Keynotes for November 2006

November 5, 2006
Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Deuteronomy6:2-6
Hebrews7:23-28
Mark12:28b-34

Happiness on earth is loving your neighbor and knowing WHY you do it.

The readings in today's liturgy say nothing about happiness. They don't even mention the word. Then how on earth, from the Scriptures given for our consideration today, can I conclude what I say in my opening statement? Well, lets make some inquiry about the scribe who is in dialogue with Jesus. He commends Jesus for correctly answering the question: "Which is the first of all the commandments?" And the scribe's way of confirming that Jesus is right on target about love of God and love of neighbor is to state that combined they are "worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." The scribe already knew from his nation's history that sacrificing their animals and making holocausts of their possessions did not satisfy God. He and his fellow students of their scriptures were aware that their God wanted to be loved by the individual, whole heart, soul, mind and strength, and that this happened by and through their loving of one another. But what makes him so certain of his responses?

(Q1) Did this scribe know more than Moses knew about God's commandments? In the Deuteronomy passage before us, Moses does not take up the issue of neighbor. Rather he "enjoins" his people to embrace fully the "first" commandment, implying that that should be sufficient to gain them growth, prosperity, and long life in "a land flowing with milk and honey." Yes, somewhere between Moses and the scribe, the Jewish people came to realize that the "second" commandment," when practiced in conjunction with the "first," was what God valued even more.

(Q2) And what could the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews have told the scribe about the neighbor issue? The "Hebrews" author, putting pen to paper some fifty or sixty years after Jesus crucifixion, compares the high priesthood of Jesus to the levitical priesthood. Jesus mission, he concludes, was not like theirs, ie his was not to offer day after day the inadequate sacrifices of the old covenant, whether for a priest's own sins and for those of the people. No, Jesus the priest, "higher than the heavens. . . holy, innocent, indefiled, [and] separated from sinners," offered the "once for all" sacrifice of himself. The scribe, remember, made his observations before Jesus died. What the Hebrews author could have told the scribe was that it was love of neighbor, immersed inseparably with God's love, that lifted their offering to a level that surpassed all the unsatisfactory sacrifices. In this author's words, it was the God-man's perfecting of himself by the immolation of himself that made love of neighbor worth more in God's sight than any measures of atonement that humans alone could do. And that sacrifice relieved hapless humans of the need for more and more ambitious offerings, for none could outdo the Son's. Which means that now that we are divinely enabled, so to speak, we can concentrate on the smaller, but incessant needs of our fellow man, and recapitulate in our own samll ways what the Son has done for us.

Still, (Q.3) how do we know there is happiness for us in what the scribe confirmed?

Throughout the gospels the notion of happiness is very elusive and scarcely spoken about. But it does come up in Matthew's account of the final judgment, where the King of creation shall say to those on his right, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you"(25:34). We already know who he means, because in the parable just preceding this he has told us about the two servants who spent their five and two talents wisely. To the "blessed of my Father" he shall say, as the master in the parable said,"Come on in and share my happiness." (25:21,23). The assistance we have given to the poor, the thirsty, the sick, those in need of food, clothing or shelter is what will fill us with joy, if it has not already done so. Elevated by that most wondrous favor performed by our High Priest, and done to them out of gratitude to Him, our help to the least of the "little" ones shall emerge as the true cause of our happiness.

November 12
Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

1Kings17:10-16
Hebrews9:24-28
Mark12:38-44

Two lines in the responsorial psalm (146) sum up today's theme:

The fatherless and the widow he sustains,
but the way of the wicked he thwarts.
For the many who are disadvantaged or lack empowerment He is sustenance itself;

to those who would practice evil designs He is frustration and defeat. The widow of Zarephath and her son realize this dichotomy when they scrape together what little means they have, make a mini-cake for the prophet Elijah, and give him a cup of water. It appears that they know almost nothing about Elijah, except that he proclaims himself a prophet. Nonetheless, they put all their trust in him, just as he musters all the faith he can, to call upon God to back his promise. In those days, just as in our times, jars of flour and jugs of oil were not known to replenish themselves automatically. But because the widow, destitute as she was, did Elijah's bidding, counting on his duty to turn to the Lord, so this prophet came through with the courage and determination and did what was then expected of him. Which brought about the surprise ending to the passage, (which to them was no surprise):
She was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well;
the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry,
as the Lord had foretold through Elijah.

Both had opportunities to make alternative decisions and could have chosen other "ways." Neither would have been thought "wicked" to do so, but different consequences would have resulted. What they did choose was the Lord's word. For their sustenance they relied on him.

Jesus sets the same dichotomy into glaring contrast when he excoriates the scribes for devouring the houses of widows, and then praises the one widow who donates her last two coins to the temple treasury. Large sums from the rich are not noteworthy, for these have little need of the Lord's help to sustain themselves. These are more likely to take up with the long robed scribes, of whom Jesus disapproves for seeking kudos in the streets, seats of honor in the synagoges, and prestigeous places at banquet tables. Exactly how the scribes "devour" widows' houses is not explained, but we may safely assume that these are the very ways of the wicked that the Lord in His justice will contravene, for as Jesus says, "They will receive a very severe condemnation."

From the writer of Hebrews we are given to understand how the yearly entry of the high priest into the sanctuary "with blood that is not his own" is replaced by Christ's one time entry into the sanctuary of his glory. By his once-for-all sacrifice he took away all sins. Because this unique sacrifice will brook no compromise, it will no longer tolerate certain evils that humans are prone to inflict on their fellow man. It is this sacrifice that will send those perpetrators to "a very severe condemnation." Also because this sacrifice will address the needs of mankind, it will find its greatest effectiveness as a remedy to the weak and disadvantaged. The old blood rituals of the ancient priests are set aside, and the new sacrifice of the new Christ now starts a new precedent. For as he came with compassion for the sick, the crippled and the blind, so he expects us, the followers whom he nourishes, to bring sustenance to widows and orphans and to all others who lack empowerment.

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November 19, 2006

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Daniel12:1-3;
Hebrews10:11-14,18;
Mark13:24-32

Ben is the little boy featured in a recent video presentation for St. Jude's Hospital. He is a small but husky fellow, not yet two years old, round full face, gleaming eyes and a bright smile. But Ben has terminal cancer. He is fighting an uphill battle against an expanding brain tumor. The scientiest, researchers and docters at St. Jude go all out to keep the tumor in check. An incision from direct chemo intervention leaves a scar on Ben's scalp. Ben still has weeks when he is too sick to play with Eli, his brother. Trips to the zoo and roughhousing with his daddy are the times when he cascades into giggles. Dad confronts the video camera to say, "There are just no words to describe how it feels to know that your time is so limited."

We who have lived full lives into our senior years get a very different feeling when we face our forthcoming demises. We have lived life as it was designed: infancy, youth, adulthood, old age. But a child with a terminal disease has this potential stolen from him at the outset, that same host of possibilities we were given every opportunity to fulfill. We seniors have been gifted with TIME. And we very much take time for granted. A seventeenth century physician named Sir Thomas Browne said "the long habit of living indisposeth us for dying." So it takes readings like we have in the liturgy today to jolt us back to the realistic demands of the clock running out. When the video screen went dark, the speaker at the podium told us Ben had died in May of 2006. What a terrible hurt his parents must have felt. It makes me wonder if that same feeling is what God experiences every time a sinner turns against Him. If such is the case, then for God what a painful expanse must time itself be.

A barrage of catastrophic signs will be the first phase to shake mankind out of its sinful lethargy: sun darkened, moon faded, heaven's powers disturbed, all in the wake of that great tribulation described previously by Mark. All an elaboration of what Daniel calls "a time unsurpassed in distress." The daily ministries of the ancient priests offering ineffective sacrifices had a need to be abolished, says Hebrews. So the Eternal High Priest initiated a second phase. At his first coming there was great bewilderment. No one understood what he intended. So he told us "when you see these things happening, know that [I am] near, at the gates." Still at his second coming pandemonium will break out, as the final onslaught of evil forces is unleashed upon the earth. Frights and horrors will confuse and confound the living, but the faithful will have sufficient mental acumen to find their way to safety. This separation will start the third phase, the gathering of the elect. Daniel promises "your people. . . everyone who is found written in the book. . . shall escape" perdition. He envisions that the elect "shall be like the stars forever . . .shining brightly. . . like the splendor of the firmament" and leading the many to justice. After many generations have passed away, "those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake," some to face everlasting horror and disgrace, others to live forever. It will be the last sorting (or segregation) of congregations, for which time was invented in the first place. It will be the perfecting forever of those who are being consecrated.

These are the hours and days when sinners by the millions will have their opportunity to forsake their offenses, turn to ways of penance, and re-gladden the heart of their Maker. Perhaps the parents'loss of a child can bring home to us what the loss of souls means to God. Maybe we should treasure the time for reconciliation allowed to us as much as those parents savored the moments with that baby. For the Parousia, when it arrives, will be a witness to the washing away of all of time's anguish and suffering, for both God and man. As Hebrews says, "where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer offering for sin."

November 26, 2006

Our Lord Jesus Christ the King
Daniel7:13-14
Revelation1:5-8
John18:33b-37

We who are alive in the twenty first century seem not to have much interest in kings or kingdoms, let alone any desire to live as a subject in a kingdom or to show allegiance to a king. Thus, we are tempted to regard the kingship of Jesus, ie his rule by supreme authority, the one to whom we owe all honor, obedience and respect, as somewhat passe. Many people take his kingship today for nothing more than one of mild historical interest. We have become so used to democracy, government of the people, by the people and for the people, with its one-man-one-vote customs, that we now feel too autonomous to relate to kingship. But is there a more serious question we should be asking ourselves? Can this temporal life on earth, as we live it today, actually make us mature enough to endure the living of an ETERNAL life under the dominion of the King?

In today's gospel Jesus assures Pilate that he is indeed a king, which means we must submit to him within this role (and restructure our behavior under this title) if we are to be saved. In today's gospel Jesus also drops us a very strong indication as to how we might prepare ourselves for his kingship, which will be like none the world has ever known. In response to Pilate's key question, Jesus says:

You say I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into
the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.

If testimony to the truth is his reason for having come into our world, then a fixation upon that same truth--our permanent involvement in it--has to become our fitness for living in his kingdom. Yet for this we are as puzzled and unprepared as Pilate was. We, too, shrug and say, "What do you mean by 'truth'? How can we humans 'belong to the truth'?"

With some help from the dictionary, we gather that "truth" is an allignment/ conformity/congruence of any real thing to an ideal (abstract notion) of itself. Not THE ideal of itself, but AN ideal of itself. And that still leaves truth in the realm of subjectivity, relative to its observer. Two athletic directors might perceive the same quarterback as a "true" freshman, but they have somewhat different notions about the ideal itself. Examining the perception process of any given individual (player, coach, fan, citizen etc.) can be taken a step further if we consider a piece of purely secular wisdom. It was Shakespeare's Polonius, in that famous speech of fatherly advice, who cautioned his son: "This above all: to thine own self be true." (Hamlet I.iii.78) An individual begins to approximate the truth about him(her)self when he reaches for the objectivity that transcends any other human's subjective viewpoint. The quarterback, for instance, might ask himself "Am I a true freshman?" "By what gauge do I determine this?" Jesus would say to you or to me or to Pilate, "Look for that you which I created, for the you I intend you to be, for THE ideal of yourself that I percieve, for that you who will be a citizen in the kingdom-to-come. Once you learn to be true to yourself according to this guideline, you will slowly and gradually enter the bewildering but fascinating world of objectivity. I am the touchstone of objectivity. I am that by which your judgment must come to gauge everything it perceives. After having listened to my precepts and pondered every word that I uttered, you shall be subsumed into the corporation that is myself. There you shall fully understand the meaning of "I am. . .the truth." (Jn14:6)

The great gap--between what we currently know about governing ourselves and what it will take to become a denizen of the ultimate kingdom-- means that our growth will require us to have Jesus for a mentor, a counsellor and a confidant, intensely, before we can cope with his presence as a king. For if we were as sophisticated as we think we are, then we would already be able to explain, as the Book of Revelation declares, how "he has freed us from our sins by his blood," how he "has made us into a kingdom, priests for his God and Father," and (most mysterious of all) why he loves us so much. But we are still too busy governing ourselves down here to even think much about submitting to a regimen of this sort.

Daniel describes the Lord's kingdom as "everlasting," one in which "all peoples, nations and languages serve him," one that "shall not be destroyed." Upon entering such a vast environment, could we not become LOST? How will we find the faces familiar, and the place to which we belong? If there are mirrors in heaven, will we even recognize ourselves in them? Who will be there to verify our identities, and assure us that given our roots this is our home? The Shakespearean adage may help discover answers to these questions, but only with validation from Jesus' voice shall we get beyond the last deceptions of our own subjectivity. Those who willfully live out their natural lives without submitting to the discipline of Jesus would seem to risk entering paradise as the strangest of strangers. Only by full adherence to the truth will our characters be completed and allegiance within his kingdom perfected.

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