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Things were so much better
From St. Augustine’s Sermo Calillus-Saint Yves 2, he offers us some advice
And yet you hear people complaining about this present day and age because things were so much better in former time. I wonder what would happen if they could be taken back to the days of their ancestors – would we not still hear them complaining? You may think past ages were good, but it is only because you are not living in them.
Christology: Three Questions
This coming Sunday is the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time. The Gospel according to Matthew accepts and uses the main Christological titles found already in the Gospel according to Mark, including Christ/Messiah, Son of God, Son of Man, Rabbi, and Teacher. But in contrast to Mark, Matthew adds several new titles and emphasizes certain aspects of Jesus’ identity. Matthew’s Gospel begins by identifying Jesus as “the son of David, the son of Abraham” (1:1), showing Jesus’ Davidic/royal and Abrahamic/Jewish heritage, respectively. Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is presented as “the New Moses” for the people of Israel, and is given a variety of other titles, including Emmanuel, Savior, Prophet, and King of the Jews. It is in this light that our pericope asks its two questions.
The First Question: Who do people say that the Son of Man is?
Clearly the local “buzz” places Jesus among the greats of Jewish religious history. Not only are all prophets, but all are already dead and thought to be resurrected or alive in heaven. Elijah was whisked away to heaven in a fiery chariot, Herod thought John the Baptist was already raised from the dead, and there were non-biblical accounts of Jeremiah resurrected. In other words, they place him in the cadre of prophets raised from the dead. The first question, more literally phrased is “Who are the humans saying that the son of the human is?” The Greek anthropos (human being, person; mankind; man – EDNT 1:100) is used twice in the sentence. There is indeed high praise in the “buzz,” but there is not enough for their faith to crossover and grasp the real identity of Jesus of Nazareth.
The Second Question: But who do you say that I am?
The “you” in the second question is emphatic and plural. It was not a question addressed just to Peter, but to the whole community. As in the first question, the word “saying” is present tense = “continue to say” or “keep on saying.” It is not a one-time declaration, but a repeated confession. Peter answers the question addressed to the whole group. In Matthew’s narrative Peter sometimes represents the disciples, sometimes represents all believers, sometimes plays a unique role in founding the new community, and sometimes is just Simon/Peter. It is a valid question to ask which “Peter” is portrayed answering Jesus’ question? Given the context of the verses that follow, there is something happening that is more than a simple, impulsive response. In this scene Simon/Peter is answering for and on behalf of the new community emerging from discipleship to Jesus
The Response: You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God
Many have written about the lack of a consensus among 1st century Palestine about the meaning of “Messiah.” All that can be said with certainty, whether Messiah be king or pauper, “Messiah” was a word of hope connected to God’s divine providence. Just what shape that hope would take was not clear – even to Peter, the one who had confessed it. By vv.22-23 it is clear that Peter’s understanding does not encompass the idea of a Messiah who suffers and dies.
Up to v.16, the account closely parallels Mark 8:27–29. But in v.16 Matthew seems to add to Mark’s narrative when he includes a further specification of Jesus’ identity “the Son of the living God.” It is not clear whether that is a modifier to “Messiah” or a separate title. Most scholars hold that Matthew wants us to grasp that Peter’s confession, despite the potentially misleading nature of Messianic language and Peter’s own failure to grasp its practical implications, is telling us more. The addition goes beyond a merely nationalistic fervor to an awareness of Jesus’ special relationship with God. The adjective living (which has a good Old Testament pedigree) may perhaps have been included to contrast the one true God with the local deities.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
A metaphor, right?
In today’s gospel we have the famous expression: “Amen, I say to you, it will be hard for one who is rich to enter the Kingdom of heaven. Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the Kingdom of God” It is a continuation of the encounter with the rich young man of yesterday’s gospel. In other form, the expression also appears in the Jewish Talmud and in Qur’an 7:40: “Indeed, those who deny Our verses and are arrogant toward them – the gates of Heaven will not be opened for them, nor will they enter Paradise until a camel enters into the eye of a needle.”
In the Christian context it seems to bluntly say that it is flat-out impossible for rich people to enter the Kingdom of God. Lots of commentaries say that The “Eye of the Needle” was a gate in Jerusalem, which opened after the main gate was closed at night. It was intentionally narrow and low so that travelers could only enter one-by-one and any beast of burden (e.g. the camel) would have to be either lightly loaded or completely unloaded. Hence: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor.” So – there was a chance for rich people after all!
The interpretation has been put forth since at least the 15th century and possibly as far back as the 9th century. However, there is no archeological or historically reliable evidence for the existence of such a gate. One has to be suspect of the later rising of the explanation – somehow tamping down and tempering Jesus’ words.
Cyril of Alexandria claimed that “camel” is a Greek misspelling and that kamêlos (camel) was written in place of kamilos, meaning “rope” or “cable”. More recently, George Lamsa, in his 1933 translation of the Bible into English from the Syriac, claimed the same based on the Syriac.
Camel, rope, cable – still pretty impossible. But then it is a metaphor. Right? I would suggest we are right back to yesterday’s point: do you possess wisdom about riches and their place in your journey to God? Jesus identified for the rich young man the one possession he could not imagine himself without and he walked away sad. Not angry, not thinking Jesus was unreasonable. For perhaps the first time, the young man knows exactly what stands between him and the freedom he is seeking. And he discovers that, at least for now, he is unwilling to let it go. The young man knows God’s will for him. He just decides that the price is too high.
But no worries. It’s just a metaphor, right?
Image credit: iStock, std license.
Forming the Church
This coming Sunday is the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time. Our reading is located in a section of Matthean narrative that portrays the formation of the church (13:53-17:27) in the midst of the continuing conflict with all levels of Jewish society that is leaning towards a growing rejection of Jesus as Messiah. This story forms the hinge of the section because after this Jesus will heighten his attention to the preparation of the disciples for their mission as a community once Jesus has died and resurrected from the dead. It will be a community who perceives and professes his true identity.
Crossing Over: A new theme emerges – A theme that began with Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman (15:21-28) continues with the geographical setting of the story: the region of Caesarea Philippi. Early in its history this location had been the setting of Canaanite worship to Ba’al and later a Greek temple to the god Pan (hence the name Paneas). Eventually it simply became a center of secular power under the Roman regency of Herod the Great and his son Phillip who renamed it after Tiberius Caesar and himself: Caesarea Philippi. Is the mention of the location just a geographical touch of narrative – Luke, the “geographer” of the gospel writers, does not mention the name – so one wonders why Matthew includes it. It is not clear, but perhaps Matthew wanted to emphasize that this significant scene took place in a setting with significant religious and secular meanings and associations. By doing so, Matthew crosses over to confront the pantheon of gods and the power of Caesar, with the true King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
But at the same time, this scene does not really cross over into new “territory” as regards Jesus’ divine identity. While this parallel scene in Mark is the first time Jesus’ divine identity is proclaimed by others and worship (homage) takes place, that is not true in Matthew. Jesus’ true identity is not really new to the disciples who have heard Jesus refer to himself in christological terms, have understood it, and worshiped him as the Son of God (14:33). The breakthrough is not christological. Matthew is crossing over to begin to explicate the ecclesiological (“being church”) dimensions of the profession and worship. It is from here that there is a separation of the new community of believers in the Kingdom of Heaven from those who oppose and reject it.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
The grace of restlessness
A young man approached Jesus and said, “Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?” (Mt 19:16) Jesus answered the young man. “When the young man heard [Jesus’] statement, he went away sad…” (v.22) In the online notes , the US Catholic Bishops note that Matthew is not proposing a two-tier Christianity, with ordinary Christians merely keeping the commandments and unusually holy Christians pursuing perfection. Matthew has already commanded all disciples to “be perfect” (5:48). There is a lot more to this gospel than “possessions can get in the way of following Jesus.”
After Jesus recounts the Commandments, after which: “The young man said to him, ‘All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?’” (v.20) That might be the most important sentence of the whole text: “What do I still lack?”
This isn’t the story of a sinner refusing conversion. It is the story of a religious, morally serious person who realizes that being good and being completely free for God are not necessarily the same thing. He senses that something is missing. There is an itch he can’t quite scratch. You’re here at daily Mass. I’d say that puts you in the category of a religious, morally serious person. But is there something nagging at the edge of your consciousness? Perhaps “what do I still lack” is a question for all of us.
Perhaps we are like the young man. We keep the commandments. We know that our spiritual life has not achieved “fullness.” There’s something more. Maybe like the young man we keep asking.
What I love about this gospel is that Jesus takes the young man’s restlessness seriously. The answer to that young man is to dispossess his material wealth. That’s the answer to him. That is what holds him back. But that might not be the source of your restlessness.
Instead, Christ might answer our restlessness differently. Need to surrender some resentment? Still looking for everyone’s approval and recognition? Need to be in control? Need to be more trusting with that part of your life you hold back?
Jesus identified for the rich young man the one possession he could not imagine himself without and he walked away sad. Not angry, not thinking Jesus was unreasonable. For perhaps the first time, the young man knows exactly what stands between him and the freedom he is seeking. And he discovers that, at least for now, he is unwilling to let it go. The young man knows God’s will for him. He just decides that the price is too high.
Sometimes sadness reveals where our deepest attachment lies.
The young man’s question was, “What do I still lack?” Today, I think my question would be: “Lord, what is this restlessness within me trying to tell me? What am I still afraid to place in your hands?”
Be attentive to the grace of restlessness in your life.
Image credit: Heinrich Hofmann | 1888 | Christ and the Rich Young Ruler | Brigham Young University Museum of Art | PD-US
The three questions
This coming Sunday is the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. In this gospel a large part of the Matthean narrative is devoted to the tripartite question: (a) who is Jesus, (b) what does it mean to be his disciples in the light of his identity, and (c) what choices will you make because of his call. In previous two Sunday gospels we have seen these questions addressed in the pericope of Peter walking upon the waters (Mt 14:22-33) and the encounter with the Canaanite woman (15:21-28) – and both episodes move Jesus to comment upon the faith of the disciple. These stories serve as the immediate context for our gospel about Peter’s confession and what it will mean for him in his on-going role of discipleship.
Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah forms the climax to the long section of the Gospel which began in 4:17 with Jesus’ public teaching in Galilee. Along the way the question of Jesus’ identity has repeatedly arisen. Matthew has been clear from the beginning about Jesus’ identity – he is the one in whom God’s salvific purposes are fulfilled. From the beginning, Matthew has recorded the clear declarations of Jesus’ identity by God (3:17) and by the demons (8:29). But there is no record of any explicit declaration by Jesus of his role as Messiah (though of course much of the recorded teaching points unmistakably in that direction). Mainly we have only the testimony of the people who witness his miracles and signs: frequent amazement of the crowd at his authority in word and deed (4:24–25; 7:28–29; 9:8, 26, 31, 33; 13:54; 15:31). This amazement has led to speculation if he is the son of David (12:23; the title is also offered to him by petitioner in 9:27; 15:22), which no doubt gave rise to the authorities’ repeated demand for a sign to authenticate his supposed claims (12:28; 16:1). The messianic identity is heightened when John the Baptist pointed forward to a ‘coming one’ (3:11–12) and has tentatively identified Jesus in this ‘Messianic’ role (11:2–6),; all the while Herod confused Jesus’ ministry with that of John (14:1–2).
People want certainty about Jesus and who he is before they commit to be his disciples. But even after all that Jesus has said and done, there is always one more sign that is requested (16:1-5) – and eventually the answer is “No.” The time for signs is over. It is time to decide.
In this situation it is time for the issue to be clarified, but it is significant that, in accordance with the principle set out in 13:11–17, it is to the disciples in private that the clarification is given, here and in 17:1–13. The crowds remain in a state of uncertainty, and this, as 16:20 will vividly show, is quite deliberate.
Image Credit: Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c 1481–1482). Sistine Chapel, Vatican City | Public Domain
Crossing over is dangerous business
September 1965 should have been a great year. I was a rising 8th grader at St James school in Orlando – you know, about to become king of the school. That’s when geography dealt a cruel blow. Both my older sisters were going to Bishop Moore HS – which was the opposite direction from St James. In a moment, my fate was sealed. I had to transfer to St. Charles which shared a campus with the HS. I was exiled from all my friends to attend a school filled with kids who thought they were too cool, who wore all the new clothes, who bought all the right albums, who won all the school championships. Continue reading
Solemnity of the Assumption of Mary
The Assumption was defined as dogma only in the 1950. In our Catholic Church ‘dogma” is defined as a truth revealed by God, which the magisterium of the Church declared as binding upon all Catholics. The term Dogma Catholicum was first used by Vincent of Lérins (450), referring to “what all, everywhere and always believed” – with the emphasis on katholica meaning universal. The term dogma derived from the Greek dogma (δόγμα) meaning literally “that which one thinks is true” and the verb dokein, “to seem good.”
On 1 November 1950, in the Apostolic Constitution Munificentissimus Deus Pope Pius XII declared the Assumption of Mary as a dogma:
By the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and by our own authority, we pronounce, declare, and define it to be a divinely revealed dogma: that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory
Pope Pius XII deliberately left open the question of whether Mary died before her Assumption.
On the same day, the Eastern Orthodox and Eastern Catholics celebrate the Dormition of the Mother of God (or Dormition of the Theotokos, the falling asleep of the Mother of God). Eastern Christians believe that Mary died a natural death, that her soul was received by Christ upon death, and that her body was resurrected on the third day after her death and that she was taken up into heaven bodily in anticipation of the general resurrection. Her tomb was found empty on the third day.
Orthodox tradition is clear in regard to the central point of the Dormition: the Holy Virgin underwent, as did her Son, a physical death, but her body – like His – was afterwards raised from the dead and she was taken up into heaven, in her body as well as in her soul. She has passed beyond death and judgement and lives wholly in life eternal.
Many western Catholics also believe that Mary first died before being assumed, but they believe that she was miraculously resurrected before being assumed. Others believe she was assumed bodily into Heaven without first dying. Either understanding may be legitimately held by Latin and Eastern Catholics.
In parallel to the theological discussion – actually, well before the theologians got into the mix, the Assumption had a rich history of writings and liturgical celebrations. The earliest known Reference is “The Book of Mary’s Repose” which survives in an Ethiopic translation. It is understood as being a 3rd century writing. Also, quite early is a book titled, “The Six Books” a collection of Dormition narratives dating to the 4th century.
In some versions of the narrative, the Assumption is said to have taken place in Ephesus, in the House of the Virgin Mary. Comparatively, that is a later and localized tradition – especially in Ephesus. The earliest written traditions say that Mary’s life ended in Jerusalem located in the Kidron Valley – at the foot of Mount of Olives. What is interesting is that since the 5th century all rulers over Jerusalem have honored the tomb of Mary as being in that location. The Muslim rulers may have destroyed the church atop the tomb but the crypt was left untouched, as for Muslims it is the burial place of the mother of prophet Isa (Jesus)
By the 7th century, a variation of the narrative emerged, according to which one of the apostles, often identified as St Thomas, was not present at the death of Mary but his late arrival precipitates a reopening of Mary’s tomb, which is found to be empty except for her grave clothes.
The liturgical celebrations (transitus celebrations) of the Assumption were well established in the East by the 5th century and began widespread celebration in the West by the 9th century.
Universal Salvation
This coming Sunday is the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The careful reader of Matthew should be mindful that there have been persistent hints. From the beginning of the Gospel, Matthew begins to make it clear that the community of the Messiah is formed from unexpected sources. The mention of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba (1:3, 5, 6), all evidently Gentiles with overtones of scandal in their backgrounds, prepares the reader for Jesus’ association with the sinners of his own day.
The curious arrival of the mysterious wise men (Magi) from the east who wish to worship Jesus (2:1–2) foreshadows the power of the message of the Kingdom to summon followers in surprising ways. Jesus’ amazement at the faith of the Roman officer (8:10–12) and his acknowledgement of the faith of the Canaanite woman (15:28) encourage the readers of this Gospel to believe that the message of the Kingdom is able to engender faith from unlikely sources in their own day. The Roman soldier’s amazed confirmation of Jesus’ true identity at the crucifixion (27:54) has a similar effect. All of these episodes from the narrative collectively encouraged Matthew’s original Jewish readers to expand their vision of the people of God. It was not that they should abandon their fellow Jews, but they were to take the message of the Kingdom to “all the nations” (28:19).
Image credit: Jean Germain Drouais, Christ and the Canaanite Woman, 1784, Louvre Museum | Public Domain
Covenantal Love
Here on this last day in the first reading sequence, Ezekiel 16:1-15, 60, 63, an extraordinarily harsh passage. Indeed, parts of the complete chapter are deliberately shocking. But its governing metaphor is covenantal love.
God describes Jerusalem as an abandoned infant whom nobody wanted: “No eye looked on you with pity… Rather, you were thrown out on the open field…” (16:5) God finds her, gives her life, raises her, clothes her, adorns her and enters covenant with her: “I swore an oath to you and entered into covenant with you… and you became mine.” (16:8)
But Jerusalem takes the very gifts God gave her and turns them toward infidelity. That explains everything we have just encountered. The sin that caused the judgment, the departure of God’s glory and the exile was not merely violation of regulations. It was betrayal of a relationship.
And then the jumps, omitting much of Ezekiel’s blistering indictment and takes us to verse 60: “Yet I will remember the covenant I made with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish an everlasting covenant with you.” That “Yet” may be the theological key to the entire week’s readings.
- Israel forgets.
- God remembers.
- Israel breaks covenant.
- God establishes covenant.
- Israel’s sin has consequences.
- But Israel’s sin does not get the final word.
The glory of the LORD that leaves the Temple in Ezekiel 10–11 eventually comes back. Near the end of the book, Ezekiel sees the restored Temple: “The glory of the LORD entered the temple by way of the gate facing east.” (Ezek 43:4) The same divine glory that traveled eastward out of Jerusalem returns from the east. In a way this frames the whole book: God’s glory departs but God does not abandon his people forever.
And between departure and return come some of Ezekiel’s greatest promises: the shepherd who will seek the scattered sheep (chapter 34), the new heart and new spirit (36:26), and the dry bones restored to life (chapter 37) – all themes we see in the story of Jesus. Understood in this frame, Ezekiel’s message is not, “Israel sinned, so God punished them.” It is subtler and ultimately more hopeful: God’s people rejected the Word they had been given; their infidelity hollowed out even their sacred institutions; the consequences were catastrophic. Yet even when Israel’s faithfulness failed, God’s faithfulness did not.
Image credit: A fresco from St. John the Baptist Church in Kratovo, Macedonia (photo: Rašo, via Wikimedia Commons)
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