We are immersed in a society that thrives on exchanges, trades, and deals. Everything gets an assigned value – whether this is conscious, said out loud, or only calculated within. It’s great if you can come out ahead (at least a little) of whomever you’re dealing with. But, whatever you do, don’t you dare get taken, cheated, or come out on the short end of any transaction. And it doesn’t matter if the transaction involves money, goods or even in the ebb and flow of personal relationships. We think that this is how the world works. Of course it isn’t.

Matthew has the most parables, and they’re packed into one of the five sections of his Gospel in what has been designated as chapter 13 (since the original had no chapters or verses). The Gospel has a pair of these stories back-to-back, which is meant to drive home the same message: the treasure hidden in the field and the pearl of great price (Matthew 13:44-46). They imply a question, “What is God’s Kingdom worth?”

Matthew speaks of God’s reign, which begins with Jesus’ life and work, as the Kingdom of Heaven. Mark and Luke use the phrase, the Kingdom of God, which is perhaps more likely what Jesus called it. Matthew is always super attentive to the sensibilities of his Jewish audience. He doesn’t want to give offense, where possible, while clearly presenting Jesus as the new Moses, the Messiah, the Promised One. For Mathew, Jesus did not come to do away with the cherished traditions and the Law, but to bring them to the fullness that God intended. The Jewish people had developed a practice of not using the name of the Most High, whom they commonly referred to as Lord. Jesus, on the other hand,  had no qualms about talking very personally and directly about God.

In the parable of the treasure hidden in the field, it seems that the one who comes across it is not looking for it, but kind of stumbles upon (or over) it. The field just happens to be the shortest distance between here and there. But, the finder immediately understands the immense value of the treasure, covers it up again, and hurries off to locate the one who owns the field in order to buy it – using all the money the finder has. Jesus says that God’s Kingdom is like that hidden treasure. We are to keep our eyes open to recognize God’s Kingdom waiting to be discovered along our daily path. And (this is the tough part) we are to give all we have, all we are to God. Like Jesus, holding nothing back.

The parable of the pearl of great price has the same message. The main difference is that the merchant is in the pearl business and is systematically seeking the finest pearl possible. There is nothing casual or accidental here. The merchant knows what he or she is after, and recognizes THE pearl when finding it. Like the finder, the merchant gives all to have her or his heart’s deepest desire.

The Kingdom of Heaven, the Kingdom of God, is God’s loving presence and action among all creation, bringing about that which is truly good, beautiful and of true value. We might call this free gift of God, grace. In order to build up this Kingdom, we are invited to freely give our whole selves. Isn’t that the core of love, self-gift, with no reservations? But it’s so hard to escape the market mentality that pervades so much. We are constantly tempted to withhold something, just in case. We don’t want to look like fools, easy marks, patsies. So the coming of God’s Kingdom slows, because we are not all in.

The people who claim all or part of the book known as the Bible are fascinated with the number seven. Seven, among some ancient peoples, was considered a number of perfection, in the sense of completion. It refers to the combination of the totality of the spiritual realm, symbolized by the number three, and the totality of the physical, symbolized by the number four.

There is a Christian tradition around the gifts which come directly from God’s Spirit, namely that there are seven of these. The list of the sevenfold qualities comes from two versions of the Book of Isaiah the prophet (Isaiah 11:2), the older Hebrew and the (relatively) newer Greek. They are: wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, strength and fear of the Lord, which comes out as piety in Greek. Piety in the Grace-Roman world was a highly prized gift. Piety gives us a pretty strong clue as to what “fear of the Lord” means. 

In the classic Latin poem, the Aeneid, the protagonist, Aeneas, is given the designation, pious. It is the consummate praise. Piety expressed a person’s total commitment to his or her responsibilities – to God, family, country, creation… Being pious had nothing to do with a saccharine, devotional appearance or behavior. Christians added piety to Isaiah’s original six.

The Scriptural sense of fear of the Lord is to regard God with awe, reverence – as sovereign and supreme in our life.  Our actions are to be directed toward whatever God indicates to be true and right and good. All our responsibilities flow from this. Fear of the Lord is not about being scared of God, or of what God’s going to do to me if I mess up. God knows us better than we know ourselves, that we are funny, little, imperfect and fabulous. God doesn’t want us to live in, or out of, fear. Fear, in this sense, is not a gift of the Holy Spirit.

About three-quarters of the way through the Gospel of Mark (Mark 12:13-17) an unholy alliance of Pharisees and Herodians, sent by the Jewish leadership, comes together to try to trick and trap Jesus – one of several such attempts to find a way to get rid of this rabble-rouser, by making him publicly state something self-incriminating. Jesus is in Jerusalem at Passover time. Big crowds are hanging on his every word, hoping for some hint that now is the time for him to reveal himself as a conquering Messiah backed by the irresistible power of God, to rid them of the Romans and restore Israel to its rightful place in the world.

Many influential Pharisees are offended that Jesus doesn’t take the Law of God as seriously as they think one should. Especially someone who is teaching and influencing so many. The Herodians are only interested in keeping Herod, their source of status, privilege and wealth, hanging on to his tenuous position as “king.” Herod, son of Herod the Great, ruled the outlying territories of Galilee and Perea. (And those Galilean’s, like this Jesus, were constantly causing headaches – drawing negative attention from Rome). If the Romans become upset or displeased with Herod, his days (and theirs) at the top of his tiny heap are finished. They’re afraid that Jesus will start a riot, or worse, a rebellion, and Herod, responsible for Galilee, will look incompetent as a ruler.

This band of emissaries, oozing with hypocrisy, comes to Jesus and begins with a ridiculous attempt to butter him up. “Rabbi (you can almost hear them choke on this word) we know that you’re a straight-shooter and that you don’t give a fig about anyone’s opinion. You teach God’s way according to truth. Tell us then, is it against our holy Law to pay taxes to Caesar? Help us understand. Is it right for us to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” Jesus responds, “What’s the point of this test? Show me the coin with which to pay taxes.” So they huddled up and produced from their purses the silver coin, the value of a day’s wages for a simple worker, and brought it to him. Jesus proceeds to ask them, “Whose image, and whose inscription is on this coin?” “Caesar’s,” they respond.

Here’s the rub. The Caesars had decided and declared that they were divine – like, you know, a god. To have the image of a false god would be idolatrous for an Israelite. How humiliating for them! The Israelites were forced to carry around and use this filthy symbol day in day out.

Jesus states, “Okay, pay back to Caesar what belongs to him. But pay to God what belongs to God.” What belongs to Caesar? What can he claim as his own? Some coinage? What belongs to God? In what can we see God’s image? How about all of creation? Everything that is good, true, loving, beautiful, harmonious, united! The Book of Genesis declares that each and every human being is handmade in the image and likeness of God. What do we owe to God?!?

Christians have long pointed to the Feast of Pentecost as the day that the Church was born. For some time after Jesus had completed his post-Resurrection appearances and returned to Abba-God, his followers, along with Jesus’ mother, continued to gather to pray and to wait for what would come next. Jesus had promised that they would know through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost is another of the celebrations borrowed, and reinterpreted, from their Jewish roots. It came 50 days after Passover, and was also known as The Feast of Weeks – originally to give thanks for the wheat that was ready to harvest. For Christians it marks the launch of their mission as Church – a different kind of harvest.

Luke’s account in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:1-13) is filled with symbolism. For Luke, the mission needs to begin from Jerusalem – the capital of the People of God (as they referred to themselves). The city is overflowing with pilgrims who came to commemorate the Feast together. Suddenly, where Jesus’ little community is gathered, there comes the sound of a strong wind. Then something like flames of fire appears over the heads of those in the room. These are signs from the Hebrew Scriptures of God coming down with power on the people at Mount Sinai.

These people are filled with the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Love. And this Spirit impels them to begin to speak to the pilgrims about God and Jesus and the need to change their way of seeing reality, and their way of life. The pilgrims, from so many nations, hear and understand the Galilean speakers’ message. How can this be? God must be at work! Of course, there are some who attribute this charismatic event to the speakers having indulged in too much strong drink – and so early in the day!

This gift of hearing and understanding would call to mind the mythic story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9). In the story, people all shared a common language, and they decided, one day, to build a tower to heaven. Because of the shared language, this enterprise was doable. They didn’t need any divine assistance to achieve heavenly bliss. They could bypass the god or gods and do whatever they pleased. So, God, looking down at the construction project, decides that humanity’s arrogance has gone too far and proceeds to confuse the languages. The people start babbling and are no longer able to understand and cooperate. They separate and scatter into smaller groups around the world.

This is another example of an origin story. Imagine a child asking an elder, “Why are there other peoples, and why do they speak strange words?” It makes for a wonderful nomadic campfire tale. And the Israelites, having seen the high, stepped towers, like the ziggurats, during their exile in Mesopotamia, attribute this gross and sinful attempt to their enemies in Babylonia. Only pagans would try such a stunt!  

The coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost creates the possibility for humanity to come together, to hear and to understand one another, no matter the nationality. It undos the fiasco of the Tower of Babel. We now have the opportunity to unite in building up God’s Kingdom, as God desires. We can join forces to end all the divisions that weaken our efforts to make this world better for all. Meanwhile, our broken and divided world continues to babble.

 

Sorry for the long silence. Of course, there are plenty of reasons.  Prepare and present a three session RCIA Lenten Retreat at our parish. Prepare and present on the topics of Resurrection, vocation, and discernment. Throw in a major family crisis and increasing health problems over the past five weeks or so. These are facts, not excuses. I’ve missed writing these reflections and have looked for spaces where time and energy came together, but could not find one. It’s not that I’ve run out of “inspirations.”

 I was out for an exercise walk on a multi-use trail a couple blocks south of our home, around the latter weeks of Lent, with the whole Pascal Mystery (Life/Suffering/ Death/Resurrection) looming on the horizon. I followed the trail around a corner and just ahead, maybe thirty yards, I came across this graffiti scrawled in large, bold black letters on the wall of an overpass that the trail passed under: Despite everything I’m still here. I have no idea who this person was, or what they had lived through, that they felt compelled to shout this defiant cry out to the cold hard world he or she is living in. I immediately could relate. But as I walked on, this statement, this cry painted on cement, seemed to fit very well with what Jesus went through. 

Easter — the huge stone rolled away, the empty tomb, the discarded burial cloths, friends and colleagues of Jesus experiencing their dear friend – whom they had seen arrested, tortured, cruelly executed – against all expectation, alive, suddenly present with them – but in a different way. And their lives were transformed. The disciples who had just been cowering behind locked doors, terrorized that the authorities would come for them next, went out to the whole Roman world of their day, facing torture and death unafraid, and planted seeds that took root and flourished, in some way even to today.

I can just picture Jesus standing on the hill of public execution, Calvary, that first day of the week, shouting triumphantly, “Despite everything, I’m still here!” Life, lived in self-giving love, in God, is stronger than death. It’s no contest.

 

 

 It’s amazing what we humans are able to get used to. We develop a great tolerance for what we’ve experienced over  time. We form habits, and the longer we live with them, the harder it is to grow beyond them. We can even begin to believe that these habits are part of who we are, and how we are meant to act. They’re not. They’re just habits we picked up along the way and have become comfortable with. But what if something happens to us and we suddenly realize that there’s more to life than our habitual modes?

The town of Bethsaida (literally, the house of fishing) is about two miles north of the Sea of Galilee, and east of the Jordan River. It’s known as the home of the apostles, Peter, Andrew and Philip. In the Eighth Chapter of the Gospel of Mark (Mark 8:23-26), Jesus has just crossed the sea, as he often did getting around Galilee. In the boat, he has just had another frustrating exchange with his closest disciples. Jesus tried to warn them against the way of influence of the Pharisees (using the Law to lord it over people) and of Herod (using power to keep control and maintain his privileged status).The disciples didn’t get it. For them, power, privilege, and religion were all good means for achieving a “righteous” end. Wasn’t that what the Messiah was supposed to do?

Jesus disembarks and heads with his little band into Bethsaida. Right away, some of the townspeople bring a blind man to Jesus to apply his wonderful touch and cure him. Jesus gently leads the man by the hand outside of town. He walks slowly, making sure the man doesn’t stumble over the rough ground, perhaps conversing with the man: What’s your name? Where’s your home? Tell me about your family. What work do you do? When and how did you become blind? What do most miss seeing? What are you doing in Bethsaida?

Then Jesus describes what he is about to do, and asks the man if this would be okay with him. The man, who had been a bit apprehensive at first, is now at ease with Jesus and allows him to proceed. Jesus, using a very basic healing substance, applies spittle to the man’s unseeing eyes and gently places his hands on them. Jesus asks, “What do you see?” The man replies, “I see people, but they look a bit strange, like trees walking around.” Jesus places his hands on the man’s eyes a second time, and the man can see clearly. He is healed and can now see everything plainly with no distortions. Jesus invites him to return to his home and family – those who know and love him, and says, “Don’t go back into the town.

Wow! There’s so much in these few verses. Why did the people in the town ask Jesus to deal with the blind man?  Remember, it wasn’t the blind man who sought out Jesus. Was it concern that moved them to bring him to Jesus, or just an attempt to remove an uncomfortable civic annoyance? Was he bothersome, sitting in the marketplace day after day, begging for his living? Yes, it is one of the “good works” to give him some little alms, but… He had lost the ability to do his life work (fishing?). He had become a label – that blind man, the beggar – with no dreams, desires, family, home… Did he become the town’s burden?  Of course we who are enlightened wouldn’t treat a beggar like that, would we?

Jesus treated him as a someone, human, not a problem, beloved of God, not accursed, as some thought and taught. And his healing? Sometimes we don’t see reality clearly right away. It can take a second correction and a second look. The healing of our blindnesses takes time. First we need to realize how much we cannot see. (Awareness precedes change.) Jesus stays with us until we can see fully and well. Then he advises us, don’t go back to your old ways, go to those who love you, who desire that you be completely whole, your best self.

One would think that anyone who has lived fifty years or more on this earth would have figured out some basic truths. The hard places, struggles and challenges just to get by, much less live well, are like water rushing down a mountain stream during the spring melt-off. Anything standing in the way surely gets worn and shaped, or washed away. Even the huge granite boulders can’t resist the impact. For humans, quite often, the wear and tear of the years softens some of our rough spots and carves away some of our arrogance. We go with the flow, or we are broken.

In the past few years I’ve become aware of some people who refuse to accept this reality. They live as if they can control the force of the rushing torrent. They might give lip-service to the fact that there is a God who is sovereign, but their behavior loudly proclaims another allegiance. They live under the seductive illusion that they can manage their lives on their own terms. It’s almost as if they are claiming (with Frank Sinatra) I do it my way. Isn’t this a bit like the terrible twos? We are NOT in charge!

Jesus, in the section of Matthew’s Gospel known as the Sermon on the Mount, begins his teaching with this fundamental statement, Blessed are the poor in spirit (Matthew 5:3). Everything flows from this. Those will have a chance to be peaceful, content, grounded, well, who know that they cannot do it alone. They know their place in the grand scheme of things. They need God. They need others. 

We, especially in the United States, hate the thought of being dependent on anyone or anything. We consider dependence of any kind as a weakness. Yet a majority of us profess to be a people who believe in God – maybe as long as God doesn’t interfere with our plans or our lifestyle. For some of us bull-headed types, accepting the obvious truth of our poverty, our neediness, may take awhile. But life goes so much better when we do.

 

Visiting Syria and Lebanon it was clear that people today, in that area of the world, still see reality through a lens of tribe. But my experience is that tribalism is alive and well and fairly pervasive beyond the Middle East. In the US of A it seems that the drive to find one’s tribe is gaining strength. This desire to bond with a somewhat exclusive, homogeneous group tends to deepen when the context in which we live feels more and more uncertain and unpredictable. We seek the false sense of security of a self-contained pod where we imagine that we can control our reality. Here, among others with whom we sense some affinity, we look to find our identity, a sense of belonging, the psycho-social embrace of WE.

We share the same beliefs and values and way of seeing, thinking and speaking of reality. We are right. We are good. We are the true… The problem is THEY. They are wrong. They are inherently evil. They are the false… We are saved. They are not. Tragically the glue of these contemporary tribes is fear. The other is a threat to our way of life. They must be put in their place, or better yet, eliminated. This is our just and justified crusade.

Violence becomes acceptable. Look at gangs. The Mafia. These are extreme examples of tribes. But we have seen that there are other tribes. I am Democrat. I am Republican. I am conservative. I am progressive. Instead of being associates of some group, this is who we are. Instead of leaning in a direction, we are totally in (totalitarians!). Real change is discouraged. Conformity, uniformity, discrimination are marks of these tribes. There is no room for the other, the different.

What happens to simple civility, respect, openness, desire to grow beyond? These are stifled. Civilization suffers. We all suffer, when the fact is, there is no US and THEM. These are perniciously false and artificial labels. We are all human beings with the same dreams, joys, fears, deepest desires, and we are all in this adventure of becoming more fully human together. There is only US. And we’d better start living this truth together soon.

Of course, this tendency to seek security through a dualism isn’t new. But it is totally antithetical to the teachings of Jesus. There is only one God, who created us all. All humans are brothers and sisters. And we share the same basic reality with all creation. We share the same mission to build up God’s Kingdom, guided by God’s Spirit. We are not above. We are a part of a whole. No one ever needs to be, or to feel, alone.

One of the clearest and most radical aspects of Jesus’ life and way is inclusivity. He chose to dine with all sorts of folks. He didn’t choose one group over another. Poor, rich, Pharisee, sinner… Yet shortly after his death and Resurrection, St. Paul is writing to the Christian community in Corinth, scolding and warning them about their destructive tendency to divide into cliques or factions. Some claimed to be adherents of Paul, some of Apollos (another Christian leader), some of Peter, and some (rightly) claimed allegiance to Christ. There was also preferential treatment of rich members over poorer ones. How quickly we drift into the comfortable security blanket of US versus THEM.

What might be an antidote to this insidious human trait? Love! Love as we are loved. Instead of writing anyone off, work to understand them and where they are coming from. Choose curiosity over condemnation. Isn’t that different and interesting? Why is it? Risk dialogue. Get to know the other, not to discover or prove how right we are, and how wrong they are. Who are they? What’s their story? What has been their life’s journey so far? Talk things out. It doesn’t mean that you need to like or to agree with everything, but listen – without the judgmental tape playing as background music in your head. Discover the common humanity of every one. 

We are infinitely more alike than different at core. Welcome the other as sister, as brother. We all belong to the same race, the same family. We are already absolutely precious and wonderful – beloved. We don’t need to put anyone down to try to boost our own status. Let us strive together to seek the good of all, the common good. The alternative is tearing one another apart – mutually assured destruction (M.A.D.) Let us discover together what is better for all and dedicate ourselves to work to make this our shared reality. It will cost all of us something, but it will bring us closer to the Kingdom Jesus introduced.

When we are very young, mommies and daddies (and to some extent all adults) seem to have amazing powers. They are big and strong and know everything. They can do fantastic things that are clearly beyond our ability to understand or imagine. They are to be respected, maybe even feared. Obedience to them certainly is the better option for tiny creatures. 

One of the most incredible abilities that parents, especially mommies, have is that mysterious healing kiss. One well-placed kiss and, right away or in just a moment, the hurt fades away and all is better. Sadly, we grow older and the owies that we run into along the way are much, much bigger. Mommy’s kiss just doesn’t have the same healing force anymore.

It’s possible that sometimes, without even realizing it, we might want to believe in a god who can kiss it and make it all better. We hurt so badly, those we care for hurt so badly, our whole broken, bleeding world hurts so badly that we long for a god to magically intervene and set everything right. That god never shows up, like some wizard or superhero, to destroy the evil, and the evildoers, through prodigious deeds of power and might. Spoiler alert!  God will not make it all better.

The God we are given is more like the parent who sits with their child day and night as that child battles some horribly painful, destructive disease. God is with us (Emmanuel), day and night, loving us, comforting us from our many fears. This God will hold our hand and walk with us through this life into fullness of Life.

Dread or optimism? It’s possible to find either of these moods emerging as we approach New Year’s Day. Will 2023 be better or worse than 2022? And for whom? Perhaps these aren’t the best questions with which to enter a new year.

What would go into making 2023 truly new for us? This would call for a dynamic and very intentional mindset on our part. It might begin with asking ourselves, “What onerous baggage do I carry forward from year to year?” “Why can’t I put it down and leave it behind?” “How can I let it go, once and for all?”

It would certainly help to examine and name what negative attitudes, fear-rooted behaviors, biases (for and against), self-centered inclinations and/or destructive habits that burden me and wear me down. Having done a thorough review of our life, then it’s a matter of coming to clarity and certainty that these accretions that have covered me over the years like slimy moss, are preventing me from living as freely, fully alive, as loving as I really would prefer to live.

The steps are: become aware of what feels bad about how we are living, recognize our deeper desire to become a better version of our self, ask for God’s help (we cannot do this solo!) to let go of any and all that is pulling us down or causing us to go around in circles year after year like a hamster on a wheel, and choose the newness of life that is waiting for us. We’ve secretly tried hundreds of times to do this on our terms. Let’s try a new way.