The Good Word

The Gospel reading for the Twenty Third Sunday of Ordinary Time, Luke 14:25-37, is one of those passages that I just ache to cut down to size, to make certain that it says something more palatable, easier to handle, than what it seems to be saying.  Jesus speaks to a crowd: “now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple” (14:25-26 NRSV). Hate your family? Hate life itself?  In what way do these teachings agree with the command to honor your parents or God’s desire that we share in the goodness of creation? It is possible to deal with the word “hate” in a reasonable manner; most scholars understand that the use of hate indicates a comparative, along the lines of saying, “you must love me more than father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself.” Fair enough, but it does not seem to leave us on easy street: Jesus demands our allegiance, beyond that given to family and even this good life. If you want to be Jesus’ disciple, then you have to be all in. Where the demands of the goods of this life, including family, conflict with the commands of Jesus and his teachings, Jesus comes first. This is not a soft saying, even if we soften the meaning of “hate.”

The teachings that follow are also fascinating, though, and I think often lost in the first two verses, which always spin my head as I seek an escape clause for true discipleship. Jesus gives a couple of examples to the crowds following him, at least quasi-disciples or wannabe-disciples at this point. He tells the crowds that they must be prepared to “carry the cross,” which even if the followers did not understand in light of  the implications for Jesus himself at this point would have understand in the context of the nature of crucifixion in general. A disciple of Jesus would have to give up everything to follow him. The next two examples, though, I think, pertain more to Jesus himself than to his followers, that is, I think he is telling them why it is essential that he have disciples willing to give up everything.

He gives the example of a person who builds a tower, but runs out of money when the foundation is..... Read more

In the Gospel reading for the Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, from Luke 14:1, 7-14, Jesus speaks two parables. The first deals with honor, embarrassment, humility and exaltation. In the NRSV, the first parable is as follows: “when he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable.  "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (7-11).

Is this parable simple? It seems so, as Jesus warns against an undue sense of superiority, mostly to avoid embarrassment. He calls for humility to avoid embarrassment or, in my word, dishonor. Jesus undercuts, it seems, the whole notion of honor. Or does he? He acknowledges “lower” and “higher” places and seems to suggest that some “someone more distinguished than you” could have been invited by your host. But this leads, finally, to another question: is there a time when you could be certain to be the “most” distinguished guest? When should climbing to the head table be presumed as your right? On what basis? Wealth? Education? Talent? Character? Position? Rank? Seniority? Wisdom? I know that Jesus’ parable is ultimately pointing us to the true exaltation and the true humbling, which are spiritual in nature, but as so often with Jesus’ parables how we behave with our material goods in this life has implications for the spiritual life and world to come. Disentangle and disattach yourself from worldly honor and exaltation, even when they are due you on some earthly level, and live with humility. Honor will come, but what matters is the honor of the world to come.

Healthy advice for the partygoer, but what about the host or hostess? Jesus “said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite you..... Read more

When you write on the Bible, one of the things that you should avoid, if you can, is flippancy. People tend to get riled up when you are flippant about Scripture because flippancy, gone bad, comes off more as “disrespectful” than “light and airy.” As a result, the flippant writer, even if unintentionally so, comes off as arrogant and “puffed up” (to use a good Pauline phrase from the Corinthian correspondence: Greek, physio – see how biblical this post is already?).But I love lists and everyone on the Internet gets to make lists, so why shouldn’t a biblical blogger have lists? (I do not believe this is an argument from authority or reason; it is more along the lines of “but everyone else is doing it.”) Initially, though, I do not want to create a list myself – greatest historical Jesus books of the last century (quake in anticipation, it is coming), best biblical movies, or top ten NT disciples – but a) to ask you what your favorite biblical book is and b) why (OT or NT, but only one). I know this can be an almost impossible task to choose only one out of many inspired texts, but keep in mind that choosing one book does not indicate a diminution of or rejection of the other books of the Bible. It is just an attempt to get a sense as to how a particular book has spoken to you, transformed you, guided you and challenged you.

This is my choice: The Gospel of Mark. I surprised myself by coming back to the Gospel of Mark, even as I tried out other options mentally, over and over. I love the dramatic simplicity of Mark and the constant focus on Jesus. Whenever I read it, I am constantly challenged to reaffirm my answer to the question, “who is Jesus?” and to consider it in new and deeper ways. I love the humanity of Jesus and the subtle way in which his divinity is revealed throughout the Gospel.

Think about it and then leave your choices in the comments section below. 

P.S. I will send out a copy of one of my books to anyone who answers “Letter of Jude,” really, really means it and can give compelling reasons for this choice. This is not flippancy, by the way, just inquisitiveness.

John W. Martens

As I return from a summer hiatus to write for The Good Word it occurs to me that one of the questions that we should consider this year is “what is the Bible?” Most of us think we know what we are talking about, but it can be amazing as to how different our presuppositions actually are regarding the nature of the Bible.  Even when we clear away basic misunderstandings, the question can still have any number of answers.

What is the Bible? It depends. It depends if my reader is Jewish, Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant. Each faith considers the Bible to be something different from each other group, only if slightly. Some of the differences have to do with different names and divisions of books, but the “Old Testament” differences go beyond that, from Jews, who have the “Tanach” not the Old Testament, to Protestants and Catholics who recognize a different “Old Testament” based upon…well, based upon what? This is where discussions come into play regarding the Reformation and the choice to exclude books that were not considered to be a part of Jesus’ Bible, considered to be the Hebrew text of the Tanach.  The discussion then might move into the existence of the Septuagint, a Greek version, or more properly versions, that emerged many years prior to Jesus’ birth and so, properly, Jewish translation(s) of the Hebrew into Greek. (Though there are also Septuagintal texts which have no Hebrew or Aramaic original, at least none of which we know now.) By what means was this Greek text authoritative, for instance, for Jews in Alexandria, the city from which many of these translations emerged? Even more significant, perhaps, is whether there was any particular Jewish “canon” in Jesus’ day. What did Jesus read? And even after we consider all of these questions, could not the early Church decide on a canon different than that accepted by Jews who did not consider Jesus the Messiah, even including texts that Jesus did not read?

After we decide answers to these many questions, do we even have the original autographs of any biblical book? The Dead Sea Scroll manuscripts have taken us closer to the origin of many Hebrew (and some of the Greek Septuagintal texts, including previously unknown Hebrew and Aramaic fragments), but we have no autograph for any biblical book in the New or Old Testament. When we talk about the Bible, then, we have to consider that tran..... Read more

Do you ever wish that you were done learning? That instead of being tested, life was easy, leisurely? Years ago, when still a teenager, I wanted to start a religion called “Incidental Meditation” or “I.M.” for short. At the heart of the religion was that the teachings would change by a poll of the adherents on a monthly basis, though if you disagreed with the poll you could do what you wanted. Easy. Nothing was demanded of you, so who could not meet that goal? Everyone's a winner; everyone's an A student. What I hoped was that I would attract enough adherents who appreciated the wisdom of a religion that allowed them to do whatever they wanted to do whenever they wanted to do it. This was long before I knew of the term “moral relativism,” though I am pretty certain I had heard of Tom Wolfe’s “Me” generation. One thing bothered me – even though I meant it as a joke – and that was that it was not true and I did not believe it to be true. The truth does that to you: it makes demands.

It is hard to shake the truth of God, and because of that, we cannot shake the demands of God, though it is tempting. And, it is true, at some of these points of temptation, many of us do succumb, which is why the second reading for the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Hebrews 12:5-7, 11-13, speaks of the necessity of continuing education in the moral life or, we might alternatively call it, our life in the family of God.  Continuing Education? The word that is translated as “discipline” in most translations is paideia, the Greek word from which we get “pedagogy.” At the root of the word is pais, or “child,” and another acceptable translation of paideia is “education.” This is not to say that in the ancient context “discipline” is not a part of paideia. It is simply assumed that this is a part of ancient education, but the English translations of Hebrews suggest that a kind of disciplinary harshness is at the heart of following God. This is not the case, but all you have to do is think back to your own childhood in school, or your child’s current travails in school, to recognize how bitter even the best intentioned and kindest education can seem when you are experiencing it.

God’s continuing education demands much from us, a..... Read more

How to read, to preach on these familiar stories, related to each other at the thematic level as the Lectionary is wont to do? The synoptic gospels draw heavily on the Elijah/Elisha stories, sometimes to characterize John the Baptist and Jesus and more often Jesus and his disciples. It appears in the first reading that Elijah recruits his successor in a rather flamboyant way, and that detail can catch and hold the eye. But perhaps we do better to understand that Elisha was known as Elijah’s disciple and successor, and the story emerges in order to account for what may have happened and in any case to attest to the “new man’s” authority and status. The “requirements” sound stringent, even harsh, but they are not so much literal as suggestive of the life of a prophet. The gospel story is similar. It can sound as though Jesus is laying down strict and even unreasonable requirements for discipleship, warning away those who hope for an easy gig. 

And yet we do better, I think, to read this passage retrospectively as well, to understand that as the young project of following Jesus learns about what is needed, the sort of single-hearted commitment is urgent, whether for those who literally leave all things or for those (like most of the disciples, perhaps) who may not literally have no den, pillow, or parental responsibility left. Jesus describes, in figurative and yet powerful language, the sort of focus and commitment to himself and this project of God that is inevitably required when it is done well.  It’s a matter of cart-and-horse: The pre-requisites that seem to be announced are in fact experiential data, discovered, tested, and validated in the long process of those who commit wholeheartedly to the service of proclaiming the presence of God in the world: no multi-tasking!

Barbara Green, O.P.

At first glance, these first and Gospel readings seem well-matched, even easy. David and Simon have mis-stepped seriously in terms of what they supposed (sincerely or not) was acceptable behavior, specifically here in the treatment of women. Each is admonished strongly by a powerful prophet-like speaker, and we can see what would have been better. But further study suggests it is not quite so straightforward. David’s reprimand from God via Nathan suggests that his basic error was in not asking directly for what he wanted: Had you wanted more than you had, I would have provided it: women, power, and so forth. And Jesus speaks to Simon about the woman and seems not to avert to her at all. So these are not moral etiquette models, to be imitated by those who would be nicer to women than were Simon and David, or even Jesus!

In each case, the “prophet’s” words turn the tables in a way that is provocative, challenging. Nathan tells a parable in which the rich man sounds at least as much like God as like David. What can that mean? And Jesus inverts the logic of his instruction as well, saying not that she is forgiven a big sin because she was finally deserving of it, but that her great love occasioned her being forgiven. I can almost hear David saying, “But I do love Bathsheba a lot!” Whatever is preached needs to account for these unexpected language dynamics. If the prophets are not simply rebuking bad behavior, what else are they doing? Here David’s longer story helps us, since David is drawn consistently as being attached to God, whether sinning or not. I’d like to think that of Simon as well, since being a Pharisee ought not to exclude that his motivation is authentic and relational. Big love, deep relationship is the base of what is required for each of these sinful men to get into the forgiveness game, both receiving and offering it. Same for us. Before our sins can be dealt with, we had better be deep lovers. The nigh-invisible family of the adopted lamb (or perhaps their parabolic referent) and Simon’s extra silent guest become focal for us, surprisingly so, given their ostensibly cameo status in these readings.    

Barbara Green, O.P.

Last week I was diagnosed with pneumonia;I had been tired for a few weeks, but had not suspected why I had been so lethargic, not to mention moribund and feverish. I am going to bow out of writing for the "Good Word" for the summer, though not from reading the blog, or the Word itself, as one means to help me to recuperate. I have come to love writing on the Scripture in this online context. Though blogs can have a tendency to get rough and ready, fesity and nasty, I think the Bible, even where readers disagree on meaning or interpretation, helps to calm things down and keeps readers, writers and commenters on an even keel. The Bible demands our humility and our love as the word of God and asks that we look even at current events with an eternal eye. I never get tired of reading the Bible - it just gets better and better - and I love writing about it and sharing it all with you. So if the pneuma has not moved me to rest, but pneumonia has, I nevertheless look forward to speaking with you all again in Fall, well-rested and re-inspired to talk Bible. In Christ,

John W. Martens

Trinity Sunday gives us a wonderful moment to reflect on how mysterious God is, how little we can say no matter how vast our desire. It also prompts us to recall that cardinal Bible sin, idolatry: false claims about God, often overbalanced toward certainty and projection, i.e., making God too much like ourselves. John’s Gospel is the best place to find good language about the Trinity, while the Old Testament  offers less, with today’s passage from Proverbs suggesting a partner for God, albeit a creaturely one. What I find more helpful is Karen Armstrong’s description of how the Eastern medieval tradition read Genesis 18. Let me offer that passage for reflection:

One of the most famous icons of all times is The Old Testament Trinity by the fifteenth-century Russian painter Alexander Rublev...based on the story of Abraham and the three strangers, whom Rublev depicts as angels, messengers of the unknowable God. Each represents one of the Trinitarian “persons”; they look interchangeable and can be identified only by their symbolically colored garments and the emblem behind each one. Abraham’s table has become an altar, and the elaborate meal he prepared has been reduced to the Eucharistic cup. The three angels sit in a circle, emblem of perfection and infinity, and the viewer is positioned on the empty side of the table. Immediately Rublev suggests that Christians can experience the truth of the Trinity in the Eucharistic liturgy, in communion with God and one another, and—recalling the Genesis story—in a life of compassion. The central angel representing the Son immediately attracts our attention, yet he does not return our gaze but looks toward the Father, the angel on his right. Instead of returning his regard, the Father directs his attention to the figure at the right of the painting, whose gaze is directed within. We are thus drawn into the perpetual circling motion described by Gregory of Nazianzus. This is not an overbearing deity, demanding exclusive loyalty and total attention to himself. We meet not of the prosopoi [persons] head-on; each refers us to the other in eternal personal dispossession. There is no selfhood in the Trinity. Instead there is silence and kenosis [emptying of self].” (Karen Armstrong, Read more

If you have ever lived overseas for a period of time, or travelled overseas, you might have experienced the strange phenomenon of picking up whatever pop song was popular at the time and having it stand as your musical memory of a country, though its impact might have been fleeting even in the country of its origin. For me, the song is Niente Paura, by Ligabue, whose Italian lyrics I do not understand, except the title: “nothing to fear,” or “no worries.” The video is peopled with what seem to be troubled young men and women, weighted by the worries of the world, and at the end an elderly couple, who though world-weary share a deep love for each other. I think I get the video, even if not all of the lyrics. It seems to be suggesting that to struggle through the trials of this world can bring you to a deeply shared love, but it does not discount the trials themselves. Usually when I tell myself “don’t worry,” I fear something or am worrying myself sick. I am almost wishing my worries away with a kind of crude magic: if I say it, it will be so.

No need for the crude or the magic, as we learn in many of the readings for this week. Both the first and the second readings for much of the Seventh Week of Easter have this “nothing to fear” quality and it is not because everything is wonderful, but because things are about to get bad, at least at the human level where we all live, work and eat.  One of the themes that the readings this week are asking us, I think, is to grasp the reality of suffering. At a spiritual level this “nothing to fear” or “no worries” attitude can sometimes seem like a cop out, an inability to take seriously the pain or suffering that drives us to our knees or crushes hope. Christians can talk a lot about suffering in an ethereal way, as a means to avoid thinking about other people’s suffering or feeling their own.  Yet, the readings for this week balance the human pain and losses with the comfort that Jesus, too, will experience this loss and has transcend it not by wishing it away but by accepting it. The Apostle Paul, too, gives us a model of one who for the faith accepts the pain that will come his way for the greater glory of God’s kingdom. Both Jesus and Paul in the readings this week focus our minds on the suffering that will come and..... Read more

We are happy to feature this guest blog post from Francis A. Quinn, the archbishop emeritus of Sacramento, Calif.:

One of the most memorable moments of my life was when I conferred the Sacrament of Confirmation on 20 youths in San Francisco's Children's Hospital. The children were from 4 to 16 years of age and were dying from leukemia. I was apprehensive about how these young ones would feel about receiving Confirmation.

When I arrived, I found many of the children bald from chemotherapy and radiation, thin and pale, their faces as white as the pillows on which they lay. I imagined they would be resentful, angry at a God letting them die so young. I thought they might be rejecting God.

The cynical parody of the beautiful hymn "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow" came to mind:

Praise God from whom all cyclones blow.
Praise God when rivers overflow.
Praise God when earthquakes strike the steeple,
Bring down the church and kill the peoples.

Might these children be having similar feelings?

As I anointed their foreheads with the Chrism oil, their faces were peaceful, serious and with a look of awe realizing that they were receiving a gift from God. What faith they had.

Today, we are told that religious Faith is declining in America. Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris have written bestselling books about atheism. Billboards appear in major cities proclaiming that God is at worse dead and at best unnecessary. We live in a culture that is more and more secular. We live in a world reliant on science--and that is good.

Science is not an opponent of religious faith. Both are a part of God's truth. Evolutionist Charles Darwin did not want his discoveries to diminish faith in God. Albert Einstein believed in a supreme intelligent being. Today, Stephen Hawking sees God in the laws of the universe. One of the most gifted scientists Louis Pasteur said, "Because I am a scientist, I have the faith of a French peasant; if I continue to study science, someday I may have the faith of a French peasant's wife."

There are many challenges to our religious faith. We puzzle about a merciful God and the suffering of innocent children, women and men in the earthquakes of Haiti and Chile. Yet even in their suffering, these victims seem to draw closer to God. "Through the tear in broken hearts, God is finally seen." God knows the full answ..... Read more