Reflection - Knowing

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/050317.cfm
1 Corinthians 15:1-8
John 14:6-14

Long before Abraham, men were aware that there was a God or gods, and they struggled to mentally pin him down. Who was this being? What was he like? How do we represent him? The Egyptians and other mid-eastern peoples imaged their gods as animals. The Romans and Greeks turned to human figures. In the geographical midst of these nations was a relatively small nation of people who were led to understand God differently. The Psalmist described these differences in a variety of ways.

Unlike the gods of the surrounding nations, the Psalmist says, 

Our God is in the heavens. He does whatever he pleases.
Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands.
They have mouths, but they don’t speak. They have eyes, but they don’t see.
They have ears, but they don’t hear. They have noses, but they don’t smell.
They have hands, but they don’t feel.
They have feet, but they don’t walk, neither do they speak through their mouths.
(Psalm 115)

The Psalmist discarded the notion that sacrifices could manipulate God.

Hear, my people, and I will speak. I am God, your God.
[Although]Your burnt offerings are continually before me.
I have no need for a bull from your stall, nor male goats from your pens.
For every animal of the forest is mine, and the livestock on a thousand hills.
I know all the birds of the mountains. The wild animals of the field are mine.
If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it.
(Psalm 50)

The Psalmist also understood that all of creation was the work of God.

By your power, you form the mountains.
You still the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves.
You call [forth] the morning’s dawn and the evening with songs of joy.
You visit the earth, and water it. You greatly enrich it.
The river of God is full of water. You provide them grain, for so you have ordained it.
You drench its furrows. You level its ridges. You soften it with showers.
You bless it with a crop. You crown the year with your bounty. 
(Psalm 65)

Although these observations distinguish the God of the Hebrews from the gods of other peoples and reveal certain things about him, such information paled in comparison with what was known through their community life experience. These teachings came through actual events.

The Old Testament is replete with what theologians call theophanies. A theophany is a manifestation of God, either in his power or in his presence. There are occasions where his work is made known through his messengers, the spirits we call angels. In other events, God's presence and power were known by the timeliness of what may well have been natural events. The sea parted when Moses commanded it. The sea returned when Moses directed it to do so. Still other incidents which we identify as theophanies are somewhat amorphous when we attempt to picture them, yet they were clearly of divine origin. These would seem to include the pillar of fire by day and the pillar of cloud by night which separated the fleeing Hebrews from their Egyptian oppressors. Some are dramatic, such as when fire from heaven comes down and consumes the sacrifice of Elijah when he is in battle with pagan priests. Others are less so.

Theophanies, such as those mentioned, each revealed something about the nature and character of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Through the prophets there was ałso an accompanying teaching about the relationship between this God and the Hebrew people. Nevertheless, whatever was experienced and whatever was known seemed inadequate. Moses was probably not the first, and he certainly was not the last to say to God: "I beg you, show me your glory." Philip says much the same in today's Scripture: "show us the Father, and that will be enough for us." But the reply throughout the Old Testament period was always the same: "You cannot see my face; for man shall not see me and live." (Exodus 33:18, 20)

Whether possible or not, the desire to see the face of God persisted; and the descriptive words of the Psalmist attempted to fill this yearning of men to encounter the divine. He tells us that:

          The LORD is merciful and gracious,
          slow to anger and abounding in mercy.
          For as the heavens are high above the earth,
          so great is his mercy toward those who fear him;
          as far as the east is from the west,
          so far does he remove our transgressions from us.

          As a father pities his children,
          so the LORD pities those who fear him. 

          (Psalm 103:8, 11-13)

But words are seldom enough. In many ways they are as empty as the simplistic dismissal which the Apostle James warns us about.

          "If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and in lack of daily food,
          and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warmed and filled,"
          without giving them the things needed for the body,
          what does it profit?" 

          (James 2:15-16)

Words may bring a level of comfort; but, in the end, they are inadequate. Words are only marginally satisfactory in knowing truth and are totally inadequate in a viable relationship. Whether knowingly or not, we demand the presence of a person. The words may linger in the mind; but they seldom touch the heart. Consequently, the faith and trust and commitment of the Hebrew people wavered as the words faded from their memories. This equivocation in Israel's commitment to the covenant relationship is the root cause of God's words to Isaiah:

          "This people draw near with their mouth
          and honor me with their lips
          while their hearts are far from me,
          and their respect for me is [nothing more than]
          a commandment of men
          learned by rote." 

          (Isaiah 29:13) 

Even though there are times when words are all we have to try and touch the heart of another, words are seldom enough. 

The Psalmist may remind us that the Lords sets aside our transgressions as far as the east is from the west. But only God incarnate could say "This day you will be with me in paradise." 

A man or woman may speak with compassion to one who has lost a child: "I'm sorry for your loss." And the words may be well received because nothing more can be offered. At least words demonstrate our concern and allow us to empathize with our fellow man. But when Jesus encounters the funeral procession of the woman from Nain, his compassion leads him to give voice to the words: "Young man, I say to you arise." In him the compassion of the Father becomes more than words; it becomes a present reality.

All of those Old Testament teachings about the Father have become incarnate. They have taken flesh in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus is the living face of the Father. If we know him, we will know the Father.

So, when we read the Gospel we may easily find ourselves skeptically asking: Was Philip even paying attention? But the real question is one we should as about ourselves. 

How well do we know him?

     "If you know him, then you will also know his Father."