Taking the Knee... Jeremiah Style

Perusing the library of Sacred Scriptures this summer, I decided to read through the book of the prophet Jeremiah. One of the most tragic and unnerving figures in Old Testament literature, I have found Jeremiah to be particularly relevant for our world today. In exposing sin and injustice, he confounded the comfortable and perturbed the presumptuous. He prophesied national defeat when others believed Jerusalem could never fall. They thought he was a blasphemous traitor, when, far from desiring Judah’s destruction, he hoped his country would be repentant and become a holier, more just kingdom. A recent message thread with my sisters about Megan Rapinoe got me thinking the other day about actions at sporting events that protest the status quo. I couldn’t help but think of Jeremiah and his own controversial signs he had performed. And I thought, might Jeremiah be a lens for interpreting and appreciating sporting arena protests? No doubt an unsettling (perhaps touchy) topic, so first, let’s take a look at our prophet from Scripture.

I don’t want to belabor you with too much about what a prophet is. One of my earliest, longest, and (not surprisingly) least viewed posts is all about the prophets. If you want, you can check that out by clicking here. I will, however, recycle a quote from scholar Victor Matthews. The prophet’s “role was to challenge the establishment and the social order, to remind the leadership and the people of their obligation to the covenant with Yahweh, and to warn the people of the punishment that would surely ensue if they violated this covenantal agreement.”[1] It’s no wonder prophets, like Jeremiah, were so unpopular.

Now there’s a lot of historical and political intrigue going on in Judah during Jeremiah’s career, but I’ll be honest, it gets really convoluted. Kings are killed in battle. Puppet kings are put on the throne. Egypt’s in control. Babylon’s in control. Judah’s allegiances flip-flop. There’s a smaller exile in 597 BCE, and then the really bad one happens twenty years later when Jerusalem and the temple are destroyed. And up until then, the people still thought that they couldn’t be defeated. Yeah. Little ol’ Judah… against Babylon. Really?

But “the temple of the LORD! The temple of the LORD! The temple of the LORD” – so the people thought to put their trust (Jeremiah 7:4). Indeed, Jerusalem, seemed to have miraculously survived a devastating siege by the Assyrians over a century earlier. But Jeremiah condemns the presumption that they would be safe because of the temple.

On top of Judah’s tumultuous political crisis, the religious reform begun by King Josiah never really came to fruition after his untimely death in battle - not long before the call of Jeremiah. So not only is Judah politically weak, they’re also morally bankrupt. They’re still worshipping false gods, their worship of the LORD is empty and insincere, and they do not keep the covenant commands of justice and love of neighbor. They have not protected the widow, orphan, and immigrant. In the midst of all this, Jeremiah is called by God to preach repentance and eventually to prophesy Jerusalem’s destruction and, with it, the temple as well.

 Only if you thoroughly reform your ways and your deeds; if each of you deals justly with your neighbor; if you no longer oppress the alien [sic], the orphan, and the widow; if you no longer shed innocent blood in this place or follow after other gods to your own harm, only then will I let you continue to dwell in this place…

But look at you! You put your trust in deceptive words to your own loss! Do you think you can steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury, sacrifice to Baal, follow other gods that you do not know, and then come and stand in my presence in this house, which bears my name, and say: “We are safe! We can commit all these abominations again!”?...

And now, because you have committed all these deeds—oracle of the Lord—because you did not listen…I will do to this house, which bears my name, in which you trust, and to the place which I gave you and your ancestors, exactly what I did to Shiloh. I will cast you out of my sight… (7:5-7a, 8-10, 13a, 14-15a)

What had become of Jerusalem and its temple? What had become of our ancestors in faith at this time in history? Had not the temple, a good and holy thing, become an idol? In their eyes, this edifice was an emblem that seemed to say, “God is on our side (whether we live justly or not) and therefore we can’t be beat.” And to them, Jeremiah’s denunciation of the temple was both blasphemy and treason. How dare he say that in the name of the LORD!

As with other prophets, Jeremiah did not just preach the message. He also performed prophetic actions to convey God’s Word. For example, in chapter 27 the LORD commands Jeremiah to place a yoke on his shoulders to signify that the people should submit to the yoke of Babylon or perish. One of my favorite passages in all of Scripture is chapter 13, when God orders the prophet to bury an unwashed loincloth near a river. After a while, Jeremiah is told to fetch the cloth, only to discover that it is rotted and good for nothing. And then God says, “So also I will allow the pride of Judah to rot, the great pride of Jerusalem” (v. 9). Not the most charming of stories, but I love how in verse 11 God says to Jeremiah, “So close as the loincloth clings to a man’s loins, so had I made the whole house of Israel and the whole house of Judah cling to me, says the LORD; to be my people, my renown, my praise, my beauty.”

What a profoundly intimate image of God toward his people! To think, this is how close we are to God! I mean, don’t overthink it, folks. This is poetry in action. But the point is that this is not a god who is distant and indifferent; this is the God who deeply cares for us and wants to be in union with us. And so you can hear the sigh of heartbreak when God then says: “But they did not listen.”

It’s prophetic signs like these that bring to mind certain actions of athletes at sporting events. Although there are many other kinds of symbols used in protests, there’s something about kneeling during the national anthem before a game or raising a fist on the medalist stand at the Olympics that strikes a powerful chord - whether people like it or not. For one, these are high-profile people on a vastly public stage. But I also think it has so much to do with the startling juxtaposition of criticism and dearly held national symbols. Consider the British suffragette, Emily Davison (not an athlete herself), who, it would seem, tried to pin a women’s suffrage emblem to, not just any horse, but the king’s horse! In any case, it was the king’s horse who crashed into her and killed her, and if that wasn’t a high-profile protest colliding with a national symbol, I don’t know what is.

Sit-ins and marches send a message, no doubt, but mess with people’s symbols, and you strike a well of emotions that runs inordinately deep. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not a sports fan, but even I couldn’t escape the tidal wave of opinions in the news and social media about Colin Kaepernick kneeling during the national anthem. I hardly watched a lick of the Women’s World Cup, but I still heard about Megan Rapinoe’s public activism. And I was far from even being born when this photo of Tommie Smith and John Carlos was taken,

but the image still reverberates today. Symbolic actions like these send some people into tailspins, but honestly… they ain’t got nothing on Jeremiah.

One of Jeremiah’s most shocking prophetic signs is when he takes the elders and priests out to Jerusalem’s city dump (Ben-hinnom) and shatters before them an earthen vessel, saying “Thus says the Lord of hosts: Thus will I smash this people and this city, as one smashes a clay pot so that it cannot be repaired” (19:11). What makes this act so provocative is that when a king was installed, he was presented with pottery inscribed with the names of enemy nations, and the newly anointed king would break them with a rod, symbolizing his power over them. An echo of this is referenced in Psalm 2, a coronation hymn: “With an iron rod you will shepherd them, like a potter’s vessel you will shatter them” (Ps 2:9). To put Jeremiah’s action into context, imagine someone gathering congress at a garbage dump, burning the American flag, and saying “This is what will become of the United States!”

Jeremiah’s prophetic signs were intended to draw his people’s attention to God’s message of conversion. Likewise, the actions of athletes who take the knee during the national anthem, enter the field with heads bowed and arms raised, wear jerseys that say “Los Spurs” or “Los Suns” or shirts emblazoned with “I CAN’T BREATE” are calling us to examine our conscience about a message we’re not hearing with mere words – a message we perhaps don’t want to hear. Far from disrespecting the flag or country, and farther still from symbolic acts of treason as Jeremiah teetered on, these prophetic actions in our day are rather signifying injustice in our midst. That there are systems in our country that are broken. That racial prejudices have fueled police brutality against minorities. That our immigration laws and attitudes are unjust. Etc.

The leaders of Judah were outraged by the words and actions of Jeremiah. They denounced him as a liar and a traitor and they tried to kill him. Yet for all of the religious and social critique that he preached and all the devastation he prophesied, Jeremiah did not despise his nation nor his fellow countrymen. On the contrary, it tore him up inside that he was called upon to proclaim such a demoralizing message and that his people would suffer so much. He wished he could remain silent, but alas, he felt compelled to utter his warning (cf. 8:18-23, 20:7-9).

Moreover, he prophesied God’s judgment and Jerusalem’s fall not out of spite, but in sorrow for a people who could do better. There is hope in Jeremiah, and in chapter 31 he speaks of the new covenant God will make with Israel: “I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (v. 33). Although he vehemently condemned their sins and foretold the dire consequences of their actions, ultimately Jeremiah believed that, by God’s grace and mercy, they can be a holier, more just nation. This, I believe, is what motivates prophetic actions in today’s world, not spite or contempt.

Jesus of Nazareth faced a similar experience as Jeremiah. He criticized the religious and social corruption of his time. He, too, challenged the authorities’ presumptions about the temple and was thought to be a blasphemer and a traitor. His words and actions defied the nationalism of his day (e.g. conversing with a Samaritan woman and pagan officials). Even his teachings regarding the family as those “who do the will of God”, or his pithy response of “Let the dead bury the dead” to the man who was going to have a funeral for his father were ways in which Jesus broke with the prevailing tribalism in favor of a far more encompassing kingdom than that built on bloodline or citizenship. But this does not mean Jesus hated his country or fellow Jews either. He wanted them truly to be a light to all the nations as they were called to be (cf. Is 42:6, 49:6, 60:3, and Mt. 5:14-16). Disappointment, criticism, or even anger toward the status quo are not reprehensible; they are catalysts for change toward the better.

By the time I write another post you can probably read the entire book of Jeremiah from beginning to end, but for this week I recommend 7:1-15, 13:1-11, and 19:1-15. These are not necessarily comforting passages, but then, the Word of God is not always meant to console. Oftentimes it calls us to task and cuts us to the quick. Jeremiah’s protests and signs disturbed and infuriated his audience, as sometimes the prophetic actions of athletes do today. Nevertheless, we are called to recognize that things are not right in the world. Things are not right in this country, where racial prejudice threatens the lives of black Americans. Where minorities and the economically poor are inhibited from advancing in society. Where bigoted remarks from the nation’s leaders are dismissed or, worse, defended. Where women do not receive equal pay for equal work. Where even a viable yet unborn infant is unprotected. Where the cries of our brothers and sisters seeking refuge from the violence in their homelands are being ignored. Families are torn apart; children are caged in detention centers; walls are raised, and tear gas is hurled.

Read these or other passages from Jeremiah and ask yourself: do we listen? Or do we let pride obstruct us from hearing the message to reform. Have good and honorable symbols become idols, as the temple had? Does a piece of cloth or a song mean more than a human life? Do we persecute the prophets among us because they look, speak, think, or believe differently than we do? Has nationalism turned our hearts into stone? And what future do we face if these things are so?

Until next time, 

Peace and all good,

Bro. Ian

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[1] Victor H. Matthews, The Hebrew Prophets and their Social World, 2^nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012), 19.

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.)

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.