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Our Friend Death?

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Over the past six years my life has gone in a direction I hadn’t sought, planned, or anticipated. In January 2019 my dermatologist called me with the results of a biopsy she had done. I had had several biopsies previously, so this wasn’t worrisome. They all had come out negative. I was in very good health, as far as I knew. This time the report indicated a cancer which the dermatologist labeled aggressive and unpredictable. It needed immediate specialized attention.

I met with an oncologist who described this cancer as “rare,” and already in stage two. (I never really wanted to be this special.) Two surgeries and years of immunotherapy took a huge toll on my body. The cancer passed to stage three. The treatments became more intensely powerful as the “wild” cancer resisted and persisted. Finally the infusions needed to be stopped because the side effects were devastating.

Scans to track the status of the cancer showed no new activity, so they were offered at longer and longer intervals. Could it be possible that we could relax – that the cancer was in remission? In July of last year, I discovered a new tumor in the area where the cancer had first appeared. Scans showed that, indeed, the cancer was back and had spread. Now stage four.

With the first diagnosis, I was forced to realize that I may never again enjoy another Christmas, or birthday, or see loved ones who live far away. Death became my shadow. Death was constantly shoving its way into my consciousness. Now this awareness has increased.

Death is a fact of life. Since my early years I’ve known that living things, including people, die. But now death has moved in, and isn’t going away. The realization of the fragility of life grows. We are born with no guarantees. I have lived a long life, but I certainly would prefer to have more years to savor, to share, to grow.

Is it possible to consider the inevitability of death as a blessing? Death certainly gives us perspective on what is essential and what is just blinding distraction. Death reminds us that our time here on earth is limited. Life is short. If we are free to choose, we need to opt for the life we truly desire to live. Waiting for some day when circumstances are finally right is futile. Some day never comes.

Death doesn’t care about our agendas. Death puts the lie to the illusion that we can live life on our terms. Death whispers continually, “Now is the time! Do it now! Live each day to the full!”

Every morning that we wake up, every moment that we have is precious gift. Death reminds us of this. St. Francis of Assisi named her “Sister Death.” Death offers perspective. St. Ignatius of Loyola has as a discernment exercise, when you don’t have clarity, to see yourself on your deathbed, looking back at an important decision you are about to make, to get a feel for what you would have preferred to choose. Other saints kept a human skull in their cave or room as a reminder. Death is clearly our relative, can be our companion, perhaps even a very uncomfortable friend. 

Annunciations

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Scripture scholars, with their careful study, indicate that what we call the Infancy Narratives of Jesus (Matthew chapters 1-2, and Luke chapters 1-2) were added after the remainder of their respective gospels were completed. And, of course, as with all the gospel accounts, the Infancy Narratives are theological statements directed to each one’s (Jewish or Gentile Christian) audience. They are composed to support the faith of their communities.

The Scripture readings for Advent have been selected to help move believers through this season with increasing awareness of the various comings of the Christ (in history, in each moment, at the end of times as we know them). This past week I was struck by the two “annunciations” almost at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 1:5-25 and Luke 1:26-38). The angel Gabriel is sent by God, first to the elderly priest, Zechariah, while he burned incense in the Temple at Jerusalem, and then to the very young woman in Nazareth, just going about her daily chores, named Mary.

Zechariah and Mary are both disturbed by the sudden appearance of this heavenly messenger. Gabriel reassures them that they have nothing to fear. Easy for him to say! Neither of these two are used to God’s personal envoy showing up unannounced. But from there, the responses of Zechariah and of Mary differ greatly.

Gabriel announces to Zechariah that God has heard his prayer. He and his wife, Elizabeth, will be having a son who will have an important role in God’s process of salvation – like a second coming of the awesome prophet, Elijah. The mighty angel even gives a name for the son to come, John.

Instead of being immediately filled with joy, Zechariah asks, “How can I know this?” And reminds the angel that he and Elizabeth are old.  Gabriel replies, “Look man, God sent me to give you this good news, but since you doubt, you will not be able to speak until all this is fulfilled. Sure enough, the old priest becomes mute. 

Six months after Elizabeth becomes pregnant, Gabriel show up in the little insignificant Galilean village where Mary, fiancée of a man named Joseph, lives. The angel begins by greeting her as one who has “found favor with God.” Mary is taken aback. “What might this mean,” she wonders. Gabriel offers what he obviously considers to be comforting words, and explains that God is asking her to bear a son and to name this son, Jesus. He continues with how great this child will grow up to be – a new David who will rule God’s people forever.

Mary asks the very concrete and highly practical question, “How can this happen since I haven’t had intercourse?” Gabriel basically answers, “Leave that up to God. God will bring it about.” And quickly follows up with news that Elizabeth will be having a son, also, in about three months. That’s enough for Mary. She replies, “I am God’s servant, may it be so as you say.”

Zechariah asks for some kind of proof. “How can I know this?” He is more focused on what he imagines he and Elizabeth are capable of than on what God can do. Zechariah has been praying exactly for a son, but seems to have lost confidence that this is possible, even for God. He represents the wearied faith of his people. He hesitates, but God knows his deeper desire.

Mary asks a straightforward functional question. “How can this come about, given my reality as it is today?” There’s no indication that, at this point in her betrothal, she has been praying for a son, much less a “new David,” conceived through God’s grace. She represents the faithful response of her people and their deep longing for a Savior. Most likely that is what she would have been praying for. Mary, unlike Zechariah, is open to let God be God, to let God determine what can be.

Each day is given to us as an annunciation of new possibilities. Do we tend to respond like Mary, with openness and trust? Are we too used to reacting out of doubt and fear, like Zechariah? God is bigger than our expectations, emotions, and what feel like hard facts. We have a choice on how we will welcome God’s invitations to more.

 

Mountains and Mulberry Trees

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A friend of ours, who had been diagnosed with an advanced cancer, lamented, “If only I had more faith, I would be cured.” Was this person lacking faith? Not at all! But maybe the person misunderstood what faith is. Unfortunately, reading the Gospels literally can give the impression that if we have faith, we can make almost anything happen. 

Some texts that are used to convince us that this is how faith works are: Mark 11:22-24 (with parallels in Matthew and Luke) (If we have a tiny bit of faith we can move mountains, or mulberry trees.); Matthew 7:7-11 (with parallel in Luke) (Ask, knock, seek, and it will be given to you). Do we really believe that God wants us to do landscape demolition, or to drown trees? Jesus, like many good storytellers, often uses exaggeration to make his point – especially to his disciples, who were often (like us) slow to catch on.

There’s also the compelling story of the desperate father who brought his son, suffering with severe epilepsy, (understood at the time as demon possession) to Jesus’ disciples to be healed. They can’t do it. When Jesus arrives and surveys the situation, the father turns and pleads with him for help, “if you can” (Mark 9:20-27 with parallels in Matthew and Luke). Jesus replies that everything is possible for those who have faith. The agonized father cries out, “I do believe! Help my lack of faith!” Jesus cures his son. Later, away from the crowd, Jesus’ disciples ask, “Why weren’t we able to heal the poor lad?” Jesus answers, “This kind can only be driven out by prayer.”

What is faith? How does it work? Here are some thoughts. In Scripture, faith combines the elements of relationship, trust and aligning our way of seeing reality. Faith is always about God and what God is able to do. It’s not about our spiritual strength, or lack thereof. Jesus, from his intimate relationship with Abba-God, knew with unshakeable certainty, that God desires all that is good for everyone. Jesus trusted Abba implicitly. And he saw all reality from the perspective of this loving God.

We develop this kind of relationship through regular, heart-to heart dialogue (prayer) with God. (This involves a lot of listening in silence.) From prayer we can come to clarity about God’s loving desires, and we can grow in trust that God wants what is truly good for us, and for all. We begin to see ourselves, and all reality from this perspective. Our doubts begin to fade. Still, we often are unable to see things from God’s perspective. Faced with seemingly insurmountable difficulties, we can pray with the suffering father, “I do believe! Help my lack of faith!”

One last consideration: In the garden on the Mount of Olives on the night before he died, Jesus prayed that the cup of suffering that he knew was imminent would pass him by. Then he added, “Not what I want, but your loving Will be done.” Abba-God did not miraculously save him from the indignity and grueling agony of arrest, ridicule, fake trials, abuse, torture, rejection or crucifixion. Did Jesus lack faith? No. Jesus trusted that Abba-God was capable of bringing some great good out of it all – even if he wasn’t able to see what it might be at the moment. 

 

Looking for Signs

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The United States has just gone through one of the most tumultuous elections in recent history. Countless people are emotionally battered and bruised on all sides. A small majority of voters feel that they have “won”. For those who were wanting, with their whole being, their candidate to prevail, only to fall short, there are feelings of pain, loss, and maybe even fear with the outcome. Perhaps they are searching social media to discover how this “terrible thing” could have happened. The same media that had fueled their previous optimism! They had invested so much personal energy, and now sense that they have come up empty. The others, “them,” are rejoicing. 

We are trained to win, and to avoid losing at all costs. Where will those who feel defeated look for hope now? Will they turn again to the same less than reliable sources that brought them to believe that their side would, and had to, win, or else their world would fall to pieces? What now?

In the Eighth Chapter of the Gospel of Mark (Mark 8:11-13) Jesus has just recrossed the Sea of Galilee. He has been healing, liberating, and nourishing people’s spirits and bodies. The poor, simple people are beginning to feel that they have not been forgotten and abandoned by God. They have a basis for hope. They feel loved and cared for.

Some Pharisees meet Jesus and confront him. They demand that he produce for them a clear sign from heaven as proof of his legitimacy. They have been continually probing and testing him. Jesus sighs deeply in exasperation (know the feeling?). He responds, “Why does this generation demand a sign? The truth is, no sign shall be given it.” With that, Jesus gets back into the boat to go to the other side.

What credentials could Jesus have produced for those who had wholeheartedly committed themselves to proving that Jesus was a fraud? They wanted to show to all that Jesus was an enemy of the Law, therefore an enemy of the people, and of God. They were blinded by their total focus on the result they desired more than anything. 

Too many people in our time are suffering from depression. Where do we look for reasons to keep moving forward day after day? What do we rely on to lift us and to help us to see that life continues to be worth investing ourselves in? Have we, too, become blinded to all that is around and within us?

God is still alive and well. Jesus’ work of healing and lifting people out of their imposed misery goes on. Goodness is all around us, despite “the facts” that seem to define our world. If we are looking to ground our hope in anything or anyone other than God, we will miss the wonderful signs that fill our lives.

 

 

Jesus Grew

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The narratives of Jesus’ birth in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke were added much later to the story of his life, ministry, teaching, crucifixion and resurrection. Maybe people were wondering about Jesus’ origins. As with everything about the Gospels, these depictions of Jesus’ infancy were not so much about historical facts, but were all about their theological message.

Matthew wanted to make it very clear that Jesus was the Messiah the Israelites had been waiting and hoping for so long. Yet it is the non-Jewish Wise Men from the East who recognize him. His own people, by and large, could not.

Luke’s aim was to show that Jesus belonged to all people, came from a humble background, so it is the shepherds, simple people who, because of their work were not able to keep all the details of Jewish Law, that receive the heavenly message and come to honor this wonderful, newborn baby. The important people missed the opportunity.

The last verse of Luke’s version of Jesus’ birth and childhood (Luke 2:52) notes that Jesus grew in wisdom, maturity, and grace before God and humanity. The mystery of God’s presence, in and through Jesus, is known as the Incarnation. Jesus is the enfleshment of God in human history.There is in him, seamlessly, both the human and the divine – however that can possibly be! But it seems that we have a tendency to think that what is divine in Jesus dominates and diminishes the human dimension.

The God part surely must have been overpowering, right? This isn’t what Christians believe. In the Letter to the Philippians, (Philippians 2:6-11) Paul quotes an ancient Christian hymn that says that the Son emptied himself of any divine advantage and embraced our humanity fully, from conception through death and beyond. Jesus is exactly like us, temptations and all, except that we sin (Hebrews 4:15). 

We grow and develop. Jesus grew and developed, like us, over time, little by little. He grew in wisdom, which is much more than knowledge. Wisdom is a gift of the Holy Spirit, given to those who are open to learn from their experiences and sufferings.

Jesus matured, which is more than just growing older. His body developed and changed, as did he mentally, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. He outgrew childhood and childishness. His ability to respond augmented – even his ability to respond to God.

Jesus advanced in grace before God and humanity. His ability to welcome and incorporate Abba-God’s inspirations became more and more acute. And all this showed in the way he interacted with others. They could recognize something grace-full about him.

Jesus grew. We grow. This means that we have the same capacities as Jesus to become more and more fully who God desires us to be. We just need to let God take the lead. Then we, too, will grow in wisdom, maturity, and grace. And it will show.

 

Wanting to See Jesus

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Herod the Great was expert at eliminating multiple enemies, or imagined rivals, especially among his relatives. He knew how to play the political game, ingratiating himself with Rome, and so got himself designated as king of Palestine, even though he was not Jewish, but Idumean. The Idumeans had been conquered by a Jewish king, John Hyrcanus (125 BC), and forced to choose between adopting the Jewish religion and customs, or to leave their homeland. Most Idumeans chose to stay, which meant they went along, in some way, with the demand to accept Jewish practices.

Herod was scheming, vicious, and power-mad. The story of the slaughter of the infant males recounted in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 2:1-18) depicts well his ruthless desire to hold onto power at any cost. He died in 4 BC. In his will, he divided his territory between three of his surviving sons, and bequeathed a few cities to a daughter. Herod Antipas became Tetrarch of the regions of Galilee (west and South of the Sea of Galilee) and Perea (east of the Jordan River). Antipas ruled these separated territories from 4 BC until his exile to Gaul in 39 AD. Herod Antipas was the Herod referred to during Jesus’ adult life and ministry.

Antipas wasn’t as monstrous as his father, but he was a schemer and did put aside his first wife in order to marry Herodias, the wife of his relative, Herod Philip (not to be confused with Antipas’s half-brother Philip). When John the Baptizer forcefully confronted him for this despicable act (although common among rulers), Antipas had John arrested and imprisoned. Herodias plotted, and succeeded, in having John beheaded in revenge for his audacity to dare question her status and welfare. Antipas cared more about saving face, than about saving John’s life.

Herod Antipas, like his notorious father, was surrounded by a cadre of followers, officials – those who always are drawn to power. These are the Herodians mentioned in the Gospels. Their main interest was to hold on to their own comfortable positions by doing whatever they could to keep Herod happily ruling. Of course, they were sensitive to any possible problems, kept their ears and eyes open for trouble, and reported everything to Herod. Their very presence was a deterrent to those who might be considering refusal to cooperate, or outright rebellion.

In the Gospel of Luke (Luke 9:7-9) Herod has had reports about Jesus, his teaching and his powerful works among the people. He wonders who this is, and most importantly, is he a threat to me. His spies tell him what the people are saying about Jesus: he’s John the Baptizer returned from the dead (thus his miraculous powers); Elijah returned to announce the imminent Day of God’s intervention on behalf of Israel; one of the ancient prophets who has come back to call Israel to fidelity to God… Herod knows that he has disposed of John, and dismisses talk of “ancient prophets.” Religion wasn’t a value or of interest to him personally. But this man is stirring up the “peasants.” He wants to “see” this Jesus for himself, so he can size him up, see what he’s really about.

The truth is Herod doesn’t want to see Jesus. He wants to see if this rabble rouser is a problem that he needs to take care of. This line from the Gospel caught my attention this time. Do I, do we, truly want to see Jesus, who he really is, not what we want him to be, not what others (in church?) have told us he is? What if Jesus isn’t what we’ve thought him to be? Do we only want to see the Jesus we’ve become comfortable with? 

It’s too easy to paint Jesus, make statues of Jesus, use some image of Jesus to justify our actions. Jesus is, and always will be, more than we can ever capture in our minds or imaginations. Perhaps we need to be a bit more careful around the mystery of Jesus. He’s not this, or that, but more and less than what we want or imagine him to be. We can better come to see who he is simply by hanging around him for a long time, through meditating on the Scriptures, especially the Gospels.

Look What I Did!

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Wise people say that becoming aware of whatever is moving us within is a first step to growth or other types of change. Is this movement helping us to be more attentive to others, more loving, better human beings, or not? Being conscious of what’s going on inside us can help to catch tendencies either to turning our focus back on ourselves, or outward toward those around us. Believe it or not, it’s not always easy to tell, because our outward focus may be an attempt to have others notice us. See how good she/he is!  or See how bad she/he is!

From our earliest moments, we want to be seen, noticed, recognized as special. It’s natural. Having others acknowledge us in some concrete way gives us a sense of connection and importance. This informs us that we exist. But, as we grow, this seeking attention might become a barrier to maturing. 

With so many mass killings today, especially in the United States, the perpetrator too often has been a victim of bullying. Others have not been able to accept and value their differences. The message they receive is, “You are not like us. You are strange. You don’t belong.” “You don’t matter.”  They come to such a desperate place inside, that knowing that they will almost certainly be killed is less important than having their name and photo on the front page of the newspaper. They will have finally done something that others cannot ignore. They will be recognized as having done something BIG.

The Sufi Masters, those desert mystics from the Islamic tradition, were said to have the ability to read a person’s character in that person’s face. What they saw in someone’s countenance was a person’s habitual way to attract attention, be valued, be seen as special –this is who I am. The problem is that this behavior didn’t flow from the person’s inner self, precious and embraced by God. It was an attempt to prove one’s goodness, worthiness, identity. Ego at work!

It can be a spiritual practice to stop, examine, and question what we are doing. Where is the impulse to do this coming from? God? Our desire to be recognized as good, right, important, noteworthy, outstanding, a someone? My personal favorite is knowledgeable.

Take Off That Mask

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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. 

What Are Ears For?

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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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Dragnets and Discernment

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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.