Apocalyptic Hope

     Ever since the start of the pandemic, each morning our friary has been celebrating a conventual Mass (i.e. Mass with just the friars of the house). We've continued this communal celebration even after public masses were reinstated later in the spring, and the ordained friars take turns presiding. Although I'm a brother, and thus do not preside at Mass, I offer a reflection on the Scriptures in lieu of a homily on Fridays.

    Not accustomed to delivering memorized or off-the-cuff speeches, I prefer to write out my reflections. It's not the most riveting style of preaching, but then this is yet another reason why I appreciate my vocation to the brotherhood. I have, however, garnered much more respect for my confreres who are ordained priests. Preparing homilies is a lot of work, and they preach more than just on Sundays. Moreover, preaching is only a fraction of what they do as priests, so have some gratitude for your local pastors. They do quite a bit that goes unnoticed.

    Anyway, since I write out my reflections, and since today's readings were apocalyptic in nature, I thought I would post what wrote up for this morning's Mass. It seemed fitting, given that my last couple of posts from early this summer were about apocalyptic literature. That, and we come to the end of a liturgical year this weekend and begin a new one with the season of Advent. This tends to be a time when the Church's liturgy has a bit more of an eschatological bent. So, without further prelude, my reflection from the Friday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time (November 27, 2020).

Revelation 20:1-4, 11-21-2; Psalm 84:3, 4, 5-6a and 8a; Luke 21:29-33

Here we are at one of the climactic, final scenes in the book of Revelation. We have the capture and imprisonment of the dragon (a.k.a. Satan); the martyrs and faithful ones enjoying the reign of Christ; the final judgement; death and the underworld are at last destroyed, and there’s a completely new creation, with a new  heaven, a new earth, and a new Jerusalem. In just these few verses, this section covers most of the major themes in apocalyptic literature: cosmic upheaval, the kingdom of God, judgment, and renewal. But is this about the past, the future, or times concurrent with this book’s composition? The answer is, “Yes.”

               In the book of Revelation past, present, and future are sort of fused into one, but ultimately, though there are cosmic battles, and earthly disasters and suffering, Christ is always triumphant and the members of the Church enjoy and are actively a part of that new creation. Yes, Christ was definitively victorious over sin and death on the cross and in his resurrection, but this victory is an enduring reality, for Christ lives on in his Church. Just as our ancestors in faith struggled against the all-pervasive political and cultural system that was the Roman empire in the ways that it opposed Christ, so too do we today struggle against a culture of indifference, consumerism, individualism, hate, and injustice.

Personally, I find the dualistic character of Revelation rather off-putting. I’m wary of a cut-and-dry, black-or-white worldview, and yet we can’t deny that things are not right in the world, and there really never has been a time when truth, justice, and goodness reigned entirely. One of the values of Revelation is that, though the battle has already been won in Christ, and Christ is indeed King - as we celebrated this past Sunday - we are still part of that living story. There are still forces and prevailing attitudes, both outside of ourselves and within us as well, that stand against the work and the Spirit of God. We might not use the same imagery as apocalyptic authors, but the Paschal Mystery is being lived out in the members of Christ’s Body - in those who are crucified when profit is prioritized over human life, when power is chosen over people. We do continue to fight against evil in our world today. But evil is not so much a thing in and of itself; rather evil gets its nature from its opposition to God. I certainly would not say that there are evil human beings, but there are human actions and inactions that are in conflict with goodness, peace, charity, self-control, and the like.

Naturally, the wrathful violence of the apocalyptic narrative can be a bit unnerving for many folks. But we also know that history, from the stories of the Old Testament even until now - have shown us that destruction, disaster, war, and death give way to renewal, resurrection, and new life. It’s a shame that we live in a world in which we needed a civil rights movement, but where would we be without those men and women who risked their dignity and their lives for equality under the law? But, of course, we still have a long way to go. Even as we look back on this 2020 year, we remember those awful deaths that reignited the Black Lives Matter movement - these killings were unjust tragedies and should not have happened, yet I think we are seeing a new creation of sorts being formed in a movement striving for a more just society. I’m reminded of the words of Archbishop Oscar Romero, who said, “If they kill me, I will rise in the Salvadoran people.” The mystery of dying and rising is written into the fabric of the human story and is very much at the core of our faith where Christ is always victorious - and even death itself has no power over us. This is why we need apocalyptic, not because we look forward to war, death, and destruction, but because it gives us a lens with which to view the human story, and it reminds us that, after enduring the travail of pursuing goodness and righteousness, Christ will reign.

 

In today’s Gospel we are told to consider the blossoms on the fig tree. We know this is a sign that summer is near, so likewise we should read the signs of the times to recognize that God’s kingdom is at hand. I think with so much that has transpired in the last several months, not least of all the pandemic, we are experiencing a God-moment in our world - a nearness of God’s kingdom. I don’t think it’s the linear end of the world or signs of Jesus' second coming, for we’ve experienced rays of God’s kingdom like this before in history and in our own lifetimes. God’s Word, both spoken and incarnate, has endured all kinds of risings and topplings of kingdoms, nations, movements, philosophies, and technologies. And now, with everything that has been going on, I have apocalyptic hope that new life is budding forth - though not without challenges and forces of opposition. I don’t know what it might look like or even how long the struggles might last, but I believe that Christ and his kingdom will prevail.

Blessed Are The Poor: A Christmas Post

Well, it’s Christmas, and I promised I’d write a series of posts on the Beatitudes. How fitting, then, that I should begin my attempt to fulfill that pledge during this sacred celebration of Christ’s birth with today’s reflection on the poor and poor in spirit!

In recent years, Christmas has become a season I look toward with a bit of trepidation. I know; as a friar that seems rather counter-intuitive, but I’m sure there are many folks (maybe even a few who are reading this) that can relate. I’m grateful and delighted when I have the opportunity to spend part of the season with family and friends, as I do this year. But regardless of whatever yuletide festivities or even prayerful pursuits I take part in during Advent and Christmas, I always feel like there is something deeper I’m missing. Perhaps it’s a Charlie Brown syndrome – a despair in the artificialness and commerciality of the season. The remedy to Charlie Brown’s melancholy was his friend Linus’ recounting of Luke 2:8-14. He famously concludes his speech with, “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

I have to give Linus credit; he makes his point simply and clearly. Moreover, it’s the truth! Granted, the incarnation of Christ in our world is a mystery, and like all mysteries, it is infinitely knowable. We can never exhaust our understanding of it nor plumb its depths. That being said, perhaps my own Charlie Brown-esque angst over Christmas cannot be satisfied by hackneyed slogans like, Jesus is the Reason for the Season or Keep Christ in Christmas.

I think most of us, at least in the back of our minds, realize that Christmas, first and foremost, is about the birth of Christ. But what Jesus’ coming into the world means… well, that’s a mystery – a boundless and immeasurably deep ocean. And while I can swim with my head above the water among the ornaments, garland, and nativity figurines floating about on the surface, I have this relentless urge to dive a little deeper. I'll admit, however, that I'm sometimes nervous to do so, because I'm afraid of how I might be challenged.

In this vast sea there are endless facets of the Christmas mystery to explore and meditate upon. One might ponder Mary’s humility in becoming the mother of God. Another could reflect on the self-emptying of God in becoming not only human but a tiny, helpless infant! Perhaps it is God’s great act in salvation history that moves a person’s heart – the bright dawn of our redemption shining upon us! Maybe the awesome change our world has undergone in the incarnation of the Son of God is what elicits sober contemplation. There are metaphors of Christ as shepherd and king. There are messages throughout of peace and mercy. It could simply be a word, or a phrase, or an image from the Scriptures: Glory; Good news; Savior; Messiah; Salvation; Joy; Emmanuel (God is with us); Newborn King of the Jews; Jesus, lying in a feeding trough; Gentile visitors from afar offering homage.

Indeed, one could go on and on about all the rich aspects of our faith which issue from the infancy narratives. Countless hymns draw from such imagery and conjure up riveting lyrics to expound upon those mysteries: And Heaven and nature sing; God and sinners reconciled; Thus to come from highest bliss/Down to such a world as this; Glorious now behold him arise/King and God and Sacrifice; etc.

You don’t need me to tell you what wondrous feature of the Christmas mystery to meditate on. There are so many on which to look. So please, take time for yourself in quiet this holiday season to contemplate whatever speaks to you. However, I promised I would write about the first of the Beatitudes in this post. Therefore, I invite you to consider how the infancy narratives – and much of the rest of Scripture for that matter – take up this theme of God’s favor toward the poor.

Now, I don’t want to glorify poverty for the same reason I don’t think it’s proper to glorify suffering. Anyone who is in desperation of any kind most likely would rather not be in that situation, and there is nothing glamorous about not having shelter, or enough food or clothing. But in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is very plain spoken: Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation (Lk 6:20b, 24).

Matthew’s Gospel does not include a list of woes to contrast the Beatitudes. Furthermore, Matthew uses the expression “the poor in spirit” instead of “you who are poor.” Some scholars suggest that, although Matthew probably precedes Luke, it is actually Luke’s more direct version of the Beatitudes that follows more closely to Jesus’ original preaching. In any case, it’s clear that, according to Luke, Jesus is speaking of the economically and materially poor. The question, though, remains: why are the poor so blessed?

In the spirit of Christmas, I defer to Charles Dickens’ beloved A Christmas Carol for some insight. When the Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge onto the streets of London on Christmas morn, he sprinkles incense from his torch onto the meals of poor revelers. Scrooge inquires about the Spirit’s spice and asks if it would go with any kind of dinner on Christmas. The Spirit replies, “‘To any kindly given. To a poor one most.’

‘Why to a poor one most?’ [asks] Scrooge.

‘Because it needs it most.’” The Spirit answers.[1]

Why are the poor afforded the blessings of God? Because they need it the most! Consider Luke’s, Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. It isn’t quite a curse, but it seems to say, “You already have what you need. Your wealth and comfort appear to be enough for you, and you have no room for further blessings.” However, the one who is in need is more open to receiving! By contrast, maybe there’s a message in the inns which were too full to receive Mary and Joseph. I don’t know. Yet those who don’t have anything have that much more space to be filled with God’s love. Think of the Blessed Virgin Mary, for instance. Here’s a poor girl from a backwater town, who has never known a man, and who has no expectations of living anything different from a rather ordinary life with her future husband. She was someone most receptive to the monumental grace of being the mother of God’s own Son.

Mary’s Magnificat (Lk 1:46-55) epitomizes what “Blessed are the poor (and poor in spirit)” is all about: For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness… The Mighty One has done great things for me… dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart…thrown down the rulers… lifted up the lowly… The hungry he has filled… the rich he has sent away empty. It mirrors, sometimes almost verbatim, another canticle from the Hebrew Scriptures - that of Hannah, who was an aged and barren wife blessed with a child, the prophet Samuel (cf. 1 Sam 2:1-10). Both the Old and the New Testament repeat this theme of God’s favor toward the poor and the lowly, toward widows and orphans, foreigners and barren wives. These are the ones most in need of it and most receptive to it. To whom was the birth of Christ announced by the angels, but to poor, wretched shepherds, who were among the lowest classes in first-century Palestine. Who could be more receptive to the birth of a savior? Who would look forward to God’s action of “lifting up the lowly” and “filling the hungry with good things” more than these?

Even Matthew’s Gospel illustrates the receptivity of those on the fringes. The Magi are Gentile foreigners, yet they are the first to accept the Good News of Christ’s birth, knowing that it is the dawn of salvation for all peoples, regardless of nationality. Matthew also uses the theme of the blessed outsider when the Holy Family has to seek asylum in Egypt from the threat of Herod. In part, this scene is to identify Jesus more closely as a new Moses, yet one cannot help but recognize that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph - God’s own Son and his highly favored ones – are all, for a time, refugees in a foreign land! I may surmise that the Bible does not always offer immediate answers to every problem, but I believe that the correlation between the flight into Egypt and today’s refugee crisis is obvious. No one whose life has truly been touched by the Gospel can look upon those risking their lives to find refuge in another country and not see the blessed poor of God, the beneficiaries of God’s kingdom!

Not only are the poor in need and most receptive to God’s grace, but having less often leads to an increased sense of gratitude. When one is accustomed to so little, even the smallest blessing is something to be wildly thankful for. Moreover, when one has nothing to give in return, gratitude is the greatest gift that can be offered. There’s something quite humbling about that, in fact. Oh, but how much God delights in a grateful and humble heart! Think, again, of Mary’s Magnificat. “…from now on will all ages call me blessed. The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.” Mary gives God all the glory, and she will be called blessed, not because of her own merits, but because of what God has done for her! Gratitude and humility go hand-in-hand; you see? As for ourselves and our relationship to God, we should all be immensely grateful, because all we can really call our own are our sins. All good things come from God.

So while there are certainly diverse explanations as to why the poor are so favored by God, I draw attention to three things: they are in need; they are most receptive; and they are inclined toward humble gratitude. But that does not mean that there is no hope for experiencing God’s blessings if one is not economically poor. God’s grace is abundant! How much God would love for everyone to be a part of his kingdom, to enjoy his bountiful feast! God doesn’t withhold anything from those who are well off, and having means is not, in and of itself, a bad thing.

That being said, regardless of our economic status, we are all called to be poor in spirit. We live up to this calling when we empty ourselves of those things we don’t need, especially those things that clutter up our lives. It might be material possessions, but it may also be things such as time or spiritual matters, like a grudge, or pride, or worries. When we empty ourselves of these things, then we become open vessels just waiting to be filled with God’s grace! And lastly, when we realize that everything we have is from God, all we can do is be thankful for all that we have been given.

Furthermore, since we cannot call what has been given to us our own, everything we have is for us to share with others. It is not, then, impossible for those who are well off to be poor in spirit. Although they may not be in need of much, theirs is to acknowledge with gratitude and humility that they are already unworthy recipients of God’s manifold grace and to be stewards of the good things they have received, giving generously from what has been freely given to them. Think of Scrooge after his encounters with the three spirits, not before. For related Scripture passages, see Mark 10:17-31; Matthew 25:31-46; Luke 3:10-14; and Luke 19:1-10.

Undoubtedly, there is much more that can be said about this Beatitude of the poor and poor in spirit. Indeed, deep and wide is this mystery! However, I shall wrap things up here – it’s Christmas, after all. Hopefully you have a chance this week to read one or both of the infancy narratives (Mt 1:18-2:23 & Lk 1:5-2:40), especially if you suffer from Charlie Brown-like blues at this time of year. As you read them, see what mystery of Christmas speaks most deeply to you. Like Mary, ponder these things in your heart. I invite you, though, to consider what aspects of these stories relate to God’s loving care for the poor. How might you imitate God’s concern for those in need, and how might you become poor in spirit this new year – self-emptying, receptive, humbly grateful, and giving?

“‘And so, as Tiny Tim observed, ‘God bless us, Every One!’”[2]

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[1] Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, (1843).

[2] Ibid.

Here We Go Again

            Let me begin by apologizing for not writing on this blog for over a year. I could offer several excuses, like how crazy-busy my life has been, but none of that really matters. The point is that have returned to writing and will hopefully be less infrequent. We’ll see.

            During my hiatus, a number of post ideas percolated in my mind. Our socio-political climate no doubt calls for a prophetic voice, and I had thought of writing about the prophet Jeremiah – a man who was persecuted because he dared to preach that Jerusalem and the Temple were not as invincible as people believed. His message was not “Make Judah Great Again” but rather “Make Judah Humble Vassals of Babylon Now, Lest They Kick Our Butts Later.” Spoiler alert: They didn’t listen to Jeremiah, and Babylon did kick Judah’s butt.

            Another post I considered was a reflection on the Golden Calf and nationalism with some attention drawn to the American flag, but I thought that might be too contentious. Perhaps another day. There are, however, crises in our society that we need to face. In the midst of disturbing atrocities against humanity, xenophobia, injustice, prejudices, and systemic racism and sexism, one cannot be silent, and fears of dissidence must be put aside.

            That being said, I don’t believe the answer to the evils from which the world suffers is found in antagonizing one another. I love as much as the next person a good joke, meme, or comedic video that pokes fun at ideologies, parties, and candidates which I oppose. And we can all laugh and kee-kee, but it doesn’t really bring any healing to our broken world or the divisions which tear us apart. Nor do I think that it changes the minds of those with whom we disagree. If anything, it just makes them dig their heels even firmer into their convictions (misguided and perhaps corrupt though I believe them to be) and just perpetuates the cycle of animosity. Even now I have to restrain myself from posting a Golden-Calf-related political cartoon.

            I’ve been asking myself what kind of biblical wisdom we can invest in that rises above the hotbed of social and political antagonism yet still challenges all of us to change our hearts. But the thing about the Scriptures is that, as the Pontifical Biblical Commission states, “… the Bible does not necessarily contain an immediate answer to each and every problem.”[1] The Bible doesn’t tell us how to vote; it doesn’t tell us what to do about automatic rifles; and it doesn’t employ the same legal proceedings regarding citizenship and immigration as our contemporary laws do. This isn’t to say, however, that we cannot look to these sacred texts to find guiding principles and moral direction in the choices we make or the way we live our lives.

Moreover, the Scriptures can and have been abused to justify some of the worst crimes against humanity – everything from systemic injustice against women and the economically poor, to slavery and the holocaust! The devil, himself, manipulates the Scriptures when he tempts Jesus in the desert. Therefore, one must tread carefully when approaching these sacred texts, and personal predispositions– both the morally just and the morally wrong – should be consciously examined and maybe even checked at the door. The Bible is certainly a source of wisdom for our private and common moral living, but it is one that must be discerned prudently and kneaded with faith and prayer, one that should be digested so that it nourishes and challenges us – not unlike the scroll which John of Patmos eats. It is sweet as honey to the taste but turns the stomach sour (Rev 10:10).

            So as I pondered what part of Scripture is most needed in our times – and surely many cases can be made for any number of biblical passages or themes – I felt moved toward the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12 and Luke 6:20-26).

            These verses of the New Testament are at once some of the most familiar and the most obscure. I can think of several common hymns which invoke the Beatitudes, and surely I’m not the only who gets these songs stuck in their head. Yet, for as much as we hear them, say them, or sing them, how well do we understand them – or better yet, understand their significance?

            There are two collections of Beatitudes in the Gospels: Matthew’s version and Luke’s. They definitely bear similarities to one another, but there are pointed differences as well. Matthew’s version is longer and more general; Luke’s is more direct and is contrasted with a list of woes. These sayings are at the beginning of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount/Plain (Matthew/Luke). As such, they hold a primary place in both Gospels’ greatest collection and summation of Jesus’ ethical and religious teaching. That makes them pretty darn important!

According to New Testament scholar, Raymond Brown, “For Christians, next to the Ten Commandments as an expression of God’s will, the eight beatitudes… have been revered for expressing succinctly the values on which Jesus placed priority.”[2] Particularly in Matthew’s version, in which Jesus delivers his famous sermon on a mountaintop, Christ is depicted as a new Moses, the great lawgiver. So it’s not without reason to say that the Beatitudes form a sort of new law – or better yet, the perfect fulfillment of the law. St. Augustine says of the Sermon on the Mount that one “will find in it, so far as regards the highest morals, a perfect standard of the Christian life.”[3] He then treats the Beatitudes as a road map for his moral theology. With this in mind, I wonder why there isn’t more talk about the Beatitudes as a standard of morality today. It appears that they bear as much (if not more) significance as the Ten Commandments in terms of how we should be conducting our lives.

Perhaps it is because it’s easier to do or avoid specific, concrete actions as articulated in the Ten Commandments. Honoring one’s father and mother and not stealing, killing, or committing adultery seem, if nothing else, a little clearer than being poor in spirit or clean of heart. Whereas the Ten Commandments are presented to us as just that, commandments and laws about what we ought to do and not do, the Beatitudes offer vaguer statements about the kind of people who are truly blessed (i.e. happy, which is the ultimate goal of morality). The people who have attained or are at least closer to attaining their moral end of happiness are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the clean of heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted for righteousness or for the sake of Christ. Not surprisingly, Jesus has flipped our assumption about what brings us true happiness on its head.

Now, I am not a moral theologian, nor am I an expert on the Beatitudes, and I don’t nearly have as much time or as many resources to do a lot of research as I did when I began Bible Codega. However, I believe that a concerted effort to ponder and reflect upon these poignant verses of Christ’s teaching is needed in our times. So consider this a preamble to what I hope will be a series of posts on each of the Beatitudes.

There probably aren’t any immediate answers to the ills of our world, and so many of them seem insurmountable anyway. But we shouldn’t feel discouraged. It is within each one of us, in our universal call to holiness, to daily take up the mission to be light and dispel the darkness… beginning with our own lives and in our own hearts. In this, living the Beatitudes might be the slow, maybe even painful, but nevertheless healing remedy we need.

I think you know what the Scripture recommendation is for this week: Matthew 5:3-12 and Luke 6:20-26, of course. I would encourage you, not only to read and meditate on them, but to also memorize at least one version of the Beatitudes. They, like the Ten Commandments, are a great way to frame an examination of conscience the next time you celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation. Allow these verses to permeate your heart. See what kinds of questions they provoke. How do they challenge you? How do they confuse you? How do they comfort you?

I can’t say I’ll bring any clarity to your questions. I hope, however, that as we journey with the Beatitudes over the next several posts – assuming I stick to the task I have made for myself – that our hearts might be turned more closely to God.  It is already within us to confront the hatred, violence, fears, and lies which perennially plague humanity - not with more antagonism, but with a spirit of poverty, humility, justice, peace, and mercy.

Until next time (whenever that will be),

Peace and all good!

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[1] Pontifical Biblical Commission, "The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church," The Scripture Documents: An Anthology of Official Catholic Teaching, ed. & trans. by Dean P. Béchard (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002), 275.

[2] Raymond Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament, (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 178.

[3] St. Augustine, Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, Book I, Chapter I: https://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf106.v.ii.i.html

(By the way, I’m really sorry footnote 3 is not in MLA format.)

For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong

                This Sunday, November 20^th, the Church celebrates the Solemnity of Christ the King. How appropriate it is, given the events that have recently transpired in the United States, that at this time we should be reminded of God's sovereignty. For those that bear the name Christ, indeed, Christ is our king. So it was with little surprise that on the night of November 8th, I saw several posts on social media declaring that, regardless of the election results, Jesus is king. But just what sort of king do we claim to put our faith in? This Sunday's Gospel reading tells us plainly.

                Luke 23:35-43 paints a portrait of a reviled, mocked, crucified man, of one suffering the death penalty, and of one who is silent in the face of persecution. Three times his scoffers needle him to save himself if he is the Messiah, and the last, another damned to the cross, even demands that he save them as well. All the while the reader knows that, despite being intended as a jeer toward Jesus, the sign above the accursed savior's head is, in fact, true – This is the king of the Jews. I wonder if this is the kind of king people imagined when they made their allegiance known on Facebook.

                For all of the ways in which religious values and beliefs influenced voters, I am baffled by how much the notion of making America "great" swayed so much of the population. Oh, don't get me wrong. There were many, many ironies and social phenomena in this election that caused me to make this face:

but I'll restrain myself to one.

                It may come as a shock to some, but the sacred Scriptures are not a code of moral law. There are laws and commandments contained within them, for sure, but the Scriptures are so much more than that. If we truly want to allow God's word to nourish our hearts and consciences, then we must realize that they reveal to us, more than anything else, God's self and the relationship God has with humanity and vice versa. This relationship was ultimately made manifest in the Incarnation – in Jesus, the Word made flesh. Therefore, the Christian tradition is not a set of dogmas, doctrines, and moral obligations. The Christian tradition is an encounter with a person, with Jesus Christ.

                I find it amusing that, when we step back and look at the Scriptures as a whole, we see a God in relationship with really not-so-great people. Abraham and Sarah were too old to have children. Jacob was a deceptive momma's boy. Moses was poor of speech. The prophet Jeremiah even says of himself, "Ah, Lord God! I know not how to speak; I am too young." Samson and Samuel were born to barren women. Rahab was a prostitute. Ruth was from an enemy nation. David was the youngest (and presumably scrawniest) of his brothers, yet he was the one who slew Goliath. David then goes on to supplant King Saul, the man who "stood head and shoulders above the people." And let's not forget that enemy commanders were brutally dispatched by women, that demographic of society thought to be far too weak and powerless.

                Time and again in Scripture the Lord favors the poor and the humble over the powerful and strong. Addressing the Israelites before they cross into the Promised Land, Moses says,

"It was not because you are the largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you, for you are really the smallest of all nations. It was because the Lord loved you and because of his fidelity to the oath he had sworn to your fathers, that he brought you out with his strong hand from the place of slavery." (Deuteronomy 7:7-8a).

And that is just the Old Testament.

                Whom does Jesus choose for his inner circle of disciples? A motley crew of fisherman; men who never seem to understand what Jesus is saying; men who make mistakes but usually learn from them. Who were the ones to whom Jesus first appeared after his resurrection? Women, again that oft dismissed sector of society. Who were the most receptive to Jesus? The sick, the blind, the deaf, the poor, the public sinners and outcasts. Who was chosen to be the mother of Jesus? A poor, young girl from a backwater town; a girl with a heart receptive enough to be filled with the grace to say, "May it be done to me according to your word," and to cry out in the spirit of her ancestors,

"He has shown might with his arm,

dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.

He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones

but lifted up the lowly.

The hungry he filled with good things;

the rich he has sent away empty."

                At the heart of the Scriptures – I would even venture to say the key that unlocks the whole of the Scriptures – is the Paschal Mystery, the saving death and resurrection of Jesus. Oh, how that mystery of dying and rising permeates the Scriptures in both Testaments. Life emanates from the barren. The flood waters destroy, and a new earth is made. A people are enslaved, and God leads them through the waters to freedom. They are led into exile, and a highway is made in the desert for their return. The Word of God humbles himself and takes on our humanity, even so far as  becoming a mewling, puking infant. Though innocent, he willingly lays down his life and accepts death – a most humiliating death at that! He hardly says a word at his execution, and when he does it is one of mercy. And it is by dying that he becomes the first born of the dead; through him we have new life, and, indeed, all things are made new: "By his stripes we were healed" (Isaiah 53:5)!

                What is the sign that Christ gives to his disciples of his presence among us? Bread, broken and shared! His flesh as fractured bread, gnawed and eaten together. His blood as wine, poured out and shared among a communion of people. What images does Jesus give of the way of life to which he calls us? A grain of wheat that produces much fruit, if only it falls to the ground and dies; the challenge to take up one's cross; selling all that you have and giving it to the poor; the master washing the feet of his disciples; the first being last and the greatest becoming the least. Who conquers the beast in the book of Revelation? What symbol for Christ does the visionary see? Not just any lamb, but a slain lamb! Even in his glorified body, Christ, risen from the dead, still bears the wounds of the nails and lance, continuously revealing his total self-emptying for the human race he loves so much and with whom he desires to be in relationship. He has given his whole self to us, made himself vulnerable and broken, that we might become whole! That, my friends, is power! That is a true king! That is what it means to be great!

                All this talk about greatness in our times. All this desire for security, to hold onto power. All of these assertions of certainty and self-justification; beliefs that God is on our side because we open up the Bible and follow the rules. Do we, who bear the name of Christ, who have died and risen with Christ in our baptism, allow the Paschal Mystery to continue to work in us today?  Have we traded the wider narrative of the Scriptures for a gospel of wealth? Have we sacrificed an encounter with the crucified and risen Christ for a collection of dos and don'ts? Can we learn from the apostle Paul, who time and again admitted his faults, who recognized that he was a sinner, who repeatedly confessed that he once persecuted the Church?  Paul, the man who exclaims, "I will rather boast most gladly of my weakness, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:9b-10). That, my sisters and brothers, is the power of Christ at work in a man humble enough to be receptive to how much our generous God wants to fill us with his grace! As it was revealed to Paul, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9a)!

                I invite you to watch this TEDx Talk by Brené Brown and consider, as the title suggests, the power of vulnerability. Meanwhile, let us ask ourselves, do we have the humility to admit when we have made a mistake, to be like the so-called "good thief" and recognize that we have done wrong and are in need of mercy? Do we have the meekness to let go so that others may have enough, or as Mahatma Gandhi said, to live simply so that others may simply live? Do we have the vulnerability to say, "I don't know your native language, but I want to understand you better because you are my brother, my sister"? Do we have the heart to hope in the midst of fear? Do we have the honesty to say, "I can't do it all"? Can we empty ourselves so that we might be open to encountering Christ in 'the other'? Will we allow ourselves to be free rather than comfortable, to be generous rather than secure, to be totally self-giving and broken rather than unloving and superficially intact?

                For this week I recommend simply reading this Sunday's Gospel passage from the Solemnity of Christ the King: Luke 23:35-43. Read it, and reflect on what it really means to be great. Read it, and consider what true power is. Read it again and again. Read it until you weep. Weep for all the misconceptions our society has of power! Weep for all those who hold onto power by stepping on the necks of minorities, the poor, and immigrants! Weep for our own hands that hold on, white-knuckled, to the things that give us security! Weep for the self-righteous! Weep for those who think the only way to win is to speak loudly, to have a biting comeback for every rebuke! Weep for those who will never know that true victory is in dying – dying to self and emptying yourself totally for others!

Peace and all good!

A Tour of the New Testament: Where did the Bible come from? Part IV

            Aww yisss. Finally, the New Testament. I know... so far  I haven't written very much on that portion of the Bible which directly has to do with Jesus Christ. But in my defense, it takes awhile to get through the Hebrew Scriptures – the Old Testament is nearly four times as long as the New. Furthermore, its breadth of history and literary development spans over a thousand years. The New Testament (NT), on the other hand, was composed in probably less than a century. Compared to the Hebrew Scriptures, the Christian Scriptures look like a weekly newspaper, and, all things considered, the NT was literature in a hurry. But where did it come from?

            We can pretty much assume that Jesus' ministry, death, and resurrection probably took place sometime around the year 30 CE. But writings about Jesus did not come about immediately. After the resurrection, the followers of Christ began to spread the Good News of Christ orally, and the movement grew rapidly. I'm rather surprised it grew at all, considering its leader had just died a horrific execution, and it wasn't long before his followers were likewise persecuted. But as the 2^nd century Church father, Tertullian, says "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church." How this religious movement not only survived but flourished in its first hundred years is a real testament to its credibility (pun absolutely intended).

            One of the persecutors of the early Church was a Pharisee named Saul of Tarsus, who was later more commonly known as Paul. As the story goes, he was on his way to Damascus to bring back to Jerusalem in chains any followers of the "the Way." The term Christian, by the way, had not been coined yet, and so they were simply called followers of the Way. Seeing a bright light, Saul fell to the ground. Then a voice spoke to him saying, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?" Theologically, this is incredibly significant, for the risen Christ had identified himself to Saul with his followers and disciples whom Saul was persecuting. This close association of Christ with his followers (i.e. the Body of Christ, the Church) is central to St. Paul's writings. You can read about his conversion in several passages of the NT: Acts 9:1-19; Galatians1:12-19; 1 Timothy 1:12-14.

Parmigianino, The Conversion of St. Paul (1527-1528), Oil on Canvas

FYI, nowhere in the NT does it say Paul was riding a horse... Mr. Parmigianino.

            Paul became one of the most influential apostles of the early Church, spreading the Gospel (i.e. Good News) throughout the Mediterranean. He kept correspondence with the Christian communities which he either founded or had visited. Thus we have the letters of Paul to the Corinthians, or Thessalonians, or Galatians etc. These funny names simply refer to the church communities to whom he was writing in Corinth, Thessalonica, Galatia, and so on. I bring up Paul before mentioning the four Gospels because his letters (a.k.a. epistles) to these churches are probably the earliest of the NT Scriptures. His first letter to the Thessalonians was likely the earliest of his epistles that we have in Scripture, making it possibly the oldest of any of the NT writings.

            But things get kind of dicey from here. Scholars are pretty certain that Paul wrote the letters to the Galatians, Corinthians, Philippians, Philemon, Romans, and the first letter to the Thessalonians, but they are not so sure about 2 Thessalonians, Colossians, Ephesians, or the letters to Timothy and Titus. The letters that are undisputedly from Paul all had to have been composed before his death in the mid 60s CE. So dang, check that out... hardly 30 years after Jesus' death and resurrection and at least seven letters of the NT have already been composed!

            The dating of the disputed letters varies. Some fair arguments can be made that  2 Thessalonians and maybe even Colossians might very well have been written by Paul during his career. In any case, all of these disputed letters were most likely composed before the year 100 CE, the latest probably being the Pastoral Letters, 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus. If the disputed letters were not written by Paul himself, they were probably composed by his disciples or those who were in line with Pauline thought. Ephesians, for example, seems to have been written by one who was very good at summarizing and getting to the heart of Paul's theology.

            Should this bother us that Paul didn't write some of the letters we attribute to him? Not really. Here's the thing about writings in the ancient world. For one, people back then didn't have the kind of hang-ups we do today about academic honesty. Nowadays we have this neurotic, individualistic obsession with "intellectual property." It's abhorrent not to cite your sources, to plagiarize or forge, to attribute work to someone who didn't do it. (FYI, my last name is spelled B-r-e-m-a-r if you'd like to cite this post in your next term paper.)[1] But for the ancients, writing in someone else's name was not frowned upon like it is today. Back then, wisdom was a communal matter; it belonged to everyone, not to individuals. Secondly, wisdom derived from the past, not so much the present or future. Today our knowledge is oriented toward future prospects. We seek discoveries in technology and the sciences that will advance us even further into the future. Our ancestors of antiquity, however, believed that in order to understand the present and discern the future one needed to understand the past. Not surprisingly, elders were more respected back then than they are today.

            Given this kind of attitude toward wisdom and the past, putting a wise leader's name on your work doesn't seem to be that big of a deal. I only bring this up because there was a lot of pseudonymous literature (writings in another person's name) in the ancient world, and there are examples of it in both the Old and New Testaments, as well as many books which never made it into the Bible. Furthermore, this brings me to the four Gospels. Yay, everyone's favorite!

Not quite the Good News I'm talking about. Photo courtesy of www.patheos.com

            The first Gospel of the NT to have been written was the Gospel according to Mark. It was probably composed sometime around the devastating destruction of the Temple by the Romans in the year 70 CE – perhaps between 68-73 according to renowned NT scholar, Raymond Brown.[2] It was likely written for a persecuted community of Christians living in Rome. Was it written by the John Mark of Acts who was a follower of Peter and Paul? I don't know; pseudonymous writing was common back then. Does it really matter? Nah, I don't think so.

            The Gospel according to Matthew was likely written next, probably sometime in the 80s. It borrows heavily from Mark as well as from some lost or undiscovered source scholars call Q. This Gospel was perhaps written in or around Antioch to a community of very Jewish Christians. Was the tax-collector, Matthew, the actual author? I doubt it, but that isn't to say some of the details contained within it could not have derived from the apostle himself.

            Next we have the Gospel according to Luke. This is the longest of the four Gospels and the most exquisite in style. It also was probably written in the 80s, and I would venture to say that it was composed after Matthew. It too borrows from Mark and from that Q source that Matthew used. But some of our favorite Gospel stories, like the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan, are only found in Luke. Since these three Gospels are so closely related due to Luke and Matthew's dependence on Mark, they are known as the synoptic Gospels - synoptic (another fancy-schmancy word you can use to impress your friends) meaning that they can be looked at together. Was it written by Luke, the physician and follower of Paul? Eh. Who can say for certain? What is clear is that the author was a well-educated Greek and an absolutely fabulous writer! Luke, by the way, also wrote the Acts of the Apostles as a sequel to his Gospel – the only sequel found in the NT.

            And then there's John. Many Christians who have read (or even haven't read) the four Gospels will tell you that John is their favorite. It was even the favorite of St. Francis of Assisi. Indeed, it's a beautiful Gospel, so don't get me wrong, but I'm more of a fan of the three synoptics. The Gospel according to John differs greatly in style and narrative than the others, but the essentials are all there: Jesus' ministry, death, and resurrection. The date of its composition could be as early as the 80s with some parts edited as late as 110. Was it written by John the son of Zebedee? Of all of the names attributed to the Gospels, I have the hardest time believing that John, the disciple of Jesus, actually wrote this one. The author seems to have been someone from a particular community of Christians, referred to as the "Johannine community," which may have been influenced very early on from one of Jesus' disciples. The three letters of John were written after the Gospel, and also derive from this Johannine Christian community. The book of Revelation appears to reflect some Johannine influence, though was not composed by the same authors of the Gospel or Johannine letters. Revelation (not Revelations with and 's', one professor was very adamant to point out) was written toward the end of the first century, probably around 92-96 CE.[3] It's a crazy-fascinating book, and many people have questions about it, so I hope to devote a post to Revelation sometime in the future.

            This leaves us with the Letter to the Hebrews and the Catholic Letters. Hebrews is a curious text, and in fact is more of a homily than a letter. Unlike the other NT epistles, the author of Hebrews does not refer at all to himself by name. Both the author and the audience are difficult to discern. Given its references to Jewish religious practices and the Hebrew Scriptures, it would seem the audience was a very Jewish rather than Gentile Christian community. Debates abound as to when it was written, but it had to be earlier than 95 CE, because St. Clement quotes it in a letter he wrote to Corinth around that year. Brown suggests as early as the 60s but more likely in the 80s.[4]

            The Catholic Letters get lumped under that title, not because they are "Catholic" – as in Catholic and not Protestant or Orthodox – but catholic as in general or universal. They were perceived by the early Church to have been for a more general audience, rather than particular communities. The three letters of John also fall under the Catholic Letters, but I mentioned them once already, and I won't get into them again. This leaves us with 1 & 2 Peter, James, and Jude. Were the authors of these letters the Peter, James, and Jude of the Gospels? Again, I doubt it, but arguments can be made that 1 Peter, James, and Jude were written relatively early and may have very close ties with the apostles. A theory circulates that 1 Peter may have been dictated by the apostle to a scribe. Then again, arguments can also be made that they were composed toward the end of the first century (70 - 100) as well. So we can't be sure either way. 2 Peter is surely the latest, for it references 1 Peter, Jude, and Pauline literature. Brown suggests a date as late as 130 CE ("give or take a decade").[5] The Catholic Letters tend to be easily forgotten, as the four Gospels and the writings of Paul dominate our New Testament imaginations. Nevertheless, they are part of our Scriptures and are sacred. Plus, they're short letters anyway, so they're worth our time to give 'em a gander.

            So there you have it. A whirlwind tour of the New Testament. Whew! I think I mentioned each of the 27 books of the NT at least once. Hopefully this gives you a taste of what all is contained in the NT, who wrote it, and when it was written. Admittedly, aside from the undisputed letters of Paul, the precise who and when of the Christian Scriptures is a little clouded, since many texts were written under pseudonyms. We can at least say, though, that all of the writings were composed within about a hundred years of Jesus' death and resurrection. Next time I hope to clarify a little bit about why these books made it into our canon of Scripture, and why other Christian (or some not-so-Christian) writings didn't get in.

            Since we are just over our first week in Lent, and this is usually the time that Catholics are still kind of scrambling to figure out what they're going to do for for the season, here is a suggestion. Read an entire Gospel, anyone you'd like, from beginning to end. It may seem like a lot, but this isn't just a suggestion for the week. You have all of Lent, though I would recommend trying to read it in no more than 3 or 4 sittings. It's better to get a whole story in context than just snippets here and there. Read it like you would any other book. Get invested in the characters, the plot, the twists. See what surprises you, or puzzles you, or frustrates you. What brings you joy and comfort? What strengthens your faith? What challenges you? Either way, just have fun with it. I haven't written much on the Gospels, but it's good to read them with a blind eye at least once anyway. Still, I like to recommend Bibles with good footnotes, like the New American Bible, to help clarify confusing texts.

            As always, you can send me comments or questions via Facebook, Twitter, e-mail, or the comment box below. I think I worked out some of the kinks of the comment box, so if you've had difficulty with it in the past, it should work now. And don't forget to take the survey. Until next time...

Peace and all good!

---

[1] Speaking of citing sources, this post would not have been possible without these texts:

Brown Raymond E. An Introduction to the New Testament. New York: Doubleday, 1997.

Johnson, Luke Timothy. The Writings of the New Testament: An Interpretation. Revised ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999.

And the prefaces to the books of the NT found in 

The Saint Joseph Edition of the New American Bible. New York: Catholic Book Publishing Co., 1992. 

[2] Brown, 127.

[3] Ibid., 774.

[4] Ibid, 684.

[5] Ibid., 762.

Magi or Manger?: The Infancy Narratives of Jesus

           First of all, merry Christmas! I've posted this blog entry on Christmas day, but I'm guessing you're probably reading it sometime after the 25^th. I don't blame you. Who has time to read a blog on Christmas. Nevertheless, chances are it is still Christmas according the liturgical calendar of the Catholic Church. The Christmas season has only just begun today, and it continues up to the celebration to the Baptism of our Lord (January 10^th this year). So keep drinking that eggnog, and I repeat, merry Christmas!

            Given this current season, it's no surprise that today's post is going to be about the infancy narratives of Jesus. To begin, if you have a nativity set displayed in your home at this time, take a close look at it, or – if you don't want to leave your chair (and trust me, I know the feeling) – simply recall what it looks like in your mind. What do you see? A stable. Shepherds. An ox and/or donkey. Maybe some sheep. A man and a woman looking over an infant in a crib full of hay. Three men in fancy robes with treasures in their hands. Perhaps there is a star or angel on top.

            It's a beautiful image, and it's just about as recognizable in or outside of Christian culture as the cross is. Most of us know the story of Jesus' birth... or at least we think we do. We've heard it proclaimed a Mass or other religious services. We sing the Christmas carols that recount the story. We've seen A Charlie Brown Christmas and have heard Linus recite Luke 2:8-14. We know it from other movies or works of art. We have nativity sets in our homes or at least have seen them displayed elsewhere. In short, we have a pretty good sense of the story of Jesus' birth from pop culture. But when was the last time you actually read it straight from the Scriptures? Did you know that there are, in fact, two distinct infancy narratives in the Gospels, which can be found in Matthew 1:18-2:23 and in Luke 1-2. (I know, right? One baby story just isn't good enough for Jesus.) Only these two Gospels have any account of Jesus' infancy or childhood, and, not surprisingly, – especially given the differences we have already seen in Matthew and Luke's  genealogies – these two narratives agree on very few points.

            Perhaps you are already familiar with the differences, but to those for whom this is news, do not be afraid (did you see what I did there?). Like the genealogies, the infancy narratives were written from the perspective of faith, not with historical facts in mind. These passages in Scripture are a perfect introduction to a theme I hope to expound upon more as this blog continues in the future, and that is the difference between Truth (with a capital "T") and fact. When it comes to the infancy narratives – especially since there are two accounts which hardly agree on anything – there is very little that biblical scholars can point to with certainty as being historical. But this shouldn't concern us. As Daniel Harrington, a Catholic Jesuit priest, says in his commentary on Matthew, "The more important issue is determining what these stories meant to [the evangelist] and his community."[1] To add to that I would also say what the Scriptures are saying to us by extension of what it meant to the Gospel writers and their communities. Therein lies part of what I mean by Truth, for you see, the Scriptures are less concerned with what can be proven by the senses, which is typically how modern thinkers understand "truth." Instead, they are all about revealing who God is, what God's relationship to humanity is and vise versa, and what our relationships should be like with each other as fellow members of the human race. So as we take a look at the infancy narratives, ask yourself: What is this saying about God's relationship to humanity? What is this saying about who God, revealed in the person of Jesus, truly is? This will help us come to know better the Truth that God is communicating to us in these sacred texts.

            Like I said, the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke agree on very little. The two main things that they do agree upon are that Jesus was born of a virgin named Mary who was betrothed to Joseph and that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, the city of David. That's about it. All the stuff about shepherds and a manger belongs to one Gospel, and all the stuff about magi and fleeing to Egypt belongs to another. So if you've taken a look at your nativity set and have found both shepherds and wise men on display, you're combining two distinct stories. Don't worry; I'm not criticizing you if you do have it that way. I tend to put the wise men out a little later, but eventually they make their way right up next to the shepherd figurines. It's easy for us, though, to confuse the two narratives and try to mesh them together. Pop culture has been doing this for centuries. We like to stack up all the Gospels together like a quadruple-decker club sandwich because it's easier that way. However, although it may look tasty, somethings are going to fall out of a sandwich that big, and we'll fail to appreciate the subtle and unique deliciousness that each Gospel has to offer. As a Bible nerd, I try to keep the narratives separate, so for our purposes today let us take a look at some of the major elements in each of the distinct, individual narratives.

Matthew's infancy narrative.

            Obviously there is a lot that can be said about any part of Scripture, so this is by no means an exhaustive look at Mt 1:18-2:23. In fact, I'm going to try to keep it brief because it's Christmas, and you and I both have things to do. Am I right?

           

            One of the things you may notice in reading this passage is the uncanny similarity to another birth narrative in the Old Testament. A wicked king wants to destroy all the infant boys in the land, and one is rescued. Sound familiar? Yes, Matthew is paralleling Jesus' infancy to that of Moses'! In fact, this is not the only place in Matthew that he draws this connection. One of the reasons that Matthew places Jesus on a mountain when he delivers the so-called "Sermon on the Mount" is because Moses received the Law from God on a mountain. Jesus, in Matthew's Gospel, is a Moses figure, the new law-giver, the one who leads his people out of slavery. If you recall from last week's post, Matthew's Gospel is written to a very Jewish Christian audience, so these Old Testament parallels would not only have been easily recognized, but would have had a lot of significance to them. You'll also notice that Matthew makes a lot of other connections to passages from the Hebrew Scriptures, constantly quoting them even when it doesn't seem that necessary.

            Joseph, who plays the central role in Matthew's narrative rather than Mary (even though he doesn't say a word), is also paralleled with an Old Testament figure. In the genealogy he is said to be the son of a man named Jacob. Why? Think of another man named Joseph in the Old Testament who was the son of a Jacob. It is that very Joseph we find in Genesis, who likewise had dreams and eventually went down to the land of Egypt where he and his family experienced solace for a time. 

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           The attitude toward Egypt in Jewish thinking was a bit ambivalent – at times a place a refuge, and at other times the place of slavery from which Israel must be freed. Not surprisingly, then, the Holy Family finds refuge in Egypt, but Jesus, the Moses figure, is also brought out of there and into the land of Israel. It's significant that the Holy Family is portrayed as refugees and immigrants in the narrative, both for the Gospel's original hearers and for us today. Protection of the "stranger" is common theme in both the Old and New Testament, and as we seek to understand the Truth in Scripture, such repeated motifs most assuredly have something to say to us about how we should strive to live together  as a human family.

           

            But what of those magi, those wise men? Where are they paralleled in the Hebrew Scriptures? It's a less familiar story, but in the book of Numbers a foreign prophet, Balaam, is called upon by his king to curse the Israelites. Instead, however, he utters a blessing for them. The star that Matthew refers to may even be traced to the Balaam's prophecy: "A star shall advance from Jacob, and a staff shall rise from Israel" (Num 24:17). Of course, another Old Testament reading associated with the magi comes from Isaiah 60, in which Israel is depicted as a light to the nations, and foreign kingdoms shall come and pay Israel homage – "Caravans of camels fill you, dromedaries from Midian and Ephah; All from Sheba shall come bearing gold and frankincense" (Is 60:6). Not surprisingly, the Church pairs this reading from Isaiah with the passage about the magi on the feast of the Epiphany. Listen for this if you plan on going to Mass on January 3^rd.

             

            It appears that Matthew had an agenda about the inclusion of the Gentiles into the Christian story of salvation. Recall, also, in Matthew's genealogy his inclusion of those foreign women. Since the evangelist strongly believed in the continuity of the Jewish faith with the Jesus event, he was flabbergasted that so many of the people of Israel did not accept Jesus as the Messiah. So at the end of his Gospel he turns his attention to the Gentiles: "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations..." (Mt 28:19). The magi from the east, representing the Gentile population, contrast with Herod and his court. These foreigners from the east (probably Persia, modern day Iran) come to pay the newborn king of the Jews homage, while Herod seeks the child's life.

Luke's infancy narrative (see chapters 1-2 of Luke)

            Luke is a masterful storyteller, and his narrative of Jesus' birth is very near and dear to our hearts. The bulk of our nativity sets and memories from nativity movies derive from his version. In Luke, Mary plays the central role, being the one to whom the angel announces Jesus' birth. Women in general often have a prominent role in Luke's Gospel. Both Mary and Elizabeth are key figures in the first two chapters, and in Lk  2:36-38 it is not only Simeon but also a prophetess named Anna who praises the child. The inclusion of women in Luke's Gospel is not so much an expression of 1^st century feminism, but has to do more with Luke's theme of mercy to the poor and lowly. Unfortunately, women all throughout history and in most places around the world today have been among the most powerless. At the annunciation scene, Mary, as a young, unmarried and childless woman would have been one of the lowliest persons in society. She is not only the personification of God's poor, but she is also a voice that proclaims God's favor and love to the meek. When she visits her relative, Elizabeth, she announces in her resounding speech: "He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty" (Lk 1:51-53).

           

            The theme of poverty and lowliness permeates the entirety of Luke's infancy narrative. Jesus' birth scene may seem cute and darling to our modern sensibilities – the stuff of children's Christmas pageants. (No criticism of nativity plays intended. They're a good learning tool for kids.) But the fact of the matter is that Luke's portrayal of the savior's birth is far from cute or glamorous. The son of God is born into the world in a state of utter poverty. There was no room at the inn. He was wrapped in strips of cloths (presumably that is what the arcane term "swaddling clothes" means). And he was laid in a manger, a feeding trough for animals. Pet peeve, by the way: a stable is not the same thing as a manger. Animals live in stables and eat from mangers. I get all bent out of shape whenever I hear people say that Jesus was born in a manger. Think about it; that would be a an awkward situation. Luke doesn't actually say under what kind of shelter, if any, Jesus was born. The word "stable" does not appear at all in Luke's infancy narrative. We might presume he was born in a stable, but for all we know it could have been al fresco. The point is, the setting and environment of Jesus' birth in Luke's Gospel is a poor one indeed. It would likely be the equivalent of being born in a subway station today.

           

            And the imagery of poverty continues, for the shepherds in particular were among the lowest classes in that society at the time. I'm not entirely sure what a 1^st century, Palestinian shepherd would have been like, but I'm certain he did not resemble a Precious Moments figurine. I'd imagine such shepherds would have been strong, unkempt men who could fend off attackers or wild beasts with brute force, and they probably reeked of sheep and manure (or insert another word that is alliterative to sheep). Yet Luke portrays these poor folk as being the first to receive the Good News.

            Both Joseph and Mary are portrayed as poor yet obedient and faithful Jewish people. They journey to Bethlehem for the census, and there they are depicted as strangers who could not find shelter. Later, in accordance with the Mosaic law, they have Jesus circumcised eight days after his birth, and they go to the Temple for Mary's purification. Luke actually implies that it was for both Mary's and Joseph's purification, but according to the law only the woman who gave birth was required to be purified. You can't blame Luke for getting wrong this bit about Jewish custom though; he was a Gentile, and what do they know anyway? Nevertheless, I think he makes his point clear about the humble obedience of the couple. And furthermore, he is careful to note that they offered a pair of turtledoves for their sacrifice, which was the offering of a poor person who could not afford to offer up a lamb.

            Through the faithful examples of Mary and Joseph, Luke firmly roots Jesus in the Jewish tradition. Luke is demonstrating to his Gentile audience that Jesus and his family were good Jews. Jesus was born a Jew and died a Jew. And since Luke is writing to Gentiles, there may have been a concern among them that God's promises to the people of Israel had been revoked. Therefore, he wants to assure his audience that this was not the case, that the promises to the people of Israel have indeed been fulfilled, that they have not been found wanting, and therefore the Gentiles can trust that God's word to them is true. The canticles of Mary (Lk 1:46-55), Zechariah (1:68-79), and Simeon (2:29-32) all bear this theme of the fulfilled promise to the people of Israel. And the last of the three, Simeon's prayer when he encounters the infant Jesus in the Temple, explicitly brings together the fulfilled promise to Israel and the extension of blessing to the Gentiles: "...a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel."

            So what are we to take from all this? Well, to borrow from Shrek, Sacred Scripture is like an onion. It has layers. Indeed, there are numerous layers of meaning that can be gleaned from these infancy narratives, and I have barely peeled back even just one of those thin, sheer layers.

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The layers of meaning are there for us to unfurl and meditate upon, and they are never exhausted. As we discern the Truth which God is communicating to us in these sacred texts, let us ask ourselves some of those questions I mentioned earlier: What this scripture saying about God's relationship to humanity? What is it saying about who God, revealed in the person of Jesus, truly is? And what is it saying about how we as a human race ought to live with one another? Perhaps this will help us sift deeper through the layered meanings of Scripture and allow it to touch our heart more personally.

            Just to remind you of a few themes discussed in these narratives to guide you in your meditations:

* Jesus is portrayed as a new Moses. Moses led his people out of slavery, spoke with God directly, and gave the Law from God to his people on Mt. Sinai.

*Jesus is adored by foreigners, but rejected by the powerful and those who should have known better.

* Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are portrayed in both Gospels as migrants or refugees and, especially in Luke, are among the poorest in society. In Luke, the savior, Messiah, and Lord is born in the lowliest of states.

* The Good News of salvation is first proclaimed to poor social outcasts.

* God fulfills his promises to his people in the person of Jesus Christ.

* I didn't mention this earlier, but it's worth emphasizing that the infant Jesus was laid in a feeding bin. I cannot say whether or Luke intended this (probably not), but I smell a Eucharistic metaphor. Think about it.

            Hopefully this gives you plenty to reflect upon during this joyous season of Christmas (Dec. 25 – Jan. 10). I don't know if I will have the opportunity to post a new blog for the next couple of weeks, but I think the infancy narratives have enough things in them to chew on for a good while – probably for a lifetime and then some, but there is a lot more in Scripture to ponder. Until next time, I pray you have a blessed Christmas and a happy New Year. And, as always, you may post questions or comments on this page, the Bible Codega Facebook page, or to my e-mail: biblecodega@gmail.com.

God's peace!

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[1] Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of  Matthew, Sacra Pagina 1. (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1991), 47.