The descendants of Abraham became the beginning of a great nation. But all did not go smoothly. For four hundred years we hear nothing of these people, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Yet, during these years the patriarchs were remembered, as was their God. In fact, He became known as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and as the years passed, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became slaves.

Tuesday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time
Ephesians 2:12-22
Psalm 85:9ab-10, 11-12, 13-14
Luke 12:35-38

The passage from Ephesians that we hear this morning flows from something Paul says just a few lines earlier in his letter, and that earlier statement seems important to Paul’s overall message. He says:

“But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.” (Ephesians 2:4-5)

In other words, Paul is telling the Ephesians, ‘you have been chosen.’ We hear the same message when he writes to the Thessalonians, and there he states it plainly.

“For we know, brethren beloved by God, that he has chosen you.” (I Thessalonians 1:4)

That word is important throughout Scripture. ‘Chosen!’ What weight does the word carry?

As you know, the story begins in Genesis, the Bible's first book. There we find the account of Abraham. God makes himself known to Abraham and promises him several things. His descendants will be as numerous as the sands on the seashore. From him will come a great nation whom God himself will establish in their own land. Through this nation all the nations of the world will be blessed. The promises remain relatively quiet during the years of Abraham, Abraham’s son Issac, and Isaac’s son Jacob. Then we hear of Jacob’s twelve sons, of Joseph sold into slavery and rising to prominence, and of the entire tribal family moving to Egypt during years of regional famine.

Then silence. Total silence.

For four hundred years we hear nothing of these people, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Yet, during these years the patriarchs were remembered, as was their God. In fact, He became known as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and, as the years passed, “The descendants of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong; so that the land was filled with them.”

They became the beginning of a great nation. But all did not go smoothly:

“There arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. And he said to his people, “Behold, the sons of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war befall us, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” (Exodus 1:7-10)

So the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became slaves. Their burdens were heavy. They were oppressed, and hard service made their lives bitter. But even after four hundred years, God remained faithful.

“In the course of those many days the king of Egypt died. And the sons of Israel groaned under their bondage, and cried out for help, and their cry under bondage came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.” (Exodus 2:23-24)

Once more the story proceeds.

Moses is saved from an infant death, raised in the royal court by Pharaoh’s own daughter, but forced to leave Egypt after killing a slave-master. Then the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob comes to him and sends him back to Egypt as a messenger to the royal court. You know the details of that extended confrontation as well as its conclusion with the death of all firstborn among the Egyptians.

The Hebrews leave Egypt. Guided by the Spirit, they journey (in a rather roundabout way) to the land of promise. On that journey, we first hear that they are ‘Chosen.’

“For you are a people holy to the Lord your God; the Lord your God has chosen you to be a people for his own possession, out of all the peoples that are on the face of the earth. It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the Lord set his love upon you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples; but it is because the Lord loves you, and (because He) is keeping the oath which he swore to your fathers, that the Lord has brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you from the house of bondage, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 7:6-8)

But being chosen came with an obligation, an obligation repeatedly affirmed in the Scriptures: “I will be your God, and you will be my people.” The obligation wasn’t just a reciprocal arrangement; it had a purpose: the Chosen were to bear witness to what life could be like under God's guidance and presence. So for twelve hundred years God worked to form these Chosen into the people they were meant to be. They were never perfect in following the Law, but they finally, and firmly, grasped the truth God so often spoke to them through the prophets: I am God; there is no other.

All of this set the stage for what we might call ‘act 2’: The Coming of the Savior, the Messiah. So when they took Jesus to the Temple for circumcision, the holy man Simeon, who had been promised he would not see death before he saw the Messiah, acknowledged God's promise from so many years earlier.

“Simeon took him (Jesus) up in his arms and blessed God and said, ‘Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.’” (Luke 2:28-32)

At last we come to the climax of the story. The Savior has been born. He will teach. He will show God’s presence and wonders. He will live among us. He will be crucified. He will rise again. In him all the nations of the earth will be blessed. And so we reach the end of ‘Act 2.’ Act 3 then begins. It takes us immediately into the time of the Ephesians, the Thessalonians, and so many other peoples who were not originally among the Chosen.

“Now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have become near by the Blood of Christ. For he is our peace, he made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his Flesh, abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims, that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two, thus establishing peace, and might reconcile both with God, in one Body, through the cross, putting that enmity to death by it.”

It’s Act 3, and we are players, for we have been chosen. As the Chosen, we also have both obligation and purpose. Broadly, the obligation and purpose are the same as before. We carry forward the mark of those of whom God can say: “I will be your God, and you will be my people.” As before, we have a purpose: to bear witness to what life can expect when lived under the guidance and presence of God. But both obligation and purpose are different now, even as both remain the same.

The obligation is revealed in the Gospel. Our God has lived and died as a man among us. He has risen from the dead by conquering death. He is now Lord and Savior, the incarnate realization of the Father’s ancient promise. The purpose is revealed in the teaching of the Apostles, specifically in Paul's words. In this same letter to the people of Ephesus, their purpose and ours are revealed.

“He has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fulness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:9-12)

We need little more to say. The Father’s purpose is ours; he has given it to those of us who are his Chosen: TO UNITE ALL THINGS IN HIM (IN CHRIST), THINGS IN HEAVEN AND THINGS ON EARTH. Contentment and satisfaction in our faith are not an option.

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Humanity likes law and order. Civilizations thrive with law and order. The growing child does better in an atmosphere of law and order. So it should be no surprise that the Pharisees were attached to law and order. What is it about Law and Order that it should be held in such high regard?

Tuesday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 5:1-6
Psalm 119:41, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48
Luke 11:37-41

• Law and Order - A hallmark of Classical Rome

• Law and Order - A popular television show.

• Law and Order - The ever-recurring plan of the politician

• Law and Order - A fundamental requirement in raising children.

Humanity likes law and order. Civilizations thrive with law and order. The growing child does better in an atmosphere of law and order. So it should be no surprise that the Pharisees were attached to law and order.

What is it about Law and Order that it should be held in such high regard?

Several points come into play when addressing that question. But the most obvious answer is that law and subsequent order create a life environment that both lets us know where we stand and what we can reasonably expect from others. The law says that we must stop at the stop sign, so we stop and expect other drivers to do the same. If an intersection has no stop signs, accidents may follow. If they do, those in charge will probably put up stop signs.

The same applies in other aspects of life. Take the area of social interaction. If we reach out to shake someone’s hand and are intentionally ignored, we consider it a breach of social etiquette (read ‘law’).

Order follows from the establishment and observance of law; and, on the whole, humanity prefers order over chaos. In the novel Lord of the Flies by William Golding a group of ten year old boys find themselves stranded on a tropical island after a plane crash.

First, they seek to establish order. The idea of seeking order isn't far-fetched, even when we’re talking about children. Rather, it would seem that order is a characteristic of our humanity. Then, of course, there are consequences for behavior that is contrary to the established law. On the whole, the system works fairly well, and in fact, it holds a highly regarded place in the social order. So, what’s Paul’s problem?

“You are separated from Christ, you who are trying to be justified by law.”

Paul addresses a common human problem, one stated in the gospel reading as well. Fortunately, the gospel gives us a bit more to work with.

“Although you cleanse the outside of the cup and the dish, inside you are filled with plunder and evil. You fools! Did not the maker of the outside also make the inside? But as to what is within, give alms, and behold, everything will be clean for you.”

With what the Scriptures have given us, we can discern differences worth discussing. We will focus on two. The first is our tendency to feel secure. We like to be confident that our judgment and corresponding behavior are correct according to the laws, norms, and customs that we know. For that simple reason, the powers that be give rewards and accolades.

But in the spiritual realm, such practices are irrelevant, even if they are customary. Consider just one example. The practice of tithing is clear; the amount is set at ten percent. The practice conforms to a mathematically rigid law. Alms-giving, on the other hand, is open-ended. It has no set amount prescribed, but is guided not by math, but by another's need.

Which of the two is easier to follow? If I tithe, I know exactly what I must do. If I give alms, where do I stop? As with so many aspects of life, we prefer the easier, simpler option. Then I have fulfilled my duty.

Moving into the spiritual life, however, adds another dimension, one that goes beyond duty. Fulfillment of the law is marvelous for creating order and even harmony. It does little to touch on the human spirit. It can, in fact, substitute rigid human justice for mercy, substitute consequences for compassion, and substitute order for love.

Applied to our tithing-almsgiving example, we find tithing conforms to our human system of justice, while almsgiving reaches toward mercy. We would find tithing avoids consequences, while almsgiving flows from perceiving another’s need. We would find tithing may be sufficient for order, while almsgiving realizes the teaching to love as I have loved you.

Choose!

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Some laws are prescriptive; some are proscriptive. Some we claim are universal; others are not. Some are based on observation; others socially determined; and still others we consider inherent in the essence of things. What then, do we do with the Commands, laws, precepts, and ordinances referred to in today’s readings?

Tuesday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time
Proverbs 21:1-6, 10-13
Luke 8:19-21

Though it may not be obvious, the readings for the day fit together more readily than they do on many other occasions. A single line from each makes the connection clear.

From the first reading: To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.

And from the Responsorial Psalm, the refrain: Guide me, Lord, in the way of your commands.

And finally, the Gospel offers this: My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.

Consider first the teaching from Proverbs. The ‘right’ and the ‘just’ are intrinsic to God's essence, while sacrifice is a human invention. That distinction alone tells us why the one is more acceptable than the other.

The Psalm response harkens back to the Psalm itself.

Make me understand the way of your precepts
I have set your ordinances before me
Give me discernment, that I may observe your law
I will keep your law continually

Then the Gospel reminds us to ‘hear’ and to ‘act.’ This is the same as the message we received in Proverbs.

However, one element in all three can easily be misleading. Commands, laws, precepts, ordinances — all are used as synonyms, meaning essentially the same thing. A thesaurus would offer even more. Consequently, what we call ‘Law’ must regularly be modified. Traffic Law. Civil Law. Criminal Law. Scientific Law. Natural Law. Moral Law. Divine Law. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Some laws are prescriptive; some are proscriptive. Some we claim are universal; others are not. Some are based on observation; others socially determined; and still others we consider inherent in the essence of things. What then, do we do with the Commands, laws, precepts, and ordinances referred to in today’s readings?

First we must acknowledge their source, and the character of that source. The text tells us that these ‘laws’ come from God himself. Therefore, they bear His unchanging nature. So, while our understanding of these laws may improve over time, the laws themselves are immutable. The obvious counterpart is that these Laws are not subject to our will, nor can we modify them as we determine. Finally, we note that these laws reflect the very essence of their source—they are the way they are because they correspond to the perfection of the divine.

And so we come to the point where we must consider the last line of the readings for the day.

“My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.”

Is this a statement of fact? Of feeling? Of poetic expression? Hearing the Word and acting on the Word aligns us with the Word. This is more than an expression. It is the reality of our lives.

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It is only with at least a minimal level of spiritual maturity that one can recognize the enormous difference between man and God. Youth couldn’t grasp the beyond-cosmic size of that gap. (Maturity can’t grasp it either, but at least can know it’s there.)

Tuesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time
I Corinthians 2:10-16
Luke 4:31-37

Different people have different problems with the various truths of the Christian faith, particularly as they are expressed in Catholic doctrine. For some it is the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. For others it is the pre-eminence of the Pope. For others, it is the various honors claimed for Mary, including that she is the Mother of God.

Today’s Gospel reading gives voice to a similar issue, one even the disciples had.

“What is there about his word? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and they come out.”

In short: “Who is this guy?”

Their question echoes a similar comment heard after Jesus calmed the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

“What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”

When I was young, I foolishly imagined I would understand the meaning of such events even if the disciples did not. I’m a bit older now. Such questions as we hear in today’s readings no longer seem so strange. Why? Because it is only with at least a minimal level of spiritual maturity that one can recognize the enormous difference between man and God. Youth couldn’t grasp the beyond-cosmic size of that gap. (Maturity can’t grasp it either, but at least can know it’s there.)

If the disciples were certain of just one thing, it was that God was God and man was man. The very notion of a man who is also God was beyond even their powers of imagination. They were not, after all, Greeks or Romans or Egyptians whose emperors or Pharos might claim divinity. They were a people whose very origins were founded on the truth of one God and no strange gods. What else might come to mind then but astonishment and wonder when spirits do as commanded? What He did was beyond what men knew was possible. The wind, the sea, and even unclean spirits obey him. How could that be?

But today’s texts go further. Not only do they remind us of the difference between evil spirits and the Divine Spirit, but they also suggest a new truth to both the people of the day and those of us living now. That truth we express as the Trinity. The One God that we know is more enigmatic than we have previously understood. There is God, the Father, the origin of all. There is God the Son, the God present among us. There is God the Spirit, guiding all aspects of creation toward the fulfillment of the plan. And all are One - in origin, in presence, and in guidance.

Whether we stand on the side of the crowd or hold fast to the side of the boat, we are still confronted with the questions: “What sort of man is this? What is there about his word?”

If we listen close, I’ll bet he will tell us.

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Consider the Pharisees and Thessalonians and their focus on minutiae rather than the broader picture. In both cases, the key factor at play is distraction. For the Thessalonians, it was the distraction of a Second Coming, which would eliminate that continual demand to sort and decide. For the Pharisees it was the distraction of reducing a guiding principle to a more manageable fact.

Tuesday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time
2 Thessalonians 2:1-3a, 14-17
Matthew 23:23-26

Before offering any comments on today’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, it is useful to recall just who these people were. Circumstances suggest they were both Jews and Gentiles from the city of Thessalonica in the upper part of Greece, and that they were among Paul’s earliest converts. Paul himself observes that they were unusually strong in their faith.

“We give thanks to God always for you all, constantly mentioning you in our prayers, remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, brethren beloved by God, that he has chosen you; for our gospel came to you not only in word, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction. You know what kind of men we proved to be among you for your sake. And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you received the word in much affliction, with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit; so that you became an example to all the believers.” (1 Thessalonians 1:2-7)

That’s quite the commendation. Nevertheless, at the time he is writing, Paul has reason to be concerned that they may be misled, even referring to a “letter allegedly” from Paul himself.

“Let no one deceive you in any way. To this end he has also called you through our Gospel to possess the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught…”

If Paul were writing to the Thessalonians today, he might well have reminded them of that old saying: “Curiosity killed the cat.” In other words: Inquisitiveness can lead one into dangerous situations. But the issue was far more serious, and the text implies that some were proclaiming the imminent return of Jesus.

Similar declarations have been heard from time to time across the centuries.

None, of course, have been true; but the presence of such a rumor points us directly toward the warning inherent in today’s readings: false teaching, innocent or intentional lies, dishonesty in whatever form, deceptions and misdirections all ultimately come from a single source, and that source is evil.

When Jesus castigates the Pharisees for cleansing only the outside of the bowl or cup while ignoring the mold, dirt, and rot within, he is not concerned with the pitiful way they do their dishes. No! His rebuke is because they, the supposed ‘religious leaders,’ have allowed themselves to be deceived into thinking that the dishes just need to look good on the cupboard shelf.

Appearances vs facts! Lies vs truth! Chaos vs order!

Our God is a God of one plus one equals two, not of whatever result we may choose. A God of male and female as he created them, not of what current choice we may choose to make. A God of order throughout the universe, not of infighting among the stars. But we live in an age, not unlike those which have gone before, in which chaos continually attempts to disrupt the order eternally present, always doing so in new and creative ways.

But… we may say: I am immune to that. It does not affect me. How unfortunate if that is true. How deplorable it would be to live in such a shielded state. Why? Because such a separation from the world would have us make real the words of Paul Simon’s song: I am a rock; I am an island. And yet, neither the pebble on the seashore nor the boulder on the mountainside can escape the events that surround them. In fact, as Jesus pointed out, “I tell you, if these [disciples] were silent, the very stones would cry out.” (Luke 19:40)

Fortunately, most of us do not live in a so-called splendid isolation. We live with suggestions from advertisers, influences from the currently popular, pressure from our children, our family, and our peer groups, and proposals from manufacturers. All of these and more seek our attention. And we are continually called to sort and decide among them.

So what! We may say. That’s just part of life.

Or is it?

As we struggle to maintain priorities, to keep a true, accurate, and honest perspective, we are sorely tempted to be guided by false hopes or expectations. Take the Thessalonians, along with any other group throughout the centuries deceived into believing in the proximate return of Jesus. One common feature of those so deceived has been divesting themselves of their property and social/economic ties. “Curiosity killed the cat.” Fortunately, the Thessalonians did not succumb.

Or we might consider the Pharisees. It is not difficult to imagine that sorting through the pressures of six-hundred-plus laws might lead one to be satisfied with attending to only certain, simple parts — focusing on minutiae rather than the broader picture.

In both cases the key factor at play is distraction. For the Thessalonians it was the distraction of a Second Coming which would eliminate that continual demand to sort and decide. For the Pharisees it was the distraction of reducing a guiding principle to a more manageable fact.

We are ourselves deceived if we fall back on the presumed truth that it’s just part of life. Distraction has a purpose; and in the hands of evil it serves a very useful purpose. As long as we are busy with one thing — regardless of its importance — we cannot focus our attention on anything else. The principle is clearly expressed every time we say: “Just a minute. Let me finish this first.” So if we are distracted by things — anything — of lesser consequence, we cannot be engaged with things of greater consequence. As long as Chaos — familial, social, political, economic, or personal — is our guide, nothing truly important can long hold our attention.

When Jesus said “Seek first the kingdom of heaven… “ he did not conclude that statement with “sometimes,” or “frequently,” or “when you have a moment,” or “when you are not busy with something else.” No! He proposed it as a lifestyle. Live your life as one seeking the Kingdom.

But now we see that there is an unforeseen consequence to our consideration of distraction, namely, that sin itself has become a distraction. A distraction from what? From the wonder of new life in Christ.

Note an inherent difference between Old Testament and New Testament instructions on spiritual growth. Throughout the Old Testament we find an emphasis on the Law and righteousness. The Law was given to Moses on Mt. Sinai, and in the Old Testament, righteousness is the spiritual condition of one who makes a serious attempt to observe that Law. Failure in that regard is what we identify as sin. Paul states it well:

“Now we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God.” (Romans 3:19)

But sin is intrinsically connected with the Law. Paul continues:

“If it had not been for the law, I should not have known sin. I should not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, ‘You shall not covet.’ Apart from the law sin lies dead.” (Romans 7:7-8)

But now, things are different, and Paul explains it this way:

“But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the law and the prophets bear witness to it, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction; since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, they are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus… “ (Romans 3:21-24)

Appearances vs facts! Lies vs truth! Chaos vs order!

That’s what we’re dealing with; and we must deal with it persistently. Evil loves lies in all forms; constant spiritual distraction from the truth is one of its most successful lies. The teaching from Paul, as noted above, is all found in the first of the letters he wrote; and even by the middle of this same letter he will begin instructing these early Christians about the magnitude of change which God has brought about.

From this point on, both in the balance of Romans and in all other letters, he will emphasize the necessity of being transformed into Christ. Sin is mentioned only as something incompatible with this new life.

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The rules of road traffic come to mind. Who is allowed to go and who must yield or stop? Who can turn and when? Who has the right of way? Who has precedence in interrupting the flow? All of these are ‘arbitrary’ rules drawn up by men. To ignore them, to write one’s own rules, to claim to be the ‘traffic god’ will inevitably lead to death.

Tuesday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time
Ezekiel 28:1-10
Deuteronomy 32:26-27ab, 27cd-28, 30, 35cd-36ab
Matthew 19:23-30

One might readily conclude that today’s excerpt from the Book of Ezekiel is one non-believers would cite as evidence that the God of the Old Testament was a vengeful, wrathful god with little tolerance and, therefore, frequently angry. Here is the prince of Tyre. As per the Scriptural description, someone whom today we would describe as a ‘self-made man’. Yet he is mocked as being ‘haughty of heart.’ He is sarcastically acknowledged as one who is wiser than Daniel, one who can discern any secret, one whose personal wisdom and intelligence have brought him riches … For that he is condemned.

“I will bring against you foreigners, the most barbarous of nations. They shall draw their swords against your beauteous wisdom, they shall run them through your splendid apparel. They shall thrust you down to the pit, there to die a bloodied corpse, in the heart of the sea.”

From this description some might observe that God is narrow-minded, resentful, and prone to punishment. Such a conclusion about the nature of God misses not only the point of the story but also the import of the first commandment. As regards the divine judgment on the prince, the text is clear and somewhat different from that previously described:

“Because you have thought yourself to have the mind of a god, therefore I will bring against you foreigners …“ That’s the point of the story.

But the skeptic would say that merely proves his point: this Old Testament God has no tolerance and therefore condemns those who are merely ignorant and foolish. Only by putting God on a level comparable to man can such a conclusion be drawn. The rules of road traffic come to mind. Who is allowed to go and who must yield or stop. Who can turn and when. Who has the right of way. Who has precedence in interrupting the flow. All of these are ‘arbitrary’ rules drawn up by men. To ignore them, to write one’s own rules, to claim to be the ‘traffic god’ will inevitably lead to death; and that is true, not because of the violation of the law but because ignoring them is counter to the established order. If such is the case with the laws of men, how much more is it true with the Laws of Eternal Facts. One plus one is always two no matter what we may otherwise claim.

Attributing to oneself the nature of divinity or even divine attributes will lead to destruction - not because God gets angry, not because you broke a law, not because God is intolerant - but because there is an order to the universe and a set plan according to which history advances, and it is inexorable, always moving toward that pre-ordained end: “to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

In such a dynamic flow, only one can be truly God: the One who created it, the One who set it on its course, the One who keeps it in existence. Under such circumstances, alignment with the pre-determined purpose is the wise thing to do. That is one reason Wisdom is given such an exalted status in the Scriptures, and why the first two of the Ten Commandments point to the necessity of avoiding someone/something other than the true God.

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From even a cursory glance at the Gospels, we recognize that images and storytelling were Jesus’ most common method of instruction. Obviously, Jesus also gave words of instruction, such as telling Peter that he must forgive his brother seventy times seven. But then there is the account of the Prodigal Son, and we have to ask which - the words or the story - has the greater impact on the heart.

Memorial of Saint Clare, Virgin
Ezekiel 2:8-3:4
Psalm 119:14, 24, 72, 103, 111, 131
Matthew 18:1-5, 10, 12-14

Images are much easier to remember than words alone. We recognize this in that oft-quoted truism: actions speak louder than words. Jesus was a master at creating images for the purpose of teaching. From even a cursory glance at the Gospels, we recognize that images and storytelling were his most common method of instruction. Obviously, there are words of instruction such as telling Peter that he must forgive his brother seventy times seven. But then there is the account of the Prodigal Son, and we have to ask which - the words or the story — has the greater impact on the heart. Which is more readily remembered?

Of all the prophets, Ezekiel stands apart as a prophet of images. From him we get the account of God removing the stony heart and replacing it with a heart of flesh. From him we get the account of the dry (dead) bones coming together and being fully restored to what they were meant to be.

Today’s passage from Ezekiel gives us the first of his many visualizations of truth. It is the image of a scroll. Not a blank one, but one filled with words both front and back. And we are led to believe that the words all say the same things in one form or another: “Lamentation and wailing and woe!” The scroll is given by God along with the instructions: “eat what is before you; eat this scroll.”

Ezekiel might just as readily have been instructed to eat what appeared to be a can of worms. YUCH! What else could be one’s reaction when faced with the directive to partake of things so obviously distasteful? Yet, this is exactly what Ezekiel is told to do. Moreover, he is instructed to share it with the house of Israel. The consequences were not those one would expect. “I ate it, and it was as sweet as honey in my mouth.” And our reaction is ‘HUH?’ How can something so distasteful in its appearance be as sweet as honey?

It is this image that we are to ponder. This counter-intuitive directive is what we are to consider. “Lamentation and wailing and woe!” And these are as sweet as honey. How can that be? Paul gives us words to understand the dissonance in this image when he writes to the Romans: “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

The ‘everything’ may not coincide with our expectations, but it certainly works with God’s desire to draw us closer to himself. So it was with the “Lamentation and wailing and woe!” that had come and were coming to the house of Israel. So also is it with us today.

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Be attentive to the authenticity of what you believe. This is not a message to be taken lightly, particularly in our day. The ‘father of lies’ has a firm grasp on what many pronounce as truth, as well as the truth they would have us ignore.

Tuesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time
Jeremiah 14:17-22
Matthew 13:36-43

Isolated passages from the New Testament are generally intelligible without knowing the full context of the verses read. Both familiarity with the text and its instructive character contribute to this fact. With the Old Testament we have a different story. Much of it is narrative about specific personages as well as the people of Israel. Consequently, when we read isolated passages without knowing the historical/geographic/political context, the full import of the passage may be overlooked. So it is with the six verses plucked from the 14th chapter of Jeremiah that we read today.

As we step into the story, Babylonia and Egypt have been struggling for supremacy in the region, and the Kingdom of Judah is caught in the middle. The Kings of Judah vacillate; the nation is in turmoil; there is a threat of famine; foreign powers struggle for control. And, while Jeremiah has been preaching the need for repentance, numerous false prophets have the ear of the king.

“I said: “Ah, Lord God, behold, the prophets say to them, ‘You shall not see the sword, nor shall you have famine, but I will give you assured peace in this place.’ The Lord said to me: ‘The prophets are prophesying lies in my name; I did not send them, nor did I command them or speak to them. They are prophesying to you a lying vision, worthless divination, and the deceit of their own minds.’” (Jeremiah 14:13-14)

These false prophets show up as a major force in the book of Jeremiah. More than once they attempt to kill him, lest the king take his message seriously. The current incident takes place relatively early in the conflict between the two.

The reading for today begins, not with a description of what has happened, but with Jeremiah’s vision of what is going to happen if the Word of God is not heard and acted on. After that description of what is to come, the text turns to the prophet’s prayer — that the nation not be abandoned by God because of its sinfulness.

At the heart of this event is a caution for people of all time, including those of us living today: Be attentive to the authenticity of what you believe.

This is not a message to be taken lightly, particularly in our day. The “father of lies” has a firm grasp on what many pronounce as truth, as well as the truth they would have us ignore. This is no different from what was unfolding in Jeremiah’s time. The false prophets of Judah were “prophesying … a lying vision, worthless divination, and the deceit of their own minds.” All this was happening while the Lord’s guidance through Jeremiah was being ignored. The consequences were devastating.

As it was in Jeremiah’s day, truth seems to be a rare commodity. Facts are manipulated and partially revealed. Sources are fictional or concealed. Personal motives are hidden from view. The more things change, the more they remain the same. We too must join with Jeremiah in praying both for forgiveness and for our eyes to be opened.

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At the conclusion of our previous reflection, we were peacefully traveling along the river of the divine plan, with myriad stars filling the nighttime sky. That image may sometimes be true, but periods of treacherous waters are more common. Those in the boat are regularly subjected to the siren song of allurements …

Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
Isaiah 7:1-9
Matthew 11:20-24

Following my most recent reflection, someone observed that I seemed seriously engaged with the notion of God’s plan. At the time, I could do little but agree, but upon reading today's Scriptures, the reason for that obsession became obvious: the Scripture readings continually suggest paying attention to the divine program. So it was with today's text as well.

At the conclusion of that previous reflection, we were peacefully traveling along the river of the divine plan, with myriad stars filling the nighttime sky. That image may sometimes be true, but periods of treacherous waters are more common. Those in the boat are regularly subjected to the siren song of allurements beckoning from shore or passing islands. The rough waters of uncertainty tempt those aboard to seek easier, less demanding currents for passage.

Brief sections of calm and slow waters present opportunities for seeking self-devised programs of escape to alternate, more interesting lifestyles. Storms cast doubt on earlier decisions to embark on the voyage. Then, too, there are those direct attacks from the outside, such as we read of in today’s passage from Isaiah.

It’s easy to understand why those in the boat, Jerusalem, would have feared for their country, their city, their lives. Pirates from Aram and even Israel had fired upon them. So far, the attacks had been unsuccessful. It is no wonder that “the heart of the king and the heart of the people trembled.” But in the face of that invading storm, the Captain sent word to the crew and passengers: “Take care you remain tranquil and do not fear; let not your courage fail … This shall not stand, it shall not be!” That has been, and continues to be, the constant message our Captain sends; and he has always proved true. As the responsorial verse says: “God upholds his city for ever.”

The theme carries forward into the gospel. There were those who should have known better in their judgment of Jesus. They had heard the Words. They had seen the signs and wonders. But they had failed to heed the Father’s witness and approval of the event unfolding before their very eyes. Jesus, like Isaiah before him, countered their attack with a judgment similar to Isaiah: “This shall not stand, it shall not be!”

While it is not always evident, there are no genuine setbacks, no failures, no mistaken currents. Inexorably, the boat moves along, always toward that pre-ordained end: “to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

Be careful to stay in the boat. Not all sharks are in the water.

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The way is long, with many a winding turn. It leads us to who knows where? Who knows where? For now, we see in a mirror dimly. Yet we know what is necessary as we move with Christ and the Spirit over the water.

Tuesday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time
Amos 3:1-8, 4:11-12
Matthew 8:23-27

“Jesus got into a boat, and the disciples followed him.”

The details of the boat are not mentioned, but in Christian symbolism, the boat is a humble yet powerful image for the Church, representing a community of believers navigating life’s challenges together under the guidance of Christ. When I was younger the phrase ‘barque of Peter’ occasional floated through conversations about religion. And, while it is possible that the boat of today’s Gospel account was Peter’s own fishing boat, it is highly unlikely that it was a barque. Unlikely because, among other things, the word ‘barque’ must be French ending as it does with a ‘q-u-e;’ and the French weren’t around in Jesus’ day, only Gauls. Besides, a barque is a sailing ship of three or more masts with the aftmost mast fore-and-aft rigged and the others square-rigged.

In any case, traveling by boat on a calm sea can be peaceful and relaxing, but it can also be unsettling and make one anxious if the weather grows stormy and the waves grow high. You and I have been and are in Peter’s boat. We’ve seen both the peaceful and the anxious as we’ve journeyed.

God was not surprised by the actions of Adam and Eve. He didn’t just expect it as a possibility — he knew it would happen. It was in his plan. The ability to choose was consequential. For Adam and Eve, you might even say it was earth-shattering. All this was in the “Plan.”

Early in their journey to the Promised Land, the children of Israel were given the Law at Mt Sinai. Something that was not done for any other nation. And then they were admonished to keep it. “See, I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil. I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live…(Deuteronomy 30:15, 19).

Notice the stated options. The true choice was not between following the Law or not following the Law. The true choice was between life and death. That too was in the Plan. More than a thousand years of Israel’s history subsequently proved what we, sub-consciously at least, have always known was true. And it occurs to me that Israel’s inability to consistently choose life merely foreshadows what has been and always will be true: man on his own can never be persistent in choosing the good, in choosing life. The witness of history proves it. A transformation was needed. The next part of the Plan was required.

That part of the Plan — the Incarnation — was staggering in its implications and formidable in its power to achieve them. Moreover, it was promulgated in such a way that the result was incontrovertible. The Incarnate God was to die in such a way as to make the fact of his death absolutely certain. Spurious arguments to the contrary might be brought, but none could stand. He was dead. And the Plan continued to unfold: just as the crucifixion gave surety to death, the resurrection gave surety to eternal life.

Paul describes this part of the Plan in his letter to the Ephesians.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. He destined us in love to be his sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” (Ephesians 1:3-5, 9-10)

So there we have it — Crucifixion! Resurrection! Union! Salvation!

The Law cannot save us. It never could.

So now we are in the ‘end times’ of the Plan. We struggle to live in the light revealed. We struggle to die with him so we can rise with him. We press on, as Paul says, so as to say it is no longer I who live. Christ lives in me. The plan has been clearly stated: “to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” So when we read the text closely, it is evident that it is not just about you and me.

“Creation [itself] was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God.”

“We know that the whole creation has been groaning with labor pains together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:20-23)

The end of our journey is clear. The route is not. We echo that sentiment, as we so often do, in song. At the end of Bilbo Baggins' adventures, he seeks to return home, even then being uncertain, like us, of what the way will be.

Under cloud, beneath the stars
Over snow and winter’s morn
I turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me
I cannot tell.

The way is long, with many a winding turn. It leads us to who knows where? Who knows where? For now, we see in a mirror dimly. Yet we know what is necessary as we move with Christ and the Spirit over the water.

Like everyone, we “do not understand our own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)

And then, with the Apostles we cry: “Save us Lord, we are perishing.”

On quiet nights, when the sea was calm, and I found myself immersed in starlight, my thoughts often became more pensive. Occasionally, in the silence that enfolds someone during a night at sea, the words of David would come to my mind.

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have established; what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalms 8:3-4)

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to view the starry band of the Milky Way, you know exactly what David meant and what I have so often felt as we sailed along in the stillness of night. It was not unusual that such a wondrous vision would move to the totally unfathomable fact that God loves me.

On those occasions, it was not uncommon for my heart to flutter between wondrous belief and simple doubt that it all could be so. But I stayed in the boat. The transformation required of us in these end times is a necessary one. We think we’re riding in a boat on water.

In truth, we are riding in a boat, but there is a plan, and we’re going home.

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We might not think of God as a teacher. Yet, in more ways than we know, he instructs both at the individual level and at the broader level, which is addressed to all mankind. Scripture itself is primarily a revelation of who God is both in himself and in his relation to men. Think about it. The initiatives were all on God’s side as the Hebrew people were led to the Promised Land.

Tuesday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time
II Kings 19:9-11, 14-21, 31-36
Matthew 7:6, 12-14

The pattern starts off one-sided. We could begin earlier, but let’s start with Moses.

The burning bush was God’s idea. So too was the notion that Moses should speak with Pharaoh and that Mose’ brother would speak for him. So too were the miracles surrounding Aaron’s rod and its confrontation with the rods of the Egyptian priests. So too were the plagues and the sprinkling of the lamb’s blood on the doorposts. So too were the miraculous incidents in the forty years of desert wandering. So too were the ritual directions that preceded the fall of Jericho.

I could go on, but you get the point. The initiatives were all on God’s side as the Hebrew people were led to the Promised Land. Granted that some followed from complaints, but few, if any, followed from what we would call prayer.

That situation began to change during the period of the judges. The scriptures suggest a greater awareness of God’s active presence among some of the Israelites during those times, as well as greater attention to seeking the Lord’s help in times of trouble.

The process of education in prayer continued through the centuries. It would eventually fall into a consistent pattern, which first acknowledged the absolute supremacy of God and the relative inadequacies of man. From there, it would proceed to include the notion that whatever response followed that response was known to fit with who God is. Correspondingly, there was the development of trust or surrender — an active confidence that God knows better than man. These elements had all been there for some years, but they needed to be common to all for mankind’s relationship with God to be right.

The growth in prayer brought with it a shift in perspective. God wasn’t simply doing what He wanted. Neither was He responding to man’s attempts at manipulation. Rather, He was responsive to human needs, though simultaneously desiring correspondence between His eternal plan and the desires of men.

We might not think of God as a teacher. Yet, in more ways than we know, he instructs both at the individual level and at the broader level, which is addressed to all mankind. Scripture itself is primarily a revelation of who God is both in himself and in his relation to men.

We don’t have too much trouble in understanding some basics about God, but it seems we have a lot of trouble understanding his desired relationship with mankind.

“Therefore do not be anxious … your heavenly Father knows that you need …” (Matthew 6:31-32)

So why not ask? When Jerusalem was threatened, Hezekiah turned to prayer. The Assyrians were destroyed. You read the account from the book of Kings, and it seems simple.

All this makes me curious.

What would have happened if Europe had responded to Hitler with prayer? What would have happened if the world had faced the challenge of communism with prayer? What would have happened if Israel and/or the US had responded to Iran with prayer? What would happen in my life if I responded to trials and difficulties with prayer?

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It’s easy to get sidetracked into a conversation about morality when the topic of Christianity arises. And when one considers the pagan cultures that those bringing the Good News have stepped into across the centuries — and still do today — it is easy to understand how consequences might become more important in conversation than the message itself. But the message starts with the plan.

Memorial of Saint Philip Neri, Priest
I Peter 1:10-16
Mark 10:28-31

Our opening reading this morning comes from the first chapter of Peter’s first letter. After the customary greeting and a brief prayer for the people to whom he is writing, Peter turns to the blessings his readers have already received “through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” That is: their salvation, a fact by which they have been “born anew to a living hope,” says Peter.

Understandably, he goes on to describe the reality and the practical implications of the gift they have received. He starts with the prophets. Listening to the Spirit, these men foretold “the grace that was to be yours.” They “testified in advance to the sufferings destined for Christ and the glories to follow them.” Salvation will come! That was their vision and their promise. And Peter makes it clear that the message of those prophets was for those yet to come. “They were serving not themselves but you with regard to the things that have now been announced to you by those who preached the Good News to you.” Only after reminding his readers of the grace they have received does Peter turn to the consequences.

Peter sends the message, but Paul, in his eloquence, spells it out more clearly in his letter to the Ephesians.

“He has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:9-12)

It’s easy to get sidetracked into a conversation about morality when the topic of Christianity arises. And when one considers the pagan cultures that those bringing the Good News have stepped into across the centuries — and still do today — it is easy to understand how consequences might become more important in conversation than the message itself.

But the message starts with the plan which Paul says has been made known to us; and the plan is clear: “to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” After centuries of preparation, the promise reached the final stage of fulfillment in the birth of Jesus. He was and is the one in whom all things will be united. So the Good News is that he has come, and through him, so too has salvation.

The moral teaching of the Scriptures is secondary.

“For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.” (Psalms 62:5-6)

That being the case, one must question whether sin has been overemphasized at the expense of the core of the Good News we have received.

God has a plan. According to that plan, all things both in heaven and on earth will be united in Christ to the glory of God the Father. When that happens, what is not of God will be gone. For that to happen, those beings who can choose must align their essential being with God's being. Peter gives the admonition: “Be holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, for it is written, ‘Be holy because I am holy.’” Paul offers the same instruction when he says in Romans:

“Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

Our awareness of sin may reveal our distance from God and our movement away from him. But a lack of sin in our lives (assuming that is even possible) does not necessarily mean that I live according to his will, according to what is good and acceptable and perfect. It certainly does not mean that I am holy. Again, we must return to the heart of the Good News. Salvation is now yours in and through Jesus.

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With little thought, we readily slide into alternatives. The road ahead has traffic stopped, so we take an alternate route. But God has no backup plan. There is only plan ‘A,’ and that one plan holds fast forever.

Tuesday of Fifth Week of Easter
Acts 14:19-28
John 14:27-31

At some time in your life, probably when you were young, you held a gyroscope in your hand. You wrapped the string around the center post, gave that string a hard pull, and the caged wheel would rapidly spin. You set it on a pointed cone or on a string-held taunt, and it would hold fast to the plane of the spinning wheel until that wheel lost its momentum. If you held that spinning wheel in your hand, you could feel resistance if you tried to turn it.

Motorcycle stability operates on the same principle. The Spinning wheels resist changes in orientation due to angular momentum, helping keep the bike upright. The cyclist can feel it particularly in cornering.

Change the image: Sometimes during World War II, bomber pilots were scoffed at for reporting making less than expected headway after hours of flying. The laughter and criticism stopped only when the jet stream was discovered.

Change again: The smaller and lighter the boat in the river, the more cautiously must the boat’s operator guide the boat from current to shore. Why? Because the strength of the current will more readily capsize a lightweight boat, particularly one that sits low in the water.

With these images in mind, let’s look at today’s Scripture. In the opening verses, we find Paul being stoned by Jews from Antioch and Iconium. No matter that no reason is offered in the text for the stoning, we know the reason: it is the logic of the gyroscope and the reasoning of the jet stream. The Jews who opposed Paul and stoned him were spinning through life in a particular manner and resisted any effort to change. Nevertheless, Paul and his companions “made a considerable number of disciples,” and were pragmatic about the momentum of the times, the strong headwinds of the culture, and the flow of the current: “It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.”

When we move on to the Gospel, we find that Jesus, too, was pragmatic: “the ruler of the world is coming.” The spinning has not stopped. The headwinds have not diminished. The current has not ceased to flow. These are the facts that will make it “necessary for us (the disciples) to undergo many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.”

But even before this reminder of what lies ahead, Jesus promises peace. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” If only for brief periods, the world may give us peace from international or national conflict, peace within our communities and families, peace from trials and tribulations, or peace from other forms of conflict. But these never last; they are always short-lived, like a drop of water cast onto a hot skillet. No, the peace of Christ is different; it is the peace of knowing that, no matter what seems to prevail, someone I can trust is in charge of it all. That is why the Father reminds us through Paul: “Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” “If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, will he not also give us all things with him?” (Romans 8:31-32)

“We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

With little thought, we readily slide into alternatives. The road ahead has traffic stopped, so we take an alternate route. But God has no backup plan. There is only plan ‘A,’ and that one plan holds fast forever.

“For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fulness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will.” (Ephesians 1:9-11)

When this reflection first began to take shape, Jesus’ words regarding peace were at the forefront, and the image of the river current came to mind. It seems that God’s eternal plan, plan ‘A’ if you will, absolutely resists modification. It is THE plan, the one and only plan, and it inevitably moves toward fulfillment without the slightest of sidetracks. We pray for that fulfillment regularly when we pray “thy Kingdom come.” The Our Father was never intended to be a passive prayer, as if floating downriver on the current was sufficient. It was and is a prayer of action, a prayer of taking up the paddle of the canoe, of actively resisting any alternative force that would turn us aside. But in taking up the paddle, we must be careful, for when we do so, we also take on the possibility of moving out of the current and leaving the plan.

The flow of the water may carry us toward one bank or another, past rocks or sunken trees, and even through turbulence. It may move fast; it may be slow.

Nevertheless, residing in the current provides the kind of peace that the world cannot give. This is the peace that Jesus has promised.

Go with the flow.

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In the Book of Acts, we hear that a ‘great number’ or a ‘large number’ came to believe. The incident piqued my curiosity — not because people scattered in the face of persecution, nor because their message was received, but because it made me wonder what they actually said to those they met. Acts tells us in nonspecific terms that they were “preaching the word.” The details are not listed. So, what were they preaching?

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter
Acts 11:19-26
John 10:22-30

“Those who had been scattered by the persecution that arose because of Stephen went as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word to no one but Jews. There were some Cypriots and Cyrenians among them, however, who came to Antioch and began to speak to the Greeks as well.”

Later in this passage, we hear that a ‘great number’ or a ‘large number’ came to believe. The incident piqued my curiosity — not because people scattered in the face of persecution, nor because their message was received, but because it made me wonder what they actually said to those they met.

Acts tells us in nonspecific terms that they were “preaching the word.” The details are not listed. So, what were they preaching?

I suppose peace is a possibility — world peace, national peace, community peace, domestic peace, inner peace? But that probably would have gone nowhere if their audience simply considered their life circumstances. Yes, there was the Pax Romana (Peace of the Roman Empire), but that was just another way of acknowledging that Roman power prevented those under its control from fighting one another. War wasted the money and resources that were supposed to go to Rome.

You might guess that they preached caring for the widow and the orphan, but that message had been inadequately received (and commonly ignored) since it was first introduced.

Justice? Was Justice the word they preached? Doubt it. Sure, Justice was seen as one of the hallmarks of the coming messiah, but there was little these immigrants from Israel could do to effect its actual practice in the Roman world.

How about preaching social equality? That’s probably the most laughable of the suggestions offered. The empire was a social world where slaves were common, where there were the elite and the scum, where authority rested with the rich and powerful, where there was among the populace a “top” and a “bottom” with practically nothing in between.

Do I get points for telling you something new? Probably not.

We have a good idea of what these early Christians preached, what message they brought to others. We know this from the preaching of both Peter and Paul, as recorded in the Scriptures.

“Since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, they are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus… “ (Romans 3:23-24)

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)

“For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive.” (1 Corinthians 15:21-22)

It is this message, of course, that these migrating Jews brought with them and proclaimed in their new communities. Nothing new here! Why the fuss?

The issue before us is the result of two thousand years of cultural evolution, and it is pernicious if overlooked. Pernicious because it subtly undermines the foundational truth of our faith.

It is well and good to exhort people to peace. A just society is one we should all strive for. The pursuit of social justice is an endeavor all should work for. The elimination of world hunger is also a goal within reach, yet it seems evermore elusive.

But why do I say these things as if they are self-evident norms? They are not universally accepted truths, and some Western philosophers suggest better alternatives.

Nietzsche proposed that the will to power should be in control. Darwin would suggest the survival of the fittest. Jean Paul Sartre told us that the self should guide all. Among these and other philosophers, Marx would offer complete, absolute, total, and comprehensive equality.

It is interesting to note that all of these have their beginning and their end in our humanity. So too is it possible for the pursuit of justice, peace, social equality, and the like. These, too, can have their beginning and their end in our humanity, and that’s a matter of some concern. For if our humanity is the foundation, then the ‘good’ can quickly change. And that pernicious issue previously referred to is already unfolding. It is this: Christianity may well survive even if there are no Christians.

In a subtle way, the consequences of the Christian Faith have themselves become their own reason for being. When those early Christians left Jerusalem for other towns and cities, they preached the gospel of God becoming man, of His love for mankind, His proclamation of the forgiveness of sin, and His willingness to die so we could have eternal life. All else followed from this foundational truth. God loves us; therefore, we should love one another. We do so, not because it is the human thing to do, but because it is the God-like thing to do.

If we forget that, then Christianity may well survive even if there are no Christians. Then mankind will discover that, in its distortion, it is not Christianity after all.

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The very fact that I am a self-conscious individual necessitates that I have choices. This way or that? Up or down? Right or left? A “yes” always implies a “no.” Simple? Sure! And the persistent presence of that “no” is implied by the facts of consciousness and individuality. The inheritance of these characteristics plays a significant role in understanding the Gospel reading of the day.

Tuesday of the Second Week of Easter
Acts 4:32-37
John 3:7-15

Generally speaking, a child’s first words are considered a momentous occasion, and “Mama” and “Dada” in some form or another usually head the list of first words. But sooner or later, the child recognizes his long-standing inheritance from Adam and Eve, and the word “No” comes into play. It has to. The very fact that I am a self-conscious individual necessitates that I have choices.

This way or that? Up or down? Right or left? A “yes” always implies a “no.” Simple? Sure! And the persistent presence of that “no” is implied by the facts of consciousness and individuality. The inheritance of these characteristics plays a significant role in understanding the Gospel reading of the day.

‘You must be born from above.’

The details of this assertion are spelled out in the preceding verses.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” (John 3:3, 5-6)

From birth or before, we are aware that every child is one-of-a-kind. The individual is celebrated. Like The Little Prince, we glory in being unique in all the world. But along with the possibility of choosing — a product of individuality, consciousness, and self-awareness — comes the possibility of choosing poorly. We all know it because we have all done it —i.e., chosen poorly. Furthermore, we consistently associate those poor choices with youth or the persistence of youthful characteristics. We identify young adults (or even older adults) who manifest these juvenile traits as “unrealistic,” “not having enough real-life experience,” or even as “never having grown up.” Conversely, we also see the young person making wise choices, described as “old for his age.” Maturation is understood as the development of the ability to make wise choices.

While this is true, there is also something missing. Something we instinctively know, but also something which misses our conscious attention. What is it? It is the fact that both the “yes” and the “no” that we so casually use comprise the essence of our human nature. In order to choose, we must be conscious of the world, conscious of ourselves, and conscious of our “place” in the world. That is, we must be aware that we are distinct beings within the world.

Why is this important? It is through the choices that we decide how we will interact with our surroundings. Animal choices are based on the essentials for survival, but little more. That is true for birds finding a place to build a nest. That is true for the horse that jumps a barrier to eat the greener grass on the other side. That is true for the bear seeking a safe place to hibernate. Man builds his nest where he chooses; he raises his own “greener grass” in the place where he lives; he assesses the dangers in his surroundings and creates his own obstacles to danger. And … In a creative way, he goes beyond those basics to design the world he wants.

That’s why Jesus would say: “Unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Having been “born of the flesh,” we are endowed with the power to deal with the physical world, but that power is limited. It is limited even in the physical world, but even more so in the spiritual. There is, for example, a natural moral law, but we know it imperfectly. And even in the physical world, there is a “best,” “correct,” or “most productive” way to do things, but we often choose poorly.

That limitation is overcome by the one who is born anew, the one who has been “born of water and the Spirit.” At birth, we are transformed from inert matter into a being with physical life. In being born anew of water and the Spirit, we are transformed from a being with physical life to a being with divine life. It is in this state of having divine life — and only in this state — that it is possible to consistently align our “yes” and our “no” with the eternal “yes” and “no” of the Father.

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People with a message to share will repeat it over and over again as their audience changes. And Peter’s message was both clear and concise. “Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

Tuesday in the Octave of Easter
Acts 2:36-41
John 20:11-18

Peter’s speech to the people on the day of Pentecost may well have been missed by Luke; so you might wonder how he could have recorded it in the book we call The Acts of the Apostles. The most probable answer is simple. People with a message to share will repeat it over and over again as their audience changes. And Peter’s message was both clear and concise:

“Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

Obviously, that’s not the totality of what Peter had to say. A bit of explanation, elaboration, and detail would have been included, but the core of his message would remain the same.

“Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

So I have to ask: is that the heart of our message today?

When you read or hear of the Church being active in the present day, the account presented will most likely center on ritual practice, doctrinal teaching, moral issues, social practices, and the like. As a consequence, I am led to wonder if we are being distracted by the teachings of our own faith. The problem is that none of these issues is an important religious matter in and of itself. Why? Because they are consequences of one singular truth:

“Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

Discussions (or arguments) on religious matters are varied. Non-believers will often indicate by their statements that they are troubled by such things as the “contradictions” in Scripture, the similarity across religions of certain moral elements, the behavior of believers, the “archaic” nature of ritual, the dissonance between moral teaching and “reality.” These are secondary.

Peter had it right. Ritual practice, doctrinal teaching, moral issues, and social practices — none of these were the heart of the matter. All else would flow from that one truth which Peter so boldly proclaimed. Sure! But in fact, there is only one place to start, only one reality that can change hearts, only one truth that can stand alone as an anchor for all that logically follows from it.

“Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

We know this is true, so why does the world associate us with consequences that only make sense in its light?

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John tells us that there was a man “there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.” John also makes it clear that “Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been ill for a long time.” So, Jesus walks over to the man and asks, “Do you want to be well?”

Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent
Jeremiah 11:18-20
John 7:40-53

How do you respond when someone asks a weird question? How do you react when the weird question is part of a story you’re reading? Do you just go on reading? Do you stop and reread, wondering if you got something wrong? Do you even notice? We find one of those seemingly weird questions in today’s gospel reading from John.

“Now there is in Jerusalem at the Sheep Gate a pool called in Hebrew Bethesda, with five porticoes. In these lay a large number of ill, blind, lame, and crippled.”

OK! Now the stage is set, and Jesus enters the scene. John tells us that there was a man “there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.” John also makes it clear that “Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been ill for a long time.” So, Jesus walks over to the man and asks, “Do you want to be well?”

DUH?

You might just as well ask someone: “Do you want to get out of the cage with the lion?” Or ask the starving man: “Would you like something to eat?” Or ask someone screaming for help: “Would you like me to give you a hand?” But then you remember that Jesus isn’t prone to asking dumb questions. And a bit of reflection suggests that maybe, just maybe, there’s something more going on here.

John was certainly not averse to including details, but in this case, he could have said that the man had been ill for decades, since his youth, or even for a long time. Why the specificity of thirty-eight years? The Jews in John’s day would have known.

When the Israelites initially escaped slavery in Egypt under the leadership of Moses, they made their way relatively quickly to the Southern edge of the Promised Land. Arriving at that point, Moses sent scouts into the land.

“At the end of forty days they returned from spying out the land. And they came to Moses and Aaron and to all the congregation of the sons of Israel in the wilderness of Paran, at Ka′desh; they brought back word to them and to all the congregation, and showed them the fruit of the land.

And they told him, ‘We came to the land to which you sent us; it flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. Yet the people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very large; and besides, we saw the descendants of Anak there. The Amal′ekites dwell in the land of the Neg′eb; the Hittites, the Jeb′usites, and the Am′orites dwell in the hill country; and the Canaanites dwell by the sea, and along the Jordan.’

But Caleb quieted the people before Moses, and said, ‘Let us go up at once, and occupy it; for we are well able to overcome it.’

Then the men who had gone up with him said, ‘We are not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than we.’

So they brought to the sons of Israel an evil report of the land which they had spied out, saying, ‘The land, through which we have gone to spy it out, is a land that devours its inhabitants; and all the people that we saw in it are men of great stature.’” (Numbers 13:25-32))

So the Israelites, the very people who had witnessed the plagues, the Passover, the pillar of cloud, the pillar of fire, the parting of the sea, and the destruction of Pharaoh’s army, decided it was too dangerous. They turned away and wandered through the desert for thirty-eight more years. Why? Because at that initial encounter with the Promised Land, they were not yet ready to be ‘healed’.

And so Jesus question of the man at Bethesda’s pool: “Do you want to be well?” “Do you want to be made whole?” “Do you want to finally enter the Promised Land?” You wouldn’t expect the question to be so difficult to honestly answer. But . . .

It is said that towards the end of St Augustine’s youth, following years of debauchery, St Augustine prayed (apparently with a straight face), “Lord, make me pure — but not yet.” Is that our own position as we contemplate a full and total commitment to our Savior? Sooner or later, we will have to decide.

Do I want to be made whole and enter the Promised Land?

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Our readings for today tell two stories, stories of cups being full and stories of cups being empty. Actually, we hear of both full and empty in each story. Throughout life, we all share in highs and lows — the cup that overflows and the cup that seems bottomless in its emptiness.

Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent
Daniel 3:25, 34-43
Matthew 18:21-35

This morning’s reading from the Old Testament is part of a story most are familiar with. However, a brief refresher will help put this text in the broader context of events. A summary of the preceding events will be drawn from verses from the Sacred text.

“In the third year of the reign of Jehoi′akim king of Judah, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it.” (Daniel 1:1) He conquered Jerusalem and exiled many to Babylon.

“Then the king commanded Ash′penaz, his chief eunuch, to bring some of the people of Israel, both of the royal family and of the nobility, youths without blemish, handsome and skilful in all wisdom, endowed with knowledge, understanding, learning, and competent to serve in the king’s palace, and to teach them the letters and language of the Chalde’ans.” (Daniel 1:3-4)

“Among these were Daniel, Hanani’ah, Mish’a-el, and Azari’ah of the tribe of Judah. And the chief of the eunuchs gave them names: Daniel he called Belteshaz’zar, Hananiah he called Shad’rach, Misha-el he called Me’shach, and Azariah he called Abed’nego.” (Daniel 1:6-7)

“As for these four youths, God gave them learning and skill in all letters and wisdom; and Daniel had understanding in all visions and dreams. At the end of the time, when the king had commanded that they should be brought in, the chief of the eunuchs brought them in before Nebuchadnezzar. And the king spoke with them, and among them all none was found like Daniel, Hanani’ah, Mish’a-el, and Azari’ah; therefore they stood before the king.” (Daniel 1:17-19”

“Then the king gave Daniel high honors and many great gifts, and made him ruler over the whole province of Babylon, and chief prefect over all the wise men of Babylon. Daniel made request of the king, and he appointed Shad’rach, Me’shach, and Abed’nego over the affairs of the province of Babylon; but Daniel remained at the king’s court.” (Daniel 2:48-49)

“King Nebuchadnez’zar made an image of gold, whose height was sixty cubits and its breadth six cubits. He set it up on the plain of Dura, in the province of Babylon.” (Daniel 3:1) But the exiled people of Israel had enemies; some went to the king.

“You, O king, have made a decree, that every man who hears the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, bagpipe, and every kind of music, shall fall down and worship the golden image; and whoever does not fall down and worship shall be cast into a burning fiery furnace.” (Daniel 3:10-11)

You can see where this is going. The king has given an order that Hanani’ah, Mish’a-el, and Azari’ah can not obey. Nebuchadnezzar is PO’d. So the furnace is prepared. The three are thrown into the fire. From within Azari’ah (now called Abed’nego) offers his prayer. We hear a portion of that prayer today.

Most of us, if not all of us, live a life with a cup that is somewhere between full and empty.

Occasionally, we are blessed and our cup overflows. We remember those times with joy. Some probably happened when we were very young. I occasionally recall a time when I was somewhere around three to five years old. We were at my grandparents’ house. It was spring. The sun was warm — not hot, but warm. The sky was blue. And I sat beneath a cherry tree in full bloom and fragrance, playing in a pile of sand. As I built sand castles, a gentle breeze would shower me with the flowers’ pink petals. What more could anyone ask?

Other such memories can also be recalled from the unfolding of years along my way. My cup in those spring hours was full to overflowing. But, from time to time, the cup would abruptly be empty.

When I was a little older than the cherry tree incident, I became fascinated with building model airplanes. You know the type: balsa wood pieces, smelly glue, detailed instructions. I had proudly accumulated about fifteen of these models when my parents invited some friends to visit. They had a couple of kids close to my age. Now, not everyone sees a model as something to be admired. To these new kids, the models were just another toy. What exciting things happen to airplanes? Runway accidents, mid-air collisions, and crashes in the wilderness. Such was the fate of all my models. I had no idea the bottom of my cup was so far down.

Our readings for today tell two stories, stories of cups being full and stories of cups being empty. Actually, we hear of both full and empty in each story. The tale from Nebuchadnezzar’s court begins with an empty cup. Jerusalem has fallen. Israel is defeated. The leadership is sent into exile. (That’s a pretty empty cup.) But then four young men of Israel are called to the king’s court to be properly trained and educated. Azariah is one of them. And the four are found to be superior to all other candidates, so they are promoted to high positions; Daniel remains directly in the king’s service while the other three take on government jobs. (Looks like the cup is being filled.)

The gospel tale follows that of Azari’ah in that the debtor’s cup was pretty much empty. But suddenly …his cup was full. “Moved with compassion, the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan.”

But then, the forgiven servant fails to act with compassion toward a fellow servant who also has a debt problem. He had him thrown into debtors’ prison “until he paid back the debt.” But the master finds out and retracts the forgiveness previously offered. The original debtor then found his cup empty.

Now we could examine the faith of Hanani’ah, Mish’a-el, and Azari’ah. It’s really quite an amazing story. Likewise, we could examine the required seventy-seven times of forgiveness. Throughout life, we all share in highs and lows — the cup that overflows and the cup that seems bottomless in its emptiness. But what caught my attention was the behavior of the two men when their personal account was settled. After the rollercoaster of ups and downs, the king decides that the furnace will be Azari’ah’s fate. In response, Azari’ah sings the praises of God and asks for deliverance. After the debtor's downs and ups, the debtor responds by deciding that misery will be his fellow man’s fate.

The cherry tree blooms on a warm spring day. It was not through my power that such a thing happened. Similarly, others my age naturally saw models as toys and played with them accordingly. Neither was Azari’ah responsible for the king’s golden statue or the corresponding rule of worship. So too, the servant in debt to the master could not claim responsibility for the master’s compassion. Things happen. Many things. Some are filling. But not all.

So much of life is beyond me. What’s within my grasp is how I respond.

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For those who originated the word, ‘logos’ can have the meanings “I put in order, I arrange, I gather, I choose, I count, I reckon, I discern, I say, I speak.” And behind all these connotations is the presumption of power — power to effect what I choose, order, and arrange.

Tuesday of the First Week of Lent
Isaiah 55:10-11
Matthew 6:7-15

At this point in time, the song “It's Only Words,” by the Bee Gees, is more than fifty years old. Introduced by the BeeGees and since covered by multiple artists. It retains a notable level of popularity. It might be considered a lamentation regarding the limitations of interpersonal connection. But, more than any other pop music lyrics, it addresses something we all struggle with in our efforts to share with others.

“It’s only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away.”

The term ‘word’ as used today fails to capture the richness of the term from which it evolved. The dictionary says that ‘word’ means “a speech sound or series of speech sounds that symbolizes and communicates a meaning.” Sounds more than just a bit academic. Nevertheless, it is an accurate description of modern usage. A couple of thousand years ago, its meaning wasn’t so sterile.

It would be cumbersome to go into a philological study about origins and developments. A brief summary will have to do.

St John, in his Gospel, uses the Greek word ‘logos.’ St Jerome would later translate this as ‘verbum.’ ‘Verbum’ would in time be translated as ‘word.’ Some would recognize the limitations of ‘word’ used alone and opt for ‘living word.’ But what was the original meaning? And what was John using the term to express?

As previously noted, the original term, the one John used, was borrowed from the Greek. That term was ‘logos,’ and it embodied notions of reason, logic, order, or understanding. Among its connotations is that of a rational form of discourse. So for those who originated the word, ‘logos’ can have the meanings “I put in order, I arrange, I gather, I choose, I count, I reckon, I discern, I say, I speak”. And behind all these connotations is the presumption of power — power to effect what I choose, order, and arrange.

With that understanding, we can more deeply appreciate the message Isaiah presents as God's.

The Isaiah text, Isaiah 55:10, opens with the common experience of rain. Whether it comes as snow or rain, moisture does not fall from the sky and immediately return whence it came. Rather, it first makes the earth fertile and fruitful by watering the soil and plants, giving life. I’m not sure how Isaiah knew this, but rain does make the soil more fertile. It does so because lightning converts atmospheric nitrogen into a form plants can use. That nitrogen falls with the rain; thus, plants are more productive. The consequences are extraordinary. There is grain for the one who has planted. That leads to flour for the one who makes the bread. And that leads to the building up of life.

“So too, says the Lord, is my word.
It has a purpose and it will accomplish that purpose.
It will not return to me having done nothing.
And God said; “Let there be light.”

John would go on to describe that power as found in Jesus himself.

“All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.” (John 1:3)

However, it’s easy to overlook the connection that Jesus would make between the power of our own logos, our own words. We hear him teach it in Matthew:

“What comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a man. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a man; but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile a man.” (Matthew 15:18-20)

Our words also have power, and that is not necessarily for the good. Words not only have the power to “take your heart away,” but they also have the power to minimize, diminish, and degrade. And what’s more, they reveal us for what we truly are.

Every creative word that God spoke was both a revelation of and an expression of himself. So, when he created the universe, the sun, the moon, and the stars, the earth and its plants and its creatures, and even man himself, he found it good. What else could it be? “All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.” So we can know something of God through his creation. The same is true for us. Our creations are also revelatory, and it is important that we ourselves be mindful of the person they reveal.

The word has power. Even our words will not return to us empty.

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“What eye has not seen? And what ear has not heard? And what divine marvels have not entered the human heart? So as to give us the power to recognize, when that time comes, what God has prepared for those who love him.”

Tuesday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
James 1:12-18
Mark 8:14-21

As we read this Gospel incident recorded by Mark, The Leaven of the Pharisees, we encounter one of several situations in which the disciples’ misunderstanding is revealed. As the story begins, you can almost see the finger-pointing as the source of the bread problem is being sought out. Whether the suggestion of a dispute is a true interpretation or not, the discussion certainly registered with Jesus, and he questions where they have directed their attention. As Mark makes clear, the disciples were focused on their own earthly problems and forgetful of how Jesus himself had resolved such human matters in the past.

Before this Tuesday's Gospel reading, my own attention had been directed to the second reading from last Sunday’s liturgy. There we heard a well-known verse from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians: “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him.” The wording has always seemed a bit awkward to me, but a re-phrase might go something like this: “No man’s eye has ever seen, no man’s ear has ever heard, and no man’s heart has ever experienced what God has prepared for those who love him.”

I offer this paraphrase because last Sunday I initially heard something different. What I heard suggested an understanding that went like this: “What eye has not seen? And what ear has not heard? And what divine marvels have not entered the human heart? So as to give us the power to recognize, when that time comes, what God has prepared for those who love him.”

The common interpretation of Paul’s teaching looks to the inadequacy of either human experience or imagination as foundations for grasping what comes in the next life. When that same teaching is posed as a series of questions, everything changes.

Novels that explore the experience of mankind as it moves into an unknown future seem, by and large, to lean toward warning and potential destruction. It’s easier to find novels like Brave New World (Aldous Huxley), Animal Farm (George Orwell), A Canticle for Leibowitz (Walter M. Miller, Jr), or The Road (Cormac McCarthy) than to find those of celebration.

But poetry and song tend toward a different perspective. William Wordsworth titled his poem well when he wrote Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood. In it, he suggests that the way the world appears to children is a hint that every human soul comes from heaven and will return there one day. Here’s a small portion.

In a thousand valleys far and wide,
                      Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother’s arm:—
                      I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
                      —But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone;
                      The Pansy at my feet
                      Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
What eye has not seen? And what ear has not heard?
We all know it — that sensation of Flying Without Wings 
(song by Westlife)

At least once in life, most would say, “I’m trying to hold my breath, let it stay this way.” (Opening words to Never Enough from The Greatest Showman)

Our desire is for the complete fulfillment of promise — the “Blind will see, the lame will walk, the dead will live again.” (from the song “Mary Did You Know?” But also from Isaiah 35:5)

We struggle, and we Dream the Impossible Dream (title and opening words from a song in The Man From LaMancha).

And the dream is common, even among pop musicians. This particular hope-in-song was introduced in 1968 by a young Elvis Presley.

There must be lights burning brighter, somewhere
Got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue
If I can dream of a better land
Where all my brothers walk hand in hand
Tell me why, oh why, oh why can’t my dream come true?
Oh, why?
There must be peace and understanding sometime
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear
If I can dream of a warmer sun
Where hope keeps shining on everyone
Tell me why, oh why, oh why won’t that sun appear?

“Why,” he asks. Because the Son has appeared, and we are disciples in a boat, giving Him our superficial attention. We still ask, as did the students in the musical Les Miz: in Beyond the barricade:

Is there a world you long to see?
And just like those students we still live with our own intimations of immortality.
From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose, with voices ringing
And I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
We desire. We hope. We pray for:
A world where pain and sorrow will be ended
And every heart that’s broken will be mended
And we’ll remember we’re all God’s children
Reaching out to touch him
Reaching to the sky 
(The Prayer song)

These contemporary expressions are evidence that we have seen, we have heard, we have inherent intimations that there is something more, and we sense what it will be like. But surprisingly, if we examine these same texts closely, we might think they are written or sung by an Old Testament people. These hopes, desires, longings are found time after time in the Scriptures — but exclusively in the Books written before Christ.

And while the desires of those days — the desire for justice, beauty, truth, peace, love, and the conquest of suffering, sorrow, and want — were nailed to an anticipated Messiah, that nailed Messiah has now come. One might, for example, think that one of those in the boat was named Malthus or Sanger, distracted by a concern about overpopulation that would eventually overwhelm the food supply and natural resources.

“What eye has not seen? And what ear has not heard? And what divine marvels have not entered the human heart? So as to recognize, when that time comes, what God has prepared for those who love him.” We’ve been given a glimpse of what is to come, but like the disciples, we sit in the boat and dispute mundane matters which God himself has shown a readiness to resolve.

A verse or incident from the Scriptures grabs our attention, and we run with it — ignoring the whole from which it was taken. We hear “feed the hungry,” and we are moved. We hear “if a man doesn’t work, he should not eat,” and we find it offensive. Is one verse the Word of God but not the other? Do parts of Scripture have only second-class inspiration? Obviously, NO!

G. K. Chesterton, the great British apologist of the last century, spoke more than once about how only Christianity had successfully addressed apparent conflicts simultaneously: suffering vs. salvation, life vs. death, suffering servant vs. conquering warrior, riches vs. wealth, and so on. Only in the whole of Scripture is truth to be found. Select lines and verses, and stories can be misappropriated and misleading. Yet, how often is a single line considered an adequate guide?

Our desires, our dreams, our hopes find their origin in the fact that we have been infused with that glimpse of a reality that can be ours. But we have to look beyond to find it realized. We sit in the boat. We argue about peace when we have not found our own internal peace. We argue for enough bread as the source of bread stands before us. We dream of a better land, one with peace and understanding, as division (created by the ‘other,’ of course) sits ever more firmly in our psyche.

Meanwhile … meanwhile … we’re poker players; and we’re at the table with a small pile of chips while simultaneously holding a royal flush. Yet we’re afraid to say “All In.” Are we so in doubt of what we have seen and what we have heard?

Do we still not understand?

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