Shepherdless, Hungry Sheep

In the liturgical calendar, Christmas continues for another week. We don’t begin Ordinary Time until after the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord this coming Sunday. In this Christmas Tuesday following Epiphany, the Church has selected as the gospel reading for the mass Mark 6:34-44, which recounts one of the instances in which Jesus multiplied the loaves. Where does this passage fit into the Christmas season?

As I read Mark’s account, two observations come to mind. First, the convergence of signs and symbols that I noted in my post, Something About Christmas, continues. Second, the numbers are significant.

“When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mk 6:34) God’s people were like sheep, so He sent to them the Lamb of God. They were without a shepherd, so He sent to them the Good Shepherd. “You give them something to eat.” (Mk 6:37) Jesus was born in Bethlehem, which means “house of bread” and was laid in a feed box. God gave the Israelites manna in the desert, but Jesus identified himself as the “true bread from heaven” and the “bread of life.” “He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (Jn 6:35) The Eucharist is woven throughout the gospels, from the Christmas narrative, through the miracles of Christ, to the Last Supper and the passion, death, and resurrection. It is truly the source and summit of our lives.

The numbers (five thousand fed with twelve baskets left over) are significant. Don’t take my word for it, though. Two chapters later, in Mark 8, Jesus feeds four thousand with seven loaves and seven baskets left over. When the apostles then misunderstand His words about the leaven of the Pharisees, thinking that He’s talking about physical bread, He seems to become a little exasperated. “’Do you still not see or understand? Are you hearts hardened? Do you have eyes but fail to see; and ears but fail to hear? And don’t you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets did you pick up?’ ‘Twelve,’ they replied. ‘And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?’ They answered, ‘Seven.’ He said to them, ‘Do you still no understand?’” (Mk 8:17-21)

We can only guess at what the numbers mean, since scripture isn’t explicit, and our culture doesn’t place as much symbolic meaning in numbers as Hebrew culture did. One interpretation, which I believe comes from Dr. Scott Hahn, is that the fives and twelve refer to the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible) and the twelve tribes of Israel, whereas the four and sevens refer to the four cardinal directions and completion or perfection, such that the two miracles of the loaves represent the extension of God’s covenant to all people, and not just to the Israelites.

Whatever the numbers might mean, Jesus seemed to think it was important that the Apostles understand the significance. We can only trust that the point He was making has been transmitted to us by the successors to the Apostles, such that we get the teaching, even though it isn’t explicitly explained in this passage of scripture.

Kingdom of Violence

Back in 2001, after the horror of the terrorist attacks on the morning of September 11, I sought solace by attending mass at a nearby parish. On that Tuesday evening, and in the days that followed, the priest prayed that we might be delivered from men of violence.

Last week, during the 2nd Week of Advent, the words of Matthew 11:12 stood out, and they continue to occupy my thoughts, begging for some interpretation that fits in with the entirety of God’s revelation.

My RSV translation gives the verse as “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and men of violence take it by force.” A note in the text informs that some sources read, “has been coming violently” in lieu of “has suffered violence.” The two alternate texts have meanings that are almost completely out of phase with one another if parsed grammatically. I can sympathize with the translators, who had to try to decide which of two ancient Greek texts was more authentic – especially since Greek was not the language in which the words were spoken. The NAB translation used for the mass is similar: “the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force.” The NIV, however, translates it a little differently: “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing, and forcefully men lay hold of it.” My NIV translation contains no mention of alternate texts, or of violence.

I am aware of two interpretations of the passage. One is that violence isn’t violence. That is to say that the verse refers to men who are willing to take extreme action in pursuit of sanctity. If there is violence to be done, it is to be self-inflicted. This interpretation sounds to me an awful lot like the jihad-as-internal struggle interpretation of the Koran. I will take it into consideration, but I’m not sure that I’m ready to buy it.

The second interpretation that I’ve heard is that of violence done to those who seek the kingdom. The prophets were put to death, and Jesus promises persecution to any who follow him. This interpretation tracks with the aphorism that the Church grows from the blood of the martyrs. This interpretation is also provided in the NAB note at the USCCB website, which states, “The meaning of this difficult saying is probably that the opponents of Jesus are trying to prevent people from accepting the kingdom and to snatch it away from those who have received it.”

Pope John Paul II referenced the verse in his 1979 encyclical Redemptor hominis. In section 11 of the letter, John Paul discusses the mystery of Christ as the basis of the Church’s mission and of Christianity. The Holy Father notes that “the mission seems to encounter greater opposition nowadays than ever before,” and salvation and grace are linked with the Cross in the mystery of the divine economy. “It was not without reason that Christ said that ‘the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and men of violence take it by force.’” He goes on to write, “We gladly accept this rebuke, that we may be like those ‘violent people of God’ that we have so often seen in the history of the Church and still see today, and that we may consciously join in the great mission of revealing Christ to the world. John Paul appears to start out with the second interpretation (violence to the kingdom), but then shifts to the first interpretation (violence for the kingdom).

If I really want to know what’s going on in this little snippet of scripture, there are a few things I can do. First, I have to keep in mind the context. John is in prison, and he has sent his disciples to Jesus to ask him if he is the messiah. After telling them (without actually telling them) that he is indeed the One, he sends them off, then addresses the crowd concerning John. The question that needs to be answered is whether John, the eccentric aesthetic in the desert, or Herod, the man responsible for imprisoning John, is practicing the violence to which Jesus is referring. Is it possible that Jesus is contrasting Herod in the first clause with John in the second?

A lot has been written about what Jesus means when he refers to the “kingdom of heaven” in the gospels. Pope Benedict XVI, in his book Jesus of Nazareth, argues for a Christocentric meaning: the kingdom of heaven refers to the incarnate person of Christ himself. That meaning might not fit in all places where the phrase is used. To be thorough, we would have to cross-reference every other use of the phrase in the gospel of Matthew.

It could come down to a matter of language and translation. The NAB and RSV translations both say that the kingdom suffers violence. An English-Greek concordance should provide the actual words used in the Greek for “suffer” and “violence”, along with any other places in scripture where those same word are used.

Finally, there should be some commentary available for just what Pope John Paul II means when he praised those violent people of God. I am fairly certain that he was not praising those who resort to physical violence in the name of religion.

Reading Romans

The Lectionary recently turned to Paul’s letter to the Romans for the first reading at weekday masses. It started on October 12 (Monday of the 28th week of Ordinary Time) and will continue until November 7 (Saturday of the 31st week of Ordinary Time). I’ve been reading and re-reading chapters 4 through 8, and my feeble mind has been struggling to follow Paul’s logic without falling into a Manichean duality (spirit good, body bad!), but I think I’m slowly getting there. I’d like, therefore, to take this moment to whole-heartedly agree with St. Peter that Paul’s “letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort, as they do the other Scriptures, to their own destruction.” (2 Peter 3:16).

The Unheard Gospel

As Catholics, we sometimes try to excuse the relative biblical illiteracy of the typical pew warmer by arguing that the three year cycle of Sunday mass readings ensures that the faithful hear almost all of the Gospel and much of the rest of the Bible every three years. The problem, though, is that some parts of the Gospel are rarely, if ever, heard on Sundays.

Take the seventh chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, for example. It was recently featured in the Lectionary for weekday masses, but only a small percentage of Catholics are inclined to attend weekday mass, and only a fraction of those so inclined are able, due to conflicting work and mass schedules. Only one passage from Matthew 7 is included in the Lectionary for a Sunday mass, and it falls on the 9th Sunday of Ordinary Time during Cycle A. Most years, the 9th Sunday of Ordinary Time is not even celebrated. It gets displaced by Lent, Easter, Trinity Sunday, and Corpus Christi Sunday. In twenty years, a Catholic who goes to mass every Sunday might hear seven verses from the seventh chapter of Matthew twice.

Is it any surprise then that many Catholics, when they actually take the time to read the Gospels, come across Matthew 7 and exclaim that they never knew Jesus said such hard things. What kind of hard things does he say? "For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get." "Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under foot and turn to attack you." "Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few." "Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire." "Not every one who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven."

These are some of the verses, for me at least, that reveal a very masculine messiah. Too often, we get caught up in the images of Jesus as the radiant shepherd cradling the lamb or beckoning to the children or forgiving the woman who washed his feet with her hair, and we forget that he also drove the money changers from the temple, confronted the Pharisees, and made demands on people's loyalty before God. Yes, he forgave sinners, but with the parting words, "Go and sin no more."

His words were so radical that Matthew wrote "And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes." Too many of these words that astonished the crowds are never heard by most Catholics.

Tobit's Charity

The non-Gospel Lectionary reading for Thursday is from Tobit, but it skips from Chapter 3 to Chapter 6. In between, in Chapter 4, you find this passage on almsgiving.

Give alms from your possessions. Do not turn your face away from any of the poor, and God's face will not be turned away from you. Son, give alms in proportion to what you own. If you have great wealth, give alms out of your abundance; if you have but little, distribute even some of that. But do not hesitate to give alms; you will be storing up a goodly treasure for yourself against the day of adversity. Almsgiving frees one from death, and keeps one from going into the dark abode. Alms are a worthy offering in the sight of the Most High for all who give them.

Tobit 4:7-11

As I read this passage, I was reminded of the article "Faith & Finance" in the May 2009 issue of First Things by Gary A. Anderson. Mr. Anderson is a professor of Old Testament at the University of Notre Dame, and he argues that, in financial terms, charitable giving in the biblical sense can be thought of as a contribution to both our eternal and our temporal retirement account. We are making a loan to God and trusting that he will repay us in our time of need. What's more, charity is a necessary action to actualize our faith.

Consider the Book of Tobit, the earliest source we have that documents the importance of giving alms to the poor. The tale begins with a description of the piety of Tobit while he resided in the land of Israel. But then the Assyrians invaded the northern kingdom and took Tobit and many others into exile. He could no longer make the requisite journey to Jerusalem in order to offer sacrifices to his God. So how was Tobit to fulfill his obligation to serve his creator and redeemer?

He gave alms. If all we had was the Book of Tobit, we might conclude that the religious value of almsgiving was conditioned by one's distance from the Temple. In Israel, Tobit venerates God at the Temple; in the Eastern diaspora, he serves the poor. But another Jewish text of the time, the Book of Ben Sira, rejects this interpretation. Ben Sira was a priest who lived in Israel. Yet he contended that almsgiving was an activity that paralleled sacrifice: "He who returns a kindness offers fine flour, and he who gives alms sacrifices a thank offering."

In Tobit and Ben Sira, we witness a dramatic new turn in theology. The hand of the poor person is imagined to be a type of altar that can transmit goods from earth to heaven. The altar in Jerusalem turns the flesh of animals into a savor that was pleasing to the Lord, and the act of generosity to the poor allows one to deposit wealth into a heavenly treasury.

Ephesian Sins

One of the exercises in our St. Paul Bible Study from two weeks ago involved listing the sins and faults enumerated by Paul in Ephesians 4:17-5:20. It's an impressive list, and it contains a few surprises -- things that I would only include in certain situations. The list I came up with:

Ignorance, hardness of heart (4:18), callousness, licentiousness, greed, uncleanness (4:19), deceit, lust (4:22), falsehood (4:25), sustained anger (4:26), theft (4:28), evil (non-edifying) talk (4:29), bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, slander, malice (4:31), covetousness (5:3), filthiness, silly talk, levity (5:4), idolatry (5:5), drunkenness, and debauchery (5:18).

The surprising ones (for me) were the silly talk and the levity. They were immediately followed by the admonition to "let no one deceive you with empty words, for it is because of these things that the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience" (5:6). Of all the things that St. Paul says could provoke the wrath of God, he focuses on filthiness, levity, silly talk, and empty words. That's enough to make me scratch my head and say, "Huh?"

I hadn't really thought much about this passage until now, but I can see that it's one that I'm going to have to mull over for a while.

The Vine on Mothers' Day

On the way to mass this morning, we (my wife and I) were talking to the kids and each other about today's gospel.

I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

John 15:5

My first impulse was to reach back to Isaiah 11:1 - "There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots." In the gospel Jesus is saying that we are the branches, and in a sense, we are incorporated into Him through our baptism and the mission of the messiah is passed on to His Church.

But then I started to wonder how one might tie this gospel in with Mothers' Day.

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots around your table.
Lo, thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord.

Psalm 128:3-4

Jesus is the vine, and we are his branches. A mother is like a vine, and her children like olive shoots.

After a long day including visits to my mother-in-law, my mother, and my wife's grandmother, I don't have the energy to explore the similarities and differences, but it is obvious that they are there. I think I'll just say that my wife is like God, and leave it at that.

Jesus is the Door

This past Sunday's Gospel was the familiar "I am the Good Shepherd" passage. Jesus did not originally call himself the shepherd, though. He had to change gears because his audience did not understand what he was saying to them. So, in today's Gospel, we get the prelude, in which Jesus says, "he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens; the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. . . Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep." (John 10:2-4,7) The shepherd is the one who enters by the door, and Christ is the door. But if Christ is the door, then who is the shepherd?

As a Catholic, I am quite content to find the answer within the very same Gospel. In John 21:15-19, we see an encounter between Peter and the risen Christ. Three times, Jesus asks, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Once for each denial. After the first profession of love, Jesus tells him, "Feed my lambs." After the second profession, "Tend my sheep." And the third time, "Feed my sheep." Christ is the gate, but he did not leave his sheep without a shepherd.

Peter, the rock upon which the Church is built, to whom Christ gave the keys to the Kingdom, and his successor is our shepherd. If we heed his voice, he will lead us to heaven through Christ. As the vicar of Christ, he is the visible representative of him who ultimately is our true shepherd. I mean to say that looking to Peter as our shepherd does not supplant Christ himself as the good shepherd. We follow our German Shepherd not because of who he is, but because of the authority entrusted to him (i.e., to Peter and his successors) by Christ.

St. Paul Bible Study and the Lectionary Readings

We're coming up on the third session of our Bible study on St. Paul and the sacraments, and I've noticed a delightful correlation between our topics and recent Lectionary readings.

Our first session was the Wednesday after Easter, and we discussed Baptism. While we won't hear Matthew 28:19 ("Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit") until the Ascension a week before Pentecost , we were treated, on the Monday after our first session, to John 3:5 ("Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God."). Being born of water and the Spirit is commonly understood as underpinning the need for Baptism, in which water is the physical sign and the sanctifying grace of the Holy Spirit is received.


Our second session was concerned with Reconciliation/Confession. The previous Sunday, we had heard John 20:23 ("If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."). The apostles were commissioned by Christ himself to carry out the ministry of reconciliation. Sins could not be forgiven or retained unless they were known (i.e., confessed).


This week, the third session covers the sacrament of Confirmation. Much of Paul's discussion of Confirmation is concerned with the seal received. When receiving Confirmation, the candidate is anointed with the words, "Be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit." Yesterday's gospel had Jesus proclaiming, "Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him the Father, God, has set his seal."

I just love it when things come together like this, as it really helps to highlight the internal unity and organic structure of the doctrine taught by the Church,.

St. Paul and Baptism

Now that our four year commitment to facilitate Why Catholic is over, I’ve enrolled in a Bible study at our parish. It’s the first parish Bible study in which I’ve been a participant, although I’ve listened to tape sets, viewed and listened to programs on EWTN, done some study on my own, and been in groups where we’ve discussed the Sunday readings. Every Bible study offered by our parish in the last four years has been not only concurrent with Why Catholic, but offered only on the same night that our Why Catholic group met. I do not bilocate, and my wife appreciates my help at home (i.e., I can’t run off to meetings too many nights out of the week).

The study that we’re doing is Fr. Mitch Pacwa’s survey of the sacraments in the Epistles of St. Paul, which was written for the Jubilee Year of St. Paul (June 29, 2008 to June 29, 2009). I picked up my copy back in October, when Fr. Pacwa spoke at the Spiritual Center of Maria Stein.

The first session dealt with the sacrament of Baptism, and the first discussion question really had me thinking: How did St. Paul’s experience of Christ on the road to Damascus, his blindness, and his baptism help him to understand the relationship that exists between Jesus Christ and his Church?

Recall that, before his conversion, Paul was persecuting the Christians. He was on his way to Damascus to arrest the Christians and bring them back to Jerusalem when Jesus appeared to him, saying, “Why do you persecute me?” Christ identified himself with his followers. For the next three days, Paul was blind, until a Christian named Ananias came to him and layed hands upon him. God could have worked on Paul directly, but He chose to work through a believer. That seems to be the primary lesson. The baptized are intimately united to Christ and become the means through which God typically chooses to work in the world.

To supplement the Bible study, I decided to see what EWTN had in their audio archives. I found a series that was recorded by Fr. Pacwa about ten years ago: In the Footsteps of St. Paul. There are thirteen episodes, each about 27 minutes long, and each about 3 MB in size. The audio quality isn’t the greatest, but it is certainly passable.

The EWTN series does not focus exclusively on the sacraments, as the study our group is using does, but I found interesting Fr. Pacwa’s highlighting of 1 Corinthians 1:17, “For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.” As important as Paul believes baptism to be, he leaves the work of baptism to others.

The phrase for what Paul is engaged in is kerygma, a Greek word meaning the initial proclamation of the Gospel or missionary preaching. Paul’s job was to attract people to the faith and bring them to a point where they would be ready for a more formal explanation. Kerygma precedes catechesis, and catechesis typically precedes Baptism. I say typically because there are obvious exceptions, such as the thousands who were baptized by the Apostles after Pentecost. However, those were Jews, rather than Gentiles. The Gentile converts would have needed more instruction than a believing Jew. We might see an analogy today in that not all Catholic converts are required to go through the entire Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults and wait until Easter Vigil to be received into the Church, especially where the convert has already studied his way to the point where he is making great sacrifices to enter the Church and is likely to know the doctrines of the Church better than his RCIA instructor.

I’m looking forward to the next five sessions of this six-session Bible study, as we explore the sacraments through the words of St. Paul.

Rack, Shack, and Benny

Today's reading from Daniel, when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are thrown into the furnace by King Nebuchadnezzar always reminds me of two things. The first is a song that I was taught in elementary school. It was a public school, yet the two songs that I most remember were explicitly religious: "My Lord's gonna come in the mornin'; my Lord's gonna stay through the night. My Lord's gonna watch over me, and everything's gonna be all right." The other song was a Hannukah song: "Hannukah, oh Hannukah! Come light the mennorah. Let's have a party, we'll all dance the hora!" We would have an assembly in December where the whole school would sing Christmas carols, including Silent Night and Joy to the World.

But the other thing the passage reminds me of is the Veggie Tales story of Rack, Shack, and Benny. More specifically, the Bunny Song sung by Mr. Nezzar. It's catchy. It's viral. If you listen to it, it will be in your head for the rest of the day. I love it!

The Second Sign

Often when I read the Bible, I note something that obviously has some significance beyond what is apparent to me. I might do some initial exploration, checking sources close at hand, but if I don't find the answer that I'm looking for, I make note of the text and ponder it.

Such is the case with the gospel for today's mass, John 4:43-54. The reading concerns the return of Jesus to Galilee and the healing of an official's son. The parts that had me scratching my head and thumbing around through the rest of John's gospel were in verses 46 ("he came again to Cana in Galilee, where he had made the water wine") and 54 ("this was now the second sign that Jesus did when he had come from Judea to Galilee").

John, inspired by the Holy Spirit, thought that it was important to tie this sign, performed in Cana, to the changing of the water into wine, also at Cana. John 2:11 notes on that occasion, "This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him." Now Jesus performs his second sign, also in Cana. What happened in between the first and second signs?

According to John, Jesus went down to Jerusalem for the Passover and drove the money changers from the Temple. "What sign have you to show us for doing this?" the Jews asked (John 2:18). Is it significant that this is asked between the first and second signs? But then in John 23 we learn "when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs which he did." So much for the idea that turning the water to wine and healing the official's son are first and second in a chronological sense, for it is apparent that there were other signs in between.

After his discussion with Nicodemus, Jesus goes out to Judea and spends some time baptizing (not Jesus himself, but his disciples) with John the Baptist. Once the Pharisees learn of it, Jesus heads back to Galilee by way of Samaria, where he encounters the woman at the well. And that brings us to taday's gospel and the second sign.

The Ignatius Study Bible for the Gospel of John notes, "The Fourth Gospel draws attention to seven signs: (1) the miracle at Cana (2:1-11), (2) the healing of the official's son (4:46-54), (3) the healing of the paralytic (5:1-9), (4) the multiplication of the loaves (6:1-14), (5) the restoration of the blind man (9:1-41), (6) the raising of Lazarus (11:17-44), and, most important of all, (7) the Resurrection of Jesus, which is the second sign mentioned in the Gospel (2:18-22) but the final and climactic sign to be accomplished (10:1-10)." The seven-fold signs in John's Gospel increase in importance and significance while recalling the seven days of creation and the new Covenant instituted through Christ's sacrifice on the cross.

Only the first and second are identified by number in the text, though. And the first two are specifically linked together by the text. Why? The closest explanation I can find near at hand is from St. Augustine, who explains that of all that saw the sign of the wine in Cana, only his disciples came to believe. Now, back in Cana, the official comes to him, but does not believe. Thus Jesus says to him, "Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe." The official does not believe until he is met by his servants on the way home. Thus, the connection between the first two signs and Cana.

Now why are only these two numbered?

Naaman's Silver

I've read and heard the story before, and I'm sure you have too. It's tied to the gospel from Luke 4, when Jesus goes home to Nazareth to initiate his ministry by reading from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah in the synagogue, then proclaiming, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21). The people ask him to do some miracles, and he replies by noting that Elijah went to a foreign widow, rather than one from Israel, and Elisha healed a leper from Syria, rather than one of the many lepers in Israel. "When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with wrath" (Luke 4:28).

At Mass today, the story of Naaman from 2 Kings 4 was read. We heard how Naaman was a general in the service of the king of Syria and a leper. A slave girl told him of a prophet in Israel who could cure him. So he packed his bags with valuables and set out with his entourage for Israel. Elisha told him to wash seven times in the Jordan River. Naaman is offended. What's wrong with the rivers in Syria? He storms off, but his servants calm him down, and he returns. Upon bathing for the seventh time, his leprosy is cured. He returns to Elisha and praises the God of Israel. So ends the passage read at Mass, but it's not the end of the story.

Naaman is grateful, and he wants to give gifts to Elisha, but Elisha refuses. Naaman leaves to return to Syria with dirt from Israel so that he can offer sacrifice and worship to the God of Israel. Now the story gets interesting.

One of Elisha's servants, Gehazi, sees Naaman leaving with all of his silver, gold, and festal garments. Gehazi runs after Naaman and tells Naaman that Elisha sent him. Gehazi asks Naaman for two talents of silver and two festal garments, to which Naaman generously agrees. A talent of silver must have been quite a sum, for Naaman had taken with him ten talents of silver and 6000 shekels of gold.

Elisha knew exactly what Gehazi had done, and was not happy! The leprosy that had been removed from Naaman was bestowed upon Gehazi. And now you know the rest of the story.

There are so many spiritual lessons that leap out from the full story. The words of Christ upon sending out the apostles seems appropriate: "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. You received without pay, give without pay" (Matthew 10:8).

RSV v. NAB

Listening to this past Sunday's Gospel reading at Mass reminded me why I prefer the Revised Standard Version (RSV) to the New American Bible (NAB). For the most part, the readings used in the English Lectionary are from the NAB translation. A notable exception is Luke 1:28, read at the Annunciation (only nine days away!). The Lectionary retains the phrase, "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you!" The NAB reads "Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you."

What got me on Sunday, though, was at the very end of the Gospel. John 2:24-25 is rendered by the NAB as "But Jesus would not trust himself to them because he knew them all, and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well." The deacon reading the Gospel even stumbled over the wording. The RSV translation, which I understand is closer to a literal translation of the original language, reads "but Jesus did not trust himself to them, because he knew all men and needed no one to bear witness of man; for he himself knew what was in man."

I think we're all mature enough to understand that when the Bible uses "man" in this context, it's not meant to exclude women. When political correctness has us rewriting scripture to avoid offense to the overly sensitive, I think we've officially surrendered our claim of fidelity to the eternal, unchanging word of god.

Let Us Make Three Booths

In his book, Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI discusses two ways of looking at the Transfiguration of Christ on Mt. Tabor. The first, and the one that he clearly favors, is that the event occurs within the context of the calendar of Jewish festival. One suggestion is that Peter’s confession occurs on Yom Kippur, the feast of atonement, and that the Transfiguration occurs during Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, which follows five days later. Another suggestion is that the both events occur within the Feast of Tabernacles, which lasted an entire week. The Transfiguration would then occur on the last day of the Feast of Tabernacles, “which was both its high point and the synthesis of its inner meaning.”

Both interpretations have in common the idea that Jesus’ Transfiguration is linked with the Feast of Tabernacles. We will see that this connection actually comes to light in the text itself and that it makes possible a deeper understanding of the whole event. In addition to the specific elements of these accounts, we may observe here a fundamental trait of Jesus’ life, which receives particularly thorough treatment in John’s Gospel. As we saw in chapter 8, the great events of Jesus’ life are inwardly connected with the Jewish festival calendar. They are, as it were, liturgical events in which the liturgy, with its remembrance and expectation, becomes reality—becomes life. This life then leads back to the liturgy and from the liturgy seeks to become life again.

The Jewish liturgy saw its fulfillment in Christ. Our liturgy, makes present to us the actions of Christ. Liturgy is not just a memorial; it brings about a spiritual reality. The sacraments are not just symbols, they are efficacious signs.

To understand what happened at the Transfiguration, we need to understand the context of the events, which the Pope suggests is the Feast of Tabernacles. From Companion to the Calendar, A Guide to the Saints and Mysteries of the Christian Calendar, on Sukkot, The Festival of Booths:

At Sukkot, people obey the biblical command to live for seven days in huts. Each family or congregation constructs a shelter, usually with wooden slats and boughs from trees. (In Hebrew, this is called a sukkah. The plural of sukkah is sukkot.) As they build and decorate these beautiful booths, the people recall the 40 years when the Jews, wandering in the desert, put together sukkot each evening. . . .

Jewish mystics taught that the ancestors, beginning with Sarah and Abraham, come to visit the sukkah each evening. According to tradition, the Messiah will come at Sukkot and welcome all creation into God’s sukkah.

So according to some Jewish mystics, the feast of booths would have a Messianic fulfillment. That gives some explanation to the seventh chapter of John’s Gospel, where Jesus is reluctant to attend the feast in Jerusalem because his time has not yet come. Being an observant Jew, however, he does go later, not publicly but in private. The events of John 7 probably take place a year or more before the Transfiguration. With the Transfiguration coming six days after Peter’s confession, his suggestion to build booths for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah makes some sense.

What is most interesting to me, however, is Benedict's assertion that the Jewish calendar and liturgy were pivotal in the events of the New Testament. Jesus completed his mission in a liturgical context. It is not unreasonable to assume that our mission as Christians also occurs within a liturgical context. The liturgy is not secondary; it is central. The liturgy is life!

Esther C

Every night before I go to bed, I read the Bible passages scheduled for the next day's mass readings. It may sound strange, but I miss Ordinary Time. Back then, I could bookmark the passages, knowing that the passages for the next day would be just a few verses away. Now that it's Lent, I'm jumping all over my Bible.

Last night, I looked at my Lectionary chart and saw that the first reading was to be from Esther C. Huh, I thought. That's odd. So I opened my Bible and searched out the book of Esther. It started with chapter 11, then came chapter 12, and then finally came chapter 1. I searched, but I couldn't find chapter C. I had already read the gospel, so I closed my Bible, figuring that I would just read it off the USCCB website in the morning.

I went to sleep muttering about Esther C, to which my wife said that it sounded like I was talking about a cold remedy.

I did catch up on the reading this morning from the USCCB website. It corresponds to chapter 14 in my Bible, which naturally comes right after chapter 4. Here's the interesting thing, though. If you follow back the USCCB hyperlink to the indicated verse, it brings you to chapter 1, which is not the mass reading!

I use the Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition Bible published by Ignatius Press. It didn't give me any help in finding the readings, and only added to my confusion. I do, however, have a Catholic Youth Bible published by Saint Mary's Press on my bookshelf. I don't use it much, because it's a New Revised Standard Version and I prefer the RSV translation to the NRSV. However, it had a nice explanation at the beginning of the book of Esther.

The deuterocanonical portions of the Book of Esther are several additional passages found in the Greek translation of the Hebrew Book of Esther, a translation that differs also in other respects from the Hebrew text (the latter is translated in the NRSV Old Testament). The disordered chapter numbers come from the displacement of the additions to the end of the canonical Book of Esther by Jerome in his Latin translation and from the subsequent division of the Bible into chapters by Stephen Langton, who numbered the additions consecutively as though they formed a direct continuation of the Hebrew text. So that the additions may be read in their proper context, the whole of the Greek version is here translated, though certain familiar names are given according to their Hebrew rather than their Greek form; for example, Mordecai and Vashti instead of Mardocheus and Astin. The order followed is that of the Greek text, but the chapter and verse numbers conform to those of the King James or Authorized Version. The additions, conveniently indicated by the letters A-F, are located as follows: A, before 1.1; B, after 3:13; C and D, after 4.17; E, after 8.12; F, after 10.3.

Lectionary Logic

One of the common digs on Catholics is that they don't read their Bibles. The common rejoinder is that, with the three year cycle for the Sunday mass readings and the two year cycle for the weekday mass readings, Catholics actually hear most of the Bible every three years. Now, I admit that most Catholics don't follow the weekday mass readings, let alone attend weekday mass. But even with just the Sunday mass readings, they end up hearing most of the New Testament.

Somebody somewhere has got to know what logic was applied in deciding how to arrange the readings for ordinary time. There are useful little charts laying out the readings at the Roman Catholic Lectionary Website. If you look at Ordinary Time - Year 1, you see that in the first nine weeks of Ordinary Time, the gospel marches through Mark, from chapter 1 through chapter 12. Halfway through week 7 this year, we start Lent, and then Easter, before resuming with week 9 after Pentecost. What happened to week 8?

Also note that for the first reading at weekday mass, the first through fourth week of Ordinary Time steps through the letter to the Hebrews. Weeks five and six feature Genesis, from creation through Noah. Weeks seven and eight has the book of Sirach, and week 9 features Tobit. (Note: if you're using a Protestant Bible, you might not find the books of Sirach and Tobit. They are among the deuterocanonical books that were rejected by Martin Luther.) But wait! Saturday of week six is not Genesis, but Hebrews. Why was Hebrew 11:1-7 inserted between Genesis and Sirach? Why wasn't that reading back in week 3, where it belonged? [Update: I should have read the passage before posting. It references back to Cain, Enoch, and Noah from Genesis. I suppose there was some logic in this case. Still, it looks out of place when just the book, chapter, and verse are listed in a table.]

Somebody somewhere knows what logic was applied that ended up in this schedule. Do you think maybe they could clue in the rest of us?

Let Us Run The Race

Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. so I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air, but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.

(1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

I don't think that Paul was talking literally about strapping on his running shoes and pounding out ten miles, or striving to take first place in the weekend 5K. Rather, he was using an analogy to help people understand what he was saying about living the faith.

Our ultimate desire should be to be with God in heaven for eternity. So when we live our life, we should live with that goal in mind. We should always aim for heaven, and that means keeping our focus on Christ, who is the way the truth and the life. Too many Christians do not live for Heaven, but rather to avoid hell. The problem with aiming for Purgatory is that, if you miss, it's all over. If you aim for Heaven and miss, you still have a shot at a concession prize. Paul tells us that we should run to win, not just to finish.

A popular speaker, Matthew Kelly, has used the analogy of running a marathon. If you went out tomorrow to run a marathon, could you? What if you tried really hard? Most of us just would not be able to do it, because we haven't trained to do it. That's because trying alone isn't good enough; you've got to train. If the race is analogous to spiritual growth leading to heaven, then how do we train? We start by going to mass, but a runner who wants to be competitive isn't going to reach peak performance if he only runs once a week. We've got to do the things that are necessary to enter into a closer relationship with God: frequent the sacraments, pray daily (Paul says pray continuously), read and study the Bible. Let your growing love for Christ express itself in love for your neighbor through charity and service. Exercise self-control in avoiding sin and the things that lead you away from God.

Don't just run aimlessly, Paul tells us. Don't be a minimalist Catholic, doing only the things that the Church says you have to do, and those grudgingly.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.

(Hebrews 12:1)

Nobody says that training for the race is easy, but isn't that what we admire so much in our star athletes? You're not likely to see a champion runner compete in a parka and snow boots. That's because they are heavy and restrict motion. They slow the runner down. That's what our sins do. And I'm not just talking about the mortal sins -- the big ones -- even the venial sins are encumbrances that can cause us to fall just shy of our goal. We have to shed our disordered desires and detach ourselves from all the things around us. They might be good things, and we can use them and enjoy them, but we must not let them become more important to us than our ultimate goal: the beatific vision. That would be like running in a beat up pair of sneakers that we've had forever, when a new pair could give us that extra performance that makes the difference between winning and being an also-ran.

We also have to remember that, while nobody else can run the race for us, we are not running alone: "we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." The saints who have already finished the race ahead of us have returned to line the final stretch, cheering us on. There are other runners also competing who are on our team. We support one another in the race. We train together for race day. Just as the amateur athlete might look to the professional to see how they train, we can look to the saints to see how they lived their life, what they did to grow close to Christ. They don't just cheer for us, they give us an example. They are our role-models.

Another way to think about laying aside every weight is to think about the importance of a good diet for the competitive athlete. Peak performance athletes don't typically live on a diet of greasy hamburgers, french fries, and soda. They eat healthy food, aware of the nutritional value of what they put into their bodies and the effect that it will have on their performance. They might carefully watch what they eat before a race to ensure the maximum amount of energy is released to their muscles when they need it. If we are to run the spiritual race to win, we must be careful about what we feed ourselves with spiritually. The formation of an individual's conscience is a very important thing, and a malformed conscience can cause us to run erratically, and could result in spiritual injury that could prevent us from even finishing.

We also have to run the race that is set before us. We don't get to choose the course, it's already laid out. Spiritually, we have to live the life we've got. We can't waste our time living someone else's life. I'm a husband and a father of six, one of whom has special needs. That's the race that I've got to run. It does me no good to try to run the race of a cloistered monk -- that's not the course that is set before me. This is where I am, and this is where I have to find God's will for me.

An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules.

(2 Timothy 2:5)

In a race, if you break the rules, you could be penalized or disqualified. Christ gave Peter the keys to the kingdom, along with the authority to bind and loose. The Church has defined some things as intrinsically evil. Do those things, and you'll probably find yourself disqualified. At any rate the Church lays out the rules and offers plenty of coaching advice. You break the rules at your own peril. I wouldn't recommend it.

It is our hope that, at the end of our life, we will cross the finish line and enter into the embrace of God almighty.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on the Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

(2 Timothy 4:7-8)

In His Tinitarian Image

Whenever I read the first chapter of Genesis, in which the first creation account of man is given (a slightly different version is given in chapter two), I am reminded forcefully of God's trinitarian nature and the profound importance of that for how I view my marriage.

God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27)

We know from some of the early Church councils that God is a trinity: three divine persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, with one nature. The very nature of God allows for only one God. Thus, the three persons are one god, not three gods.

This account of God's creation of man, male and female, in his image reveals the familial nature of God's own being. God is a communion of persons, with the Father and the Son, with the Holy Spirit proceeding forth as the love between them. That is the image in which man is created, male and female. Man is not meant to be alone. The male and the female complement one another in completing the image of God.

And that's where I find that the trinitarian nature is important to how I see my marriage. My marriage is a living icon of God, with the husband and the wife and the love between them proceeding forth as the fruit of the marriage (children). Divorce is painful to witness because it smashes this trinitarian icon (although it could be argued that the smashing occurs earlier, when the love between the spouses dissolves).

Some people live their lives assuming that the dogma of the trinitarian nature of God has no real bearing. For me, it means everything! It is one of the central tenets of our faith, and runs through everything that we believe as Catholics.

And it starts with the very first chapter of scripture.

Authority and Unclean Spirits

My friends and I got together yesterday and talked about today's gospel. Here's some of what we discussed.


When Jesus taught in the synagogue, the gospel says that he did not teach like the scribes, but with authority. We are left to surmise the difference. Perhaps the scribes taught with arrogance, speaking down to those who did not possess their knowledge. More likely, the scribes taught what the scriptures said, but Jesus taught what the scriptures mean. We know from other gospels that Jesus claimed authority that the scribes dared not claim. For example, in the sermon on the mount, Jesus says, "You have heard it said, . . . but I say . . . ." In his book, Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI notes, "He teaches not as the rabbis do, but as one who has 'authority' (Mt 7:28, cf. Mk 1:22; Lk 4:32). Obviously this does not refer to the rhetorical quality of Jesus' discourses, but rather to the open claim that he himself is on the same exalted level as the Lawgiver--as God."


Not only did Jesus teach with authority, he backed it up by performing miracles. He cast out demons and cured leprosy. He restored sight to the blind and made the lame walk. If you've been following the weekday gospels, Mark continues to relate the many miracles that Jesus performed and the crowds that followed him because of it. In spite of seeing all of these miracles, the apostles are still astonished when he calms the storm at sea!


Jesus punctuates his teaching on this occasion by casting out an unclean spirit. It's not uncommon these days for "experts" to explain away demonic possession in biblical times as cases of mental illness. Whether possession or insanity, the encounter with Christ still produces a miraculous result. Some cases, according to Jesus himself, can only be helped by prayer and fasting.

The demon possessing the man in today's gospel knew Jesus's identity. I can't help but wonder, therefore, why he would go to the synagogue. It could have been to find out whether Jesus really was the Son of God--a kind of demonic recon mission. Another opinion would be that the demon went to the synagogue to "out" Jesus and make it harder for him to accomplish his mission.

Consider that before this incident, these men had been going to the synagogue week in and week out, listening to the scribes and sitting in the presence of a demon. Jesus comes with a new authoritative teaching and casts out the devil that either they had not recognized or had learned to live with. What happens after Jesus leaves? Do they allow themselves to be changed by this incident, or do they return to their prior, comfortable practice? It can be the same way for us, when we attend a retreat. We draw closer to God and see him with clearer eyes for a weekend, but then we return to our lives. Are we changed by the retreat, or do we slip back into our comfortable patterns of living, allowing ourselves to be blind to sin and resisting the call to daily conversion?

Lord, you taught with authority and you cast out demons. Help us to hear your words and accept the teachings of your Church. Give us the grace to see the demons around us and resist their temptations. May we spread your fame and lead others closer to you. We humbly ask this in your name. Amen.