So What?

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How many people are essentially helpless and vulnerable?  These human beings cannot “make it on their own,” They can’t because they don’t have the basic capacity or skills necessary to even begin to navigate life in our world. If they don’t have others to care for them and to protect them, they can’t survive. These people are completely unable to produce anything tangible or to directly contribute to the economy of their village or country. To some, maybe to too many, they are useless, a burden, a waste of resources. Perhaps they are among those to whom Jesus referred when he spoke about the littlest and the least.

It is easy to question why they exist. What is their purpose? What could possibly be the meaning of their lives? Of what value are these totally dependent human beings? This is utilitarian thinking, not Gospel-thinking. 

In primitive societies, and in times of raw survival, these folks are near the top of the list to be eliminated – for the good of the others. Let them die, so we can live. They are too old, too frail, too broken, or too disabled to be of any practical good. We can’t waste our precious, limited, vital supplies on them. It’s sad, but we must let them go.  

Tragically, there have been times and places, even in recent history, in order to try to create a society of the strongest, the best, the brightest, anyone considered to be less than optimally human was disposed of. In modern parlance they were categorized as “losers.” This pigeonholing of people exalts some and tears others down. And losers, even those who get the silver medal, are worthless. This way of designating human beings offers a twisted rationale for dismissing, or directly or indirectly killing, those whom the “winners” label as such.

It is incomprehensible that some modern countries today, especially those that live with super-abundance, still think so primitively. They continue to see some people as less than human, and therefore not deserving of being treated with dignity, respect, or even basic care. As always, the true reason is fear. Fear of what? That there won’t be enough to go around? Absurd!

Fear that these “defective” creatures are truly human? But they’re different than us, so they can’t be like us. Having a “THEM” to fear is a great distraction from what really is the agenda behind it: Those with more, merit more. Those with less can do without. If they can’t, too bad.

The United States Congress is made up of people who have plenty in terms of comfort and financial security – all they need and much more. Yet the majority of its elected representatives, at the request of the administration, is looking for ways to legitimize cutting all kinds of funding that is meant to support and assist the most needy among us. They back up their civilized cruelty with tissue paper rationalizations. There is no thought about how their decisions are going to devastate human lives.

Pearl Buck, American writer and novelist, once said,  “The test of any civilization is in how it treats its most vulnerable.” Sadly, we continue (humanity continues) to fail this test. Jesus once said, “Whatever you do to the littlest and least you are doing to me.” Our response, too often, is, “So what?”

Tradition, Tradition!

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Tevye, the milkman, protagonist of the musical, The Fiddler on the Roof, reflects on tradition in song. Tradition is that which holds and binds together the lives of his little Jewish community in Tzarist Russia in the nineteenth century. Every aspect of their days and weeks is dictated by tradition. Yet, Tevye experiences the tension between the way they live, rooted in the past, not really understanding why it is this way, and the changes that are forcing the present upon them. 

The word tradition comes from the Latin verb traducere, which can be translated as to hand on, to deliver, to entrust. What do we hand on from generation to generation? Customs, practices, formulations of ideas?  It is easy to take traditions for granted, not think too much about them. 

In the Gospel of Mark (Mark 7:1-13) Jesus is having a heated discussion (argument) with some Pharisees and teachers of the Law – those who were entrusted with honoring the tradition handed down to them, they believed, from Moses. These guardians of the interpretation of God’s instructions to their people gathered around Jesus to see if he was faithfully keeping the traditions of the ancestors. They had their suspicions.

They noticed that some of the disciples of Jesus were eating without having washed their hands. (Many of the ancient traditions had to do with practical hygiene and avoiding food-borne illnesses.) This doesn’t necessarily mean that the disciples hadn’t washed their hands, but that they hadn’t washed in the way the teachers of the Law and the Pharisees thought was correct. The tradition was to wash your arms all the way up to your elbows. Since the disciples were doing this wrong, it must be that Jesus hadn’t taught them according to the practice of their forebears.

Jesus responds to this criticism by pointing out that these accusers constantly insert human rules into their interpretation of the Law of God. In fact, their rules often became more important than God’s commands. These authorities had a very intricate and comprehensive set of precepts, which they imposed on the people, to basically cover all aspects of life. Jesus was inviting them back to the Source from which all their detailed instructions supposedly had been derived. 

The teachers of the Law and the Pharisees were much more concerned with “doing it right,” to maintain ritual purity, than with God’s intent that people be well – to the point where it became impossible for ordinary folks to comply. Jesus reduced all the commandments to these essentials: love God, love neighbor, love yourself (Mark 12:29-31). And he extended the concept of neighbor to be radically inclusive – anyone in need. 

This argument between those entrusted with interpreting the Law and Jesus reminded me of a quote that has stayed with me for about 40 years. “Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.” I didn’t know, at that time, who had first said these words, but they resonate with truth.

Here is the rest of the quote:  “Tradition lives in conversation with the past, while remembering where we are and when we are and that it is we who have to decide. Traditionalism supposes that nothing should ever be done for the first time, so all that is needed to solve any problem is to arrive at the supposedly unanimous testimony of this homogenized tradition.” (Jaroslav Pelikan – American, Christian Theologian and Professor)

Much has been entrusted to us by those who have gone before us. Are we to carve these customs, ideas and ways of acting in gold and set them up, untouchable, on an altar? Isn’t that idolatry? To hold on to the past as if it can adequately help us to navigate our times is traditionalism – clinging to dead faith for dear life. We’ve always done it this way! It was good enough for them, so it’s all we need.

Life is constant change. The reality now is markedly different from the times of Moses, or Jesus, or any other previous religious authority. God has given us intelligence and the ability to choose. We are meant to use these gifts to discern what are God’s ways for us in the world today. Tradition, in its richest and fullest sense, requires that we respectfully take what we have been given and make it efficacious for our times.

 

What Are You Looking For?

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Very early in the Gospel of John (John 1:38) Jesus asks this question of two disciples of John the Baptizer whom John directed to Jesus – the real deal. “What are you looking for?” It’s often used at the beginning of a directed retreat to help the retreatant to focus on what is it they really want from this time apart and in silence with God. The two disciples seemed to be surprised by Jesus’ turning around and directing this question to them. All they can come up with is, “Where are you staying (or abiding)?” Not very well thought out!

What Jesus was asking these followers certainly can be taken on several levels, and could be interpreted as “Why are you coming in this direction?” or “What do you want?” or, more likely with Jesus, “What are you most deeply seeking in your life?” Jesus has a tendency to push us and probe us and invite us to look at what’s really going on within us.

Life comes at us day by day, always moving, drawing us along, with little or no time to step back and consider what it’s all about. It’s as if the days fly by. There are, and will constantly be, pieces of reality clamoring for our attention and action. Are they all with the same urgency? Are they all of utmost importance? In the midst of the noise and busyness we cannot begin to sort anything out, prioritize, or just let some of it go. No wonder our life can feel overwhelming!

We don’t need a retreat to stop and hear Jesus asking us, “What is it that you truly are seeking?” We know the answer within ourselves. We want to be free and happy and fully alive. To make this our priority, in the midst of everything we have decided must be done now, demands courage and sacrifice. We need to let go of our illusions.

We don’t and can’t control anything. We can’t keep ourselves, or anyone else safe from all harm. We can’t guarantee that everything we want will come to be. All our efforts won’t make what we think should happen, in fact happen. It will ever be easy to slip back into our familiar, comfortable routines, because we cling to them, because we’ve convinced ourselves that this is the right way to live.

What are you looking for? Give yourself five minutes to step away from all you are caught up with. Look into your heart. What’s missing? Time just to be? Joy? A sense that you’re fine as you are? What have you deprived yourself of while you’ve distracted yourself with so much other than what you need?

No matter what response we give to Jesus, if we continue along his way, he will answer, “Come and See.” “Come away and you will see.” Go ahead. Give yourself this invaluable gift. It’s worth it.

More of What?

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The persons who edited the Gospels, putting them into their final form, very often grouped themes or sayings of Jesus together that seemed, to them, to be related. For example, the Gospel of Matthew has been deliberately arranged into five major sections as an echo of the five books of the Law (Torah or Pentateuch). These five books were the heart of the religious understanding of the people of Israel. Matthew presents Jesus as the new Moses bringing God’s new Law – the Law of love, compassion, mercy – to the people.

In the Gospel of Mark, the fourth chapter begins with a series of parables and parabolic sayings related to the Reign of God. Since no one had an audio or video recorder, it’s quite likely that Jesus didn’t just talk nonstop using images and phrases that are so loosely connected from one to the next. And out of context, some of these sayings don’t make a lot of sense. Jesus spoke to each person or crowd that came to him with words and sayings directed to their situation, needs or questions, based on his own observations and experiences.

One of the difficult verses in the gospels is placed at Mark 4:25. To the one who has, more will be given, and to the one who has nothing, even what they have (or think they have) will be taken away. Has what, or doesn’t have what? Jesus could very well be referring to the people’s own lives. In their day, as it seems to continue for many today, those who have get more, come out on top, do very well. Those whom society forces to the bottom end up struggling with less and less. The wealth of the mighty does not lift up those who have less, it drives them further down. 

The context for this verse that seems to be floating free is the Reign of God. In the gospels, Jesus is constantly contrasting God’s reign with the kingdoms and powers that ruled their world. Whether it was Rome, the great oppressor, or the petty tyrants Rome put in place to oversee parts of the empire, the impact on the little people was the same. They worked harder and ended up with nothing. Cruelty was the accompaniment for their daily bread.

Jesus promised that if the people embraced the Reign of God they would know Shalom – the peace that comes when everyone has what they need to live well. This could begin here and now if they (we) so choose. He also warned that if they rejected God’s reign what they had would be taken away. Only when everyone has the necessities of a full human life can there be the possibility of any real peace. 

This can only come to be when we, as humanity, have a complete change of mindset / attitude / way of seeing (metanoia). We need to reject the inner and outer forces that drive us toward the survival attitude of everyone for himself or herself. The Reign of God is about everyone is in this together, working together in whatever way we can to bring about Shalom for all. Every person would then have more.  

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.