About two-thirds of the seventh chapter of the Gospel of Mark focuses on what true religious practice looks like. Jesus does this by contrasting the behavior and teaching of some of the Pharisees and Scribes with a simpler, truer and more straightforward way. (Simple is not the same as easy.) In the Gospels the Pharisees, Scribes, Sadducees and Elders are frequently presented as opposing Jesus, his way of living and his teaching. What is Jesus’ complaint? What is it saying to us?

On top of the Torah, over centuries, those who studied these five books (known as “The Law”), tried to spell out the details and implications of what is written. This is how they ended up with 613 commandments – much beyond the Ten Words God spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai. These were first passed on as an oral tradition. So far, so good – at least as intentions go. The experts just wanted the people to be holy. But who could possibly follow all the little sub-points extracted from the Law? Only those who knew them and were well-off enough to live independently. This created a class system based on religious practice = the Holy and the Sinners.

Jesus comes along, accepts and befriends “sinners,” and presents them with an image of God who is Merciful Love, instead of Law-enforcing Judge. Jesus also reduces all those commandments (human rules) to love of God, love of neighbor, and love of self. Do this and you have fulfilled God’s requirements. No wonder there were clashes with those who clung to the 613!

When those who considered themselves in good standing with God confronted Jesus about some of his disciples, who had failed to properly wash their hands before eating, according to the tradition, Jesus responded by quoting the Prophet Isaiah. “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Uselessly they worship me, teaching humanly manufactured precepts as if they are from God” (Isaiah 29:13) “You put aside God’s commandment and hold on, with a death-grip, to human traditions.” Jesus calls them out as hypocrites.

A hypocrite, from Greek theater, was an actor who covered his face with a mask – hiding who he was in order to play a part. Jesus is saying, “You are phonies, pretending to be righteous, holy, religious. It’s all a show!” Who are you really? Drop the pretense! Put down the mask! It’s remarkable that Jesus was so much more comfortable with the simple people who were just being themselves, who weren’t trying to look good, who weren’t trying to impress, who weren’t putting on a show. They allowed others to see who they really were, as they were, with their gifts and their faults.

Do we put human teachings above the commandment to love, trying to look like we are doing what God wants? Are we hypocrites? With whom, or before whom, do we feel the need to put on a mask – to pretend to be who we are not inside? Who are we trying to impress? Is our favorite mask being right, or appearing humble, or looking strong and having it all together, or seeming helpless…? Do we play a part in our relationships instead of being ourselves? Are we acting, or are we simply who we are? Jesus invites us to let go of the fears that drive us to the deceit of hypocrisy. God is truth, and loves us madly – just as we are. 

In Mark’s Gospel (Mark 4:9), with parallels in Matthew and Luke, at the end of the parable of the sower, Jesus comes out with this command, “Everyone who has ears needs to use them!” Most of us don’t have physical hearing impairments. Jesus seems to think that listening and hearing are essential actions for growing spiritually. This is a challenge in our world that is so filled with noise.

We get so used to continuous sound that we can come to believe that this is normal. We talk on the phone at every opportunity, convinced that we are “keeping in touch” with others. What is called “white noise” is the background, to which we add music, news, talks, instructional or inspirational tapes, television or radio, to the point where we don’t have a moment of inner silence.

There is also the constant chatter of voices within us. Voices of others join with our own voice to provide a never-ending commentary on our self, our life, the world, people in our life. So, even if we escape the external din, we still are avoiding quiet. How, then, can we hear the voice of God?

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we don’t want to hear what God is whispering deep within ourselves. If we hear God’s voice, we can’t pretend that what we are doing is what God prefers. We will need to face the truth and either ignore God, or we will need to change. Real change is scary and difficult.

If we spend our time roaring, bellowing or pontificating, truth – that wonderful gift of God – cannot penetrate our defenses. We can believe that we are always, and in everything, right. Learning to listen requires effort. God’s first language is silence. In silence God can speak to our hearts. But we need to develop a habit, a minute or so at a time, just listening, open to hear. Over time, with regular practice, perhaps we will be able to be still for five, ten or twenty minutes, or longer.

We have ears. They were necessary to our basic survival in ages past. They are a key to our living fully today. If we can hear, we also need to use our ears to listen to what lies deeper – beneath, and beyond the noise. God wants to quietly tell us that we are totally loved, and that we have something essential to contribute to building up God’s Kingdom now.

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Some scholars like to point out that Matthew’s Gospel is divided into five sections (or “books”). Matthew almost universally is acknowledged to be shaping his gospel for a Jewish audience. So this gospel presents Jesus as the new Moses (the liberator and lawgiver), and the gospel is the new Pentateuch (five books of the Law). One whole section in the proclamation of the Kingdom is made up of seven (number representing completion or fullness) parables. 

The final parable of the seven is about casting a dragnet into the sea (Matthew 13:47-50). A dragnet had weights along its edges so that it would sink to the depths. You would throw the net out in a way that it would open up as wide as possible, it would gently sink in the water, when the net reached bottom you would slowly drag it back in. This way of fishing was very good at collecting all kinds of fish who feed and dwell at different levels in a larger body of water. It also would haul in plenty of other debris off the floor of the lake or sea. 

Now it’s easy to imagine that not all the fish dragged in were good for eating, and most of the junk was good for nothing. As happens with many of Jesus’ sayings, and especially his parables, the final editing of the gospels added in commentary trying to explain and defend the faith to the particular community addressed by each gospel. So here someone later added to the straightforward story of Jesus a reference to angels, the end of time, judgement and a fiery furnace for whoever they saw as unfaithful, or other “bad guys.” This was not from Jesus.

Jesus is not talking about judgement. In the Gospels of Matthew (Matthew 7:1-2), Luke (Luke 6:37-39) and John (John 7:24) explicitly, and in Mark (Mark 4:24) implicitly, Jesus emphatically states, “Stop Judging!” By judging he was referring to our tendency to place people in heaven or hell based on our point of view, or on how they appear to us. Jesus is saying, “Look, we don’t have God’s vision or perspective. Deciding our or anyone else’s condemnation or final reward is none of our business.” Besides God is incredibly (literally), infinitely merciful, according to Jesus.

Rather, this parable is about discernment. Our eyes, minds, hearts are like dragnets. In our lives we take in, experience, run into all kinds of people and events. Jesus is asking us to discern – to carefully evaluate which of these help us to grow in awareness, love, compassion, forgiveness. Which help us to open up, become freer, more fully alive, more human? And, on the other hand, which close us in on ourselves, on our pre-formed ideas and opinions, on what feels safe and secure? Which are like slow-acting poison for us?

As always, Jesus is inviting us to be transformed, using the gift of discernment to help us to grow each day a bit more fully into who God knows us to be. Leave the role of judge to the all-loving God, who knows us humans much better than we know ourselves. With Jesus, it’s just the facts.

On July 22 each year (except on Sundays) we commemorate the feast of St. Mary Magdalene. This woman has been designated as the Apostle to the Apostles. Yet in the history of Christianity she has long been mischaracterized as a reformed prostitute (e.g. The Chosen) or as Jesus’ lover (e.g. The Last Temptations of Christ). There is no evidence in Scripture for these reputations. Quite probably this “prostitute” label was attached to her by some misguided, pious churchmen who assumed that any woman with “demons” was a sinner and had to be guilty of sexual transgressions. 

Whatever facts we can gather from the Gospels are few. Matthew, Mark and John only mention Mary of Magdala, among other women, in relation to the crucifixion, burial and resurrection of Jesus. All the male disciples had fled. It seems helpful to remember that women, from birth,  were legally considered property of some man. Their main task was child-bearing (especially sons) and child-raising. Of course they would work domestically to help support the household through housework, baking, handiwork or field work, etc. So, it would be very difficult for these evangelists to see women as more than this. Luke, as often happens, is the exception.

Mary was from the town of Magdala, home to a prosperous fish processing industry on the western side of the Sea of Galilee. Since she was (Luke 8:2-3)  one of the women who accompanied Jesus and contributed financially to his ministry, she most likely had made her money in that successful local business. Luke, alone, mentions that Mary had been possessed by seven demons. Whatever her difficulties had been, they seemed to have been considerable – which accounts for the number seven. To say Mary had had seven demons is to indicate that she had big problems – possibly some type of mental illness and/or epilepsy. She felt as if she owed her well being and her life to Jesus. Luke doesn’t mention Mary by name at the cross, just says that those women who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee were there.

While all the Gospels refer to Mary among the women who went to the tomb on the first day of the week (our Sunday), John (John 20:1-18) gives her a special shoutout and a speaking part. In this Gospel, Mary goes to the tomb by herself  before daybreak, discovers the stone covering the entrance rolled away, and runs to tell Simon and the “beloved disciple” (us?). They run to the tomb and find it as Mary reported. Simon and the other disciple can’t understand what this means and return to their hiding place.

While the others leave, Mary stays, weeping out her grief. She bends down and has a vision of angels who ask her why she’s weeping. Mary responds, “They’ve (someone has) taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where to find him.” Mary straightens, turns and sees a man standing nearby. He, too. asks, “Why are you weeping? Who is it that you are looking for?” Mary thinks this is the caretaker for the garden where the tomb is and states, “Sir, if you have taken him, tell me where you put him. I will go and take him off your hands.” It is Jesus who says just her name, “Mary” in that way only he did. Mary, confused and overjoyed at the same time, cries out, “Rabbouni” (my Master).

Jesus responds, “Don’t hang on to me. I have a mission for you. Go back now to the community and tell them for me that I am on my way back to my Abba and your Abba, the One alone who is God.” Don’t hang on to me. Don’t cling to me. Let me go. Do what I ask. Give this consolation to the brothers and sisters gathered together. Mary does this.

How much of our spiritual life and growth hinges on our ability to let go, to not cling or hang on to the past! We need to let go of the ideas, understandings, and ways of doing things that no longer are helping us to move on, to move forward. Prayers, devotions and other religious practices can become habits, which may hinder us from exploring new ways that might lead to maturing in our faith.

We are invited to continually look for Jesus who goes before us. Our mission from Jesus is to be ready to announce to those around us the Good News with the renewed energy that comes from encountering the Risen One as we go about our days. We need to be open. We need to keep our hands, hearts, minds, agendas flexible. We need to listen, when we are seeking, for the One who knows us, and calls us, by name.

 

Maybe it’s been this way forever, but we weren’t aware. Growing up there were no social media through which the whole world flows into ours, and not always gently. Today we can know, with great detail, the wonders and the atrocities happening around us. Often this bombardment fills us with a sense of discomfort and inner unrest. Anxiety is intensely attacking us. Even very young children are suffering and em from this atmosphere of anxiousness.

I’m not sure that the churches don’t, perhaps unwittingly, contribute to feelings of interior agitation. A message, not from Jesus, might come forth from them that sows seeds of doubt about one’s goodness and eternal fate. Society can put out the warning that there’s something very wrong with you if you don’t (behave, dress, think, choose, etc.) as the current norms or style dictate. Anxiety is coming at us from all sides. How might we deal with it?

The final verses of Matthew’s Gospel Chapter 11 (Matthew 11:29) give us a clue. Jesus first says, “Take my yoke and put it on.” Yoke was one of the words used by the Israelites to refer to the Law. Over time, the Law became translated into 613 commandments, instead of the Ten. It became very difficult for the average person to follow the Law then. Only a privileged few succeeded. What is this yoke that Jesus asks us to put on? He condensed the Law into love God, love neighbor, love self. Still not easy, but much simpler.

Then Jesus says, “Learn from me.” He offers his own life, rooted in God’s absolute and all-embracing love, as an example. When we focus on God’s love and not on all the ways we might get life wrong and get lost, we don’t need to pay as much attention to the other voices expecting, or demanding, us to live according to their rules. Jesus, alone, is our model and reference.

Jesus continues, “For I am meek and humble at core.” It helps to understand the virtues of meekness and humility as practiced by Jesus. Meekness is in no way weakness. Meekness is strength that doesn’t need to prove itself by making others feel it. If we are strong, in some way, thanks be to God! The meek person is confident of his/her strength, and knows it comes from God. There is no type of bullying in meekness. Humility on the other hand is both knowing and embracing the truth about ourselves – we are neither God nor trash – but little, gifted and beloved. And that’s okay.

The end of this verse is, “And you will find rest for yourselves.” If we know we are loved by God, and we know who we are and don’t need to prove anything, interior rest will be ours. If we are trying to love ourselves and those around us as our way of loving God, of course imperfectly (perfection is neither human nor a virtue, God knows us better than we know ourselves, that we’re meant to be perfectly imperfect), we can be at peace. There are no artificially manufactured demands on us from within us or from anyone else. This is Jesus’ antidote to anxiety.

 

British Scripture Scholar, J. B. Phillips put it this way: “Give as you’ve received, without any charge whatsoever.” In the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 10:8), Jesus is sending out the Twelve on their first solo mission. He gives them some instructions, including this reminder.

How quickly we forget. Religion has sadly, and too frequently become associated with money – large quantities of it. From the selling of indulgences and high offices, to the mega-churches preaching the “prosperity gospel,” we have fallen again and again into the money-power connection. Those with much money have the ear of those at the top. Those with less means can wait their turn in the outer chamber.

Perhaps if church leaders in every age had been rooted in the Gospel that Jesus proclaimed, and had listened to the prophetic voices around them, we would not have the painful divisions among us. This scandal of disunity greatly hinders people from other religions to take Christianity seriously. We have been given a rich and beautiful message to share, but the witness of our lives too often doesn’t match. We need to walk the walk, not just say the right words.

This saying about receiving and giving first struck me back in the late 1960s. Our whole faith is rooted in Jesus, who is the epitome of grace – free gift of God. If we think about it we can probably see that all that we are and have has been given to us, directly or indirectly. If we are able to do anything, others have given us life, raised us, taught us, trained us, guided us, etc. If we have anything, or have become anything, we may have cooperated with the gifts given us, but they are still gifts. We are not to claim them or hoard them, as if they were our possessions.

The invitation is to give freely, without charge. Certainly we wouldn’t think of making our family members or friends or others pay for what we share with them. But we can put a price on our gifts – not money of course. We have a tendency to attach an emotional or psychological toll to our giving. People who know us well have come to realize that if they accept our offer of help, it will cost them. If we have this tendency, it would be more honest just to ask for money.

The gift-tax we charge might be expected praise from the receiver, or a certain action or behavior, or a feeling of inferiority and indebtedness in them or favors in return. It is no surprise if they avoid asking us for anything else. Jesus points us to the boundless generosity of the Supreme Giver. God gives all freely, expecting nothing in return, and invites us to follow suit as best we can. We have received so much!

There are several sayings attributed to Jesus in the Gospels that are difficult to understand. Probably many of them are lost on us because of the different customs, popular phrases of that time, and not always being able to know who, exactly, is the audience being addressed by each particular passage. The land and culture of Palestine 2,000 years ago is quite different than the global, media-driven reality of 2024. This is not to say that we have any better grasp of what life means today than we do of life in the time of Jesus.

One of these sayings that always puzzles me is in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 8:18-22). Jesus has realized that his mission is larger just than being the local healer in Capernaum. Their were still crowds of people pressing around him to be cured and freed from their “demons,” when he gave the order to his disciples to go over to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, to get on with their broader mission.

Right at the moment of their departure, a teacher of the Law approached Jesus and said, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go!’ Jesus, instead of responding, “Follow me,” uses examples from nature to give this learned man a picture of the cost of discipleship, what it will mean to follow him. “Foxes have their dens, and birds have their nests, but the Son of Man has (read “I have”) nowhere to lay his (my) head.” Jesus is saying, “Look friend, if you follow me, you will not have a nice, quiet space, and hour upon hour to study the Law. I don’t even know where I will sleep tonight.”

At that point, one of Jesus’ followers says to him, “I’m ready to follow you, Lord, just let me go home and bury my father first.” Jesus answers, “You follow me now, let the dead bury their own dead.” Sounds harsh. This disciple only wants to fulfill his duties as a son. What does Jesus mean? 

In countries with hot climates, either wet or arid, those who die are buried very quickly, because the corpse begins to decay rapidly. And the average person cannot afford the luxury of embalming. So, this disciple is saying, “My father is alive now, but he will die sooner rather than later. I’ll wait at home until then. After his death, I’m all yours.”

Jesus, with his enigmatic reply is saying, “Let those who have crafted their lives into a coffin of certitude and security take care of those who are similarly dead. You follow me into the adventure of insecurity and uncertainty of those who choose to be alive to the challenges and invitations of this moment, and entrust themselves to the security of God’s promise of love. This is how you will help to bring to birth God’s Kingdom more fully today.”

Jesus had a great sense of urgency about his mission. He didn’t know how much time he would have to do what Abba God is asking of him – to proclaim, and to inaugurate, the coming of God’s Kingdom. Anyone who chooses to follow him needs to have the same sense of urgency. “Now is the time! The Kingdom of God is at hand! Are you committed to this, or not?” A response of, “Yes, I will, but…” is lacking the necessary immediacy. There’s work to be done! Just look around you!

What are we waiting to have happen before we do what we can to make our world a better place for all?  What are our excuses and rationalizations for not acting decisively for what we know is right and good? How are we proclaiming and bringing about God’s Kingdom of Love, Truth, Freedom, Justice, Peace today? How do our lives demonstrate a priority and commitment to promote, here and now, these Kingdom values? How alive are we?

Now to the second gospel passage mentioned in the last post. Jesus has been trying to get his disciples to focus on and to accept the reality of the moment. He’s told them what history teaches, prophets who push against the status quo end up, not in glory, but, too frequently, dead. After all they’re on their way to Jerusalem, the center of the power brokers who cling to the letter of the Law in their attempt to keep God pleased with them (and, by the way, keep themselves in positions of privilege and power.) The disciples don’t get it. They’re still arguing about which of them is the greatest. Who’s going to have top billing in the new kingdom which Jesus is about to establish?

In the Gospel of Mark (Mark 9;38-40), John, again, comes hurrying up to Jesus to warn him that someone, “who’s not one of us,” is using Jesus’ name to drive out demons from suffering people – whatever demons meant at that time. John continues, “We tried to stop him because he doesn’t belong to us.” As if to say, “We’re the only ones who have the right to help people using your name.” Jesus’ reply is telling. “Don’t stop anyone from doing powerful deeds for good. Whoever does this in my name can’t be opposed to us.” Then Jesus adds, “Anyone who is not against us, is for us.”

From the beginning of his ministry, Jesus has consistently taught that God’s family is not limited by blood, nationality, manner of worship, or social status (not even the designation of “sinner” excludes someone.) When he’s told that his family is outside the crowded house in which he is proclaiming God’s Word, Jesus asserts that anyone who takes in God’s Word and puts it into action in their lives, however they can, is his family – like all those around him who are hungering and thirsting for his message of an all-embracing, all-loving God. And like his mother, who struggled to understand him and his mission. She also treasured and lived God’s Word as best she could.

Our world still suffers from this disease of tribalism. We feel more secure thinking we can pigeonhole people, nations, and religions. Whatever they are, they’re not like us. It’s not possible that they belong, because they’re so different. We’re right, so they can’t be. Jesus invites us to recognize any good that people do, and to acknowledge that the source of all good is God – even if they who do good don’t believe in God, or at least not like we do. Look for the good that people are doing, and thank God. Our tribes tend to be too small. God’s tribe is incredibly extensive and wonderfully inclusive. 

 

Shortly after King Solomon died, the people of Israel split into two kingdoms, due to the short-sighted and immature leadership of Solomon’s son, Rehoboam, who succeeded him. Rehoboam refused to listen to the wisdom of his more experienced and older advisors who counseled him to begin gently with the people. Instead, Rehoboam followed the advice his young buddies who told him that he must be hard and demanding. There was rebellion. Two tribes chose to stick with Rehoboam, and the Temple in Jerusalem. These became known as the Judeans.

The other group of ten tribes went north to the area we know as Samaria, chose their own king and set up a holy place in Bethel. The animosity between these two “kingdoms” of brothers only grew over time due to mutual grievances and reprisals, big and small. They called themselves the Kingdom of Israel.

When the northern tribes were conquered by the Assyrians, in 721 BC, The Assyrians, as was common practice, took all the people of wealth, skill, education and power into exile, under their eye, and transplanted captives from various other nations in Samaria. This greatly reduced the likelihood of rebellion against the captors.

Now the population of Samaria consisted of the poor, ignorant, and incapacitated Israelites, and those from other nations and religious traditions. This mixing of religions only increased their loathsomeness in the sight of the “pure” Judeans. In short, the Judeans hated the Samaritans. The Samaritans despised the Judeans. This tradition of enmity was faithfully passed on down from generation to generation.

Which brings us to a couple of gospel passages. The first, in Luke’s Gospel, the turning point in the action happens near the end of Chapter Nine (Luke 9:51-56). Jesus has determined that it is time to confront his fate, and so turns resolutely in the direction of Jerusalem. He senses that it is only in the Holy City that the kingdom he came to announce could really receive significant impetus. The most direct route to Jerusalem crosses the territory of Samaria.

Jesus, when he travelled with his band of disciples, would send messengers ahead of them into the towns on their way, to prepare the townsfolk, and to make ready for any hospitality he and his group might require. Very shortly after beginning the journey, Jesus sends the Sons of Zebedee, James and John, ahead with this task. The first village these two enter refused to offer welcome to Jesus and his followers because their destination was Jerusalem, the hated capital of their bitter enemies.

James and John, instead of going on to the next town, return to Jesus to ask, “Master, do you want us to call down fire from Heaven to consume that inhospitable place?” (No wonder Jesus nicknamed those brothers, “Boanerges” or “Sons of Thunder”!) Jesus responds, “No way, let’s move on.” It is as much to say, “Keep your eyes on the goal, and live like you are part of God’s Kingdom, not continuing the rivalries and hatreds of the past. Like it or not, we are all brothers and sisters.” We all belong to the same “tribe”.

 

In the gospels, especially in the Gospel of John, the writers put some very interesting, at times, puzzling, words into Jesus’ mouth. Almost always, what Jesus says is challenging. There’s such a line (John 20:17) that was in the liturgical readings during the Easter season. Mary Magdalene went before dawn to the tomb where Jesus’ body had been placed just before the Sabbath. What a disturbing surprise when she finds the huge stone that covered the entrance to the tomb had been rolled away. Even greater was her shock to look in and discover that the corpse of her beloved friend was gone. She breaks down in deep sobbing and weeping.

Meanwhile, backing away from that horror of emptiness, she turns and there’s a man standing there. Mary quickly assumes that he is the person responsible for caring for the garden that surrounds the tomb. The man speaks with great tenderness and concern, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it that you are looking for?” Mary blurts out, “Sir, if you have taken him away, just tell me, and I will go get him.” The stranger lovingly says  her name, as only Jesus has ever done, “Mary.” Instantly, Mary recognizes that this is Jesus – somehow changed, and yet the same.

Mary’s first reaction, of course, is to reach out to embrace the one so dear to her. Jesus says, “Don’t hang on to me.” This seems unnatural, uncaring. Jesus explains that his return journey to his Abba is not yet complete. And, as he tells the disciples later, unless he goes, the promised gift of the Holy Spirit cannot come. As long as Jesus was physically present with them, he was limited in ways the Holy Spirit is not. Through the Holy Spirit, the ongoing, loving presence of Jesus continues beyond the boundaries of time and space.

Don’t we prefer to hold on to all the good that we have experienced? When much seems just right it’s difficult to believe that if we move beyond that comfortable known space something more, something better awaits. But we need to let go. We need to let go of the past, and our cherished dreams about the good old days, to live fully the gift of this present moment. If our hands are full, we cannot receive anything more. The same fact applies to our lives. 

It may be that the emerging experience that our lives move into is not as pleasant or easy as what we think we once had. But if we try to cling to what has been, it’s much harder to welcome the gifts God offers now to help us to live this new reality well. As John Bradshaw used to say, “Life moves forward, not backward.” Jesus invites us, “Don’t hang on.”