Week 17 Friday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 26:1-9; Psalm 69; Matthew 13:54-58

Matthew, Mark and Luke agree: Jesus did not go down well with the people of his native place, his own country or ‘fatherland’. If he had come preaching doom and destruction as Jeremiah did their reaction would be more understandable. But he comes speaking words of grace, a time of healing, reconciliation and restoration.

Part of the reason for their reaction might have been small town thinking. ‘Sure he’s from around the corner’, we might hear someone saying about a person who is gaining a reputation elsewhere. It seems that we do not expect greatness to be local, familiar or ordinary. ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’, is Nathanael’s first reaction when he hears about Jesus. But great people have to come from somewhere. And the New Testament teaches us over and over again that God’s preference is usually for the ordinary, that God works through the ‘poor of the Lord’, the ordinary people from ordinary places: Mary of Nazareth, Peter of Capernaum, Saul of Tarsus.

‘Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works?’ He is acting from something we did not put into him and operating from somewhere other than the culture we gave him. He is outside the education he received from us and outside the values and limits within which we shaped his formation. ‘We know where he’s coming from’ is another way of putting this, we know what we’ve put into him, and yet he does not say ‘Nazareth made me’. He speaks as if he comes from somewhere else and acts from a source of power with which we are not familiar. He returns to us with a wisdom that is beyond us.

There is always the danger, especially for people who think they have come to know Christ, of domesticating Him, thinking we know where He is coming from and what He is about. We can think we have identified the limits of what is to be known about Christ, the channels within which He will act, and the ways in which He can be present. But His wisdom and action remain available only for those who have faith, that is, for those who remain open to receive fresh truth, unexpected signs, and new freedom.

On the other side there is always also this hope: that there is a greatness in us that is yet to be seen. No matter how ordinary and banal we believe our origins to be, no matter how ordinary our culture or experience up to now, the same gift of faith teaches us that we have not yet reached the limit of what can be asked of us. Jesus comes to visit all our Nazareths, we might say. He brings His wisdom and power to bear there, calling and enabling everyone who listens to Him to love more. This means also to know more, and to do more, for it is in love that Christian greatness consists.

He is the hound of heaven: we must not turn him into a poodle. He remains always strange, free, other, different, receiving us with great gentleness but calling us to new things. The Love we believe Him to be – the divine wisdom and power – is always creating, always renewing, always ready to unveil the extraordinary gift waiting in the most ordinary of places.

Week 17 Thursday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 18.1-6; Psalm 146; Matthew 13.47-53

There is a certain naivety in the response of the disciples to Jesus's question, 'do you understand all these things?' 'Yes', they say, and we are inclined to feel a certain doubt. Maybe, at a superficial level, the teaching of the parables is easily understood. For example, the acted parable in the reading from Jeremiah seems straightforward enough: just as the pot is reshaped in the hands of the potter so the people are at the disposal of the Lord who can shape them in whatever way he wants. The analogy is clear but immediately questions arise: are we as dead as clay in the hands of God? what about human freedom and responsibility? and if everything is simply at God's complete disposal why are things not going better than they are?

Likewise with the parable of Jesus about the net catching all kinds of fish. At least the allegory is qualified this time by the phrase 'so it will be at the end of the age'. It is the angels who will make this final discernment which relieves us of the necessity of having to do it. It certainly relieves us of the necessity of having to do it now: better to concern ourselves with our own salvation, hoping for that, rather than trying to divide the world into goodies and baddies beforehand.

With the fragmentation of groups in the Church today, mostly centred on arguments about the Latin Mass and, behind that, about some of the teachings of the Second Vatican Council, at least everybody continues to read the same scriptures. So wherever people find themselves in regard to the disputed questions, they know that we are all in God's hands, at the disposal of God's providence, and that God is working his purpose out through us and with us, at least some of the time. At other times God is working his purpose out without us and in spite of us.

The one who is trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom things both new and old. Perhaps that is the phrase to underline today. Back in what many younger people now consider to have been the bad old days of the 1970s, anything new was considered to be good, at least given the benefit of the doubt, whereas anything old was at least suspect, if not simply past its sell-by date. Now, in church circles, we seem to have moved to the opposite pole of that pendulum: anything new, that is, regarded as having been around only since the 1960s, is regarded as bad and anything old, that is. regarded as coming from before Vatican II, is regarded as good. Of course this is a broad stroke of the brush and there are many qualifications and nuances to be considered. But as a broad sweep there seems to be something in it.

The wise teacher - the one instructed in the kingdom of heaven - will bring out things both old and new. At least he or she will not be a victim of any recent past, whether it is the period since 1960 or the period since 1570 (which is still the recent past in the long history of the Catholic Church!). The net has been catching fish for two thousand years and some of the most important of them are to be found in the biblical period, in the ancient Church, in the patristic and medieval periods, in early modern times. The pot has been reshaped again and again according to different situations and circumstances and needs. To try to fix it once and for all in one particular set of cultural expressions is not wise. Whether those cultural expressions come from before Vatican II or after Vatican II does not much matter: such a desire is bound to exclude a lot of the past and a lot of the present while perhaps also closing the door to future renewal, creativity and innovation.

We are blessed if our help is the God of Jacob. We are blessed if we continue to sit at the feet of the Master and learn from him how to bring out things both old and new. Do we understand all these things? Yes and no. On one level we understand everything but in another way we understand practically nothing. Our salvation is in the Lord, the God of Israel and the Father of Jesus, who is shaping our lives according to his will. Eye has not seen nor ear heard what God has in his store for us. But God is working his purpose out through our freedom and our struggle to understand, through our suffering and our mistakes, even through our sins and especially through our struggle to love all people.

Saints Martha, Mary and Lazarus - 29 July

Readings: Jeremiah 13.1-11; Psalm 59; John 11:19-27 or Luke 10:38-42

On the evening Pope Francis was elected in 2013 I was with an Argentinian Dominican who already knew Jorge Bergoglio as archbishop of Buenos Aires. 'There will be surprises', this Dominican brother immediately said to us, and so it has proved. One of the innovations of Pope Francis is today's celebration. Up to five years ago it was the feast of Saint Martha alone. The fact that it came exactly a week after the feast of Saint Mary Magdalen seemed to canonise the tradition that Mary Magdalen and Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha, were one and the same person: last week Mary, this week her sister Martha. But it is no longer as simple as that, because today we now celebrate the three friends of Jesus at Bethany, Martha, her sister Mary, and their brother Lazarus. Mary Magdalene has her own celebration - also given a 'promotion' by Pope Francis who raised it to the status of a feast.

 

Martha was the friend of Jesus who often received him into the home she shared with Lazarus and Mary. She is remembered as a practical woman who, in Luke's gospel, is 'corrected' by Jesus when she complains that Mary is leaving all the work to her. 'Mary has chosen the better part', Jesus says, meaning that Mary being fed spiritually by Jesus is somehow better than Martha feeding Jesus with physical food.

At least that is the traditional interpretation and so Martha came to represent the active life with Mary representing the contemplative life. The only departure from this tradition that I am aware of is Meister Eckhart who interprets Jesus' comment to Martha as meaning 'Mary has chosen what is, for her and for now, the better part'. Eckhart has no doubt that Martha was further advanced in the following of Christ, as could be seen from her compassion, her thoughtfulness, and her eagerness to serve Jesus. Christian maturity is ecstatic in this way, going out from oneself to give rather than to receive, to attend to others before thinking of oneself. Eckhart's interpretation seems to follow the teaching of Thomas Aquinas that the most perfect form of life is the one in which one not only contemplates but shares with others the fruits of one's contemplation.

So much for the picture of Martha that emerges from the famous incident in Luke, chapter 10. The other gospel reading that may be chosen today is from the gospel of John, chapter 11. We see that it is the same Martha who approaches Jesus as he arrives at their house when Lazarus had already died. 'If you had been here', she says to Jesus, 'my brother would not have died'. She is forthright, even blunt, once again practical and uncomplicated in her complaint.

But now we learn more about her relationship with Jesus and we see how mature things are between them. 'I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask', Martha says. 'Your brother will rise again', Jesus replies. 'I know', she says, perhaps with a touch of sarcasm, 'in the resurrection, on the last day'. The pattern in John's gospel is well known: from a misunderstanding on the part of a listener Jesus carries him or her to a deeper level of understanding, and in doing so reveals something extraordinary about himself. These revelations, generated in experiences of transcendentally fruitful conversation, more often than not begin with the words 'I am'. And so it is here: 'I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me even though they die will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die'. Jesus asks Martha if she believes it and it brings from her a comparable transcendentally fruitful profession of faith: 'Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world'.

This woman, whose personality is already familiar from Luke's gospel, shows us that practical concern and compassionate action are no obstacle to the most profound spiritual realisations. On the contrary, it seems. And she gives us an extraordinary lesson in what it means to pray. Prayer, we learn from Martha, is simply a conversation with Jesus, a conversation that is 'transcendentally fruitful'. Obviously these are my words, trying to catch something of the rich experience to which she bears witness. To pray means to come before the Lord with our needs and complaints, to hold nothing back in conversing with him, to open our hearts and minds and lives to his correcting and healing words, and to be carried through our present level of understanding to see more of the divine mystery that is coming into the world, to be brought further into the light of the truth about Jesus Christ who is, as we learn through Martha's questioning, 'the resurrection and the life'.

Jesus' encounter with Martha in John 11 reveals his divine nature. His encounter with Mary, her sister, which follows immediately, reveals his human nature, as he weeps with her for his friend who has died. But the greatness of Martha can be overlooked, the lesson she gives us in how to be with Jesus, how to talk with him, how to allow him to correct us and to lead us ever further into the mystery of his Person. In honouring Martha we honour a practical, valiant, wise and compassionate woman.

 

Much of what is to be said about Mary of Bethany has been said in contrasting her with her sister Martha (Luke 10 and John 11). But after the raising of Lazarus Jesus visited his friends again, just before the Passover, and on that occasion Mary anointed his feet with precious ointment and wiped them with her hair (John 12:1-8). It is a gospel passage read on the Monday of Holy Week and you will find a homily on it here.

The death of Lazarus and the mourning it occasioned brought Jesus to tears, one of only two places in the gospels where we read of Jesus weeping (John 11:35 for Lazarus, Luke 19:41 for Jerusalem). There are many places where the affection of Jesus is recorded, his compassion in the face of suffering and death, as well as his love for the man who asked him about goodness (Mark 10:21). But only in relation to the Holy City, and in relation to his friend Lazarus, are we told that Jesus actually wept.

 

There is another Lazarus mentioned in the New Testament, the poor man in the parable Jesus tells in Luke 16, but this seems to be merely a coincidence of names. Lazarus of Bethany becomes so associated with the scandal of what Jesus is doing that, ironically, his (restored) life is also in danger. We are told that people were coming to believe in Jesus on account of what he had done for Lazarus (John 12:9-11). So it is always in friendship: we are asked to share the experiences of our friends, and sometimes to be associated with them in the negative feelings they arouse in others.

 

Clearly there is much to be said on this new memory of Saints Martha, Mary and Lazarus. At the heart of it is friendship, a treasure appreciated also by Jesus, who came to share our human experiences, including the great gift of friendship, so that he might make it possible for us to share in that friendship which is the life of God.

Week 17 Tuesday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 14.17-22; Psalm 79; Matthew 13.36-43

Even in the New Testament we can detect, from time to time, a concern that if God is presented as too indulgent towards sinners, too compassionate and merciful, it will not be helpful for them (for us). Better to remind them about judgement and punishment, not just to present them with the reality of their situation, but to motivate them to conversion through fear of that punishment if by no other means.

The account of Jesus's encounter with the woman taken in adultery is one example: it moved around in the manuscripts of the New Testament, the first community not sure what to do with it, before it finally settled in John 8. Was Jesus too liberal, too indulgent, in his response to adultery? Another example is the allegorical explanation of the parable of the wheat and darnel in today's gospel. One difficulty is that such allegorical explanations - were they from Jesus himself or from the disciples? - fix the meaning of the parable whereas left to itself a parable can continue to bear many meanings and be fruitful in interesting ways. The allegory tells us what to think about the different elements in the parable and about the relationships between them. Left to itself the parable remains open, inviting us to bring it into our meditation, to allow it to fertilise and deepen our understanding of what God is like.

The explanation we hear today also seems to contrast with the parable itself. Where the parable points our attention to God's patience and compassion, the explanation not only shrinks its meaning but does so in a way that changes the image of God with which we are being presented.

In beautiful poetry the consequences of sin are powerfully presented in the reading from Jeremiah. Devastation follows on sin. Losing the relationship with God means losing everything else that might give meaning and purpose to life. To what can the people appeal? Jeremiah's response anticipates the teaching of Jesus, telling us that the people, if they are to have hope of recovery, must look to something in God rather than to anything in themselves. It will be 'for the Lord's name's sake' that they appeal, asking him 'not to disgrace the throne of his glory', asking him to 'remember your covenant with us and break it not'.

We have broken that covenant and any hope for healing and reconciliation is in God. It is to God alone that we look, for it is he alone who has done all these things. And we do so with greater confidence following on the way in which God's judgment on this world has actually been revealed, in the cross of Jesus, where we see entwined together like the wheat and the darnel, the awful reality of sin and the extraordinary beauty of God's infinite love.

Week 17 Monday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 13.1-11; Deuteronomy 32.18-21; Matthew 13.31-35

It is one of the strangest of the 'acted parables' we come across in the writings of the prophets. Jeremiah is asked to put his unwashed underwear in a crevice of the wall of the city where it rots.

This is what will happen to my people, says the Lord, they will rot. And why this particular action when there are many other ways, more decent we might think, in which he could have made the point? Because 'I had bound them to myself as closely as a person's underwear is to them', says the Lord.

It is the kind of analogy a person will be inclined to use when they are in the grip of strong emotion, of disappointment or anger at being betrayed. In such circumstances we might well find ourselves cursing and it is no time for modesty or reserve. Precisely because the relationship that has been betrayed was of such intimacy the depth of feeling is correspondingly profound. No time to stand on ceremony as the responsorial psalm from Deuteronomy underlines: 'you have forgotten God who gave you birth'

The gospel reading has quite a different atmosphere. It is quiet and gentle, peaceful and even bucolic - the seeds do what they were created to do and so does the leaven and so it will be also with the kingdom of heaven: it will flourish according to its nature. Once again the disappointment and anger of God is overtaken by compassion and love. Once more God visits his people in order, yet again, to affirm and renew the covenant with them. This time he has sent the Son, to establish the new and eternal covenant of which the prophets had already spoken (in particular Jeremiah).

And so the story continues. In his teaching Jesus reveals things hidden from the foundation of the world. He reveals the Father to us more clearly than ever before and he sends the Spirit to transform our hearts. We continue to waver, to hear and to see but not to understand. But God is always faithful, his love is everlasting. Because of what Jesus has been prepared to do to seal that covenant we know that this is not just a nice, reassuring, thought. What he has done and what he has undergone in order to bind us intimately once again, more closely than ever, and this time forever, to the heart of God.

Week 17 Sunday (Year A)

Readings: 1 Kings 3:5, 7-12; Psalm 119; Romans 8:28-30; Matthew 13:44-52 (or 13:44-46)

Solomon is remembered for his wisdom and because of this reputation most of the wisdom literature of the Bible is attributed to him. For him the pearl of great price, the treasure hidden in the field of this world, was the wisdom and understanding needed to govern well. The Lord is pleased with his request and gives him a heart that is wise and understanding.

The person who finds the treasure hidden in a field is, Jesus tells us, filled with joy. He is transformed, his life radically changed, as he goes and sells everything in order to buy the field. The merchant is in a different situation since his job is to look for pearls. He spends his life searching and eventually finds one of great value. We are not told about his joy but we can presume it, as he too goes, sells all he has, and buys the pearl.

In one case we are told that the Kingdom of Heaven is like the treasure, in the other case we are told that the Kingdom is like the merchant searching. So the Kingdom is in the relationship between people and something of great value that gives them joy and becomes the exclusive focus of their lives, their obsession.  It might come their way fortuitously or as a result of long searching. Either way it becomes the exclusive focus of their lives from that moment onward.

So God became the exclusive focus of Moses’ life after his encounter with Him in the burning bush. So too for David and for Solomon who in spite of their many other distractions and weaknesses remained focused on the Lord and His intentions for His people. Even more so was the Father the exclusive focus of the life of Jesus from the earliest moment of his existence.

We are left with questions about the man who found the treasure and the merchant searching for pearls. What did they want these riches for? Solomon's request makes sense for a man in his position. For the treasure-finder and the pearl-seeker, it seems that it was enough for them to possess such great wealth.

With the treasure of the Kingdom, or the treasure entrusted to Moses by God, or the wisdom entrusted to Solomon by God, or the mission entrusted to the apostles by Jesus, we have the words of the scriptures to teach us why the Kingdom is the treasure hidden in the field and the pearl of great price. They teach us why the Kingdom is worth searching for. It is because it means life for human beings, the fullness of life for human beings, eternal life for human beings. Knowing the Father and Jesus Christ whom he has sent: this is eternal life, says Jesus at the beginning of his priestly prayer in John's gospel. The law and the prophets and the writings are worth exploring, valuing, studying and putting into practice. The words of the scriptures are the field in which we search for the treasure. Why search there, someone might ask? With Peter we can reply: where else can we go? the scriptures are all about Jesus and it is he who has the words of eternal life.

Feast of Saint James - 25 July

Readings: 2 Corinthians 4:7-15; Psalm 126; Matthew 20:20-18

The Letter of St James comes to mind when thinking about community life. Invariably young men coming to find out about the Dominicans mention community life as one of the things they want, one of the things that attracts them to our way of life. But then we know from experience that community life often becomes problematic later on, some come to find it heavy, unhelpful, and a burden that seems not worth bearing. The Letter of James is about this, about people who believe in Christ trying to live together, and the difficulties they experience. He has many comments relevant to community life in his discussion of vices and virtues, of anger and partiality, of control of the tongue, of jealousy and ambition. It is a very practical letter.

James puts his finger on the attitudes and dispositions that make life together difficult. People are usually relieved to be given a diagnosis for a problem even before they are told whether there is any treatment for it and what that treatment might involve. To understand where problems arise, why there are problems in the first place, is already a growth in wisdom. James does this for us. The letter belongs firmly within Jewish traditions of practical wisdom, drawing on the sapiential and prophetic literature of the Old Testament. This brings him close to much of the earliest gospel material. His teaching is similar to what we find in Matthew and Luke, about beatitudes and woes, attitudes to the Law, not judging others, prayer, the danger of riches, and so on.

James is very clear that problems in communities arise as a result of problems within individuals: 4:1ff. So it is not a Marxist-style analysis that we find here, seeing problems originating in systems or structures or other people's use of power, but rather a spiritual and even psychological analysis, seeing how problems for living together arise from conflicts internal to individuals. This is why desire is such a central concern in the letter. He is referring not just to lust but to 'having' in general, and to 'wanting' in general, to the kind of having and wanting that can only be fulfilled at the expense of others. ‘Where you find jealousy and ambition you find disorder’, he says in 3:16. This is where things go wrong. In Old Testament terms it is foolishness, manifesting itself as bitter jealousy and selfish ambition. I want to have - but my wanting to have sets off these negative things in me: jealousy and ambition. His analysis seems to anticipate the kind of thing René Girard talks about in his analysis of desire and its destructive consequences for human societies.

There is, however, also a 'socio-political' level to the analysis we find in James. He speaks of the danger of riches, and power, the way we are with the rich and powerful, and the way we are with the poor and lowly. It is still the case that we respond differently to neat and tidy well-dressed people, and to dirty and untidy smelly people. We will find ourselves reacting differently to people whom the world has decided are important and to those whom it has decided are not important. We can translate that into our dealings with each other in families and communities: who counts? what’s the pecking order?

So what to do? Prayer is one of the things to do and James talks about it quite a few times for such a short letter, and not only in the famous passage which the Church sees as establishing the sacrament of anointing, the prayer of faith for the sick person. And there is an interesting twist because James warns us that we can even put our prayer at the service of our desire. You might say, 'well, is that not what we are supposed to do?' Thomas Aquinas calls prayer 'the interpreter of desire'. But, James says, ‘you ask and do not receive because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions' (4:3). The passions he has just been talking about are jealousy and ambition so we have to watch out that we do not try to put our prayer at the service of these.

As we read through the letter we will probably find ourselves wanting James to be more Christian – to say something about Christ, and about love, and about grace. He does not say much about Christ, he mentions love of neighbour as the ‘royal law’, and he echoes Old Testament passages which say that God gives His grace to the humble.

For one who talks a lot about mercy, his analysis is fairly merciless. He invents a word for his readers – you are dipsuchos, he says, double-minded, split, your desire fragmented, and here is the root of your problems. ‘Above all’, he says in 5:12, and we expect something big after that, ‘above all do not swear by heaven or earth or anything else. Let your yes be yes and your no be no’. It is a bit disappointing after the lead in ('above all'), but the world would be transformed, and our community life improved remarkably, if we used our tongues with the care James recommends, and if when we did speak we did it with the integrity and directness he encourages.

Although he does not get round to spelling out solutions as clearly as other moralists of the New Testament (Paul, 1 Peter), James brilliantly diagnoses the problems of community life and reminds us of the need to cast ourselves humbly on God’s grace: James 4:7a,8,10.