Lost Sabbaths

All this was to fulfill the word of the Lord spoken by the prophet Jeremiah: Until the land has retrieved its lost sabbaths, during all the time it lies waste it shall have rest while seventy years are fulfilled. (2 Chronicles 36:21)

Okay. Let me begin by saying that this is not a post about apocalyptic literature like I promised. I do intend to write another one, but I felt inspired to compose this first. I have been ruminating over this verse from Scripture for the last week or so and thought I would share a reflection on it.

In a short span of time schools, colleges, businesses, restaurants, theme parks, and even churches have all closed. Sports, concerts, and other large events have all been cancelled. Air travel is almost unthinkable at this point, and the cruise industry is practically kaput. People are encouraged to stay home as much as they can, and not just from work but from... well, everything. It seems like the whole world is being drawn into a massive, communal Lenten observance. You thought you were going to just give up chocolate and soda pop this Lent... Little did you know.

Occasionally, like in times of crisis such as this, we might ask ourselves, "What does this all mean? Is God trying to tell us something?" I believe our ancestors in faith, the people of Israel, contemplated these questions very intensely. They interpreted their history from a religious perspective, and this is what informed their sacred writings. The so-called "Historical Books" of the Hebrew Scriptures were more theological than historical annals. They were oftentimes (though not always) rooted in actual events that had taken place, yet the meaning they ascribed to their social and political experience was influenced by how they viewed their relationship with God.

For much of the Old Testament, a national disaster was usually interpreted as the result of Israel and Judah's infidelity to God and God's commandments. That was certainly the case for the Bablylonian Exile in 586 B.C.E. Why did the Babylonians conquer Judah, sack Jerusalem, destroy the Temple, and send us into exile? Because we had broken the covenant. The historical tradition of 1 & 2 Samuel and 1 & 2 Kings, tends to place the blame largely on Judah's faithless and corrupt rulers, especially king Manasseh. However, the Chronicler (as the author of 1 & 2 Chronicles is often called), retells their history a little differently. He was writing later than most of the Hebrew Scripture tradition, and his audience had already returned from exile and rebuilt a Temple. His was a community that was striving to move forward in faithfulness to the Law and the Prophets. Perhaps as a warning to them all, he extended responsibility for the exile to the sins of the whole people in his account of history (2 Chr. 36:14-16).¹ He and his audience weren't expecting a restored monarchy anytime soon, but they could at least keep the law and promote the ritual cult of the Temple.

The quotation from 2 Chronicles at the beginning of this post adds another layer of interpretation for the exile. The duration of the exile was seen as reparation for not keeping the sabbatical and jubilee years (see also Leviticus 26:34-35). Every seventh and fiftieth year the land itself was supposed to have rest from agricultural labor (as described in Leviticus 25:1-13). These were also years that debts were to be forgiven and slaves too were supposed to have rest from their labors. The Torah lists all sorts of punishments that would befall the people if they did not keep the commands of God, and losing the land was one of them. For the Chronicler, however, the removal from the land was not a permanent loss, like the end of the monarchy appeared to be. The exile was a hiatus in order to repay the land for the rest it was denied.² Throughout the time that it is desolate, it shall observe the rest that it did not observe in your sabbath years while you were dwelling upon it. (Lev. 26:25 JPS).

As I've said before, I am not a biblical fundamentalist or literalist, and I don't presume that the Bible foretells current events. More importantly, I'm not bringing up Israel's punitive interpretations of the exile in an attempt to suggest that Covid-19 is divine punishment for breaking a covenant with God or any other sort of social sin. That all being said, I believe the Word of God is living and active and that it resonates with the human experience across time and space. Wars, famines, plagues, economic breakdowns, natural disasters, and crises of all manner are perennial problems we face as people on this earth, so of course these things make their way into our sacred texts. One of the reasons why I love the Scriptures is because they're as much about the human condition as they are about God. Not surprisingly, there is a lot of practical wisdom in Scripture that should inform our conscience.

I imagine that the Chronicler looked back on his people's experience of the exile and, having prayed  with the Torah and the oracles of Jeremiah, gave it a meaning beyond the sheer devastation and humiliation that it appeared to be. Recognizing his ancestors' past failings, he gave his community of Jews a way forward from their apathy and an invigoration to heed the Law and Prophets.³ Among the commandments, sabbath rest was so central to who they were as a people. This was something they needed to be reminded of, but I'm sure it also just made good practical sense.

God's law and the prophets' warnings were not arbitrary rules to follow. Any farmer will tell you the importance of rest for the land and the need for crop rotation. A just economy, as dictated in the Law, protected the most vulnerable, like widows, orphans, slaves, and foreigners. Even the dietary restrictions and ritual washings had practical implications. With the Chronicler's hindsight, he could see that infidelity to the Law and the Prophets had consequences, and whether the calamities that befell them were divine punishment or not, it was clear that there was a reason why God wanted them to keep his commandments. Social sin is as real today as it was in the time of our biblical ancestors. It would be the fundamentalist's stance to suggest that God is punishing us with this virus, but it would not be impractical to see how our economic systems and self-indulgence have exacerbated the crisis at hand.

I cannot say if there is some objective meaning from on high for this global crisis. Frankly, I don't pay much thought to the possibility, and for now it's a philosophical position I'm unwilling to entertain. I do, however, believe that we can observe our experience and listen for the echoes from Sacred Scripture that resonate with it. Even when our lives are upended and everything seems irrational, we can imbue this period of time with meaning. I think about all of the closures and cancellations, the abrupt halt of the normal flow of daily life, the images of empty streets and vacant businesses. One biblical commandment that seems to haunt me in all this is that of sabbath rest.

I am not insinuating that Covid-19 is an act of God intended to impose upon us an involuntary sabbatical. I'm not suggesting that this period of crisis is even all that restful. For a lot of people its been an anxious, stressful time as they try to figure out how to work from home, or find daytime child-care, or take classes on-line. Some parents are thrust into home-schooling their kids. Many people are without jobs and are wondering where their next meal is coming from. Those in the medical field or who are working at grocery stores or for delivery services are experiencing anything but respite. The number of cases and deaths are rising around the world. These are extremely difficult times, and, as was the exile for the people of Judah, this is not a favorable event. In fact, quite the contrary.

But at the risk of sounding as if I'm seeking a silver lining, I do believe that, for those of us who are forced into self-quarantine, we can give this time a sacred meaning. Is God calling us to retrieve once again the rest and the silence, which has been denied us by obligations or superficial distractions of our own making? This can be an opportunity to explore our relationship with God, to break open the Word and commune with the Lord, especially since many of us cannot receive communion in the Eucharist. It's a chance to rediscover the value of relationships we've taken for granted, as we are compelled to be apart from friends or together with our families. This is a time in which our common humanity is felt most strongly as all across the globe we share in the same feelings of loss, fear, and isolation but also in the hope and desire for salvation. We are one human family, and we are in solidarity now more than ever with those who are isolated in prisons and hospitals, with those who are vulnerable, and those who long daily for the dignity of work.

Even the earth itself is finding rest from the pressures we have put on it from our consumerism. It seems that already the atmosphere can breathe just a little easier as we fast from carbon emissions. Apparently, the absence of boat traffic in Venice has made their usually opaque canals clearer as well.⁴ Who knows what other positive environmental impacts may be possible? It may be a good time to take a walk if you are able (or open up a window) just to listen to the sounds of nature that we have become immune to in the hustle of our busy lives.

But I believe there's something deeper and more solemn to be gleaned from all this. For the Chronicler, just because the exile would give back to the land the sabbaths it was denied did not mitigate the tragedy of Judah's destruction. It was not a "bright side." Rather, his interpretation gave his community reason to have remorse for their sins. Perhaps this is also time for us to have compunction for the good we've failed to do as we've gone about business as usual, noses pressed to the grindstone - or to our phones. It's a time of reckoning for the whole human race as we come face-to-face not just with our individual selves but with our global systems and social structures that fail us and crush the lives of the most vulnerable when a crisis strikes.

Without minimizing or disdaining the severity of this pandemic - all the deaths, confirmed diagnoses, loss of jobs - the biblical commandment for sabbath rest hovers over my view of some of what's happening. I feel a faint connection with the people of Judah who were sent into exile so that, as the Chronicler would say, the land would experience the lost sabbaths. There's cause for individual and communal reevaluation to see what we've ignored or failed to appreciate. If you are compelled into self-quarantine at this time, this recess from our daily activities can be a sobering period - a chance to examine our lives. When everything else around us is shutting down, what becomes truly important? When we're forced into social-distancing and limitations, what have we, individually or collectively, taken for granted? Have we turned futile things into idols? Have I failed to take the time to recognize God's presence? Have I appreciated God's creation, my family, my friends, my neighbors? Have I paused to even hear my own self think up until now? Have I taken time to rest and just be?

My only scripture recommendation this week is that one verse, 2 Chr. 36:21, but feel free to click on the links to those other passages from Leviticus. If anything I've written resonates with you or your experience of going into self-quarantine, ponder those things. I should add, though, that it doesn't all have to be navel-gazing. There are certainly people in desperate need right now. Are you able to run an errand for an elderly neighbor? Do you need to check in with your co-workers to see if they need anything while they are home-bound too? Can you donate food or money to a soup kitchen or food pantry. And of course, this is also a wide open door to pray. Pray for our world, for the medical professionals, for those looking for a vaccine, for the elderly and at risk, for the infirmed, dying, and deceased, for their families, for those who have lost employment, and for an end to the global health crisis. If this be a time of sabbath rest for you - because it definitely isn't for everyone - make it mean something.

Until next time, be safe!

Peace and all good,
Bro. Ian

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1 Stephen L. Harris and Robert L. Platzner, The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, (Boston: McGraw Hill, 2003), 328.^↩
2 Jewish Publication Society, study note on 2 Chronicles 36:21, in The Jewish Study Bible: Tanakh Translation, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 1825.^↩
3 Harris and Platzner, 328.^↩
4 Denise Chow, "Coronavirus Shutdowns Have Unintended Benefits: Cleaner Air, Clearer Water," NBC News Science 19 March, 2020, NBC News, Web, 20 March, 2020. ^↩

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.

Wonder Woman vs. Jonah

What do Wonder Woman and Jonah have in common?

Not much, actually. The two characters could hardly be more different. The former so enthusiastic to accomplish her mission that she refuses her mother’s wishes to stay put, and the latter a reluctant schmuck. One matures in her understanding of divine justice, while the other pouts over the ethic of mercy. Yet both stories explore the themes of salvation and human nature with surprisingly similar conclusions.

            Normally, I am not prone to viewing super hero flicks in theaters, but a friend asked me to see Wonder Woman with him, and I was pleasantly delighted by the film. (Thanks Mario!) Not surprisingly, the movie integrates moral and religious concepts. Such is typical of the super hero genre, which grapples with questions about justice, goodness, evil, and love. What!? A secular work of fiction that plays on theological truths!? Sure. “There’s nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9). See my post on Truth, Mystery, the Bible, and... Harry Potter.

            In one scene of the film, Diana’s ragtag companions drunkenly toast, “May we get what we want; may we get what we need; and may we never get what we deserve!” Clearly, the posse either doesn’t deserve much, or, for some reason or other, they deserve punishment for their transgressions – at least in their minds. But who of us can say that we’re blameless, anyway? Without giving away too much of the movie – nobody likes spoilers – Diana learns an important lesson about who is worthy of salvation. Ultimately, everyone shares in the responsibility of the ills of this world. No one is entirely blameless, and humanity probably does not deserve a hero or savior. But that is precisely why we need one; we’re helpless. And rather than getting our just desserts, we are offered love and mercy instead – even those thought least deserving of it.

            Jonah is taught a similar lesson, although his character sharply contrasts to that of Diana’s. The Book of Jonah is a unique text of the Hebrew Bible– one of my favorites, in fact. It’s short, funny, easy to read, yet deceptively deep and profound. With only four brief chapters, you can easily pick it up after reading this post and enjoy it for yourself. Or better yet, you can read it now by clicking on the link here. As for Wonder Woman, well, you’ll just have to see it theaters or wait until it comes out on DVD or Blu-Ray.

            Jonah may seem like an endearing story to us today, and we probably relish the message of God’s abundant mercy. But this narrative was likely a hard pill to swallow for many in its original audience – as much as it would be today if, say, the U.N. pardoned ISIS of all human rights abuses (assuming its members repented in sackcloth and ashes like the Ninevites). The ending of the story is as startling as it would be if the Boston Red Sox came back from a 10 point deficit in the ninth inning and won the World Series against the Yankees… at Yankee Stadium. I mean, if you’re a Yankees fan or just really hate the Red Sox.

            Jonah was written after the Babylonian Exile, which up until that point was probably the most devastating experience in Israelite history. The Babylonians were merciless to the people of Judah, deporting most of Jerusalem’s population to Babylon and destroying their sacred Temple. Nearly a century and a half before that, the Assyrians had conquered the northern kingdom of Israel, scattering many of its peoples. After the fall of the north, the Assyrians laid an excruciating, but ultimately unsuccessful, siege on Jerusalem in the southern kingdom. The suffering they had inflicted, however, would never be forgotten.

            Naturally, Assyria, Babylon, and their allies were venomously hated for their ruthlessness toward Israel and Judah. The returnees from the Exile had nothing but spite for their enemies, even the memory of those who no longer existed. A lot of biblical ink was spilled in order to hurl curses at these nations. As tends to happen after a country experiences unspeakable trauma, a gross, exclusive sort of nationalism developed among returnees trying to reestablish their religious and political identity in Judah. This party was unforgiving toward foreigners and disdained those who had remained behind after the deportations and inter-mixed with their conquerors. They had a narrow concept of YHWH’s favor, believing that only the pure race of God’s chosen people, Israel, was worthy.

            To critique this mentality, Jonah is presented as a satirical figure, a kind of mirror to be held up to the faces of those who subscribed to the postexilic ideology of exclusivity. Yet for all of Jonah’s zealous contempt for the Ninevite pagans, he proves to have only passive faith in YHWH. When God charges him to preach against Nineveh, Assyria's capital, he goes AWOL, wanting nothing to do with the mission. Twice in the same verse the author stresses that Jonah was getting “away from the LORD.” He sets sail for what might as well have been the farthest corner of the world, and later falls asleep in the depths of the ship. Jonah may be a believer in YHWH, but his actions show that he prefers death over engaging his God with whom he seems at odds. So desperate to get away from the LORD, he apathetically volunteers to be thrown into the sea, an ancient symbol of chaos and death.

            This action only highlights his hypocrisy even more, for even though he just confessed that the LORD is “the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land” (1:9), he doesn’t seem to realize that the deep isn’t going to hide him from the creator of the seas. By contrast, the pagan crew shows amazing faith in YHWH, begging for his forgiveness, offering sacrifice, and making vows to him.  

            The fish episode, like the sea itself, conjures up more imagery of primordial chaos and death. Jonah wants to get as far away from the LORD as possible, and God takes him to the brink. There is no farther place from God than death and the netherworld. Yet even there God’s saving power cannot be held at bay. There in the belly of the fish Jonah represents perhaps all of Israel, who knew that they had sinned against the LORD in the past and, as a result, had been brought to the edge of death in the experience of exile – almost total alienation from their God. Yet their time of exile came to an end, as would Jonah’s time in the sea creature. Jonah’s prayer of thanksgiving is ironic, though. “Deliverance is from the LORD,” he says, but as we see in the end of the story, he’s infuriated that God extends that deliverance to the Ninevites too.

            So Jonah is spewed out on shore, and he preaches throughout Nineveh that they will be destroyed, and, in a shocking twist of events, evil Nineveh repents of their sins in an extravagant display of penance, from the king on high right down to the animals. God relents of the violence he was going to inflict, but this only pisses Jonah off. At first the reader might guess that he’s angry because his prophecy of calamity didn’t come true – a dilemma that might have labeled him a false prophet and cost him his life. But no! He’s mad because God is merciful, and he even admits that that was the real reason why he fled in the first place. Nineveh doesn’t deserve God’s forgiveness! So blinded by his vindictive nationalism is Jonah, that he goes off to brood over the unscathed city.

            But God teaches him a lesson. He provides a plant to grow over Jonah’s head to give him shade, and this makes Jonah happy. But then God sends a worm to kill the plant, and Jonah, being just a tad over-dramatic, becomes so outraged at this point that he prays for death! And with that the LORD nails him with a rhetorical question: You didn’t do anything to merit that plant you liked so much, yet you’re so upset that it died. So why shouldn’t I be concerned about these thousands of pitiful people? Oh and let’s not forget their animals too.

Now, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Jonah!

            Though different in their approaches, it seems that both Wonder Woman and Jonah must grapple with this issue of divine justice. Maybe Nineveh didn’t deserve God’s mercy, and perhaps humanity didn’t merit Diana’s heroic assistance – at least, not in the eyes of Jonah or Diana’s adversary. But, thankfully, this isn’t the way God’s justice seems to work. God's love is universal. The "God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land" extends his care and concern for all of his children, even the seemingly least deserving. This isn’t to say that we are excused from having remorse and contrition for our sins. Salvation is as difficult for those who think they can attain it by their own righteousness as it is for those who cannot humble themselves to ask for mercy with contrite hearts. We can never earn God’s mercy, though. That is what makes it so abundant and free. We can, therefore, only receive it.

            This is the kind of good news we like to hear, but sometimes, like Jonah, we’re faced with applying this ethic of mercy to those persons or groups of people we don’t like. It’s all warm and fuzzy until we realize that God cares as much for our enemies as he does us. God loves those we think, for whatever reason, deserve God’s wrath. Maybe we secretly hope that one day they’ll get their comeuppance, just like Jonah wanted the Assyrians punished. These so-called just desserts may or may not come, but in the meantime, who’s really suffering – your enemies, or you who are brooding over your resentments?

            My reading recommendation this week is, of course, the Book of Jonah. As you read it, though, think of a person or a group of people you might have some bitterness towards. It could be a political figure or party, a co-worker or boss, maybe it’s a national, cultural, or religious group. Or maybe it's the Red Sox. Read the Book of Jonah, and when you get to the last question posed by God, insert that entity you’re thinking of in place of the Ninevites. Pray for that person or group, and open your heart to loving them too. Remember, God loves them as well, and they are as worthy of God’s mercy and protection as you.

Until next time,

Peace and all good!

Where Did the Bible Come From? Part II

           After the attacks of September 11, 2001, something changed in the United States. I distinctly remember watching a commercial on television that showed a row of houses with a voice-over that said something to the effect of "On September 11, terrorists tried to change America forever." Then it faded to a image of those same houses sometime after 9/11 with U.S. flags waving in the wind on each one of them. The voice-over then said, "Well, they succeeded." (You can click here to see the ad on Youtube.)

            However you may feel about said commercial, I bring it up for purely anthropological reasons... not political ones. To me, the ad illustrates something about the effects of trauma on a nation, a group of people, or even an individual. For better or for worse, each of these in some way will change as a result. After a devastating event, their attitudes, outlooks, and values change – or at least become stronger. Last week, I mentioned how the Israelites didn't have a pressing need to preserve their religious tradition until they were faced with the threat of losing it altogether. Although parts of it had been written, the Torah was not compiled and consolidated until after the traumatic experiences of the Temple's destruction (586 BCE) and the Babylonian exile. But fear of their tradition's disappearance was not the only motivation behind its preservation. National trauma has a way of strengthening people's convictions about identity, religion, and culture. The increase in patriotism that took hold after the events of 9/11/2001 is one example I can think of in our own time of this sort of phenomenon. This apparent effect due to devastating circumstances seems to play out as the Bible begins to take shape in the centuries after the exile.

"The Flight of the Prisoners" James Tissot (1836-1902)
Google Images

Image from www.newtestamentchristians.com/bible-land-maps/

            Last week we looked at some of the sources that contributed to the formation of the Torah. The developers and authors of the Priestly source were the ones mostly responsible for its final form (post exile), and by about the 5^th or 4^th century BCE those first five books of the Bible were more or less considered authoritative. Thanks to the Deuteronomists' fine work, we also have a sense that a fair few of the "historical books" were composed and collected by that time as well. But what of the other books of the Old Testament? How did those get lumped among the Scriptures?

            The Jewish canon of Scripture (the Tanak) is divided into the Torah, followed by the Prophets, which begins with the Deuteronomic History (Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings), and finally everything else (the Writings). I rather prefer the Jewish arrangement of the Hebrew Scriptures because the categories of books are organized somewhat more closely according to chronology and importance than the Christian canon. But then, as anyone who knows me would tell you, I love all things Jewish anyway. So given the placement of the prophets in the Tanak, it's fitting to talk about them next.

            Like the Torah, the prophetic works were edited (redacted) over time, especially the pre-exilic prophets, such as Amos. Some prophetic texts, like Isaiah or Zechariah, are even compilations of separate works written at different periods in history. However, much of the prophetic material derives from the oral sayings of a prophet during his ministry. What we have in written form was probably composed either by the prophet's disciples or those within the prophet's school of thought (like the so-called "school of Isaiah"), by the prophet himself, or by a combination of both. We know from Scripture that Jeremiah used a scribe named Baruch, for example. Most, if not all of the books, faced some degree of redaction. Some of the biographical material in the prophets, for example, was surely written by redactors some time later than when the prophet lived. For more about prophets, see my post, "The Bible Library: The Prophets," and check out the table of dates for an idea of when the prophets were active. I know how people feel about dating prophetic activity, so if you want to print the table out and put it on your fridge or bedroom wall, I totally understand. I found this one below on Google Images and loved it so much I posted it on Facebook.

Google Images. Thank you Dr. Bandstra and this webpage: http://barrybandstra.com/rtot4/rtot4-09-pt2.html

            Although they were not apparently always well heeded, The pre-exilic prophets were influential enough for their works to be copied and preserved through the traumatic events of the 6^th century. As Marc Zvi Brettler writes, "The complex activity of preserving and developing the prophetic oracle collections reflects a conviction that a prophet's words were not only significant for the circumstances in which they were originally pronounced but potentially relevant for later ones as well."[1] In other words, those preserving the prophetic material saw something of universal value in it. At this point, however, there wasn't a fixed canon of Scripture; works were still being redacted, especially in ways that reflected the social and religious needs of the time. It's unclear as to when the prophetic works actually became fixed and scribal editing began to cease – perhaps sometime before the end of the 3^rd century BCE. Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel were long enough to each have their own scroll. The twelve minor prophets, however, were small enough to fit on just one – thus, the "Book of the Twelve." Coincidence that there were twelve like the twelve tribes of Israel? Probably not. I'm sure the scribes intended it that way, even if it meant putting separate material under one name.

            This now leaves us with the Writings – basically everything else. More than any other collection of books that reflects post-exilic, national/religious attitudes are the books of Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles. Having lost both Temple and homeland, the Judahites in captivity reflected on their experience. What went wrong? The answer, they felt, was that they had been unfaithful to the covenant. So after the exile, in the period known as the Restoration, the religious beliefs of the Jewish people began to become more concretized, and cultural/national identity likewise intensified. (I can't help but think back to that aforementioned commercial.) Ezra, a priest and scribe, was a religious reformer. Nehemiah was an administrative reformer and governor of the province of Judah now under Persian domain. These books, once considered a unit, reflect an urge to rebuild the Temple and the city of Jerusalem. They are also not a little xenophobic. Both have very harsh  stances with regard to marriages with foreigners.

            1 & 2 Chronicles fall under a similar school of thought as Ezra and Nehemiah. Chronicles retells Israel's history and is rather nostalgic for what it believes were the nation's glory days: the reigns of David and Solomon. It's attitude: We were once a great nation, so let's write our history to highlight the greatness of David and Solomon (as we gloss over their faults), as well as those kings who were faithful to the covenant. And let's just not talk about the northern Kingdom. They were unfaithful and didn't worship in Jerusalem, and it muddles our ideal of a unified Israel. And we can blame our past problems on the infidelity of the kings who did not follow the covenant. That's our version of history.

            As far as the rest of the Writings go, each has its own tradition and are hardly, if even at all, connected to one another. Proverbs and Psalms have long oral traditions, and since they are collections of assorted sayings and songs, the dating of each one varies. Some were surely written before the exile, but some prove to be post-exilic. A fixed composition of Psalms and Proverbs did not exist until after the exile, maybe during the 4^th century.

            Much of the wisdom/poetical writings (Job, Lamentations, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes) can be dated between the 6^th century (the traumatic one) and the 4^th century (the one that transitioned from the Persian period to the Greek period). Lamentations was written shortly after Jerusalem's destruction. Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, and perhaps Ruth seemed to have been written after the exile. The latest books in the Jewish canon were Daniel, which takes place during the Babylonian exile but is secretly concerned with life under Greek domination (sneaky, sneaky), and Esther, which is set in Persia but was likewise written later during the Greek period.

            As I mentioned earlier, there is something about the experience of trauma that incites a desire to preserve and strengthen former ideals. This is perhaps why Ezra-Nehemiah are so religiously rigorous, and Chronicles so idealistic about history. And this is my guess as to why much of the Torah, the Prophets, and some of the Writings, were edited and compiled after the exile. Imagine what would happen if your house caught on fire. Say, your dog died, and a lot of your antiques and mementos perished in the tragedy. You have to find some other place to live. You're utterly crushed and devastated. Somehow or other though, a great deal of photographs and letters from deceased loved ones survived. What would you do with those things? Would you value them differently than before. Make copies of them? Keep them in a safe place?

            It seems that in the centuries after the exile, certain writings took on a significant meaning, and the Jewish people wanted to maintain them. Obviously some were considered authoritative more readily, namely the books of the Torah. The Prophets also would become especially meaningful and their words considered timeless. In time, so would the Writings. Interestingly enough, a lot of this biblical material has a wide range of perspectives and ideals. We've already seen how disparate sources are put side by side in the Torah. The anti-foreigner attitude of Ezra-Nehemiah contrasts significantly with the favorable attitude toward a foreign woman in the book of Ruth (A Moabite becomes the great-grandmother of King David. Shocking!) And the wisdom of Proverbs, which suggests that the good are blessed and the wicked are punished, is turned on its head with Job's bad-things-happen-to-everyone ideology. It doesn't seem like this bothered them that much, though. The compilers of the Hebrew Scriptures were literary hoarders. They didn't throw anything out.

            However, not everything made it into the Jewish canon of Scripture either, but that canon did not become fixed until sometime after the Christ event. There were many Jewish writings circulating in the centuries before the time of Jesus. Some of them never made it into any canon of Scripture. Some made it into the Christian canon but not the Jewish one. Later, several of those books would be omitted from some Christian canons after the Reformation. I hope to go over these sorts of things in the following posts of this "Where Did the Bible Come From" series. For now, I'll just wrap up today's post. (I hear a sigh of relief.) Today's topic was a little heavier, having a lot to do with trauma, bringing up painful memories from history, and even asking you to imagine your dog dying in a house fire. Who knew writing about the compilation of Scripture would get so dark?

            For that reason, I recommend for this week reading Nehemiah 8:1-12. It takes place during the Restoration after the exile. The book of the Law is read to the assembly of the people, and they are told to rejoice and not weep. This is a community that has been through hell and back. They're survivors, and now they are being consoled and strengthened by God's law and a possibly hopeful future. As you read this passage, consider a time in your life after you had experienced a tragedy. Who or what was your consolation? Did you experience God at all in the midst of your suffering and/or recovery? Does God's word give you comfort or joy? Which passages are particularly meaningful to you?

            By the way, the season of Lent is rapidly approaching (Yay!). If you're thinking about something you might like to do to deepen your spiritual life during this special time of year, here is a suggestion. Start a small, Scripture based faith-sharing group with your friends. You can use the Gospel reading from Sunday's liturgy, a suggested reading from this blog, or go through a particular portion of the Bible that interests you. Make an evening of it. Have some wine, cheese, crackers, Lit'l Smokies Sausages (unless it's Friday). Enjoy an evening with your friends, some food, and Scripture. You don't have to be a Bible scholar to share with your friends how the Scriptures are touching your life. You can use Pope Francis' advice on scriptural meditation as a guideline: "In the presence of God, during a recollected reading of the text, it is good to ask, for example: 'Lord, what does this text say to me? What is it about my life that you want to change by this text? What troubles me about this text? Why am I not interested in this? Or perhaps: What do I find pleasant in this text? What is it about this word that moves me? What attracts me? Why does it attract me?'" – Evangelii gaudium (Joy of the Gospel).

            As always, questions and comments are most welcome via e-mail, Facebook, this blog site, or now Twitter. I'm still getting used to that last one. Any tips on how to use it more effectively would be most appreciated. Until next time...

Peace and all good![2]

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[1] Marc Zvi Brettler, "Nevi'im: Introduction," in The Jewish Study Bible," ed. Adele Berlin and Marc Zvi Brettler (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 457.

[2] This post could not have been possible without these other sources:

Coogan, Michael D. The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Gabel John B. and Charles B. Wheeler. The Bible as Literature: An Introduction New York: Oxford University Press, 1986.

Gottwald, Norman K. The Hebrew Bible: A Socio-Literary Introduction. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985. (Particularly the chart on pages 104-105.)

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. 

Google Images

           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.