11/25/2018

Daniel 7:13-14; Revelation 1:5-8; John 18:33b-37

Today’s feast always creates problems. One word is at the root of the problem: king. What does it mean? How is it applied to Jesus? What’s been made of it through the centuries? If Christians are to imitate Jesus of Nazareth, are we expected to make part of his regal personality our own?

Given the gospel Jesus’ reflections on his ministry, “kingly” would be the last adjective anyone would employ to describe it. Though many of his followers believed he was the Messiah they and their fellow Jews had been expecting for centuries, he frequently not only rejected that title, but on those rare occasions when he applied it to himself, he always defined the word at right angles to the way First Century CE Jews defined it. On Palm Sunday, for instance, instead of triumphantly riding into Jerusalem on horseback – the military Messiah Jews anticipated – he rides into the Holy City astride a donkey. The crowd would have done a double take. He isn’t the messianic savior for whom they’re waiting.

Jesus always insists on giving new definitions to traditional words, especially when it comes to his unique concept of leadership.

The author of today’s Daniel reading clearly describes the Messiah the vast majority of Jews were expecting during Jesus’ historical ministry. According to their apocalyptic theology, when he eventually makes his presence known, Yahweh will give him “dominion, glory and kingship; all peoples, nations, and languages (will) serve him.” A complete turnabout from the gospel Jesus’ determination to spend his life in service to others. No wonder most Jews saw only a Capernaum carpenter when they looked at him.

Though the author of Revelation regards the risen Jesus as “the firstborn of the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth,” he seems to be falling back on the importance this new creation has in his life. He appears to be much more poetic than realistic. The Christ certainly is the dead’s firstborn, but I don’t think the writer expected his readers to take his claim of Jesus being the ruler of the earth’s kings literally, especially when we hear what the gospel Jesus says about the issue.

Our gospel pericope from John is just one among several in which Jesus tells us not to celebrate today’s feast. Or, if we insist on celebrating it, to be careful how we do so.

The important thing to remember is that in every gospel passage in which Pilate asks Jesus about his kingship, he basically responds, “No! I’m not!” Had the Roman prefect taken Jesus’ response as a “Yes!” he would have had him crucified on the spot. This upstart preacher would have been making himself a rival to Tiberius the Roman emperor – high treason.

In today’s passage, John’s Jesus is basically saying, “If you insist on calling me a king, you have to give a brand-new definition to the title. I’m here to tell people about truths only God can reveal to them; not the kind of work in which kings normally engage.”

Jesus couldn’t be clearer: “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” He obviously expects those who carry on his ministry after his death and resurrection to also be proclaimers of the truth.

Perhaps the question we face today doesn’t revolve around telling the truth about who Jesus is, but telling the truth about who (or what) the church is. The sexual abuse scandal we’re experiencing is rooted in giving a royal definition to the church, something the gospel Jesus rejects. If we don’t define our terms as Jesus defines them, we’re certainly going to have problems.

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12/02/2018

Jeremiah 33:14-16; I Thessalonians 3:12-4:2; Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

One of the problems with looking forward to celebrating Christmas in a month is that we often spend a lot of that period looking backward instead of forward. We zero in on past Christmases, trying to replicate the best of them. Without remembering such ideal celebrations, Christmas wouldn’t have its proper meaning.

Yet considering it was more than three or four centuries before the feast of Christmas came into existence, that’s not the way Jesus’ earliest followers celebrated his entering their lives. They were never interested in just forming schmaltzy memories that they could conjure up every year.

Of course, their images of him were different from our own. Given their Jewish background, once his disciples understood him to be the long-awaited Messiah, he was burdened with the “baggage” attached to that title. For instance, as we hear in today’s Jeremiah passage, Jesus the Messiah will not only be the one bringing peace to the two Jewish nations of Israel and Judah, he’ll also do whatever’s just and right for everyone in the land; demonstrating, as a good Jew, how to have the proper relationships with God and those around us.

In the earliest Christian writing we possess – I Thessalonians – Paul couldn’t be clearer about those relationships. Having taken the unheard-of step of permitting non-Jews to follow Jesus without first becoming Jews, the Apostle can’t encourage his Gentile converts to include Jewish laws and culture in their following of the risen Christ. He can only insist on forming just relationships with Jesus and others. He has no better prayer for his community than, “May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we have for you . . . .” Jesus in our lives makes all the difference in our lives.

But his/her presence also changes the way we look at the future. Luke testifies to that phenomenon in today’s gospel pericope: the well-known “apocalyptic” section of his gospel. It’s significant that this type of literature was the most frequently employed genre in religious writings shortly before and after Jesus’ birth. Many would-be sacred authors spoke about the end of the world and the phenomena accompanying it, using esoteric, symbolic language to avoid being sued for breach of promise. Knowing how frequently this genre was utilized, it’s amazing only two biblical books – Daniel and Revelation - plus a chapter in each Synoptic gospel, were written in this style.

In some sense, in today’s passage Luke is only informing his community about one thing. Though many people, not only Christians, are awaiting the world’s imminent end, the evangelist only wants Jesus’ followers to know that when it finally happens Jesus will play an essential role. When this world as we know it goes down the tubes, followers of Jesus will experience “. . . the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.”

But Luke is convinced we can’t go around with our heads in that cloud just waiting for Jesus’ arrival. There’s lots to do in the meantime. We can’t sit on our hands taking bets on the time of the Parousia, nor risk becoming “drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life . . . .”

If the world as we know it is going to end with all these distressing signs, we’ve got to keep in shape, else we’ll get bowled over. Staying vigilant will be our main occupation. Jesus’ first followers were always warned to get out of the past and appreciate the present and the future, no matter how comfortable and non-challenging their past was. Jesus’ coming always means there’s more to life than just memories.

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12/09/2019

Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11; Luke 3:1-6

“When things get better, I’ll make my move.”

Ever say that or something similar under your breath? It’s certainly a valid excuse for not doing what the risen Jesus asks us to do. “This just isn’t the right platform. There’re too many grey areas in my life. I’ve got good intentions, but this isn’t the time and place to carry them out. God knows I have dreams for a better world in my heart. Eventually I’ll carry through on them, but in the meantime . . . .”

Perhaps these justifications for our inaction are why Luke begins his gospel with today’s historical overview of the historical Jesus’ day and age. Why did God choose this particular time and place in which to send his/her son into the world? They certainly weren’t ideal. In some sense, they were just like any other time and place. They had their good points and their bad points. Galilee was just as significant as Illinois; Herod and Caiaphas as any of our political and religious leaders today. John the Baptizer and Jesus of Nazareth had no choice but to play the hands they were dealt. Neither could set up ideal conditions in advance. Long before anyone created poster art, both learned to grow where they were planted. Had they waited for a better time and place, God’s will would never have been accomplished.

They’re not the first followers of God to experience similar, challenging situations. Baruch, who seems to have worked with the prophet Jeremiah, lived in a world that was falling apart. His mentor had finally reached a point in which he was convinced Yahweh’s Chosen People were incapable of reform. His only hope was for an enemy to wipe them out, drag the remnant of the people into exile and start their faith experience over again. Only this time they’d better not screw things up.

Baruch has no choice but to prophesy against this “iffy” background. He’s not even certain Israel will continue to exist for more than a few years. Yet the prophet is convinced Yahweh will eventually take care of the people even though both Jerusalem’s present and immediate future aren’t very promising. Baruch has terrific faith in an imperfect history. He doesn’t have any other history in which he’s involved.

Reflecting on the importance of our historical context, perhaps the most helpful of today’s readings is our Philippians pericope. Paul is convinced the specific day and age in which he and his community are involved is actually an ongoing process. Their experiences are constantly evolving. “I am confident,” he writes, “that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” One thing is certain: “Your love (will) increase ever more and more in knowledge and every kind of perception to discern what is of value . . . .” Eventually “things” will become clearer, though at the present moment I’m still wondering what I’m doing here.

We, like John the Baptizer, have no control over when the word of God comes to us. We’re simply expected to recognize and use it the way he/she expects us to. The historical John seems to have been a member of the Dead Sea scroll community, ministering in a place that has less than an inch of rain a year, preaching to someone who not only doesn’t want to hear him, but eventually has him killed.

The late Cardinal John Wright once asked us North American College students, “What would you do if you’re the best preacher in the diocese and your bishop assigns you as chaplain to an institution for the hearing impaired?” Certainly wouldn’t be the first time only God knows what I’m doing here.

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12/16/2018

Zephaniah 3:14-18a; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:10-18

There’s a reason why John the Baptizer’s demands in today’s gospel pericope are similar to the gospel Jesus’ demands. Though some Christians don’t like to admit it, the carpenter who lived and worked in Capernaum was originally one of John’s disciples. It seems this wilderness prophet first turned Jesus on to the faith he later publicly proclaimed.

It’s quite probable Jesus originally seemed content just to be one of John’s disciples. Only after the Baptizer’s arrest – or martyrdom – did Jesus step forward and pick up the prophet’s mantle. No wonder he was so concerned with how we relate to others. He had a good teacher and mentor.

“Whoever has two cloaks,” John insists, “should share with the person who has none. And whoever has food should do likewise.” True faith revolves not around worship and rubrics, but around how we give ourselves to others, especially those over whom we exercise power.

The historical John and Jesus were so similar in their messages that Jesus’ earliest disciples thought it necessary to frequently point out his superiority to the Baptizer, even employing the Baptizer himself to convey their message. “One mightier than I is coming,” the gospel John proclaims, “I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals.” No matter how great John is, Jesus is always at least one degree better. “I am baptizing with water . . . He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

As I mentioned above, some Christians are uncomfortable with this explanation. In their mind, the historical Jesus was independent from any outside influence. As God, Jesus accomplished everything on his own. Yet the author of the Letter to the Hebrews reminded his community that Jesus was more than just God; he was also human. With that in mind, the Council of Chalcedon actually stated in 451 CE: “Jesus of Nazareth was a human being like all of us in everything except sin.” That means, if I can be influenced by others, so can Jesus. As unfamiliar as it might sound, we’re grateful John the Baptizer came into his life. John’s personality seems to have made a significant difference in Jesus’ personality.

I’ve often confessed that what originally attracted me to Scripture wasn’t Scripture but the people who taught me Scripture. I was impressed by the mentality they brought to religion and the attitude toward faith revealed through their teachings. Though I never thought, as a diocesan priest, I’d have an opportunity to study and teach Scripture, down deep I wanted to spend my ministry doing so. More than anything, I wanted my personality to be shaped by the same experiences that shaped the personalities of the people I admired. Thankfully, I was eventually given that opportunity.

There’s nothing more rewarding than proclaiming and agreeing with the joy Zephaniah found in experiencing Yahweh, or the happiness Paul discovered in following the risen Jesus. Yet if it hadn’t been for the Scripture scholars who came into my life years ago, I probably would never have gone that deep into my faith.

Considering Jesus spent at least three hours on the cross, I sometimes wonder what went through his mind during that time. Could he have spent some of those three hours thanking God for the people who came into his life? If he did, I’m certain John the Baptizer would have been near the top of his list. Though we Catholics often wax eloquent on the influence Jesus’ mother had on him, I presume she wasn’t alone. Jesus might not have been dying that Friday afternoon had it not been for the example the Baptizer provided for him. Things could have been quite different for him, as they’d also be for some of those we’ve influenced.

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12/23/2018

Micah 5:1-4a; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45

One reason our sacred authors compose their writings springs from a desire to make certain their communities always “look” in the right direction. They’re convinced it’s possible to ignore God’s message simply because we don’t notice it, even when it’s right in front of us. Our biblical writers are determined this isn’t going to happen “on their watch.” They remind their readers that we follow a God constantly working through unexpected people, in unexpected, subtle ways. In God’s eyes, one’s “worldly” importance doesn’t count; one’s social acceptability is worthless. God demands we experience the whole world, not just the part and the people with which we’re comfortable.

I’m old enough to actually remember playing the “Pong” video game when it first came out in the 1970s--an excellent way to develop my reflexes. I never knew from where the ball was coming. I simply had to be constantly ready. Yet, as a student of Scripture, I was aware a “biblical pong” game existed long before the 20th century. From the beginning of faith, God’s followers were forced to acknowledge they had no idea from where God’s word and presence were coming. They could appear anywhere. The faithful could only work on developing their faith reflexes by listening to Scripture texts like today’s three readings.

More than 700 years before Jesus’ birth, Micah prophetically warns the people of Judah to be careful about the direction from which they’re expecting the Messiah to come. They might miss him; he could be coming from a clan and tribe they’re not anticipating. In this case, from of all places, Bethlehem-Ephrathah. Of course, everyone listening to Micah was familiar with King David and the I Samuel story in which this greatest of all Jewish kings not only came from the same town, but whose own father had no idea Yahweh had chosen the “runt” of the family for such a prestigious position. Just like no one saw “that one coming,” so no one can predict from where the Messiah’s coming. If the nation’s royal salvation once came from such an unexpected place, it could just as unpredictably come from there again.

Mary of Nazareth’s relative Elizabeth had a similar experience 1,000 years after David’s coronation. How could she have anticipated someone she’d known all her life would eventually become “the mother of (her) Lord?” Though, as a good Jew, she’d been expecting the Messiah’s arrival, she certainly hadn’t been looking in Mary’s direction. Elizabeth’s Yahweh-inspired surprises didn’t stop with the conception of her and Zechariah’s son. The “best” was yet to come.

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews hints at why unexpectedness is built into our faith. Instead of revolving our lives around “sacrifices and offerings, holocausts and sin offerings,” followers of Jesus are simply committed to doing God’s will. The risen Jesus has freed us from the law mandating all those rituals, and replacing it with an obligation just to imitate him/her. As we know from Scripture – beginning with the Yahwistic author of Genesis 38 – we follow a God who’s notorious for taking us down roads we could never have predicted. Nothing or no one is off limits. Just when we’ve outlined the perimeters with which we’re comfortable, we discover God has created not just new rules, but a whole new game.

No wonder the gospel Jesus frequently warns his followers, “Stay awake!” Just as marriages begin to die the moment the partners start to predict one another’s actions, so our faith starts to die the moment we start to predict God’s actions in our lives.

Perhaps we should encourage our parish banner makers to create a big one with an image of the Pong game . . . unless it makes us too nervous.

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This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
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12/25/2018

Isaiah 9:1-6; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

Especially tonight it’s important to remember that our two infancy narratives were the last parts of Matthew and Luke’s gospels to be written. Though the evangelists eventually put them at the beginning, they didn’t come into existence until after the rest of their gospels had taken shape.

The most important thing to keep in mind tonight isn’t that Jesus of Nazareth was born in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago, but that Jesus of Nazareth dies and rises through us every day of our lives. Christianity begins with Easter, not Christmas.

Each evangelist chooses at one point of salvation history he’ll begin to tell the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Mark starts with Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptizer, Matthew and Luke take us back to the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ conception and birth, and John trumps everyone by asking us to reach into “the beginning” of Jesus’ eternal preexistence. Yet before each writer picks up his stylus, he has already experienced the unique life which comes from being another Christ. The beginning of his gospel isn’t the beginning of his dying and rising. He’s simply putting something into words which goes far beyond words.

Biblically rooted, it’s understandable that the earliest Christians turned to Scripture to help understand what had happened to them when they encountered the risen Jesus. They could, for instance, identify with the 8th century BCE people of Judah who rejoiced over the birth of Hezekiah, their future king. Isaiah looks forward in tonight’s first reading to the drastic changes that longed-for prince will eventually bring into the life of each Israelite. Yet the transformation Jesus of Nazareth has already brought into the lives of Christians is far superior. There’s nothing that can compare to their dying and rising.

The unknown author of the Letter to Titus was someone who can describe that dying/rising process first hand. He or she has already rejected “godless ways and worldly desires” and is trying “to live temperately, justly and devoutly in this age . . . eager to do what is good.” There’s been a 180-degree turnabout in this person’s life, forcing him/her to write about Jesus’ birth in completely different terms than an historian whose goal is simply “to set the record straight.” The Titus writer is intimately involved in what’s written.

Luke, on the other hand, continues his habit of naming names and referring to geographic places. We know precisely who the civil leaders are and where Joseph and Mary’s trip takes them. The evangelist thinks it important to let his community know that Jesus of Nazareth didn’t magically float down from heaven and land in a magical never-never land. He related with real people in real places. (Only recently has the village of Nazareth been located, named on an ancient mile marker. No wonder Nathaniel sarcastically asked, “Can any good come out of Nazareth?” It was the Podunk of Palestine.)

Though angels join in praising the newborn child, the crowd they’re entertaining isn’t high on the social ladder. Parents normally lock up their daughters when shepherds come to town, and according to some Jewish customs and laws, a shepherd’s word is never to be accepted in court. They’re notorious liars; they’ll say whatever they’re paid to say. Shepherds are among the scum of the earth.

Luke’s community, because of their experiences of the risen Jesus, now look at these outcasts through different eyes. Just as Moses could see fire in a bush, so the community hearing this gospel didn’t necessarily change the world in which they lived nor the people with whom they related; they simply changed how they looked at that world and those people. Something all of us should be doing tonight.

COPYRIGHT 2018 - The Estate of ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
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12/30/2018

Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14; Colossians 3:12-21; Luke 2:41-52

The late Raymond Brown’s writings and lectures cleared up a lot of the problems I had with the gospel infancy narratives – especially today’s well-known pericope. Even as a kid, this “lost in the temple” passage didn’t make sense. Why would God’s parents miss a second’s sleep over “losing” him? He’s God! He can take care of himself, no matter how old he is or where he finds himself.

Brown helps us understand something all modern Scripture scholars take for granted: our sacred authors frequently employ sources. They don’t begin writing with just a stylus and blank sheet of papyrus in front of them. They have other sheets of papyrus on their desk, papyrus already written on, writings they’ll eventually integrate into their finished work. Sometimes, as in today’s gospel, it’s easy to notice when one source stops and another begins; at times, other sources have been so closely integrated that it takes an expert to point them out.

Luke used at least two different sources for his infancy narrative. He employed one in which the author included an annunciation to Mary, a narrative which had an angel inform the virgin beforehand about the divinity of her son. In the other, exemplified by today’s lost-in-the-temple passage, the writer seems to have presumed Mary and Joseph only found out about Jesus’ divinity after his resurrection. The child’s parents were legitimately worried when he was inadvertently left behind in the Jerusalem temple. They certainly weren’t faking it.

Among other things, these different sources tell us the early church was convinced there’s more than one way to understand the gospel Jesus in our lives – even contradictory ways. Since all the first Christians thought semitically, they were always interested in the both/and of their faith, not the either/or. Such Greek, analytic thinking didn’t hijack the church until late in the second century, long after our Christian Scriptures took shape.

It might especially be good to remember our biblical sources on this Holy Family Sunday. In my limited experience, no two families are alike; each encounters reality in a unique way. Not only do we experience things differently, we react differently, and, in the process, we and things around us constantly change. Physical punishment, for instance, which I simply took for granted as a child, could now get a parent arrested. Thankfully we see implications of our actions today that we never noticed yesterday. As we grow, families grow; and as families grow, we individually grow.

This directly applies to the Colossian author’s command for wives “to be subordinate to your husbands.” Though such a strict marriage hierarchy makes for smooth running, it reduces one partner to a non-entity. (Just as our church hierarchy often does to the laity.) In order to become the people Jesus intends, we need more than just one source commenting on our relationships.

Some behavior is basic Christianity, no matter what’s going on around us. Husbands, for instance, should love their wives and fathers shouldn’t provoke their children. At all times, as other Christs, we should “put on . . . heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience . . . .” And as Sirach insisted, we should never “grieve” our parents. Even if a father’s mind fail, there’s never an excuse for “reviling” him. When positions switch and we’re caring for those who once cared for us, love should always remain.

But once these essentials are covered, each family must make its own path through life. It’s always good to appreciate that fact, especially during today’s feast. If Luke didn’t think it necessary to employ just one source to tell the story of Jesus’ family, then we shouldn’t be content just to employ one way to imitate Jesus’ love in our families.

COPYRIGHT 2018 - The Estate of ROGER VERMALEN KARBAN

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
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