This reflection is inspired by an insight from the New Testament scholar, Gerhard Lohfink. 

At the heart of Jesus’ preaching is the Reign of God. Jesus believed and understood that the Reign of God is happening here and now. The gospels report Jesus saying that this Reign of God is with us, among us, within us. But it’s up to us to hear and to respond to the invitation to step away from other kingdoms or empires or allegiances or incompatible involvements and to choose to embrace God’s Reign. Whether we are searching for something more or better, or we are just going about our daily activities, the Reign of God is here, waiting to be discovered and wholeheartedly welcomed.

God desires that we, all people, be well, whole, free, healed and happy. Jesus’ ministry embodied this. How totally opposite this is to many of the rulers, bosses, or leaders in our world! They want to use others to make their own lives better in some way, regardless of what this does to anyone else. Fear, greed, violence, lust govern them.

The human heart longs for fullness. Nothing less will ever be able to satisfy us. No matter how much we have, it can never bring us peace or joy or a sense of connection. God’s Reign promises the fulfillment we long for. But it comes at a steep price. We need to be ready to give ourselves completely to God’s project.

Why would we do this? Why would we invest our whole being in the Reign of God? Lohfink suggests that it’s because suddenly we find ourselves seized by an overwhelming sense of rightness, joy and belonging. Because our eyes are opened to a bigger picture of reality and our hearts are confirmed in our deepest desire, we can say, “Yes! This is what I truly want to be part of! This is who I am!” From that point on our lives have a clear focus and direction. 

And this life-engagement differs from person to person based on who we are – our history, our gifts, and our temperament. But all contribute to the transforming and transformative energy of the Reign of God. It’s not necessarily about doing big or extraordinary things. Everyone’s effort, within each person’s vocation, aids in bringing more of goodness into our world. Where God reigns, our hearts find home, and our lives make life better for all.

Thanks to those who proposed topics for reflection.  This is a response to one of the requests.

When the early followers of Jesus tried to make sense of the amazing and redefining experience that they had had, with and of Jesus, the only religious categories available to try to “fit” Jesus into were from their Jewish roots and traditions. But the uniqueness of the mystery of Jesus went far beyond their old beliefs and practices. He was new wine to their old wineskins.

These first disciples wanted to understand and to explain what they knew in their hearts, memories and shared stories. So, when the “Jesus communities” strove to comprehend the incomprehensible they fell back on images and titles from their shared history such as “Prophet”, “Messiah” (The Anointed One), “Son of Man”, “The One Who is to Come”, and “Son of God.” Here we’ll look at two of these that were attached to Jesus: Son of Man, and Son of God. 

In the Israelite culture, as in many contemporary ones, it would be impolite for someone to speak directly of themselves, using the pronoun “I” for example. So, frequently, when the gospels have Jesus referring to himself, he uses the phrase, “Son of Man.” “The Son of Man has”… instead of “I have.” Another common usage of the phrase, “Son of Man” is a replacement for a human being or human beings. “The Son of Man is”… instead of humanity is.

Where this can get a bit confusing is after the Christian community’s generational reflection on Jesus, who he was, and what he meant. They turned to a mysterious figure in the Book of Daniel. Daniel was a very late prophet in the history of people of Israel. His work is very influenced by the Greek world into which the ancestors of Abraham and Sarah were scattered.

Daniel, in Chapter Seven, depicts some of the prophet’s visions, including about “one like a son of man (human being)” coming into God’s presence and receiving an everlasting dominion. The Jewish followers of Jesus, concluded that Jesus had to be this promised heavenly ruler. He was a Son of David after all! They linked Jesus to this apocalyptic figure.

To the scholars, it’s also quite clear that Jesus didn’t, and wouldn’t, identify himself as the Son of God. It would have been blasphemous in his culture to claim a special or definitive sonship from God. This identification is most strongly made and held by the community responsible for the Gospel of John, two generations after Jesus’ time on earth. They had had much more time to explore the theological implications of the Jesus event.

The whole people of Israel understood themselves as the son of God. God birthed them as a people. God was their father. They also attributed this title to angels or other heavenly beings. Jesus certainly would have seen himself as part of the people of Israel – a son of God in that sense. 

In the Greco-Roman world, which is the historical context for Jesus and the early Christians, the title “son of god” was customarily applied to rulers, heroes, or other extraordinary individuals. The emperors, over time, considered themselves divine, “sons of the gods.” When the centurion (Mark 15:39) who commanded the troops responsible for executing Jesus saw how Jesus bore his suffering, without hatred, without any emotional breakdown – like a true hero, the officer declared, “Surely this was a son of god.” Of course, later on as awareness of the fullness of who Jesus is increased, the first followers re-translated this wondering cry of the pagan soldier as, “Surely this was the Son of God!”

Faith is a living reality. It either grows or it dies. The gospels are concrete witnesses to the growth of the faith of the primitive Church. Scripture scholars have identified various layers in the gospel texts that we have, and are able to link each layer to a stage in the development of these essential Christian documents. Each new layer reflects deeper faith and clearer understanding of the phenomenon of Jesus – Son of Man, Son of God. 

 

The story of the patriarch, Jacob, in the Book of Genesis (Genesis 25:19-49:33), like the whole of Genesis, is fascinating mix of mythology, folktales, campfire stories with a thin, at times nearly invisible, thread of deep faith. Jacob struggles with his twin brother, Esau, beginning in their mother Rachel’s womb. Esau is born first, but Jacob came out holding tightly to his brother’s heel. The sibling rivalry between these extremely different fraternal twins continues throughout the rest of the biblical narrative about them.

In one version (Genesis 25:29-34) Jacob is cooking a lentil stew and Esau, coming in from the field, is very hungry. Esau asks Jacob for something to eat, and Jacob – always the wheeler-dealer and trickster – says, “Sure. Just sell me your birthright.” Esau is more concerned with his empty stomach than with his birthright as firstborn, so he answers, “I’m starving to death! What good to me is a birthright?” The firstborn would succeed his father as head of the family and possess authority over all his brothers and sisters.

In another version (Genesis Chapter 27) their father, Isaac, is old and blind. Jacob, with the help of his mother, cheats his brother out of the blessing due to the first born. Now Jacob, according to their tribal traditions, is Esau’s lord. Esau becomes enraged and plans to kill Jacob after his father’s death. Rachel hears of this and sends Jacob away. But this isn’t the end of their contentious relationship.

Jacob survives and prospers because of the combination of his cunning and God’s blessing. Esau does fairly well himself, but can’t forget that his brother wronged him. Esau wants revenge. In Genesis Chapter 32, Jacob manages to avoid a direct confrontation with Esau and tries to appease his brother with large gifts of livestock. One day it was getting late. Night was coming on – when the primitive peoples understood that spirits or demons came out. Esau was in pursuit of Jacob. Jacob sends his wives, children and goods across the river Jabbok and returns to the other side to camp for the night.

During that night something, or someone began to wrestle with Jacob, trying to overcome him. Was it a demon? An angel? Was it God? Jacob grappled with this spiritual opponent until just before sunrise. The contest seemed to end in a tie. Jacob demanded a blessing. The opponent touched Jacob’s hip, dislocating it. When asked, the mysterious figure refused to reveal its name, but did concede the blessing of a new name to Jacob. In bestowing a name, the spiritual wrestler indicates superiority over Jacob. From now on Jacob will be known as Israel, which in Hebrew wordplay comes out as the one who has contested with both man (ish) and God (El).

We almost always would prefer that our spiritual growth and development would come without struggle. Yet we have things from our past and our previous choices and habits that inhibit or hinder us from living as fully as God desires. Sometimes we become content just to go with the flow of our life instead of questioning and discerning. God is both incredibly patient and gentle with us and, at the same time, tenacious.

God will not just let us remain as less than we might be. So, God challenges us to wrestle over whatever holds us back. If we put aside our fears and contend with God, God will prevail, and we will receive a new freedom and a new identity – blessed by God in a totally unexpected way.

I’m returning to a text in the gospels that I’ve commented on before. Sorry if this is a repeat. In John’s gospel, there are only seven of what we would call miracle stories. John calls them “signs”. The third of these signs (John 5:1-14) happens in Jerusalem during one of the great pilgrimage festivals celebrated for seven or eight days around the Temple. There was a double pool in the area called Bethesda, near the Temple, surrounded by five covered walkways. It had become a kind of open-air gathering place, or hospice, for those with illnesses or disabilities who had no one to care for them. There was a legend that said that every now and them an angel of God would come and stir up the waters in the pools. The first person who made it into the waters after this would be healed. 

Jesus is in the Holy City to celebrate the Feast and comes across a man who has been sick for thirty-eight years lying among a large crowd of equally needy people. Jesus recognizes that this man has been in this condition for a very long time and asks, “Do you want to be well?” The man has thought long and hard about his life, or lack thereof, and has thirty-eight years of excuses for why he can’t possibly be better than he is. Jesus simply says to him,”Get up, take your mat and walk.” Surprise! The man does just this.

It is the Sabbath. Some Jewish would-be authorities stop the one who has been healed and tell him, “It’s against the Law for you to carry your mat. That’s doing work on the Sabbath” The man replies that the one who made him well told him to pick up and carry his mat. They ask him, “Who told you to break the Sabbath Law?” He replies, “I don’t know.” Later Jesus finds him in the Temple area and tells the man, “You’re well now. Don’t keep sinning, or something worse may happen to you.”

I remember hearing this gospel passage when I was thirty-eight years old and crippled interiorly from early childhood. The question, do you want to be well, haunted me. Part of me strongly wanted, but part of me didn’t want to be well. I had all kinds of well-reasoned excuses for why I was the way I was. I was functional, but I was not well. I wasn’t ready to do whatever was necessary to become more fully myself.

We can have plenty of rehearsed responses to ourselves or to others who might ask us if we want to be free, fully alive and more loving- like this is just the way I am! Not so! We can be well. We don’t even need to know who Jesus is. But we do need to do what the Spirit urges us to do to be well.

We need to stand up, pick up whatever comforting or cushioning mats we have relied on to justify our un-well-ness and carry them away to the nearest trashcan. And if anyone challenges us with how wrong it is for us to be different than they thought we should be, ignore them. If we choose to fall back into our old bad habits, it can be more difficult to become well again. Just as Jesus informed the person who was cured, “If you really want to live your life in all its fullness, stop doubting, hiding behind the past, and feeling sorry for yourself. Live this newness!”

It has to be this way, because I want it to be this way! This is my life and I’ve decided what’s right, what’s possible, what’s good for me! I’ve even asked God, (or told God), to agree with me 100%. I’ve become so accustomed to, and comfortable with, the parameters of my life that any other way of living cannot be what God wants for me. I would need to change. And that’s very upsetting for me. Besides, I have consulted all kinds of authorities, who just happen to agree with me and with what I think and want.

Does this sound extreme? Maybe. Maybe not. When my plans are disrupted, when how I expected my day, or my life to go, when what I really wanted (and decided was necessary), doesn’t happen, how do I react? Do I feel this change, unexpected occurrence, malfunction as a personal attack or affront? There’s nothing personal about a car that won’t start, a salesperson who’s having a bad day, an accident, technology that begins to do strange and unreliable things. Life happens, and not according to my agenda or my willing it to be one way or another.

If I’ve been deeply wounded in my ability to trust anyone, if I’ve felt it necessary for my well-being, or even survival, that I can only rely on myself, it can seem almost impossible to hand my life over to anyone else. Not even to God! Sure, I can give God a place in my life, but I may not be able to let go of this illusion that I can and must control my time, activities, and access to my heart. God, in effect, comes only after me and my vigilance, which I have unconsciously convinced myself alone keeps me safe.

If God is God, and not some more or less important component in my life, peace and happiness only come when I give up all claims to being a part-time god, imagining that I run the show, or any part of it. So many holy people have learned and taught that surrender to God, putting God as number one in my life, is the only way to wholeness. Is this easy? No! If I have experienced trauma, even multiple “little traumas,” my life might have become a path of fearful avoidance. Caution is good and necessary to help remain safe and well, but it also can become a substitute for being fully alive.

And it’s not just wounding that can displace God in my life. If those I have relied on to teach and to guide me have presented me with a set way of seeing, believing, and behaving, this indoctrination can also take over for God as my sole authority and can replace the will of God, which is revealed anew in each and every moment. Wasn’t this what Jesus confronted the religious teachers and authorities of his day about? They had put the Law, which is a very beautiful gift from God, above God. The love, mercy and compassion of God cannot be limited, or enclosed, or carved in stone. If I am so caught up in, or because of, what has been, I will certainly miss what is God inviting me to, here and now. Hopefully I can choose life on God’s terms.

 

In the gospel readings chosen for liturgy this past week were a number of parables. The thirteenth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew is a collection of some of Jesus’ well-known teaching stories. Before looking at one of these parables, it helps to remember how the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures came into being, and what is their main purpose. The First and Second Testaments are theological documents, grounded in the faith of their authors, editors, and communities, meant to help us to learn something about who God is and how God does. The Scriptures invite us to grow in understanding of, and in living out, what God desires of us, in the way God desires us to live – with God’s help, of course.

The Bible (the word in Greek means a library), an amazing collection of books, is not meant to be taken literally. The individual books were written, rewritten and compiled across decades, and in some cases, across centuries.These writings are not primarily history, science, biography, geography, even though they have elements of all these in them. They are God-inspired documents composed by human beings at particular moments in time. Our Scriptures come with all the gifts and limitations of insight, knowledge, experience available to the era, or eras, in which they came to be in the form we have them today.

 Jesus used parables as a teaching tool. They are open-ended bits of wisdom drawn from nature and from human experience. Because they are open-ended, they can seem to end very abruptly, leaving us to reflect on and to wonder about God and our life. The impact or lesson of a parable is meant to reach, to touch, to move each individual just where they are at the time they hear the story. Unlike fables, parables don’t come with a moral, or stated conclusion. Unlike allegories, parables don’t give symbolic meaning to every aspect or detail of the story. Any moralizing, allegorizing or conclusions were added at a later time in the process.

Back to the Gospel of Matthew’s “Parabolic Discourse.” The kingdom of heaven is like a net cast into the sea. It took in fish of every size and kind. When it was full they dragged the net ashore, sat down, put the good fish into buckets, but threw the less than good fish away” (Matthew 13:47-48). This is a story taken from the lives of those who worked in the fishing industry on the Sea of Galilee. It’s about recognizing and sorting. Because of the apocalyptic ending added later (Matthew 13:49-50), the focus of this parable has been turned toward judgement at the end of days. The annexed conclusion draws us away from Jesus’ original meaning.

The original parable directs our attention to how important it is to sift through, to see, to recognize, and to choose what is truly good. Jesus trusts that we, if we are paying attention and with practice, like those Galilean fisherfolk, can sort out what is good from what is unloving, hurtful, dishonest, self-serving… This is what discernment is about. Yes, we can fool ourselves into believing that what is good is bad, or what is bad is really good. Usually we do this when we are feeling rushed or afraid. That’s why we need to “sit down” and focus on the choice at hand in order to recognize and to choose the good before us and discard all that is not from God.

Deste do primeiro livro de nossas Sagradas Escrituras, é muito claro que Deus tem um relacionamento especial com toda e cada pessoa humana. A descrição da criação do Adão e da Eva (Gênesis 1:27 & 2:7 & 2:22) indica que Deus nós modelou do barro, (da terra, da lama, do solo) e inspirou-nos do seu próprio sopro (Espírito). No segundo versão desta historia, Deus fez Eva duma costela do Adão, a lateral dele. Esta significa que todos nos, homens e mulheres, estamos igual no valor e dignidade. Deste o inicio, Deus contemplou sua criação, e nos viu como muito bom. Deus só faz o que é muito bom – sem exceção! 

Na tradição do nossos antepassados hebraicos, nos temos esta sabedoria, referindo a Deus: “Você ama tudo que existe, e não odeia nada do que faz” (Sabedoria 11:24). Não como nossa tendência humana, Deus não da valor e, mais tarde, tira, despreza ou destrói. Deus nos ama (de novo todos nós). Nós estamos preciosos para Deus. 

O ministro inteiro de Jesus estava dedicado a proclamar, e fazer concreto e tangível, Abba-Deus’s amor tudo-inclusivo. Jesus entrou em, e tocou a vida entre aqueles que a cultura dele marginalizou e rejeitou, e convidou eles mesmos para se vêem como bem-amados de Deus. Enquanto a sociedade só os viu como rótulos, Jesus viu, e compartilhou, a Boa Nova com gente, pessoas que tiveram nomes, famílias, historias, sonos e desejos.

Nós lembramos quando os discípulos, numa tentativa de proteger Jesus para o trabalho “mais importante” de proclamar a Boa Nova, impedirem algumas crianças da presença de Jesus (Marcos 10:13-16). Naquele tempo, crianças estiveram consideradas quasi nadas. Certo que elas tiveram a afeição das suas próprias famílias, mas a sociedade geralmente as viu como a menor importância. Jesus repreendeu seus discípulos e acolheu as crianças. Ele disse que, “O reino de Deus é para aqueles, e para todos como aqueles.” Todos nós precisamos a presença e a benção de Jesus! Todos nós, no fundo dos nossos corações, queremos estar bem perto ao Jesus.

São Paulo continua o tema na carta aos Romanos (Romanos 8:38-39). “Estou convencido que nem a morte nem a vida, nem o presente nem o futuro, nem das alturas nem das profundezas, nenhuma criatura do céu ou da terra ou duma outra região, nos poderem afastar do amor de Deus em Cristo Jesus.” Jesus deu tudo para todos nós. Nós podemos sentir ou imaginar que Deus não esta contente conosco, mas Deus não tem nossas julgamentos internos. Apesar de nossas escolhas e ações que sugiram de habito, medo ou de egoísmo, Deus ainda nos ama.

O problema é em nossos corações fechados ou só parcialmente abertos. É nós que tentamos excluir pessoas que nós julgamos como indignas da vida, da educação e oportunidades, do amor.  O amor de Deus é total, absoluto, inclusivo, e universal. Como um pai, como uma mãe, Deus ama todos suas crianças. Deus deseja plenitude da vida, com todas as suas dimensões, para todos. O coração de Deus só tem capacidade para todo mundo. O convite dele é que nós expandimos nossos corações para acolher, com amor, cada pessoa que nos encontramos ao longo do nosso caminho. Não é fácil, mas, com Deus, tudo é possível.

Por favor desculpe meus erros.

When I was a younger man, in the seminary and after, I became fascinated with knowing about prayer, and how to pray. I sought out and read countless books – classics and more recent ones. The experience of moving closer to the divine spurred me on. I wanted to know what prayer is and how prayer works so that I might be able to pray “better.”

Certainly everything I read was not helpful to me. But there are a few gems that still seem true. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, author and spiritual explorer, when asked, “How should I pray?” answered, “Pray as you can. Don’t try to pray as you can’t” There is no formula for praying that fits every single person. We need to learn what way of praying fits our life, with its concrete circumstances, as it is today.

Too often we can read about prayer, or hear about a way of praying, that may be very beautiful for a monk or nun in a cloister or monastery. But if we try to practice it, we either give up praying because we can’t pray this way, we do damage to the way of living given us or to our health. Or we might end up with an awkward, clumsy, ill-fitting attempt at prayer – which is more about the how than about who we are trying to open ourselves and our life to. This is not prayer.

An example! When I left the seminary I had no idea where my life was going nor about what God desired of me then. My sister put me in touch with a good priest who advised me, “If you want to know God’s will for you, you need to spend a whole hour a day in prayer.” For years I twisted my life around, avoided plenty of opportunities that would have been good for me, and forced myself to carve out a block of an hour’s time to fulfill this invitation. I really did want to know God’s will, and this way of prayer was helping.

When I was led to join a L’Arche community, with its intense daily reality of  shared living, the community’s leader clearly pointed out to me that my hour of prayer was a luxury in the face of the needs of our people and home. When I complained to my spiritual director about this, he said, “Love is more important than any style of prayer.” I let go of that way of praying.

There’s another bit of wisdom that came to me from one of those books on prayer. A priest wrote that when people in New York City, whose lives are extremely busy, come to him to explain why they can’t possibly pray, he asks them, “Do you have three minutes to yourself a day?” For him, three minutes in which you put aside all else and focus all your attention on God is the absolute minimum amount of time for prayer. Everyone can find three minutes for God.

Then there’s Meister Eckhart, the medieval, German Dominican mystic. One of his most famous quotes is, “If the only prayer you ever pray is “Thank You,” that is enough. Every day is a gift and filled with gifts. We have so much to be grateful for. It’s easy to say, “Thanks!” Pray as you can.

There was strong Jewish community in a town in Eastern Europe some centuries ago. The community was very independent and had all services necessary for its people to live somewhat comfortably, and in peace. The community had one shoemaker, a poor and simple man with a loving wife and children. This shoemaker was responsible to craft and to repair all the shoes among the people.

Of course, there was a rabbi, and there were a banker and a baker, farmers and merchants, a butcher, a bookseller, and a beggar… Some were wealthy, others had enough to get by. A handful of men had the resources and availability of time to join the rabbi every morning for prayer at the synagogue.

The shoemaker went to work very early and stayed late six days a week. On the Sabbath the shoemaker and his family enjoyed resting and remembering God’s faithfulness and goodness to their people. The shoemaker savored the Sabbath with time to relax and to feel God close to him and to his family.

But every other morning of the week, as the “important” men of the community went to synagogue, the shoemaker would look out the window from his bench, think of God, and sigh from the depths of his heart and soul – wishing he could join them in prayer. After many years of toil, his children having grown and started families of their own in nearby towns, the shoemaker died at his workbench. 

The shoemaker went straight to heaven, and there was summoned by the One Who Alone Truly Is to come near to an honored place. The shoemaker, a bit confused and not understanding at all what was happening dared to ask, “My Lord, is there some mistake? I have only lived the simplest of lives, with almost no time to even think of you.” God answered gently, “My son, six mornings a week you sighed your desire to be close to me with your whole being. Welcome.”

This story was given to me many years ago. It’s a favorite. 

This is another in a series of responses to requests from readers. It seems important to repeat myself (maybe multiple times), because certain concepts are crucial to living spiritually. Here it’s the fact that fear is the greatest obstacle and danger that we deal with as human beings. Fear, when we give in to it, can drag us away from God. But we are not helpless in the face of fear. God has given us tools to deflect fear’s fatal attraction.

Do not fear. Do not be afraid. Fear not! Different versions of this invitation from God are probably the most frequent sentiment expressed by God in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. God knows how crippling and destructive fear is. God does not want us to be trapped in fear. Yes, we do, and will, feel fear. that’s not the problem. Life can be difficult and hazardous. The problem is how we choose to respond when we sense fear.

Fear wants to close us in on our self, to sow worry and doubt, to unhealthily question what our hearts know to be true. In the First Letter attributed to St. John (1 John 4:18) the author states, “There is no fear in love, but love that has come to maturity casts out fear.” What is mature love? Mature love is rooted in God’s love for us and for all. Love that is free to give and to receive mutually. Love that doesn’t expect anything in return. Love that knows deeply that all is gift. Fear cannot find access to our heart when God’s love is flowing through us. 

Though love is our best resource to counter fear, it’s not the only one. Love is one of what are known as the three theological virtues. The others are faith and hope. These three are not so much about “doing good acts,” but are special gifts from God that help us to keep our focus on God, and not on our fearful ego (what’s going to happen to me if…) so that we can live freely.

Faith is the inner certainty that God is God, that God is love, that God loves me so much that nothing can shake me – unless I give in to fear. Mature faith fills us with the conviction that, as St. Paul wrote to the early community at Rome, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31b). This is because God is for me, for us, for everyone. We know this to be true, not with our minds, but with our whole being.

Hope is living out of what we believe about God and God’s love – no matter what. Mature hope holds us unswayed by circumstances or apparent outcomes. We trust that God is with us, loving us, loving all, whatever happens. Each moment offers new possibilities since God is our companion. We choose to live fully,  lovingly, fearlessly.