refers to the group in his gospel. By the time he writes, almost no Jews are converting to Jesus' faith.)

When Jesus tells his followers to invite society's outcasts to be one with them in sharing a meal, he's simply reminding them that their prerogatives should never stop them from being one with those who don't share those same privileges.

After all, the Hebrews author contends, those who follow Jesus all share in the same privileges of faith, no matter their individual gifts, or lack of gifts. "You have approached Mount Zion and the city of the living God . . . the assembly of the first-born in heaven, and God the judge of all . . . and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant . . . ."

In the author's theology, Yahweh's powerful Sinai appearance turned some Jews off. "They begged that no message be further addressed to them." But that's not the case with the presence of the risen Jesus, either at the end of the world or in the day by day lives of his disciples. All share equally in this wonderful experience.

Those who think they're in and others are out, should probably reflect on their personal humility.