St. Mark, pray for us!

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Mark the Evangelist.

Growing up, whenever I played "house" my imaginary husband was always named Mark. Unfortunately, he was always traveling for work. Apparently I could imagine my dolls were real, but I couldn't imagine an invisible husband to be present in the house.

Well, I like the name "Alex" much better than "Mark" now. And I'm really glad his job doesn't require constant travel.

But it's not Saint Mark's fault that my imaginary husband was never home! So in honor of his feast day, here's a brief introduction to who he was and why he wrote a gospel.

New Beginnings

I'm excited--and somewhat trepidatious--to announce the commencement of a new project.

I'm starting a new blog.

Don't worry--I will most certainly be keeping this one. And I hope to be much better about posting pictures and stories of the kiddos--as well as other miscellany. Thanks to the encouragement of some friends and the guilty realization that my negligence has been seriously depriving friends and family of their regular dose of my crazy children, I have firmly resolved to post here more often. You know, more than quarterly.

But.

I have long felt torn between the desire to write more about Scripture and the faith and a certain hesitancy to try to mix my plain ol' mommy blog with more professional or academic pursuits. It just didn't seem to fit. A motherhood-inspired reflection on something faith-related, sure. A treatise on whether or not Moses actually wrote the Pentateuch, not so much. (Not that I will be writing any treatises, but you get the picture.)

In the past few weeks the desire to write more on Scripture and put it out on the interwebs has grown, and so I'm just jumping in. Because otherwise I will plan and dream for six months, and it will grow to something huge and glorious in my dreams (okay, it already has), and then I will talk myself out of actually moving forward.

So here we go.

I humbly invite you to join me in this adventure at Broad and Deep. (And any feedback in this new endeavor would be most appreciated!)

Daybook

Just popping in to say a quick hi and breaking all the blogger rules--no explanations, no promises, no pictures. Are there blogger rules? Like, you have to explain if you come back after a long/unexpected absence, and you have to set goals and tell the whole internet about them to keep you accountable (then offer more explanations when you fail to meet those goals anyway), and always post pictures because posts without pictures are boring and un-pinnable. Is "pinnable" a word? "Pinable"? There's another rule to break...

Whatevs. (And that IS apparently a word because "the computer guys" didn't put a squiggly red line under it, as Michael would say...)

I've missed blogging, but I didn't feel like I had much to say. Especially not after pushing through a rough couple of weeks to meet a deadline at the end of August, recovering for a month, then surviving (mostly, I'm not quite done) another crazy two weeks for the next project. Maybe I'll do a post about all those projects... next year...

But I was inspired and motivated by Bobby's  Weekly Writing in October link-up, especially when she suggested that if we needed something to get us started we could just go with a daybook kind of post. I can do that! I think I can I think I can I think I can... Chug chug chug, puff puff puff puff...

What, you don't randomly start reciting children's books in the middle of conversation?

So, with no further ado, currently I am:

reading
The Anne books, for the zillionth time. I'm on Anne of the Island and almost cried last night when Anne refused Gilbert's proposal. These are books that truly get better every single time, and I just have to read them in autumn. (Michael would tell me I don't "have to," I just really want to. He told me that the other day when I needed coffee. Good gracious.)

Also trying to read Augustine's Confessions. Because I'm ashamed I've never read the whole thing, and every time I read a passage from it for something else it is so beautiful and moving. I'm thinking this is one area where it's not really the thought that counts...

praying
This prayer from St. Augustine:

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. 

Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. 

Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. 

Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. 

Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. 

Amen.

And Psalm 131:

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a child quieted at its mother's breast;

like a child that is quieted is my soul.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time forth and for evermore.

I just "discovered" this psalm and I am totally taken with it. Maybe because I feel like I'm almost never quieted and I am usually occupied with things too great (or at least too much!) for me.

listening

For Colette to wake up. Because teething. Ugh.

around the house

My parents moved in last week! Yes, moved in to stay. No, they're not in poor health (thanks be to God). Yes, we actually just all wanted to live in the same house. There's more to it than that--but it deserves its own post. You know, next year.

We put a lot of (pretty minor but very time consuming) work into the house and yard this summer getting ready for a refinance. And it totally paid off (hahaha, I'm so exhausted look how funny I am). But there's a lot more to do, starting with redoing the retaining wall along the garden/weed bed in front of the house--because the current wall is not doing a particularly good job at retaining and consequently the porch is sinking and starting to pull away from the house. No bueno. So that's next on the list, along with finishing (because planning totally means we've started, right?) the necessary remodeling to turn the basement into a bedroom and living room instead of one giant toy room.

watching

NCIS with Alex. We're almost caught up on Netflix (we took a semi-unintentional hiatus a couple years ago and fell off the wagon). This is some serious relationship-building stuff for us, because if it weren't for NCIS we would probably never have gotten married. Also deserving of its own post--I don't think I've ever told the story here. Man, these daybook things are fantastic for generating post ideas! But remember, no promises.

enjoying

October. It's my favorite. 

Watching Colette's personality and sense of humor continue to emerge. When she's really tired but happy she does this thing where she just shakes here back and forth until she starts leaning and wobbling all over the place. It's hilarious--until she smacks you in the nose with the back of her head.

Watching Michael learn and grow this past month of homeschooling. I love his curiosity (mostly), and watching his mind work is just a delight (mostly).

Listening to John Paul talk--he sounds so much older than 2 1/2. Last Thursday was a really rough morning, and at one point I had gathered all of the kids around me to try to hug all of them at once after having yelled at all of them for--I can't even remember. So rough. But I was crying and apologizing for yelling, and JP just looked at me and said "Is okay Mama. No woozles." Because apparently he thought I was crying because I was scared of the woozles.

Seeing Liam transition from toddler to big boy. He's almost four, so I guess he hasn't really been a toddler for almost a year. But suddenly he's seeming so old. He can be so sweet and so thoughtful, and also so mischievous and so creative. And his delight when he answers a question or sounds out a phonics exercise is the sweetest.

Dabbling in genealogy. So far I've traced ancestors back to Scotland in the early 1700s, Cape May, NJ in the early 1700s, and France and Switzerland in the early 1800s. And I'm pretty sure there's a direct line to William the Conqueror, because I remember reading some of the documents one of my uncles put together when I was in high school and then trying to impress some history-nerd friends with it. If I remember correctly they failed to be properly awed by my distinguished lineage.

And with that, I should probably do the dishes and fold some laundry* before bed. I mean, before Colette needs her 9pm snack, to be followed by her 10pm snack, to be followed by her 3am snack, to be followed by her 5am rise-and-shine routine. Or at least that's how it went last night...

*In the interest of full disclosure, I refused Alex's offer to clean the kitchen and won't let him help me fold the laundry, because those chores are my chance to watch Netflix and as long as there isn't an imminent deadline I would generally rather do them myself. They're almost as much of a luxury as a chore, however bizarre that may be.

Check out the other weekly writings at Revolution of Love, and I'll try to be back here before next Saturday--maybe even with pictures! (Oh wait, no promises!)

Boy Talk: Theology Lesson with Michael

After singing a new song while tucking him at nap time:

M: What was that song called?
Ash: "This Day God Gives Me"
M: Gives me what?
Ash: Well, God gives us everything we need, every day.
M: very emphatic and very concerned But, Mama! God doesn't have chicken nuggets!

I don't think he was entirely convinced when I explained that God provides what we need to make/buy chicken nuggets...

love the milk mustache, Mr. Michael

Still houseless, but never homeless...

The short version is: we still don't have a house, and I'm mad, sad, and trying to let myself be comforted.

The long version... well, the long version is going to be quite long.  And even longer if you want some of the background here.

For the last two months or so we had been keeping our eye on a house.  A fairly large house, with a nice size  yard, in our dream neighborhood.  It was out of our price range, but not hopelessly so.  And there was a decent chance it would be well within our range by the end of the summer (if it stayed on the market around long enough).

Before we came out to Lincoln we decided we should try to see it, just in case we needed to/were in a position to make a move while we were on vacation.  After a few scheduling snafus (chrome says that is spelled correctly, but it looks awfully strange) we were able to see it late Tuesday afternoon right before driving out to Lincoln.  We even delayed our departure time by several hours to fit it in (which is probably what threw Liam for such a crazy loop sleep-wise, but that's neither here nor there).

And it was perfect.  Not perfect as in "too good to be true" perfect, but perfect as in "we can absolutely see ourselves living here and making this our own and being thoroughly happy and comfortable here" perfect.  After we replaced the pinkish tile and magenta carpet in the master suite, of course.

Kherem warfare: on mercy, judgment, and war in the Old Testament

My lecture for the Biblical School today is on the book of Joshua.  Discussing Israel's conquest of Canaan always brings up the huge question of just what we're supposed to do with this issue of divinely mandated total warfare.  I've been looking for an answer to this question for years--in fact, I chose it for the topic of my first research paper when I started my MA at the Augustine Institute.  Dr. Sri's response when I informed him of my paper topic?  "Ha!  Good luck!"  I did manage to get an A on the paper, and I've continued pondering and studying the question since then.  I welcome your thoughts and questions in the comments!

War! What is it good for?  Absolutely nothin'!  

For a book (and a God) that tells us "Blessed are the peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9) and instructs us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44), there is also an awful lot of war and violence.  And much to our dismay, it doesn't appear that we can simply chalk it up to good old-fashioned human strife--the Old Testament has several instances of God apparently mandating total warfare (kherem warfare in Hebrew, also translated as the "ban") between nations (Deuteronomy 20:16-18, for example).  What are we supposed to do with this?  A common solution is to draw a line about four-fifths of the way through the Bible and make a distinction between the angry, vindictive, capricious God of the Old Testament and the loving, gentle, forgiving God of the New Testament.  This might work just fine if we're going to ignore the fact that Jesus himself made no such distinction, but if we're going to through out what Jesus says about himself and his Father, then there's no reason to struggle to come to terms with all those difficulties in the Old Testament.

So two different Gods (or the Jews completely misunderstanding God and the Christians finally getting Him right) won't work.  What then?  Another common response even since the early days of the Church has been to focus exclusively on the moral sense of the passages in question.  So the book of Joshua becomes purely an illustration of how we are to mercilessly root out sin from our hearts and ceases to be an historical narrative.  While this moral interpretation can be incredibly helpful to applying the conquest of the Promised Land to our own lives, it must still be based firmly on the literal sense--and so we cannot simply dismiss the book of Joshua as history.

Reconciling the New Testament's picture of a merciful God calling all peoples unto himself with this image of God commanding Israel to completely destroy some of the Canaanite tribes and cities doesn't have to be a major stumbling block.  I would propose that it is precisely the mercy of God which provides the interpretive key to understanding the issue of kherem warfare.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the mandate to destroy completely certain Canaanite tribes in Deuteronomy 20:16-18 is not a free pass to slaughter anyone the Israelites don't like.  This command regarding warfare actually limits war for the sake of booty (no one can get rich from kherem warfare) and escalating violence.  Israel does not get to decide when and where to fight this kind of war--the ban is only applied to specific groups of people who have obstinately refused to turn away from a horrifically sinful culture.  Going back to Genesis 15:12-16 we see God telling Abram/Abraham that his descendants will be brought into the Promised Land only when the "iniquity of the Amorites" is complete.  Over 400 years pass between God promising Abraham that his descendants would occupy the land of Canaan and the Israelites actually taking possession of the land.  In that time the Canaanite peoples (including the Amorites) persisted in a culture that glorified incest and adultery and institutionalized child-sacrifice in their worship of their god Molech.    

Genesis has other instances of God wiping out sinful people who refused to repent (the Flood in Genesis 6 and Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis 19).  In those cases God uses natural disasters; in Joshua God uses his first-born, Israel, to carry out his judgment.  It's quite a bit easier to accept God's judgment when it comes directly from him in the form of a flood or fire and brimstone, rather than when it's carried out by other humans at his command--but it's much the same thing.  In fact, Deuteronomy 9:5 specifies that Israel isn't inheriting the Promised Land on their own merits, but rather God is driving out the other nations because of their wickedness.

Another key to understanding kherem warfare is that it was not Plan A.  God initially told Israel that He would drive out the Canaanites before the Israelites (Exodus 23:23-30).  No mention is made of warfare of any kind--the Canaanites would presumably simply leave.  This makes sense in the context of Exodus--the Israelite slaves have just departed a humbled, broken Egypt thanks to their powerful God.  Egypt was the world power at the time, and the whole Middle East would have been abuzz with this very dramatic turn of events.  Now the Israelites have set out for the land of Canaan, which their God has promised to give them.  The only logical thing for the Canaanites to do is to flee, lest they suffer the same fate as Egypt.  However, Israel fails to trust in God's promise and ends up taking a 40 year detour going around in circles in the wilderness.  After 40 years the terror of YHWH and the Israelites no longer lies so heavily on the Canaanites (see the Canaanite Rahab's declaration of faith in Joshua 2:8-11).  In addition to the delay in taking possession of the land, the Israelites must now fight for it rather than simply march in and set up camp.  

In addition, like many other laws in Deuteronomy (literally "Second Law," loosely translated as "Plan B"), the mandate of the ban is not necessarily good in and of itself, but rather it is a concession to the Israelites' weakness.  This is the explanation Jesus gives for Moses allowing divorce when the question comes up in Matthew 19:3-8: "For your hardness of heart Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so."  Similarly, Moses might as well say "For your hardness of heart you must now destroy the Canaanites, but from the beginning it was not so."  God's intention for Israel was for them to be a light to the nations--a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:5-6).  But Israel has proven to have a hard enough time staying faithful themselves, let alone evangelizing other nations.  If the Canaanites are allowed to remain in the land alongside Israel, it is clear that Israel will be converted to paganism, rather than converting the Canaanites to worship of the one true God (God himself says as much in Exodus 23:33 and Numbers 33:55-56).  So kherem warfare becomes necessary to deal with those Canaanites who will not join Israel in worshiping YHWH and will not remove themselves from the land, because otherwise the revelation which Israel has received for the sake of the other nations will be lost.

In summary, kherem warfare is God's judgment against the sinful, unrepentant Canaanite culture and a concession made necessary by Israel's own lack of faithfulness.  It is by no means a precedent for how to deal with other nations, either in the rest of the Old Testament or under the New Covenant established by Jesus--this was a specific command for a specific situation in history.  

This isn't a complete answer--it's only a start.  It is completely okay to still be bothered by this!  Scripture isn't easy.  To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, "Is He safe?  Of course not.  He isn't a tame God.  But He's good."

This Saying is Hard--Thoughts on the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

"Many of Jesus' disciples who were listening said, 'This saying is hard; who can accept it?'"  -John 6:60

I love this line from today's Gospel reading.  I find myself using it pretty regularly--"God, this situation is ridiculously hard; do you really expect me to accept it?" (Especially in those early morning/late night/no nap situations... really?  I'm really supposed to be able to get through this?  And with a good attitude?!  Ha.)

And I love that in her divinely bestowed wisdom our Church has paired this reading from the end of the Bread of Life Discourse with Paul's exhortation to spouses from Ephesians 5.  Sitting in Mass today we went directly from "For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.  This is a great mystery, but I speak in reference to Christ and the church." (Ephesians 5:31-32) to "This saying is hard; who can accept it?"

I find this pairing particularly appropriate on two different levels.  Everywhere we turn today we find people who look at the Church's teachings on marriage and sexuality and respond with "This saying is hard (and ridiculous, out-dated, oppressive, hateful, etc.); who (in their right mind) can accept it?"  How many of Jesus' 21st century disciples have walked (or drifted) away from his words of everlasting life because they are hard? 

On an even deeper level, hearing these two readings paired highlights the beautiful connections between marriage and the Eucharist.  St. Paul tells us at the end of today's reading from Ephesians that the maritial union of a man and woman becoming one flesh is a great mystery--and it is to be understood in relation to Christ and his Church.  Alex and I chose this passage as the second reading at our wedding Mass.  We did so for several reasons (one of which may or may not have been an attempt to scandalize some of our guests with the very non-PC language of submission), but primarily because we felt this one passage most clearly summarized the wedding vows.  The mystery of truly becoming one flesh in marriage requires the mutual submission about which St. Paul writes (although you may have missed the mutual part if you got the shortened version at Mass today).  As a wife, I submit to Alex.  Not as a doormat, not as a slave, not as someone whose ideas or preferences or dignity is somehow less important than his.  Rather, I do so as someone who has chosen to place herself under his mission.  In short, I submit to Alex as I do to Christ.  And I am called to do this because he is also called to submit.  This can be easy to miss in reading Ephesians 5--we hear about wives submitting first and it can be hard to get past that to fully consider what husbands are called to do in turn.  But the role of husband being discussed second actually places a stronger emphasis on the way in which he is called to sacrifice.  It's not exactly the same way--in fact, in my opinion, it's an even harder way.  As a husband, Alex is head of our family as Christ is head of the Church.  That means death--death to self for my sake, just as Christ died for the Church.  Alex is called to submit everything for my good.  That makes it pretty easy (at least in theory) for me to submit to him.

But this is still a hard saying--because I'm fallen I don't always want to submit, even when it makes sense in theory.  Thank God for the grace of the sacrament of marriage, and for the grace of the Eucharist--the sacramental marriage feast between Christ and his bride, the Church.  And just as real physical union is necessary to the sacrament of marriage, so also in our marriage to Christ we experience real physical union with God through receiving Jesus--body, blood, soul and divinity--in the Eucharist.

John is relating the reaction of many of Jesus' followers upon hearing the shocking claim that Jesus' flesh is quite literally true food and his blood is true drink.  Some of them simply cannot/will not accept this and they leave.  But Paul's sayings about marriage--both between a man and woman here on earth, and between Christ and his Church for all eternity--are also hard. 

I don't know about you, but I desperately need the first to live out the second!

Live and Let Die: Tolerance and the Christian

Considering the endorsements and celebrations of June as Gay Pride month by various commercial groups (Target and Kraft Foods' Oreos, to name a few), we are being especially bombarded with the calls for tolerance right now.

In light of this, I found the readings at Mass today,the Feast of St. Irenaeus, bishop and martyr, to be especially striking.  From the first reading:  "Avoid foolish and ignorant debates, for you know that they breed quarrels.  A slave of the Lord  should not quarrel, but should be gentle with everyone, able to teach, tolerant..." (2 Timothy 2:23-24, NAB).  And yes, the Greek word, ’ανεξικακον, actually does translate as "tolerant" (also "patient")--it's not just an insipid word choice by the NAB.

So there you have it, folks, right there in the Bible.  We Christians should stop arguing about stuff and just be tolerant like everyone keeps telling us.  Right?  Not quite what St. Paul had in mind.

Verses 25-26 go on to say, "correcting opponents with kindness.  It may be that God will grant them repentance that leads to knowledge of the truth, and that they may return to their senses out of the devil's snare, where they are entrapped by him, for his will" (emphasis mine).

For the Christian, tolerance is always about the person, and never the act or the idea.  Paul instructs Timothy to avoid foolish and ignorant debates, not to stop talking about the truth.  The idea here is to refrain from quarreling, not all dialogue.  And how do we approach dialogue (which does not mean "beating someone over the head with the truth nicely")?  With gentleness, a desire to teach (not browbeat), and tolerance for the person.  The goal of all of this is not to affirm everyone's life choices regardless of how they fit (or fail to) with our worldview, but to correct opponents.  And we seek to teach and correct gently remembering always that it is God who grants repentance and conversion.  Tolerance opens the door for dialogue and teaching.  It does not compromise on what the truth is, and it most certainly does not deny that there is, in fact, objective truth.

So yes, as Christians we are called to be tolerant.  But it is not a blind tolerance, and it is not tolerance for its own sake.  If we submit, instead, to the world's call to tolerate sin and lies, not only will we risk losing the fullness of life, but we will also miss the opportunity to invite others into that life.



"The glory of God is man fully alive, and the life of man is the vision of God.  If the revelation of God through creation already brings life to all living beings on the earth, how much more will the manifestation of the Father by the Word bring life to those who see God."  --St. Irenaeus

Advent Reflections IV

One final (belated!) reflection as we prepare to celebrate this joyous feast of Christmas!  Readings for the Fourth Sunday of Advent: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/121811.cfm.

"Your house and your kingdom shall endure forever before me; your throne shall stand firm forever" (2 Sam 7:16).  You can't "out-give" God - as David surely realized when he expressed his desire to build a house for God and was told instead that God would turn David's line (bayit, "house" in Hebrew) into an everlasting royal dynasty.  True to his word, as long as there is a king in Judah that king is a descendant of David.  Fourteen generations later the Babylonian exile strikes a devastating - but not fatal - blow to the kingdom and especially to the royal line.  When the exiles are allowed to return and rebuild Jerusalem and the Temple under king Cyrus of Persia they do so under the leadership of Zerubbabel, a descendant of David.  At this point the Davidic line goes underground, so to speak, and the identity of the heir to the throne is no longer public knowledge - or at least it is no longer recorded in Scripture.  So the next time you are sitting in Mass listening to the beginning of the gospel of Matthew (this very Christmas Eve, if you get the long version of the gospel reading) and the priest or deacon is rattling off that list of tongue-twisting names, imagine the shock and excitement of a first century Jew hearing that genealogy: "And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel, and Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel" - so far so good, this is well-known history - "and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim..." (Matt 1:12-13 RSV).  What?!  God really is faithful - the line continued, and there is no longer any question who the rightful ruler of Israel is: "and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ" (Matt 1:16).

That's all well and good, you might say, and it's nice to know that those genealogies aren't included just to trip Father up while he's proclaiming the gospel - but Joseph is only Jesus' foster father, and so shouldn't we be more concerned with Mary's genealogy if we're going to try to establish Jesus as the fulfillment of this prophecy to David in 2 Samuel 7?  There is a tradition that Mary is also of the royal line, but although Joseph is not Jesus' biological father his genealogy is of primary importance in this case.  Joseph is the legal heir of the Davidic throne, as evidenced by the genealogy in Matthew 1, and Jesus is his legal son - therefore Jesus is the legal heir of the throne, regardless of Mary's lineage.

This beautiful fulfillment of the promise to David in Christ Jesus is part of the "revelation of the mystery kept secret for long ages but now manifested through the prophetic writings" to which St. Paul refers at the end of his letter to the Romans (16:25-26).

All of this explains how the angel Gabriel is able to tell Mary that Jesus will receive "the throne of David his father" in this Sunday's gospel (Luke 1:32).  As the mother of the new king, Mary holds the royal office of giberah, or Queen Mother.  Gabriel honors her in his greeting and calls her κεχαριτωμενη (kecharitomene) in the Greek; the RSV and NAB translate this as "full of grace," but the verb tense is past perfect, which makes the literal translation "one who has been and continues to be graced."  This verse provides an important foundation for the dogma of the Immaculate Conception: that Mary was conceived without original sin and remained sinless throughout her life (by the power of God and the saving sacrifice of Christ working back in history, not by her own merit - an important distinction!).

Another key Marian doctrine with a foundation in this passage is the doctrine of Mary's perpetual virginity.  The Church teaches that Mary remained a virgin before, during, and after the birth of Christ.  Mary herself gives us a clue concerning this in her reply to Gabriel's announcement that she would have a son.  Mary responds, "How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?" (Luke 1:34).  St. Luke has already told us that Mary is betrothed to Joseph (1:27).  Our modern concept of betrothal is that of an engagement: a plan to marry, but not yet a marriage.  However, in the first century Jewish world marriage was a two-step process.  The first step was betrothal, which was essentially the marriage without the wife going to live in her husband's home.  For a husband and wife to consummate their marriage during this period may have been looked down upon, but it would not have been unheard of.  For Gabriel to tell an engaged woman that she would bear a son at some point in the future would not have been surprising; to give the same message to a woman who was essentially already married should not have elicited a response of "how can this be?"  Mary's response only makes sense if she was not planning on having relations with her husband.  This supports the tradition that Mary had made a vow of perpetual virginity.

This passage also echoes the theme of God's house in the language about the Holy Spirit overshadowing Mary - this is the same language used when God's presence descends on the Tabernacle in the wilderness and on the Temple in Jerusalem.  This points to Mary as the new Ark of the Covenant.  The original Ark contained a jar of manna (bread from heaven), the tablets of the law (God's word), and Aaron's budding staff (priestly authority).  For nine months Mary carried in her womb the true Bread come down from heaven, the incarnate Word, and the new and eternal High Priest.

To end I'll leave you with the last verse of my new favorite Advent/Christmas song, A Messenger to Mary Came (full lyrics here: http://www.wyomingcatholiccollege.com/Portals/0/Member_Christmas2.pdf, I also highly recommend the CD!):

With that, the angel parted thence
And Mary wondered in her heart;
'As God in his benevolence
Has chosen me to play this part,
So let me follow undeterred
According to the Father's word,
And show him right obedience.'

Have a merry, blessed Christmas!!!

Advent Reflections III

I'm pretending this isn't over a week late... or pretending that some deeper significance about waiting can be drawn out of a very belated reflection...

The readings for the Third Sunday of Advent can be found here: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/121111.cfm.  This third Sunday is called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin word meaning "rejoice."  In the midst of this penitential season of Advent we take this day to rejoice that our hope is near - it is almost Christmas, but also as we await the second coming of our Lord we rejoice that He is ever present with us in the Eucharist.

The first reading for this Sunday is another thrilling reading from Isaiah.  It is also one of the easiest Old Testament prophecies for which to pinpoint a fulfillment in the New Testament: in Luke 4:16-30 Jesus reads this passage from Isaiah in the synagogue in Nazareth and tells us point blank, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21 RSV).  This passage proclaims a Jubilee year - the time legislated in Leviticus 25 to be celebrated ever fiftieth year to remind the Israelites of the freedom granted them in the Exodus and to prevent them from being reduced to the kind of slavery they experienced in Egypt.  The failure to observe the Jubilee year was one of the reasons the kingdom of Judah suffered the Exile (cf. Jer 34:8-22), and so this prophecy from Isaiah about the coming messiah (anointed one) who would proclaim the Jubilee year (year of the Lord's favor) offered much-needed hope.  Jesus initiates the ultimate Jubilee, freeing us from the bondage of sin and death.

In the second reading St. Paul talks gives the Thessalonians - and us - some much-needed advice for waiting. The Thessalonians excelled in the virtues of faith and love (cf. 2 Thess 1:4), but they needed some counseling in the area of hope.  In this passage St. Paul tells them how they are to conduct themselves in waiting and hoping for the return of Christ.  As we rejoice in the presence of Christ with us, prepare to celebrate his birth, and continue to wait and hope for his second coming, this counsel guides our behavior as well.  We are living in the messianic jubilee, but that is an exhortation to vigilance rather than a free pass to do what we will.  We too must continue to pray, give thanks, discern the good, and avoid evil.  All of this is accomplished by the work of the Holy Spirit in us.

The gospel sounds like an echo of the previous week's gospel as we hear John's account of the ministry of John the Baptist.  This passage gives a beautiful picture of the Baptist's humility as he is questioned concerning his identity but shifts the focus from himself to "the one who is coming after me" (John 1:27).  However, one of his answers can be a little confusing.  The priests and Levites ask John if he is Elijah because the last prophecy they received was a promise from the Lord that he would send Elijah before the coming of the messiah (Malachi 4:5).  So when John the Baptist appears at the Jordan River - the last place where Elijah was seen before being taken up to heaven - dressed in the same type of clothing as Elijah, eating the same type of food as Elijah, proclaiming the same type of message of repentance as Elijah - the Jews have good reason for thinking that Malachi's prophecy may be fulfilled, and the arrival of the messiah may be imminent.  Jesus himself says that John was Elijah (Matt 11:14, 17:12-13).  Why then does John deny that he is Elijah when he is asked?  A clue may be found in Luke's gospel.  The archangel Gabriel tells Zechariah that his son John will "go before [the Lord] in the spirit and power of Elijah" (Luke 1:17).  Clearly John is being associated with Elijah in fulfillment of Malachi's prophecy, but he is also clearly not Elijah in a literal sense.  John may be responding to an assumption of his questioners that Elijah himself will literally return, therefore he answers that he is not Elijah.

This third Sunday of Advent is also an opportunity to remember an important liturgical fact: real men wear rose :)

Advent Reflections II

Better late than never :)  Readings for the second Sunday of Advent: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/120411.cfm

One of my favorite things about Advent is all of the readings from Isaiah - and this Sunday's readings include one of my favorite passages.  I love the opening words of this Sunday's first reading from Isaiah: "Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God" (40:1).  I get a thrill every time I hear this verse.  This is truly one of those "life verses" that jumps right out of the Bible and speaks directly to me - a reminder that the Bible is indeed God's love letter to me.  But even more important than the moral sense of my own comfort are the literal and allegorical senses of this passage.  Isaiah has just spent the past 39 chapters informing the kingdom of Judah of their impending exile as a consequence of their sin and lack of repentance; this first section is often called the Book of Woes, as it is full of Judah's unfaithfulness to God.  But chapter 40 takes a new tone and offers comfort (giving chapters 40-66 the name of the Book of Consolations): God will not abandon Judah, even though they have broken the covenant.  God will remember his promise to his people and send them a savior - Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who will feed his flock and gather and lead us with care.

The second reading, from the second letter of St. Peter, is an elaboration on this comfort promised by Isaiah: "The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard 'delay," but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance" (3:9).  So many times in my life it has seemed like God was indeed delaying his promise.  But just as God did not delay his fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy of salvation but rather waited for the fullness of time in which to deliver his people, so also in my life God's blessings come in his perfect time, not mine.  Surely Israel would have been thrilled to receive the messiah when they returned from exile in Babylon instead of waiting another five centuries, but although that would have been a good, it would not have been God's best.  The messiah was to come not only to save and lead Israel but to gather all the nations into the worship of the one true God.  And so in the fullness of time Jesus came and founded his Church, in the midst of an empire that would facilitate the spread of the gospel and an intellectual tradition that had reached as high as the human mind could on its own.

This reading includes a slightly confusing statement: "conducting yourselves in holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God" (3:12).  Wait... we can make Jesus return sooner?  In a certain sense... yes!  St. Peter gives the reasoning behind this in the verse quoted above: "he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance" (3:9b).  Conducting ourselves in "holiness and devotion" hastens the "coming of the day of God" because God desires that "all should come to repentance."  While it can be easy to look at how broken our world is and to think that the end has to be near (how much worse will God let things get before He returns?!), this passage from 2 Peter instead indicates a different way of looking at it: the sooner we allow God's grace to transform our own lives and invite our family and friends to allow Him to transform their lives, the sooner Christ will return.

The gospel reading from Mark gives us a picture of just what kind of messiah God has sent for our comfort and salvation.  After a lengthy description (for the concise St. Mark) of John the Baptist identifying him as the new Elijah (promised in Malachi 4:5, the last prophetic word in the Old Testament), John states that "One mightier than I is coming after me.  I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals" (Mark 1:7).  This statement gives us insight into the humility of the Baptist and the dignity of Christ, but it also goes further.  The Greek word which both the NAB and RSV translate as "worthy" is hikanos - which more specifically means "sufficient."  To quote my Greek professor, the rugged John the Baptist, dressed in camel hair and eating locust (something even the toughest men I know would probably rather avoid), is saying "I am not man enough to even untie the sandal of the messiah."  What does this tell us about Jesus?  Well, basically that The Passion of the Christ is a better depiction than Jesus Christ Superstar - but you don't need to know Greek to figure that out!

Come, Lord Jesus!

Not in line with John the Baptist's statement...
or much of anything Scriptural... catchy tunes, though!
(credit: http://www.religionfacts.com/jesus/images/jesus-christ-superstar.jpg)

Advent Reflections I

Happy New Year!  As the first Sunday of Advent, today is the first day in the new liturgical year.  The readings for today (which can be found here: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/112711.cfm) set the tone of watching and waiting for the rest of this holy season.

I love how Isaiah's lament over Judah's sinfulness in the first reading is answered by Paul's assurance that Christ will keep us firm to the end in the second reading.  This juxtaposition illustrates the relationship between Law and Grace; as St. Augustine said, "The law was therefore given, in order that grace might be sought; grace was given, in order that the law might be fulfilled" (Treatise on the Spirit and the Letter, 34).  Israel failed to remain faithful to the law, but Christ perfectly fulfilled the law - and we are offered the grace to join our lives to his and participate in his perfect obedience.  This requires us to watch vigilantly for the coming of our Lord, as He instructs in the Gospel.  This year there is another application for the command to be vigilant: with the new translation of the Mass beginning today we must all be extra vigilant during Mass in order to not be caught unawares with an "And also with you" instead of an "And with your spirit"! :)

In this season of Advent we meditate on and prepare for the coming of our Lord in three different ways.  The most familiar preparation during Advent is our preparation for Christmas, when we remember and celebrate Christ coming to us in history.  Advent is also a time to take a close look at how we recognize the presence of our Lord as He comes to us each and every Mass in the Eucharist.  Am I truly prepared to receive him?  He is really present - but do I take his presence for granted?  Finally, we begin the new liturgical year with a focus on the end: am I prepared to meet our Lord when He comes again in glory (or when I meet him at death)?

In the midst of all the holiday preparations - and all the end-of-semester business for both Alex and myself - it seems nearly impossible to find time to really prepare to celebrate the joyous mystery of Christmas.  But I am determined that this year (unlike every other year where I say the same thing) I will truly appreciate Advent; on Christmas Eve I will not find myself saying "Christmas?  But I'm not ready!"  Hopefully the fact that we completed most of our Christmas shopping yesterday is a good sign of spiritual preparations to be completed in a timely manner as well :)

Many or all?

I LOVE the new translation of the Roman Missal (although I am less than enthusiastic about some of the musical settings for the new Mass parts, but modern music and the Mass are a diatribe for a different day).  I look forward to everyone becoming more comfortable with the changes so that once again there will be a unified response during Mass, instead of a hesitant mumbling which comes across as "Andalsowithyourspirityou."

As a good friend pointed out today, one of the more drastic and potentially confusing changes seems to be during the Words of Institution.  During the consecration of the chalice the priest now says, “Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.  Do this in memory of me.”  In the old translation the priest said “It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven.”  This change from “for all” to “for many” more literally translates the original Latin, but it may be rather shocking to many Catholics.  Is the Church saying that Christ only died for some?

As St. Paul would say, me genoito! (By no means! or No indeed!)  The Catholic Church teaches, as the Bible clearly states, that Christ died for all (see, for example, 1 Tim 2:6, “[Christ Jesus] gave himself as a ransom for all…” RSV).  However, we must each accept this gift so that Christ’s blood is not simply poured out but is poured out for “the forgiveness of [our] sins.”  He died for all, but not all choose to benefit from his death.  The original Latin of the Mass and this new translation both point to this reality.

The Latin in the Mass refers to Matthew 26:28, "For this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (emphasis mine).  The Greek is polloi, literally “the many.”  In this verse Jesus is associating himself with the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53.  The Septuagint uses polloi three times in Isaiah 53:11-12 (only two of which are translated in the RSV): “He shall see the fruit of the travail of his soul and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous; and he shall bear their iniquities.  Therefore I will divide him a portion with the great (literally he will be given many), and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he poured out his soul to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”  The repetition of many here highlights the contrast between the one righteous servant of God and the many who benefit from his sacrifice; the wording in the Mass preserves this juxtaposition.  We are reminded of the gift we have been given to be numbered among the many.

For more information on Scripture in the Mass, as well as a better understanding of the new translation, I highly recommend Dr. Edward Sri’s A Biblical Walk Through the Mass (http://guidetothemass.com/information/new-translation/3/study-program-bible-biblical-faith).

τι εμοι και σοι;

One of my students had a question about the meaning of the Greek phrase τι εμοι και σοι; (ti emoi kai soi), which is Jesus’s response to Mary at the wedding feast in Cana in John 2:4. This exchange between Jesus and Mary seems to be widely misunderstood, and I thought I would post my explanation here as well. 

The phrase can be literally translated as "What is this to me and to you?" or "What is this between you and me?" The RSV's "What have you to do with me?" is, in my opinion, very misleading and contributes to the common misinterpretation that Jesus is rebuking Mary for her request (as a new mother myself, I can just imagine what my response would be if Michael were to ever say "What have you to do with me?" - “What have I to do with you?! Oh, nothing much. Just nine months of carrying you in my womb, not to mention the last 10 days past your due date, and then 17 some hours of labor, and over four months of intense sleep deprivation… constantly being on hand to feed you, hold, you change you… THAT is what I have to do with you”!). The NAB's "How does your concern affect me?" is not much better in helping to shed light on this passage. 

There are several potential layers of meaning in this statement. The basic, literal sense is that this statement actually shows great deference on the part of Jesus. This same phase is used by demons when Jesus addresses them, showing their acknowledgement of his authority and their compliance (e.g., Lk 4:34, 8:28). 

It is also likely that it indicates some difference in understanding of the situation - Jesus may be using this question to indicate to his mother that they understand the significance of the wine differently. Mary sees the potential for embarrassment and dishonor for the couple due to the wine failing; Jesus sees the reality that Israel is waiting for the coming of the Messiah which is associated with an abundance of wine in several Old Testament passages (e.g., Amos 9:13, Joel 3:18). 

Another layer has to do with the second part of Jesus' response: "My hour has not yet come." In John's gospel the "hour" always refers to Jesus' passion and resurrection. Certainly John's placement of this miracle of water and wine at the beginning of Jesus' ministry parallels the miracle of the wine and blood at the end - and Jesus' statement may be a foreshadowing of the latter, indicating to his mother that it is not yet time for that greater miracle. At the same time he may be telling her that if he performs this miracle it will mark the beginning of his journey to that "hour." In this case Mary's response (which indicates full trust that he will perform the miracle) signals her willing participation in God's plan - the mother giving up her son to God's will.

The interpretation proposed by my student - "Why is this our business?" - fits as well. Of course Jesus knows that it is a very serious problem for the couple to run out of wine (much more serious than my husband and I running out of wedding cake at our reception) and he knows why his mother is bringing this to his attention. But we see throughout the gospels that Jesus often waits to be asked before performing a miracle. Of course the blind want to see - but Jesus asks "What do you want me to do for you?" before healing them (Matthew 20:29-34). This is an excellent interpretation of the moral sense of this passage - Jesus does not provide more wine until his mother intercedes for the couple. 

None of these are mutually exclusive, so all these layers can enrich our understanding of the passage (although they are hotly contested by many scholars - but then again, what isn't?). The one line of interpretation that is clearly wrong is the one which sees in Jesus' response to Mary either disrespect (a modern understanding of what he means when he calls her "woman") or an outright rebuke (which seems to follow from the English translation of the idiom). Clearly Jesus, being like us in all things but sin (cf. Heb 4:15), would have perfectly obeyed the commandment to honor his father and mother (Ex 20:12) – so any interpretation that involves disrespect is problematic. Furthermore, if Jesus were rebuking Mary she obviously missed the point – she ignores the so-called rebuke and tells the servants to listen to Jesus. Then Jesus apparently repents of his harsh response to his mother and does what she asked after all. Possible? Maybe. Plausible? Not so much. The story ends with Jesus and his mother leaving together – no mention is made of any tension or conflict (Jn 2:12). Other rebukes in John’s gospel are very clear, and they are never “resolved” with Jesus and the person he rebuked leaving the scene together. Thus it is clear that Jesus’ response to his mother is something other than a rebuke – however it may sound when translated into English.