9/24/15 Reflection - The Question
http://usccb.org/bible/readings/092415.cfm
Haggai 1:1-8
Luke 9:7-9
Herod the Great was king of the Palestine region at the time of the birth of Jesus. He is the Herod guilty of ordering the execution of the male children under two years old. He died in 4 b.c. after ruling approximately 33 years. The Herod of today's gospel is his son, Herod Antipas, one of three men chosen to rule various portions of Herod the Great's kingdom following his death. Herod Antipas was far from being a model for a good ruler; but he was not the cruel tyrant his father was. We hear him today at least asking the right question: "Who, then, is this, about whom I hear such things?"
Asking the right question is an art.
Pursuing the answer is work.
History tells us that Herod was not up to the necessary work. The next time we meet him is toward the end of Luke's gospel, at the time of Jesus passion. "And when he [Pilate] learned that he [Jesus] belonged to Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him over to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time." (Luke 23:7) Apparently, however, Herod had done nothing in the interim to discover an answer to the question he had asked years before. "When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him." (Luke 23:8) The question was still there; but no answer had been pursued.
"Who, then, is this, about whom I hear such things?"
The question of Jesus' identity has hung around for centuries. John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask; "Are you he who is to come. . . ?" (Luke 7:19) The Apostles had puzzled over the question. "Who then is this, that he commands even wind and water, and they obey him?" (Luke 8:25)
Jesus himself wondered what answers were being given by the people to the question. "Who do the people say that I am?" (Luke 9:18) Jesus asked the Apostles. I cannot imagine a disciple at any time in history who would not have asked the question. What follows from the questioning differs widely for each individual person.
Now, it seems to me that the peculiar thing about all of this is not the way people deal with the question --- though that is important, and I'll come back to it in a second --- no, what is peculiar is not how people deal with the question but, rather, that they feel compelled to ask the question at all --- and then keep asking it. When considering Jesus I can easily imagine myself asking: "Who, then, is this, about whom I hear such things?" But the very thought of asking that same question about any other person feels strange and foreign. Sure, there are occasions when someone I know says or does something which I think is out of character and I momentarily pause as I try to reconcile the dissonance. But Jesus said and did things which were continually out of character --- not out of character for him as a person but for him as a man. And, consequently, the question seems to continually reverberate when I ask it of Jesus. No answer completely satisfies and I am led to ask again: "Who, then, is this, about whom I hear such things?"
From the time I was a child I have known Jesus. But equally true is the statement: From the time I was a child I have never known Jesus. I can't simply place him in my mental outline of history. I can't file him away in the folder of "people I once knew." I can't put him in a category like parent or sibling or casual acquaintance. I can't comfortably list him among those persons who have had an impact on my thinking or my life. Through the years I have known him in various guises.
He has been known to me as the sad man dying on the cross.
. . . . as the glorious king of heaven
. . . . as my comfort in times of sorrow
. . . . as my God who lived as a man
. . . . as my model and teacher
. . . . as a fellow man who turned out to be God
. . . . as brother
. . . . as man
. . . . as God
. . . . as mystery
"Who, then, is this, about whom I hear such things?" The question persists, defying all answers. So, I turn to the matter of response.
Herod asked the question and seemed content with no answer at all.
Just last week we heard the account of the Pharisee who invited Jesus to dinner and was then scandalized when Jesus allowed the sinful woman to wash his feet with her tears and dry them with her hair. He, too, began by asking himself the right question; but then was content to draw his own conclusion, a conclusion shaped by his bias rather than by knowing Jesus. "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him . . ." (Luke 7:39) This Pharisee reminds me of the character that Johnny Carson used to play on the Tonight Show. Carnac the Magnificent always had the answer before he knew the question.
I ask the question.
How do I respond?
Should I play 'dog in the manger'? Satisfied with what answer I already have?
Or should I ignore the question and spend time on what seems unanswerable?
Me? I'm still searching. I have answers, lots of them. None are complete; none are more than temporarily satisfying. And my incomplete, marginally satisfying answers keep revealing that there is more, always more.
One day . . . . !
"All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him." (Luke 10:22)