Blessed Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)

 

Almighty God, by the hand of Moses your servant you led your people out of slavery, and made them free at last: Grant that your Church, following the example of your prophet Martin Luther King, may resist oppression in the name of your love, and may secure for all your children the blessed liberty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Called To Extraordinary Witness & Service

 

Two of today's liturgical readings (Isaiah 49:1-7 and 1 Corinthians 1:1-9), within the first line, explicitly talk about being called. "The Lord called me before I was born...And he said to me 'You are my servant...'" (Is 1;1); "Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God..." (1 Cor 1:1) Jesus' invitation to Andrew and John, "Come and see", in John's Gospel (1:39) rounds out the theme. These Scriptures together span a 700 year time period, and we continue to ponder them today.

The context of the Isaiah text is that Jerusalem has been destroyed. Israel is displaced, in exile. This is the 2nd of four "Servant Songs". The writer, whom scholars often term, "2nd Isaiah" or the "prophet of the Suffering Servant", from c. the 6th century BCE, is, perhaps, the greatest of Israel's prophets, though the writer is anonymous. The text speaks of commission and empowerment: "The Lord called me...made my mouth like a sharp sword...made me a polished arrow..." In essence, this prophet becomes a sharp weapon by speaking the truth. His message is unencumbered and goes straight to the mark.

The bad news which the prophet announces is that he has failed: so miserably, in fact, that he has "spent my strength for nothing and vanity", and now the people are in exile. Despite this, he experiences a new call, a call to bring Israel back to God. It involves two things: 1) restoring Israel, resurrecting Israel; and 2) being "a light to the nations", i.e., speaking the truth world-wide.

Paul, speaking to the Corinthian community, also acknowledges his call: "called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God". The word called serves as a "bookend" word in this passage which ends thus: "...by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord." Corinth was a major maritime center. At the time of Paul's ministry the population numbered some 600,000. Corinth was famous for the Isthmian Games, second only to the Olympics. It was also famous for the temple of Aphrodite on the summit of Acrocorinth and its "sacred" prostitutes. The name "Corinth" became an insulting byword for vice. And, as we can gather from Paul's two Epistles to the people there, the community had an abundance of divisive issues. Yet Paul unequivocally tells the Corinthians that they, even they, are "called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours..." -- even those who differ from them! That should make us today squirm a little! Paul reminds them that they're waiting "for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ." They don't have all the answers, and neither do we!

John the Evangelist, in his magnificent Prologue, alludes the previous call of John the Baptizer. He makes is clear that the Baptizer: 1) was sent from God; 2) that the Baptizer wasn't "the light", but only "a witness to the light". In vv. 19-23, John the Baptizer, when grilled by priests and Levites from Jerusalem reemphasizes that he's neither the Messiah, nor Elijah redivivus, nor "the prophet". In vv. 24-28, we learn that, in reality, John's questioners had actually been sent by the Pharisees -- "the Establishment" -- who wanted to know why he was baptizing across the Jordan, drawing people (in droves presumably) away from the Temple, thus cutting into their profits.

John the Baptizer is obviously committed to his call, viz., to "witness to the light", to keep the focus on the One whose sandal thong he wasn't even worthy to untie. "Here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!", the man who ranks ahead of him, the man he didn't even know, but for whose revelation to Israel John had been designated the messenger. The Baptizer then refers to a recent event, spelled out in the narratives of Mark and Luke, where Jesus shows up at the river bank and asks John to baptize him. Excitedly, John tells what happened there: "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the One who sent me  to baptize with water [God] said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the One who is to baptize with a Holy Spirit.' And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God." John the Baptizer is the vehicle through which the Father confirms that, indeed, Jesus is the Messiah.

A day later, the Baptizer is standing with two men, Andrew, brother of Simon, and one other who could be either Simon, James or John the Beloved, author of the Gospel. Once again, John the Baptizer yells out: "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" Andrew and the other disciple start bird-dogging Jesus, who notices this, turns, and says: "What do you want? What are you looking/searching for?" Note the double meaning. Notice, too, that it's Jesus who initiates the conversation and the eventual invitation to discipleship. The two men address him, whose fame had already spread in the region, as "Teacher/Rabbi". "Where are you staying? He said to them, 'Come and see.' They came and saw...and they remained with him..." The Greek word can refer to lodging, in the ordinary sense, or it can refer, more profoundly, to dwelling with, abiding in. John the Evangelist seems to imply that these men come to Jesus, look and see Jesus, and finally believe and remain with Jesus. The sense of Jesus' comment "Come and see" has the flavor of "Come, and keep on coming..." Jesus chooses to have them around.

For Andrew, especially, it's a profound experience. He immediately runs and seeks out his brother, Simon: "We have found the Anointed One!", and he brings him directly to Jesus. Jesus "looked at him", saw within Simon, and says, "You are Simon...You are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter)." Cephas (Heb.) = Petros (Gr.) = Rock or Rocky. The great ancient father Origen writes that Simon will take Jesus' place, since Jesus is the rock struck by Moses in the desert, giving living water to the Israelites in distress. In John 21:15-17 Jesus makes Peter a shepherd: "Feed my lambs/sheep", even as Jesus is the noble Shepherd.

These readings coincidentally appear within the annual Week of Prayer for Unity, as well as the day preceding Martin Luther King, Jr.'s commemoration. Since last Saturday, especially, it has also been a time of great distress in our country, especially in Tucson, AZ. It's a time of distress and division within the Church, even as many who have left the Anglican Communion embark this week on their new Vatican-approved Ordinariate in England. It's a particularly opportune time for each and all of us to think about our personal call as servants of God; about our call to the Church to do servant mission and ministry; about our call as individuals and as the Church corporately to reach out in love and truth (light) to the world: "that all may be one even as you, Father, in me and I in you, that the world may know that you sent me..."

Great ecumenist, Albert Outler, has written: "...denominations may be justified in their existence for this 'time being' only or that, but not forever. We are commissioned by the Spirit of God 'for the time being' to carry out an extraordinary mission of witness and service, for just so long as our life apart is effective in the economy of God's providence. We are, or ought to be, prepared to risk our life as a separate church and to face death as a denomination in the sure and lively hope of our resurrection in the true community of the whole people of God...The price of true catholicity may very well be the death and resurrection of the churches that we know -- in the faith that God has greater things in store for his people than we can remember or even imagine."

Friendship: Begun, Preserved, Perfected in Christ

 St. Aelred of Rievaulx (c. 1110-1167 AD) was a 12th century abbot of the Cistercian monastery at Rievaulx. He was an Anglo-Saxon (“Ethelred”), born in Northumbria along the Anglo/Scottish border. His great-grandfather/grandfather/father were all married priests. Aelred had two brothers and a sister, of whom one brother and his sister later became monastics as he did.

At 15 (1125) Aelred was sent to live and be educated at the court of the King of Scots, David I. He became close friends with the king’s two stepsons, Simon and Waldef, and was appointed steward of the royal table. Early on he had become familiar with Cicero’s dialogue, On Friendship, which influenced him the rest of his life. He himself became the intimate friend of a member of the court by his own account, presumably a same-sex relationship. But overall he became greatly dissatisfied and restless about his life at the court, almost, as he says, to the point of despair.

While on a mission to York in 1134, he rode over to the new Cistercian monastery, only two years old, at Rievaulx. He was so deeply impressed that, after discussing it with his friends, he entered the
monastery the very next day.

Around 1142 he was sent to Rome and on the way back he stopped at the monastery of Clairvaux where he met the great abbot, St. Bernard. Bernard was very much taken with Aelred’s literary promise and his spiritual depth. Back at Rievaulx he was made novice master in 1142 and began writing books at Bernard’s behest.

In 1143 he was sent to found a new abbey at Revesby. And four years later, in 1147, at age 37, he was called back to become the abbot of Rievaulx, a position which he held for the next 20 years.

Aelred continued writing, and during this time wrote Spiritual Friendship, among other works: a magnificent book of only 81 pages, reflecting the depth of his understanding and lived experience of friendship among men.

Aelred’s life was busy not only with his writings, but with visitations to several daughter houses, trips to General Chapter at Citeaux, not to mention his day-to-day administration of the monastery of Rievaulx, which grew from 300, when he came, to over 600 monks and lay brothers.

The last ten years of his life he suffered ill health, especially kidney stones. He lived and ate in a small infirmary cell, but graciously welcomed his monks always to come -- sometimes 20-30 at a time --
to be with one another and converse about the spiritual life.

Aelred died on January 12, 1167 at the age of 57, with these last words: “Hasten, for Christ love.”

Aelred wrote his book Spiritual Friendship initially for an enquiring monk, Ivo of Wardon, who wanted to know about spiritual friendship -- and not just from such secular sources like Cicero’s On Friendship (from which Aelred frequently quotes) -- which, as Ivo says, “lacks the salt of heavenly books and the flavoring of that most sweet name...”

Aelred replies in this way: “...friendship bears fruit in this life and in the next.” (SF, 2.9) “For what more sublime can be said of friendship, what more true, what more profitable, than that it ought to, and is proved to, begin in Christ, continue in Christ, and be perfected in Christ?” (SF, 1;10) “And, a thing even more excellent than all these considerations, friendship is a stage bordering upon that perfection which consists in the love and knowledge of God, so that man from being a friend of his fellowman becomes the friend of God...” (SF, 2:14)

This is a perfect illustration of what St. Thomas Aquinas meant when he commented: “Grace builds upon nature.” John’s Gospel (2:25) assures us that Jesus “knew all people...he himself could tell what was in people...” And so Jesus could say to his chosen Twelve: “...love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I earnestly admonish you to do. I do not call you servants... but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father...and I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last...” (John 15:12-16)

The Gospels are full of Jesus’ references to friends: John the Baptizer referred to Himself as the “friend of the Bridegroom”. Jesus, says Mark, “called to him[self] those whom he wanted, and they came to him. And he appointed twelve, whom he named apostles, to be with him...” (Mark 3:13-14) Jesus’ critics (Luke 7:34) called him “a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” Jesus refers to “our friend”, Lazarus, as he goes to dramatically restore him to life. (John 11:11)

But Jesus was also realistic, and knew that friendships don’t always last and aren’t always sustained by both parties. After the unusual message Jesus preached about “the living bread that came down from heaven” (John 6), Scripture says: “Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.” Jesus responded as such a solicitous friend that he even gave the Twelve the opportunity to opt out. Their response: “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life...” (John 6:66-68)

Luke’s Gospel (11:5-8) recounts a story about a person who, looking to his own convenience and comfort, didn’t want to be bothered helping his friend in a time of need. Jesus uses the parable to contrast this with God’s always-reliable friendship, and to demonstrate the need for persistence in prayer.

Finally, Jesus modelled for us how a friendship-gone-bad needs to be handled. Judas, one of the most trusted of the Twelve, the keeper of the purse, goes to the chief priests and says: “What will you give me if I betray him to you?” Though Jesus is very direct and forthright with Judas, both before and after the betrayal, never once does he disavow his friendship; he doesn’t bad-mouth Judas, or attack him in any way, or demean him. He says simply: “Friend [Matthew’s account], is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man? [Luke’s account]...do what you are here to do.” Jesus lived and modelled the message which he’d often preached to his friends and followers: denying oneself, taking up the cross, and losing one’s life: even for a disloyal friend like Judas.

St. Aelred concludes: “And so in [true] friendship are joined honor and charm, truth and joy, sweetness and good-will, affection and action. And all these take their beginning from Christ, advance through Christ, and are perfected in Christ. Therefore, not too steep or unnatural does the ascent appear from Christ, as the inspiration of love by which we love our friend, to Christ giving himself to us as our Friend for us to love...And thus, friend cleaving to friend in the spirit of Christ, is made with Christ but one heart and one soul...” (SF, 2:20-21) “Thus ascending from that holy love with which he embraces a friend to that with which he embraces Christ, he will joyfully partake in abundance of the spiritual fruit of friendship, awaiting the fullness of all things in the life to come...and God shall be all in all.” (SF, 3:134)

May we all be blessed with such friendship!

Baptism: The Springing Forth of New Things

The new year is a time for fresh beginnings: for evaluating the past twelve months; for arranging priorities and setting goals. Americans traditionally use the occasion for making resolutions which are commitments, hopefully, to change and improve. Yet, if we're honest, yearly resolution-making amounts largely to a game for a lot of folks. We even joke good-naturedly each year about our broken resolutions. In the post-holiday scatteredness, we may accomplish something for the short term, but eventually we find ourselves failing.

As believing persons, individually or as a community of faith, we can ill afford to renew our resolutions only yearly. We should, in fact, be keeping our commitments year-round. The root of our frequent failure might be because we disallow ourselves to become truly convinced of God's Word to us. As a result, we find our lives unfocused and ourselves spiritually off-center.

In today's reading from Isaiah (42:1-9) God assures us: "I am the Lord. I have called you in righteousness. I have taken you by the hand and kept you...I am the Lord, that is my name; my glory I give to no other..." Paul Tillich writes: "...within the name, that which bears the name is present." There was an ancient idea that you could hold in your power a being whose hidden name you knew. If we scrutinize our faltering efforts to pray and to keep our other commitments, might we not admit that we often invoke or try to make claims on God's name in order to harness God's powre for our own purposes? God's name isn't empty; it bears power and Presence. That's why we dare not take it in vain, for though it surely has power to heal us and make us whole, it can also be our undoing if we try to manipulate it.

There's a way that you and I, individually or corporately, can take God's name in vain. It's when we become so comfortable, so self-assured that we think that we can explain or interpret God to others, or even to ourselves.When we become that proud and independent that God, we find ourselves actually pushing God aside and away from us. We find ourselves surprised and astounded at our lukewarmness, at our lack of anything but a superficial dedication as a "good Christian",  at the felt "absence" of God's presence. Perhaps that's God's way of helping us to realize our utter helplessness, and of giving us a chance to recognize anew that God is the center and the sole reason for our being who we are, individually or corporately.

When we, individually or corporately, become humble enough to learn how to speak God's name in what Tillich calls "the embarrassment of awe", and to respond by letting God take us by the hand and keep us, then, as Isaiah says, "new things...spring forth". Our baptismal covenant is a sign of such "new things" and of the power of God's name among us.

What all this implies, in this new year which begins with the feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, and in this season of Epiphany, the manifestation of Jesus, is that we have a tremendous responsibility to continue allowing the name of Jesus, that is, himself, be at the center of our lives. The Letter to the Hebrews begins with an astounding statement, one which can keep us reflecting for the rest of this Epiphany season and in the lead-up to Lent. "Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God's glory and the exact imprint of God's very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word..."

You and I are called, by our Baptism, to let this Jesus be manifest, to be seen, in us. At the threshold of this new year the Lord of all asks us for more than a few nominal resolutions which will go by the wayside. He invites us to a firm commitment to examine our hearts and to make some radical inner changes: by letting ourselves be called "in righteousness"; by allowing ourselves to be led and kept by him; by being signs to one another of his Covenant; by bringing others, locked in their inner and outer dungeons and darkness, into the light of his Presence; and by living to the full each day the new life which he brings forth in us.

Epiphany: Living in the Saving Light

The word Epiphany, derived from the Greek epi + phaino [to shine out, become manifest], may conjure up in some minds the image of some kind of exotic pastry!

Isaiah (60:1-6 & 9) assures the returnees to Jerusalem from exile that their "light" has come. The poet speaks as if to bid someone slumped over in dejection and without hope or purpose to "Arise; shine!" Isaiah insists that God's saving light and glory has come to all the nations and peoples, even as they have come into the light. Things are changing for them. Their hearts, he says, will thrill and rejoice because of the abundance which God is about to pour forth on them. References to Midian, Ephah, and Sheba imply that all of Abraham's descendants are included in the promise fulfilled. They, just as the other nations, share in the saving light of God's glory.

St. Paul in a passage from his letter to the Ephesians (3:1-12) carries the same theme forward by speaking of the mystery, "made known" and "revealed". What God makes known is that the light of God's salvation, in the person of Jesus, has come for all. Jews and Gentiles aren't to discriminate, whether in the society or in the Church. That's a truth revealed by the Holy Spirit "to apostles and prophets", and holds true regardless of how the Ephesians or any others happen to interpret it. In this life we determine who our heirs will be; but when it comes to the inheriting of the Good News and all that it implies, only God has that privilege. The basic Gospel truth of the oneness of all, Jew and Gentile, can't become a reality automatically. You and I, as the Church, must not only preach it, but live as though we believe it. That means discovering ways, as individuals and as a community of faith, to share the Light with literally everyone we can.

In Matthew's Gospel (2:1-12) this theme takes the form of story theology. God, in Jesus, has come to save all. Matthew's whole narrative, generally as well as in this particular story, presents Jesus as the One who fulfills prophecy, and the One who upsets people's preconceived expectations. An heir of Abraham, Jesus is like another Moses and another David. Like Moses, he comes out of Egypt. Like David, he's born in Bethlehem. Yet, he's not simply the One to be "born king of the Jews". He's emphatically a child. Centuries before, Isaiah had said: "...a little child shall lead them". Those Jews who had an exclusively kingly, "adult" image in mind for the Messiah didn't take this very seriously. Small children are unlikely messiahs.

Yet, it's this Child of Bethlehem, with several non-Jewish forebears in his genealogy, who is recognized and honored as Messiah by foreigners, not by the Jewish leaders. In the Epiphany story Matthew prepares us for the two principal reactions of people to Jesus later on: homage, or rejection.

Matthew talks about strangers, Magi, sages from the East. The biblical text, by the way, doesn't say that they were "kings", nor all male, nor only three, nor that one was black, nor that they were named Caspar/Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. Possibly Matthew was thinking of Babylonian astrologers who studied the stars. About all they seem to have learned was that a king had been born in Israel. The Hebrew Scriptures were their guide in determining where he was born.

In speaking of the "star", Matthew may have been recalling the coming together, around 7 BCE, of the planets, Jupiter and Saturn, in the constellation Pisces, thus causing a bring light, an occurrence which happens every 794 years. In ancient thinking, Jupiter was the royal star belonging to the ruler of the gods and humans. Saturn represented the star of Israel. Or, perhaps, Matthew was thinking of a nova, a short-lived, but brilliant, light caused by an explosion of a white dwarf star. Such a nova seems to have appeared in the eastern sky around 5 BCE, according to Chinese records.

Nevertheless, the sages' message of Jesus' coming upset not only Herod the King, prince of duplicity and evil, but all of Jerusalem. Jesus' Epiphany was and is and should be deeply "disturbing". Cities, then as now, are symbols of power. The implication in Matthew's story is that age-old Jerusalem, the "city of peace", will never be the same. God's saving purpose is now unequivocally extended beyond the Holy City, beyond the people it represents, to all nations, and, indeed, to all people on the earth. Jesus, He saves, Son of the Most High, is Savior of all.

Once again this year, you and I have awaited and celebrated Jesus' manifestation throughout the Christmas/Epiphany feasts. But how are we to receive the Saving Light into our day-to-day lives again this new year, as well as to anticipate his coming as the fulfillment of all things?

The late Bishop Kenneth Untener (1937-2004), former Roman Catholic bishop of Saginaw, MI, once related a story about his family who lived on an island. On Saturdays his parents would often travel to the farmer's market in downtown Detroit to buy food. Before leaving, they'd assign their children Saturday chores, which were to have been completed by the time the parents returned. As soon as their parents left, the youngsters would have a great time playing baseball or whatever. When they figured it was about time for their parents to reappear, someone was posted on the shore with a pair of binoculars. The lookout's job was to watch the distant bridge in order to spot the family car heading home. It took about ten minutes from the bridge to get to the house. As soon as the lookout signalled, the youngsters would swing into action and work as hard as possible during that final ten minutes. Of course, they were never finished when their folks arrived, but they made a good show of making it look as if their labors had taken several hours!

That's one way to prepare for an arrival: scramble to get things ready when you figure that it's about time. But that's not a very appropriate way to prepare for the coming of Jesus, the Saving Light. How do you and I, the Church, prepare for the Lord's coming? The disciples thought the best way was to know exactly when it would happen. "Tell us," they said to Jesus, "when will all this occur? What will be the sign of your coming and the end of the world?" Jesus told them that no one knows the exact day or hour. There aren't any binoculars to spot it from a distance, despite occasional claims by fundamentalists and others to the contrary. [In fact, as of this writing, I heard recently of the latest "prediction" of the end-time: May 21, 2011. It happens to coincide with the birthday of my dear friend, Fr. Leo Joseph, OSF, who has terminal cancer. He jokingly told me that, of course, he'd planned this "grand exit" on his birthday and for us all to join him!] After squelching that idea, Jesus taught the disciples the only way to prepare: to simply make sure, every single day, that others -- the poor, the suffering, the homeless -- are the center of one's concern, bearing in mind, of course, that poverty, suffering and loneliness can take many different forms.

That wasn't just a casual remark by Jesus. It really was the bottom line of all his teaching in the Gospel of Matthew: "When the Son of Man comes in glory...all the nations will be assembled before him." We know the rest of that passage, which depicts God addressing two groups of people, telling them that the whole thing is based on how they've treated the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the ill, and the imprisoned. This was no parable or allegory. It was the real deal! If you haven't served these folks, then you haven't served God, because God is in them.

Scholars have long pointed to the text, "He who hears you hears me..." to demonstrate how Jesus identified himself with the Church's leadership. The stunning truth is that Jesus identified himself even more closely with the poor and suffering. "As often as you did it for one of them, you did it for me." Such works aren't reckoned as if they're done to him. They are done to him. The way that you and I, the Church, live our calling and prepare for the Light's coming into our lives daily is by responding, day in and day out, to his coming to us in the person of others: to anyone who is near and needing us most.

Christ: Center & Holy Wisdom of Creation

Over the past few months I've been reading about sophiology, the study of Wisdom. Two books, particularly, have given me much to think and pray about regarding the relationship between Christ and Wisdom, and the relationship of Christ/Holy Wisdom and creation, especially human beings: Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton, by Christopher Pramuk, and Sophia: The Wisdom of God, by Sergei Bulgakov. Pramuk's is an exciting appeal for the long-overdue recognition of Wisdom's centrality to contemporary theology and ecclesiology, and Bulgakov's is one of the finest explanations I've ever read of the relation between Scriptural accounts of Wisdom and each Person of the Holy Trinity. A warning: this isn't lectio divina for the fainthearted! It's intense and heavy. I don't claim to comprehend even half of it, but I think it's extremely relevant to our situation as Church today. I read recently a criticism of someone who is an avowed conservative regarding the way "liberals" present their take on contemporary theology.  The criticism was that you don't see much explicit mention of Jesus. Without engaging in a side-discussion of that statement, which could go on endlessly, it's a point, I believe, well taken.

That's why I was eager to share just the following few ideas, during this Christmastide/Epiphany cycle, from another great theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar, taken from The Glory of the Lord, Vol I: Theological Aesthetics, published back in the early '80's:

"The Incarnation of the Word means the most extreme manifestness within the deepest concealment...What is most familiar to us [humanity itself] is suddenly turned for us into a word and a teaching about God...

...The insignificant must be the appearance of what is most significant. We could understand it better if the hiddenness of this 'flesh' were supposed to represent the silence of the Word, God's pure concealment. But no: precisely this hiddenness is to be the speech in which God desires to make himself known definitely and insurpassably, beyond misunderstanding or confusion with any other human word...in Christ, humanity is disclosed along with God...God takes on human nature as his own and expresses himself from within it through the expressive structures of that nature's essence...God is able, therefore, to reveal in Christ, at once God and humanity...

...Christ...is the form [of revelation] because he is the content...If for a single moment we were to look away from him and attempt to consider and understand the Church as an autonomous form, the Church would not have the slightest plausibility...The plausibility of Christianity stands and falls with Christ's...

...The fact that Christ 'says nothing to me' in no way prejudices the fact that, in and of himself, Christ says everything to everyone. What is at stake here is the correspondence of human existence as a whole to the form of Christ...

...The gospel presents Christ's form in such a way that 'flesh' and 'spirit', Incarnation to the point of suffering and death, and resurrected life are all interrelated down to the smallest details..."

Well, that ought to give us all plenty to chew on until Easter!   

Jesus: The Holy Name

St. Luke, in Chapter 2:15-21 of his Gospel narrative, gives us his understanding of the meaning of the Christmas event through words spoken to common sheep-tenders. The good news told them was: "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ [i.e., Anointed One of] the Lord." The child we've come to know as Jesus historically bore the Hebrew name Yeshua/Yeshua bar Joseph. The name derives from yasha = to be open, wide, free; to save. Jesus means He [God] saves.

In Jewish society, the name stood for the person and indicated something about his/her history, purpose and mission in life. Jesus' name was a fairly common one (e.g., the Hebrew Scriptures' equivalent: Joshua). There had been many "saviors". But in God's plan this Jesus, son of Mary and Joseph, was to be the Savior, the Anointed One of God.

You've no doubt heard, as I have, the oft-asked question: "Are you saved?" What that usually implies is something like: "Can you name a specific time/date of a religious experience or conversion??" Or, it implies that some common ground may exist in our conversation, i.e., "Are you part of the 'club'?? If so, then we can associate. If not, then you're suspect and my defenses are up." Sometimes the question is asked, meaning: "Are you a charismatic, or born-again, or evangelical Christian??" For many others, "Are you saved?" carries with it a negative connotation: "Are you saved, in the sense that you're not one of those 'worldly' people who smoke, drink, dance, etc."

When I hear that question, "Are you saved?", I'm reminded of the comments made by my son's school principal in a 1981 PTA newsletter:
"The greatest problem facing our world today is tat of man's relationship to his fellow man. How we resolve this problem will, in a large part, determine whether this nation, and even the world will survive. The human ability to accept others is the brightest light in the darkness of this world. Many of the world's religions point to this human ability as the quality by which man can prevent potential misery and even annihilation.

I am convinced that the answers to this problem lie within each of us. The light is there for us to use as individuals, as a community of persons, as a community of nations. Yet we continue to withhold ourselves from others -- we cut them off -- we don't believe in them -- we don't accept them as being one of us because of a difference in age, sex, color, viewpoint or speech. Darkness is nothing -- as soon as we turn the light on, it disappears. By providing even a little light, some of the darkness disappears.

At this time of year, just think what benefit we can provide for those who inhabit our small corner of the world and even for ourselves, if we turn on the light of affection, concern, sympathy, understanding and love for our fellowman. It is this giving of ourselves that this holiday season represents.

It is not so difficult to give of ourselves -- to open the gates of our attitudes -- so that we can share ourselves with those who may have differing viewpoints. Let this holiday season be one in which we exercise these gifts. It is our potential to give freely and lavishly of them."

Parenthetically, I hadn't read that for some years, until now, and I'm rather astounded at both the passionate simplicity of that man's message, and also the spot-on relevance which it has these 30 years later! On the face of it, there's nothing world-shaking in that statement; it's a simple, direct, practical message.

The simple meaning of "Are you saved?" or of "He saved us." or of "Jesus saves!" is that Jesus wouldn't withhold himself from any one of us. Jesus accepts us. He accepts us despite what we have been in the past and often are in the present. St. Paul describes our condition in his letter to Titus (3:1-3): "At one time, we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy..." This is how we are, and Jesus accepts us.

In his story about Jesus' birth, Luke speaks about light surrounding the shepherds: a symbol of wisdom and recognition that in Jesus we're saved, that he hasn't withheld himself from any of us. This giving and sharing is what the world is crying out for as it stands today at the threshold of this new year, 2011. The non-believers of the world don't generally criticize us Christians so much because of the fact that we believe, or because of our outward religious observances. But the one thing they do call us on is that we don't take our belief seriously enough to actually live it and practice it daily, without prompting from the priest or minister, or from the Church, or from organized religion. We Christians often seem not to understand or to take seriously the truth of the fact that "He saved us".

How can you and I live such that we do convey the reality of "He saves" to others? How do we live the Christmas event throughout the new year? My then 11 year old daughter, Nicole, unknowingly expressed something of an answer to this on Christmas Eve, 1981, when she left a note for Santa which said: "I hope you will bring me the things I put on my list. But most of all, I hope you will bring to all my family and relatives the things they really want..." Exercising the human ability to accepts others, not withholding oneself from them: that's how you and I enable Jesus to save us and others. It's really very simple. There are so many saving gifts which you and I can give to one another all year long: a smile; washing the dishes for someone else; forgiving an old grudge; passing on some good news, rather than a complaint or gossip; saying "Please" and "Thank you"; trying to understand another person's viewpoint, rather than dismissing them.

It's almost a national annual ritual to set about making resolutions at the beginning of the new year. Walter Scott suggests the following possibilities. Perhaps one or two may strike a responsive chord in you and give you a year's worth of motivation this year:

 No one will ever get out of this world alive.

Resolve, therefore, in the year to come to maintain a sense of values.

Take care of yourself. Good health is everyone's major source of wealth.

Without it, happiness is almost impossible.

Resolve to be cheerful and helpful. People will repay you in kind.

Avoid angry, abrasive persons. They are generally vengeful.

Avoid zealots. They are generally humorless.

Resolve to listen more and to talk less. No one ever learns anything by talking.

Be chary of giving advice. Wise men don't need it, and fools won't heed it.

Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged,

sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and the wrong.

Sometime in life you will have been all of these.

Do not equate money with success. There are many successful money-makers

who are miserable failures as human beings. What counts most 

about success is how a man achieves it.

Resolve to love next year someone you didn't love this year.

Love is the most enriching ingredient of life.