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08/11/2019

AUGUST 11TH, 2019: NINETEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Wisdom 18:6-9; Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19; Luke 12:32-48

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

Practically nothing in Scripture was written by eyewitness – not even our gospels.

Only after years, or even centuries of reflecting on God’s actions in their lives did our sacred authors eventually compose the writings that make up our Sacred Scriptures. Though many of the people involved in their narratives seemed to understand the implications of those divine actions as they were actually taking place, scholars constantly remind us that such insights most probably didn’t become part of their faith lives until far down the road. Even today we often catch ourselves saying, “I didn’t notice it at the time, but . . . .”

One need only Google Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons’ famous “Invisible Gorilla” experiment to see how easy it is to miss things that happen right before our eyes. The two professors demonstrated that our eyes normally see only what our minds program them to see. If we’re not expecting it, we usually don’t see it. On a practical level, experts tell us that’s why motorcycles are so frequently involved in highway accidents. Drivers of cars are geared to see other cars, not motorcycles. Based on that insight, yard signs have recently appeared in our area encouraging us to “Watch Out For Motorcycles!’

On a Scriptural level, that also seems why we have today’s three liturgical readings. Our sacred authors are concerned that we not only discover what happened to them, but that we also be prepared to discover those same things and events happening in our own lives. If we’re not prepared to have them take place, we’ll rarely notice them taking place.

Our Wisdom author is convinced that only those enslaved Israelites who were anticipating Yahweh to destroy their foes actually interpreted the Exodus correctly. Historically, according to the Exodus author, the majority of Jews in Egypt argued against Moses. What turned out to be the greatest saving event in Jewish history started as a huge aggravation. Especially the Torah’s Yahwistic author reminds us of the people’s constant “griping.” They’d have been more content eating watermelon as slaves along the Nile than crossing the Reed Sea as free people. What a chosen few saw, most ignored.

The author of Hebrews wants to make certain such blindness never happens to Jesus’ followers. So he constantly hammers away at Abraham and Sarah’s faith. Presuming they’re the first Jews, they don’t have Yahweh’s track record to fall back on. Only their faith helps them see Yahweh’s hand in the daily events of their life. They didn’t emigrate from Ur to Canaan, for instance, simply to acquire more food in a foreign land, but because Yahweh had a unique plan for them and their descendants. Likewise they didn’t engage in intimate relations because of any physical attraction but because that was an essential part of God providing them with an heir. Our sacred authors are convinced that faith enables us to notice what others ignore.

That seems to be why Luke’s Jesus wants us to be certain about where our “treasure” is located. Those who consistently “sell their belongings and give alms” will also be the ones who are consistently prepared to notice the risen Jesus present in their lives. Those who focus on caring for the needs of others will also be focusing on experiencing God’s kingdom in their midst. The historical Jesus presumed his followers would see what he chose to see during his earthly ministry. That was the only way they would be his faithful and prudent stewards.

Perhaps it would be more faith effective to replace some of our elaborate church decorations with simple yard signs reading, “Watch For God Working In Your Lives!”

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

08/18/2019

AUGUST 18TH, 2019: TWENTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10; Hebrews 12:1-4; Luke 12:49-53

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

Years ago there was a horrible accident at one of our local amusement parks. A woman was thrown from a roller coaster type ride and killed. The investigation following the accident showed her death was totally preventable. She simply hadn’t been “locked in.” The young man in charge of that function was too embarrassed to tell her that because she was overweight he couldn’t click the latch on the belt which would have held her on the ride.

Many of us can identify with that worker. We’d also like to live as hassle-free a life as possible, avoiding situations which would create tension between ourselves and others. On one hand, he certainly avoided the tension which could have resulted from telling her she was too obese to be on that ride. But on the other hand, his reluctance to speak out cost her life.

I presume from today’s three readings that God’s prophets frequently find themselves in parallel situations. They’re chosen by Yahweh or the risen Jesus to be the conscience of the people; they’re to proclaim God’s word. Yet, as we hear in our Jeremiah passage, there are good reasons why they’re often tempted to keep their mouths shut. “Jeremiah ought to be put to death,” the princes say. One way to make certain the prophet doesn’t deliver God’s word is to kill the prophet. Works every time.

Though Jeremiah is eventually delivered from the princes’ hands, I presume every time he opened his mouth again to tell the people what Yahweh wanted of them, he remembered this near miss. The next time he might not be so lucky. No wonder in chapter 20 he wishes he’d never been born.

This “prophecy thing” is very important for Christians. The earliest Christian author, Paul, presumes each of our communities is blessed with at least one person who has the Spirit’s gift of prophecy. He’s convinced other Christs can’t function correctly unless their members understand what the risen Jesus wishes them to do. That seems to be one of the reasons Luke’s Jesus wants his followers to know, “I have come to set the earth on fire . . . . Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” Those who dare imitate him must be aware of the divisions in society such an imitation will bring about.

Perhaps that’s why the unknown author of the Letter to the Hebrews insists we constantly “keep our eyes fixed on him (Jesus).” Only by focusing on him will we be able “to persevere in running the race that lies before us.”

Before any of Jesus’ disciples suspected he was divine, they were certain he was a prophet. Though he never demanded they imitate his divinity, they knew from the beginning he expected them to integrate some of his burning prophetic charism into their own lives.

Normally we expect our sacred authors to tear into their readers for not listening to the prophets and carrying out their words. But today the author of Hebrews and Luke’s gospel look at prophecy from the other side. Both tear into us for not being brave enough to proclaim even the small bit of God’s word with which the Spirit has gifted us. Though the vast majority of us aren’t “full-time” prophets, as other Christs we frequently run into situations in which we say nothing where something should be said. We shouldn’t pretend to be overly pious, but especially among family and friends neither, for instance, should we hesitate to confront racial or prejudicial remarks. Certainly wouldn’t want anyone close to us to be flung off the ride.

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

08/25/2019

AUGUST 25TH, 2019: TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7, 11-13; Luke 13:22-30

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

Most of us don’t like to hear the word “discipline,” especially when it’s applied to us. We presume it’s geared to take away our freedom, and in the long run always comes with some sort of punishment. Yet a typical dictionary definition of the term says it’s simply the practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behavior. So when the author of the Letter to the Hebrews writes about the “discipline of the Lord,” he’s simply talking about the unique rules and behavior patterns the risen Jesus expects us to obey.

Growing up Catholic, I methodically learned all the dos and don’ts my catechism listed. But being a typical, concrete thinking child, I concentrated on the don’ts, especially since they were hooked up to the fiery punishments of purgatory and hell that scared the bejeebers out of me. Unlike the dos, the don’ts were hard to forget. Though the Hebrews’ author reminds us that “whom the Lord loves, he disciplines,” not only didn’t I feel much love coming out of the pages of my catechism, I secretly envied my Protestant friends who didn’t seem to be restrained or burdened by any fear of committing mortal sins.

Yet listening to today’s first and third readings, it’s clear that the discipline to which both sacred authors refer doesn’t restrict our behavior; it expands it.

Active shortly after Israel’s 6th century BCE Babylonian captivity, Third-Isaiah is concerned not only with encouraging the recently freed Jews to return to the Promised Land, he wants them to come back to their ancestral home with a new mentality toward Gentiles. No longer are they to regard them simply as “non-Jews:” people incapable of having a meaningful relationship with Yahweh. God’s now including these foreigners in his/her plan of salvation. Unbelievably, some will even be included in the special category of priests and Levites: individuals who were granted their special ministry and privileges by birth. No one went to the seminary to become a priest or Levite; they were born that way. Yet now Yahweh’s saying that some Gentiles are by nature just as important as some Jews. I’m certain a number of holy, pious Jews would have petitioned the Holy Office – had one existed back them - to have Third-Isaiah officially declared a heretic. Such openness certainly wasn’t the divine discipline they’d learned and followed as children. The prophet was now demanding they expand their behavior to now be open to Yahweh working with all people, not just the Chosen People.

Because of our emphasis on the don’ts of our faith, it’s easy to overlook the fact that the historical Jesus demanded similar discipline from his followers. Today’s Lucan pericope leaves us little wiggle room. “There will be wailing and grinding of teeth,” Jesus warns, “when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out.” The “saved” will include people we presumed were nowhere near being listed in that category. Neither belonging to the “true church,” saying the right prayers, or knowing all the rules and regulations will save us. Our only hope is to imitate the mentality of Jesus.

“People will come from the east and the west,” Luke’s Jesus insists, “and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God.” His salvation rule of thumb can be easily summarized: “Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

Ironically the “narrow gate” for entering God’s kingdom among us revolves around our developing a very broad mind, something many of us conveniently forgot when we were studying Jesus’ dos.

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

09/01/2019

SEPTEMBER 1ST, 2019: TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29; Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-24a; Luke 14:1, 7-14

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

Most of us take movie background music for granted. Even we old-timers have grown up with it, rarely reflecting on it’s being an artificial element. Yet, Jaws, for instance, certainly wouldn’t have become the great classic film it is without John Williams’ suspense filled soundtrack.

The problem is, as far as I can tell, that none of us have special music playing in the background as we live our lives. What we take for granted in movies, we omit from our day by day existence. Such things just aren’t there in real life.

But that’s not totally correct. In some sense, Scripture is the background music our faith lives. To those who read and study this special library, it’s always there, giving significance to our following of the risen Jesus, constantly running through our minds like a movie soundtrack.

Even before that First Century CE Galilean carpenter began his itinerant preaching ministry, followers of Yahweh were familiar with such a soundtrack. About 500 years before Jesus’ birth, the Torah – Scripture’s first five books – had taken the form with which we’re familiar today. Through the years, other books, like Sirach, were also added to the themes faithful Jews surfaced as they tried to give themselves over to Yahweh’s will. As we hear in today’s first reading, humility, wisdom and almsgiving were always playing in the back of the minds of true Israelites. They gave deeper meaning to the life of all Jews.

Of course, as I mentioned above, music isn’t actually playing as we live our lives. It only plays when we want it to play. Most of the time we don’t reflect on the important things, people or situations we daily experience until long after we encounter them. Luke’s Jesus seems to take that for granted. Though the risen Jesus’ soundtrack doesn’t automatically become part of our personal soundtrack when we awake each morning, he wants us to do what’s necessary to have it kick in.

According to Jesus, there’s significance in everything we do, even to where we sit during a formal dinner. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet,” he insists, “do not recline at table in the place of honor.” Somehow we’re to be so honest that we appreciate not only our own importance, but also the importance of others. That’s biblical humility. “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, but those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

He even expects us to concretize that humble theme music when we throw a party. “Do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather . . . invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you.”

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews certainly turns up the volume, putting our simple Christian actions on a level of symbolism anyone would enjoy hearing. In the ordinary events of our lives, we can actually “touch” the God among us, come in contact with “the spirits of the just made perfect,” and even encounter the risen Jesus.

But perhaps the music which best keeps us on the road the risen Jesus expects us to take is in the last line of our gospel passage: “You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” This creates the soundtrack for all Christian lives. We constantly look beyond. If we don’t, then as Paul said in I Corinthians, we’re the most ridiculous of all people. We’re going through life without hearing the music which gives meaning to that life.

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

09/08/2019

SEPTEMBER 8TH, 2019: TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Wisdom 9:13-18b; Philemon 9-10, 12-17; Luke 14:25-33

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

One of the shortest books in the Christian Scriptures packs one of the biggest wallops. Paul’s letter to Philemon isn’t long enough to have chapters, yet its message has challenged Christians for almost 2,000 years.

The Apostle was faced with a unique problem when he dictated these few lines and mailed them to his old friend, a problem with which none of us today (hopefully) will ever have to deal: a runaway slave. Onesimus, Philemon’s slave, had not only escaped from his master’s house after destroying some of his property, but eventually he ran to Paul, expecting the Apostle to protect him. Does he keep him or return him? The problem becomes even more complicated when Onesimus converts to Christianity and Paul baptizes him.

Obviously our faith had not yet evolved to the point where slavery, as such, would be unconditionally prohibited. (That wouldn’t happen for about another 1,800 years!) That’s why it’s important to note the principles Paul employs to come to a conclusion. He couldn’t just check the latest papal documents or look up some conciliar decrees. He didn’t even have a catechism to flip through to find the answer.

It’s clear that he basically agrees with the Wisdom author that our first moral principle is always to do “what Yahweh intends.” But as we hear in today’s reading, at times that’s hard to do. “Scarce do we guess the things on earth . . . ,” the author reflects, “but when things are in heaven, who can search them out?” Such certainty can come only from Yahweh’s holy spirit. Without that force in our daily lives, the paths of those on earth could never be made straight.

Luke’s Jesus presumes we must be completely committed to that spirit. Nothing – or no one – can be more important than that commitment, not even life itself. And it’s certainly not something that comes easy. It can take as much planning as building a tower or waging a war. We simply can’t be other Christs without it. There’s no other way to daily carry our cross.

Perhaps the first principle Paul operates from is Jesus’ – and modern moral theologians’ - belief that whatever we do, we do freely. Things done from force or fear don’t count toward our eternal salvation. As difficult as it might to achieve such freedom, the Apostle expects both Philemon and Onesimus to have no force or fear in whatever they do. That means he first respectfully asks Philemon to free Onesimus and permit him to help Paul. But on the other hand, he also expects Onesimus to freely return to his former owner and permit himself to again be in his power before he asks for his release. In each case, Philemon could freely say, “No!” just as Onesimus could freely say, “I’m not going back!”

Since this letter is in our biblical canon, we presume both said yes. But there’s no way to definitively prove that. It’s an essential part of carrying our cross that we create situations in which people are free to do the unpredictable. With such a commitment to freedom it was only a matter of (a long) time before slavery would be condemned by the church.

But Paul is also guided by his belief that, once baptized, we each become a new creation. So according to his theology, Onesimus is just as much a free person as Philemon, and Philemon is just as much a slave as Onesimus. We’re all one. Perhaps one of the reasons we’re more comfortable in just following rules and regulations instead of making decisions based on Christian principles is that there’s much less personal dying in the rules and regulation. Someone else already made the decision for us.

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

09/15/2019

SEPTEMBER 15TH, 2019: TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Exodus 32:7-11, 13-14; I Timothy 1:12-17; Luke 15:1-32

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

If the majority of our biblical books weren’t self-critical they wouldn’t be in the Bible. One of the reasons people of faith saved these writings was because they helped them reflect on their own weaknesses. If we’re not willing to be analyzed, we probably shouldn’t read Scripture.

Yet, because our sacred authors didn’t have us in mind when they wrote, it’s easy to miss some of the self-critical aspects of their writings. This is especially true of today’s first reading.

As with all biblical writings we must know what was going on in the community when the writing was actually composed, not what was going on during the period the work describes. For instance, today we shouldn’t be asking about Egyptian calf gods during the 12th century BCE – the period of the Exodus. Serious students of Scripture want to know what was going on “calf-wise” in 8th century BCE Israel, where and when today’s Exodus passage was actually created.

Hosea, prophesying in Israel during that time, twice mentions problems with calves – 8:4-6, & 13:2 – demanding that Samaria “cast (their) calves away” and condemning men for “throwing kisses to calves.” Scholars tell us that Hosea’s calves are actually cherubim set up as symbols of Yahweh’s presence in various Jewish shrines and temples. A cherub is a mythological animal: head of a human, wings of an eagle and body of a bull – hence the derisive term “calf.” It was presumed gods got from point A to point B on their backs. And when they got there, they would sit enthroned astride them. So, for Jews, making and putting a cherub in a sacred place was an outward sign Yahweh was in that place. (Sort of like a sanctuary candle is a Catholic sign Jesus is present in the tabernacle.) The Ark of the Covenant even sported two cherubs. But, due to bad catechesis, many Jews eventually began to believe the cherub actually was Yahweh; they began to worship the statue, even blowing kisses to it.

Prophets, like Hosea, didn’t tolerate such practices. They blew off the argument that the cherubs originally came from the priests – Aaron in this case. The idolatrous “calves” had to go. They were drawing people from true faith. The original readers would have known this Exodus story was directed to what they were doing in 8th century Israel, not to what their ancestors had done 400 years before in the Sinai. They had created the golden calves in the shrines they frequented.

In a similar way, Luke’s original readers automatically knew the key person in Jesus’ Prodigal Son parable is the unforgiving older brother. Throughout Luke/Acts, Luke’s Jesus constantly conveys God’s mercy to individuals who have no legitimate claim to such mercy. In each of today’s three parables, Jesus’ God seems to have no problem with forgiving. We, not God, are the obstacles to that process. Rarely does anyone ever criticize us for “welcoming and eating with sinners.” Perhaps we other Christs need more forgiveness than the sinners in our midst.

The Pauline disciple who wrote I Timothy doesn’t hesitate to point out his mentor’s shortcomings: blasphemer, persecutor, arrogant. Fortunately, the Apostle reminds the readers, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Of these I am the foremost.” Who, hearing these words, would not immediately think of his or her own unworthiness to carry on Jesus’ ministry? Yet, each can testify, “I was mercifully treated.”

Of course, just as we critically applied Luke and I Timothy’s passages to ourselves, we can do likewise with the Exodus pericope. What golden calves have we as a church created through the centuries? Thankfully the risen Jesus, not the church will judge us at the pearly gates.

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

09/22/2019

SEPTEMBER 22ND, 2019: TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Amos 8:47; I Timothy 2:1-8; Luke 16:1-13

[Editor's note: While Father Roger Karban recovers from an illness, FOSIL reprints a column from 2016:]

Contrary to popular Christian belief, the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures weren’t sent by Yahweh to predict the coming of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. The late Raymond Brown always reminded his students and readers, “There are no Old Testament predictions of Jesus as we know Jesus.” Through the centuries we’ve given prophetic statements meanings which the original prophets never intended to convey. If prophets simply predicted an event which would only take place hundreds of years down the road, why did so many of them die with their sandals on?

It’s essential to see prophets as part of their day and age, not our day and age. They’re the conscience of the people, reminding them of how God wants them to live their lives, constantly pointing out how they’re living counter to God’s plan. No one does this better than the first of the “book prophets:” Amos.

Active in 8th century BCE Israel, Amos does what all prophets do: he goes to the “good folk,” showing how they’re practicing a faith which isn’t Yahweh’s faith. It’s historically easy to practice a religion which at times actually leads people away from God’s plan. If the prophet’s audiences aren’t at least outwardly committed to carrying out God’s will the prophet doesn’t have much of an argument when he or she proclaims God’s message.

That’s why Amos delivers the oracles in today’s first reading at the national shrine of Bethel: one of Israel’s most sacred sanctuaries. He’s addressing people who think they’re good Jews, individuals who among other things keep the religious regulations surrounding the new moon and the Sabbath. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be at Bethel. But he points out that once these holy times are over those who so faithfully frequent the national shrine “trample on the needy and destroy the poor of the land.” They use false weights when they sell their grain, and are willing to accept bribes (“a pair of sandals”) in their dealings with the poor and lowly. They go so far as to even sell “the refuse of the wheat” to those whose severe hunger forces them to buy it.

It’s no accident that the Pauline disciple responsible for I Timothy longs for followers of Jesus “to lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity.” We share his wish that people “should pray, lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument.” All of us hope to live a peaceful existence. Yet the gospel Jesus teaches that because of the prophetic aspect of being other Christs, that isn’t always possible.

In today’s gospel pericope, Luke’s Jesus reminds us that carrying on his ministry doesn’t happen by accident. It usually takes a lot of planning. He conveys that reality by pointing out the obvious: people work at doing evil much harder than they work at doing good. The unjust steward is ingenious in making certain his master’s debtors “will welcome (him) into their homes” after he’s been fired. Jesus demands his followers deliberately spend their lives giving themselves over to God, not to evil.

I’ve frequently suggested that we stop examining our conscience before we go to sleep at night, and begin to examine it when we get up in the morning. With the day in front of us, we can more easily figure out at what point we can squeeze in a good action for a friend, do an unrequested favor for someone, or simply be a loving person in a particular situation. It makes more sense to plot and connive good than just to instinctively do good when it comes to mind. Such precise planning could really make us prophetic Christians “dangerous” people in the world.

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