07/19/2015

JULY 19, 2015: SIXTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Ephesians 2:13-18; Mark 6:30-34

We can never forget that the bible is a self-critical book. Though we frequently use its writings as ammunition to cut down other faiths or denominations, our sacred authors almost always took stylus to papyrus in order to critique the way in which their own faith was being lived or abused by the communities for whom they wrote. This is especially true of today's three readings.

Our Jeremiah pericope is just one of many in which the prophet attacks Judaism's "shepherds:" a biblical term normally reserved for the country's leaders. (Since there was no concept of the separation of church and state in 6th century BCE Judah, Jeremiah includes both priests and kings in this condemnation.) Yahweh's complaint against these individuals is short and to the point: "They mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture."

Our biblical authors — Hebrew and Christian - presume authentic leaders should faithfully direct and go before us down the path God has chosen us to travel; a path that always has unity as its goal. No matter their diversity, God's people are meant to be one people.

Of course, as all serious students of Scripture know, toward the end of his ministry, Jeremiah gave up all hope of ever changing the organized religion of his day and age. He only prayed that the future Babylonian destruction of the institution would eventually lead to a rebirth of faith and the rise of a new, righteous king; someone who would reign and govern wisely, and do what is just and right in the land.

Though he certainly wasn't a king, Jesus' first followers believed he was the leader for whom the Chosen People had been waiting for centuries. The Pauline disciple who wrote Ephesians clicks off his unifying characteristics. "He is our peace, he who made both (Jew and Gentile) one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity . . . abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims, that he might create to himself one new person in place of the two." If he's not uniting us, Jesus can't be "the Lord, our justice."

Yet, as John McKenzie pointed out in his late 60s best seller Authority in the Church, some early church leaders refused to imitate Jesus' leadership style. Our evangelists rarely condemn anyone for rejecting authority. Their condemnations almost always are directed at those abusing their authority, as we hear in today's gospel pericope. "His heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd." (Scholars remind us that when the gospel Jesus has an issue with Jewish leaders, the evangelist is actually directing his words to Christian leaders. It's simply a more gentle way to condemn them than calling them out directly.)

Mark has already called leadership to task back in chapter 3, accusing them of the "unforgivable sin:" crediting the devil for something that actually comes from God. If our leaders can't distinguish good from bad, we're in trouble.

In today's whole "deserted place" passage, Mark's Jesus will provide an example of true Christian leadership by forcing his reluctant followers to give the hungry crowd something to eat. In the bread miracle which follows - but is omitted from our lectionary - Jesus doesn't feed the people, his disciples do. He simply instigates the process, blesses what "little" they have, then gives it back to them to distribute to the crowds. Mark's message is clear. Only by sharing with others do we unite others. True leaders provide opportunities for sharing. Once we understand what our sacred authors are trying to say, we don't have much time left over for criticizing other leaders except our own.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

07/26/2015

JULY 26, 2015: SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

II Kings 4:42-44; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15

Only one of Jesus' miracles is included in all four gospels: his extraordinary feeding of a huge crowd of people. It's narrated six times! Yet, as Scripture scholars constantly remind us, two (or more) evangelists can include the same passage in their works, yet use it to convey completely different theologies. Though every gospel bread miracle has something to do with the Eucharist, each writer concentrates on a different aspect of it. This is certainly the case with today's gospel pericope.

Up to this point of the "B" lectionary cycle we've been methodically listening to Mark's gospel, appreciating how, passage after passage, he develops his insights about dying and rising with Jesus. Yet just when we reach the point in which he presents his ideas about how we accomplish our dying and rising in the Eucharist — his first bread miracle - we shift from Mark's theology to John's: a biblical "no-no." (What's even sadder is that we'll never — during any weekend liturgy - hear Mark's take on that important miracle.)

Mark focuses on the role of the disciples in feeding the crowd; John zeros in on Jesus. He's the one who first notices the lack of food, and then, on his own, takes care of everyone's hunger. He's totally in control of the situation. After all, from the very beginning "he himself knew what he was going to do."

This is the image of Jesus the fourth evangelist almost always conveys. He usually pushes Jesus' humanity into the background, and displays his divinity front and center. That's why we can't compare Elisha feeding 100 people in today's II Kings pericope with Jesus feeding five thousand. Besides, Elisha depends on Yahweh to pull off the feat, while Jesus — as Yahweh — does it on his own.

Yet perhaps the most important part of John's chapter six narrative is his insistence that this event, like all his miracles, is a "sign." What's implicit in the synoptics is explicit in John. No evangelist employs miracles willy-nilly. Each has a reason why he puts this particular miracle in this particular place. There's always something deeper in such passages than immediately meets the eye.

For John, as for us, a sign is something which leads us to something else. If we don't reach the something else we won't understand what the sign was trying to convey.

The late Anthony de Mello often told the story of the Indian peasant who had a life-long dream of visiting Bombay. When his friends and fellow villagers eventually raised enough money to make such a trip possible, he was overjoyed. Yet he surprised everyone by returning from Bombay much earlier than expected.

When his benefactors asked, "Did you actually see Bombay?" he assured them he had. And when they inquired what Bombay was like, he eagerly responded, "It's green, about two feet long and a foot high, with big yellow letters, B O M B A Y." Obviously, like many readers of the Scriptures, he had confused the sign with the reality beyond the sign.

We can't understand John's theology without understanding John's signs. For instance, in today's passage the "twelve wicker baskets with fragments" can only refer to the Twelve Tribes of Israel. John is convinced that all Jews, like all Christians, could be fed by Jesus if they only permitted themselves to be fed by him.

Of course, to appreciate John's signs we must have the same frame of mind which the Pauline disciple who wrote Ephesians had. We have to commit to "living in a manner worthy of the call we've received." Gospel signs are only for those committed to becoming other Christs. All others will stop at the city limits.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

08/02/2105

AUGUST 2, 2015: EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Exodus 16:2-4, 12-15; Ephesians 4:17, 20-24; John 6:24-35

Our faith comprises more than just the unique moment in which we make a conscious decision to imitate Jesus' dying and rising. We actually have to carry through on that choice for the rest of our lives.

The disciple of Paul responsible for the letter to the Ephesians certainly understood the day by day consequences of becoming other Christs. "You must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds," he writes. "That is not how you learned Christ."

Those who are committed to learning Christ are expected to "put away their old selves and former ways of life." Each day they must "be renewed in the spirit of their minds, and put on the new self, created in God's way in righteousness and holiness of truth." Obviously everyone in the author's community accomplished such a turnabout the day they gave themselves over to Christ and were baptized. But how do they follow through on this commitment every day for the rest of their natural lives?

That's where today's gospel comes in.

John's Jesus expects us, among other things, to fall back on the Eucharist. He presumes that to maintain life, we must eat. But when we're talking about the kind of life that helps us "accomplish the works of God," natural food isn't enough. That's why his Jesus returns us to the event narrated in our Exodus passage.

Scripture scholars immediately point out that whenever we surface a "grumbling or griping" narrative in any part of the wandering in the wilderness experience of the recently freed Israelites, it's from the "Yahwistic source." This particular oral tradition was written down — perhaps by a woman! - during the 10th century BCE "glory days" of ancient Israel; most probably while Solomon was on the throne.

Though everything seemed to be going along fine for the majority of Jews during that period, this particular author consistently pointed out that, just below the surface, things weren't as terrific as people imagined. For instance, it's the Yahwistic author who, back in chapter 2 of Genesis, brought up the clothes issue. If we're living in a perfect world — as some of Yahweh's people thought — then why do we wear clothes? Obviously, something's disordered otherwise we'd have no problem going around naked.

In a parallel way, some 10th century Israelites began to idealize their history — especially the Exodus. They presumed all the enslaved Hebrews immediately responded to Yahweh's call to leave Egypt, marched resolutely through two walls of sea water and entered the Sinai wilderness with great faith in God's care and protection. This inspired author saw salvation history from a different perspective. She was convinced that if God's Chosen People for whom she was writing in the 10th century griped and grumbled about Yahweh's care and protection, then their ancestors in the 12th century must have given into the same temptation of mistrust. In other words, there's no ideal history. Our relationships with God and one another have pretty much been the same through the centuries.

Just as the Exodus Israelites needed the manna and quail as signs and helps of Yahweh's protection, so late first century Christians needed the risen Jesus' "true bread from heaven" as a sign and help to achieve the life to which they were committed. Nineteen centuries later, we're still in this faith thing for the long haul. We long for that day when we'll never again hunger or thirst. But, in the meantime, in the midst of our grumbling and griping over the demands of that faith, we'd better take full advantage of the Eucharistic food the risen Jesus offers us right here and now, else we might fall by the wayside.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

08/09/2015

AUGUST 9, 2015: NINETEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

I Kings 19:4-8; Ephesians 4:30-5:2; John 6:41-51

Last week I stressed the need for strength and determination in following God for a lifetime. I especially reflected on the evangelist John's belief that the Eucharist is a major force in our maintaining that strength and determination.

But today's first reading brings up a unique problem in our following of God. Elijah discovers that Yahweh doesn't always lead him along the most direct route. Sometimes God even changes his destination!

Our I Kings pericope actually provides us with just the middle of a three part narrative. The whole account begins with a confrontation between the prophets of the fertility god Ba'al and Elijah on Mt. Carmel. Elijah wins the confrontation, has his rivals put to death, then must quickly run for his life when Queen Jezebel — the pagan prophets' patroness — puts a contract out on him. He travels — on foot — from Palestine's northernmost point (Mt. Carmel) to its southernmost point (the Sinai), where today's passage kicks in.

Physically unable to go any further, Elijah actually asks Yahweh to kill him. "Take my life," he pleads, "for I am no better than my fathers." Fortunately God ignores his request and twice sends an angel with a "hearth cake and a jug of water," making certain the prophet has enough strength to "walk forty days and forty nights to the mountain of God, Horeb (Mt. Sinai.)"

The difficulty arises in the third part of the narrative. When Elijah finally reaches Mt. Sinai, Yahweh comes to him in a "gentle breeze" and abruptly informs him that he's in the wrong place! Instead of preaching to the scorpions in the wilderness, Yahweh wants him in Syria - north of where he originally started his trek — setting up a mechanism to get rid of Jezebel.

At first glance, this change in direction makes sense. All of us have had to make changes in the paths we've chosen in life. But there's a unique problem with this change: by twice sending an angel with food and water, Yahweh actually helped Elijah go in the wrong direction! Since the prophet couldn't have made it to Sinai without God's assistance, God's responsible for Elijah's ending up in a place he/she didn't want him to be.

The Pauline disciple who wrote Ephesians makes sense when he encourages his readers to get rid of "all bitterness, fury, anger, shouting and reviling." All other Christs agree that we should be "kind to one another, compassionate, and forgiving." Yet Elijah would remind us that true discipleship goes further than just creating peaceful, compassionate relationships with one another. It also includes developing a relationship with a God who sometimes messes with our spiritual GPS.

Jewish members of John's community had to deal with a parallel experience when they converted to Christianity. As good Jews they'd been constantly encouraged to distinguish between the "sacred and the profane." We presume that through the centuries it was Yahweh who helped the Chosen People reach the point in their faith lives when that sacred/profane division became an essential part of everyone and everything they encountered. Yet now, as followers of the risen Jesus, they've discovered the most sacred of persons is actually in an individual whose "father and mother we know."

No dedicated Israelite could ever have anticipated that Yahweh would one day ask his/her followers to drastically change directions and realize that a carpenter from Capernaum had become the "bread of life" for all people.

Almost every biblical author encourages us to surface the distinct path God wishes us to travel through life. Yet, Elijah's Sinai experience also teaches us to keep our eyes and ears open, willing to change directions at any moment Yahweh's breezy voice breaks into our lives.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

08/16/2015

AUGUST 16, 2015: TWENTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Proverbs 9:1-6; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58

There are Scripture scholars today who believe the author of this part of John's gospel was influenced by the Greek philosopher Plato. Living over three hundred years before Jesus' birth, this famous thinker developed a fascinating analogy to explain how we live our lives. We're chained in a cave, facing the rear wall, the cave entrance behind us. The only thing we can see is the shadows that appear on that wall, shadows created by the sun shining behind objects as they pass in front of the cave. Though we think we're seeing real things, we're only seeing their shadows. The real, true world is behind us.

That's where, according to Plato, philosophers come in. They not only unchain us, they also force us to turn around and actually perceive the real and the true; a quest in which everyone is expected to engage.

If John wasn't directly influenced by Plato, he certainly shared the philosopher's basic insight. Notice how his Jesus speaks about the Eucharistic bread and wine: "My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink." Any other food and drink we consume is simply a shadow of the real, true food and drink which Jesus offers. The risen Jesus is the one who breaks our chains, turns us around, and exposes us to the real.

Not only does this reality break through in the Eucharist, it also leads us to the true, eternal life for which all of us long. Jesus couldn't be clearer: "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day."

John isn't the only biblical author who tells us we're not always dealing with the real in our everyday lives. The unknown author of the letter to the Ephesians also goes down that path. In today's pericope, for instance, he reminds his readers that in order to experience the will of God in their daily lives they must approach those lives from a totally different perspective than the non-believers around them. He expects them to be reflective, watching carefully how they live, valuing each moment. Only by being open to the Spirit working in everyone and everything they encounter will they discover the meaning God has placed in each of their lives. Once they've experienced the risen Jesus, they can never again be content with just looking at a shadow-filled wall.

Though the author of Proverbs knew nothing of the risen Jesus, he was also convinced that people of faith saw things others missed. They accomplished this by developing "wisdom:" by surfacing patterns in God's behavior in their everyday lives. (It's important to note that our Scriptures present us with a "wisdom debate." Some authors, like those responsible for the books of Wisdom and Proverbs argued such patterns not only existed, they could actually be found and learned. Others, like the author of Job, contended God's behavior patterns were simply the figment of fertile imaginations. Yahweh simply did whatever Yahweh wanted to do, whenever and to whom Yahweh decided to do it.)

Whether divine patterns exist or not, our Proverbs writer knew that true people of faith had to engage in a constant quest for "understanding." They were committed to encountering a God who would lead them beyond the point at which most people stopped, a point in which they would break the chains which limited their field of vision.

Our sacred authors not only saw things most of us miss, they were committed to helping their readers come out of the shadows and see and benefit some of those same life-giving things.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

08/23/2015

AUGUST 23, 2015: TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Joshua 24:1-2a, 15-17, 18b; Ephesians 5:21-32; John 6:60-69

One of the most fascinating aspects of studying Scripture critically is discovering the different theologies this collection of writings offers. Some of these theologies eventually made it into our catechisms; others are still there for the taking.

Because of their Semitic mindset, our sacred authors presumed that when anyone dared reflect on the implications of God working in their lives, he or she would consistently come up with both/and conclusions, something we modern Greek thinkers abhor. Having abandoned Semitic thought patterns almost 1,900 years ago, we're constantly striving for either/or answers to our faith questions. That's one of the reasons the majority of us prefer catechisms over Scripture. We don't enjoy having such important questions lead us to other questions.

In today's first reading, for instance, once the Israelites complete their 40 year trek through the wilderness, cross the Jordan and enter the Promised Land, Joshua demands they stop their fence-straddling and choose between Yahweh and the other gods inhabiting Canaan. Though the people freely and unanimously decide "to serve Yahweh, for he is our God," they quickly discover there's no one way to render that service, nor just one way to experience Yahweh working in their lives. Their theologies evolve as their service and their experiences evolve. Explanations which worked last year, might not work this year. That's why there are at least four different — sometimes contradictory — theological sources in the Torah alone.

Such differences also carry over into the Christian Scriptures. In our second reading, the unknown author of Ephesians attempts to theologically explain the relationship between Christian married spouses, basing it on the relationship which the risen Jesus has with the church. Sadly, given the understanding of husband and wife's roles in his day and age, the writer identifies the man with Christ and the woman with the church. So he logically concludes, "Wives should be subordinate to their husbands as to the Lord." It's no surprise that more perceptive theologians today, working from a different cultural understanding of the relationship between committed spouses, have developed theologies in which the wife isn't expected to be subordinate to anyone — even their husbands. What worked in the 1st century CE, doesn't have a chance of working in the 21st century CE. Times and theologies have changed.

But we hear one of the biggest changes in biblical Christian theology in today's gospel pericope. Though all Jesus' followers are convinced he gave us the Eucharist, our sacred authors employ different explanations to help us understand that gift.

Paul of Tarsus is the earliest theologian to deal with the Eucharist. In his oft-quoted I Corinthians 11 passage, he chides some in that particular community for not "recognizing the body." Their selfish behavior during celebrations of the Lord's Supper proves they're not experiencing the body of Christ in those participating in the celebration with them. Though the Corinthians presume the risen Jesus is in the bread and wine, not everyone presumes he/she is in those around them — especially the poor.

But by the end of the first century CE, John takes the focus off of the community and puts it on the Eucharistic bread and wine itself. Forty-five years after Paul, the test of a true Christian now revolves around seeing the bread and wine as the risen Jesus' real body and blood.

No wonder some of Jesus' "disciples no longer walked with him." Not everyone — even in John's community - bought into this new theology.

No wonder many later Christians did buy into it. It's certainly less demanding than Paul's insights. Little skin off my teeth if the risen Jesus is in the bread and wine; lots of skin off my teeth if he/she's in the person standing next to me.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

08/30/2015

AUGUST 30, 2015: TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-8; James 1:17-18, 21b, 22, 27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Even the most liberal Scripture scholars — convinced we can know almost nothing about the historical Jesus — admit there's one thing about this early first century CE Palestinian carpenter that we do know for certain: he was a law-breaker.

Already back in chapter 2, Mark strings together a series of narratives in which Jesus' (and his disciples') law-breaking sets off confrontations with his law-abiding critics. So it shouldn't surprise us that in chapter 7, Mark's Jesus reaches a point in which he teaches that his followers don't have to follow even the venerable and well-known Jewish dietary regulations. "Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person," he points out. "But the things that come out from within are what defile."

Since many of us don't appreciate the historical Jesus' Jewish background, we also don't appreciate the importance of his skirting many of the rules and regulations at the heart of his religious practices. As we hear in today's Deuteronomy reading, Moses couldn't be clearer about the obligation assumed by all Israelites to keep every one of the commandments they agreed to at Mt. Sinai. ". . . You shall not add to what I command you nor subtract from it. Observe them carefully . . . ." How could Jesus then, as a good Jew, not observe so many of them?

In the midst of his chapter 2 lawbreaking, he gives three reasons for his behavior: two make sense to almost anyone, a third creates problems for almost everyone. First, he's not the first Jew to break laws. King David, for instance, was well-known for not being limited by religious rules and regulations. Second, as God, Jesus can dictate his own path in life, free from any legal restrictions. Third, people come first. Only after Yahweh created humans did laws come into existence.

This last reason was so controversial in the early church that when Matthew and Luke wrote their gospels a few years after Mark, they deliberately left it out though they had a copy of Mark's gospel in front of them when they wrote theirs. Who's to judge what's for people's good and what isn't? Such reasoning opens up a can of worms which many prefer not to open. Yet we presume the historical Jesus did open it. Not only as a good Jew, but also as a reformer of Judaism he knew his covenant responsibilities didn't revolve around getting into heaven, but in experiencing as fulfilling a life as possible on this earth. He eventually came to the insight that an emphasis on keeping laws put the focus on the regulations and took it off the people those regulations originally were meant to help. He didn't need an advanced degree in theology to point out that some who faithfully followed the laws were actually being hurt, not helped by them. In many situations, the reason the laws had been created was being dead-ended.

We're grateful that the risen Jesus' disciples followed his example and also changed their focus. The author of the letter of James demonstrates that turnabout in his classic line, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their afflictions and to keep oneself unstained by the world." If we're not caring for people, we're not following God's laws.

The upcoming second session of the Synod on the Family will certainly resurrect the first century Christian issue of law-keeping and law-breaking. We can only pray and trust that Pope Francis and the Synod participants will make Jesus' third reason — as controversial as it is — their guide for keeping or changing some of our most venerable rules and regulations.

COPYRIGHT 2015 - ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222