Ordinary Time An Adaptable, Flexible Ministry A · An Adaptable, Flexible Ministry A re you a planner? Do you set an agenda for your day? Is your BlackBerry or iPhone programmed to

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An Adaptable, Flexible MinistryAre you a planner? Do you set an agenda for your day? Is your

BlackBerry or iPhone programmed to alert you to upcoming ap-pointments? Do you make lists that help structure your time and

order your priorities?Most of us do approach life with a desire for order and yearn for a

sense of accomplishment. Of course, this can be very beneficial, unless such a penchant for scheduling weakens our ability to be flexible, or if it diminishes our willingness to be engaged by the unexpected. When we value adhering to a schedule more than we value the needs of others, then God’s good people are ill-served.

In this regard, Henri Nouwen once shared an experience of his own (“Time Enough to Minister,” Leadership, Spring 1982). Pressed by the demands of teaching at Yale and feeling overwhelmed, Nouwen decided to take a prayer sabbatical at the Trappist Abbey of the Genesee in New York. His “schedule” would consist solely of prayer — no teaching, no counseling, just prayer. On his second day there, a group of students from a nearby school approached him and requested that he give them a retreat. Nouwen complained to the abbot, “I came here to get away from that type of thing. These students have asked for five meditations — an enormous amount of work and preparation. I don’t want to do it. Why should I spend my sabbatical time preparing all those things?” “Prepare?” the abbot asked. “You’ve been a Christian for 40 years and a priest for 20 and all these high school students want is to be a part of your life in God for just a little while?”

What the abbot knew and what Nouwen learned is that disciples of Jesus are called to live in a constant state of preparation, so that when someone who is drowning comes into our world, we are ready to reach out and help.

The Gospels make it clear that Jesus came among us with an agenda: He came to announce the reign of God. He came to invite sinners to repent and to believe the good news of salvation. He came to reveal God’s love, mercy and forgiveness to all, and this he did with a sense of urgency and purpose. But when he was called to digress from his daily agenda, he did. By allowing himself to be flexible to the needs that took him from his plotted course of action, Jesus accepted the will of God for him and for those to whom he ministered.

In today’s Gospel, Mark picks up his verbal portrait of Jesus imme-diately after the healing of a man possessed by demons. A large crowd has gathered, and it would seem an opportune time to develop the man’s cure into a teachable moment. However, at the request of a synagogue official named Jairus, Jesus willingly puts his plans on hold and sees to the man’s need. Then, en route to Jairus’ home, Jesus is approached by yet another who desires his help. A woman who suffers from a malady that renders her ritually unclean and isolated from society touches him and is healed. Instead of continuing on, Jesus chooses to make her expe-rience public and to cite her faith as the impetus for her healing. Then, Jesus resumes his “schedule,” and despite the news that Jairus’ daughter has died, he urges Jairus to let his faith supplant his fear and proceeds to raise the girl to life.

July 1, 2012 — 13th Sunday

Ordinary Time

ROMAN LECTIONARY

13th Sunday in Ordinary TimeWis 1:13-15; 2:23-24

Ps 302 Cor 8:7, 9, 13-15

Mark 5:21-43

REvISEd COMMON LECTIONARY

Proper 8/13Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Sam 1:1, 17-272 Cor 8:7-15

Mark 5:21-43

ANgLICAN LECTIONARY

Proper 8Deut 15:7-11

2 Cor 8:1-9, 13-15Mark 5:22-24, 35b-43

Disciples are called to live in a constant state of preparation.

Patricia Sánchez has been contrib-uting to Celebration for 33 years. She holds a master’s degree in literature and religion of the Bible from a joint degree program at Co-lumbia university and union Theo-logical Seminary in New York.

PREACHING RESOURCESJuly 1, 2012

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In his willingness to set the needs of others before his own plans and de-sires, Jesus remains the example for every minister. Had Jesus insisted on keeping to his own agenda, the lives of many people would have been quite different. He could have told Jairus and the woman to make an appoint-ment. He could have insisted that his agenda did not allow for distractions such as these. However, Jesus knew that in healing the bold woman of faith and raising Jairus’ daughter, he was preaching a powerful and persuasive gospel ... all because he was flexible enough to take the time to do so.

In a song written for his son Sean (“Darling Boy,” on the album “Double Fantasy,” 1980), the late John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” The same could be said of ministry.

WIS 1:13-15; 2:23-24

The Book of Wisdom (circa 60 B.C.E.) is the latest of the Old Testa-ment books. Wisdom was probably the work of a Greek-speaking Jew living in Alexandria. For its Jewish readers, Wisdom offered an affirma-tion of their rich sapiential tradition and urged them not to seek wisdom elsewhere. For gentile readers, Wis-dom provided a clear representation of the Jewish faith and history while inviting nonbelievers to have faith and seek wisdom in the one true God.

The book is a substantive effort replete with historical summaries, prayers and poems; its basic prem-ise can best be summarized in the imperative: “Seek Wisdom and live.”

Death is the featured topic of today’s first reading. As the good and eternal author and giver of life, God cannot, insisted the ancient sage, be held accountable for death. Like God, human beings were made to be imperishable. Indeed, each is made in the image of God’s own idiotetos or nature (2:23). In some of the ancient manuscripts (i.e. the Syro-Hexaplar), idiotetos is replaced by aidiotetos, which would read, “in the image of God’s own eternity.” While other myths of creation (see The Epic of

Gilgamesh) represented humans as hapless creatures with no direction or hope for the future because the gods kept immortality solely for themselves, Hebrew wisdom offered hope for an eternal future with God. Didn’t Augustine give good words to this hope when he said, “Our hearts are restless, O God, until they come to rest in you”? Resting in God means sharing God’s life forever.

Since God is a giver of life, respon-sibility for death should therefore be laid at the feet of those who freely choose to alienate themselves from God through deeds of moral evil; and at the feet of the devil, also called Satan or “the accuser.” As a member of the heavenly court (see Zech 3:1-2), the accuser was free to roam earth in order to report the activities of humankind to God. If no wrongdoing was discovered, the accuser would tempt or goad human beings in the hope that they would succumb to temptation and thereby reap the consequences of their choices: judg-ment and death. Many early — and even some contemporary — notions about personified evil, temptation and retribution have found their roots in this text from Wisdom.

At first reading, it may seem that the pseudonymous author of Wisdom was overlooking the fact that death is an integral part of life. However, the fact that he equated immortality with righteousness (1:15; 2:24) suggests he was referring to spiritual death; that is, definitive alienation from God, also called “the second death” (Rev 2:11; 21:8). Only a fool would choose death, but the wise, according to the ancient Hebrew sage, choose life and thereby choose God.

2 COR 8:7, 9, 13-15

“If you make a mean demand, you will get a mean response.” So said Karl Marx, who believed that the more a person is challenged, the more they will accomplish. A similar thought appears to have inspired Paul. In writing to his converts in Corinth, he appealed to their generosity in hopes of receiving a sizable donation to ease the needs of the many poor people in Jerusalem. Paul made similar ap-peals for Jerusalem’s poor in other churches he founded (Gal 2:10), and he implored the believers in Corinth to be as generous as the Macedonians had been. In verses immediately preceding this text, the great apostle praised those in Macedonia who gave even what they could ill afford, voluntarily and joyfully (see also 1 Thess 4:9ff; 2 Thess 3:13).

In addition to the fine example set by others, Paul also tried to cultivate the generosity of the Corinthians by citing the many gifts with which God blessed them: faith, discourse, knowledge, earnestness and Paul’s own authentic love for them. Over and above all these is the gracious act of Jesus, who, though rich, became poor. Elsewhere (Phil. 2:5-11), this great gift of Jesus was described as kenosis, or a complete emptying of his very self for sinners. Holding nothing back of who he was as God or man, Jesus gave and gave and gave. He continues to give in the gift of the word, in Eucharist and in his abiding nearness in the presence of the Spirit.

With so many riches to call their own, how could believers not be generous toward others? This was

July 1, 2012

Ordinary Time13th Sunday

An Adaptable, Flexible Ministry

PREACHING RESOURCES 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Paul’s reasoning as he called upon his readers in Corinth to supply the needs of others out of their abundance. Through their sharing, equality (v. 14) would be established among the members of the community.

The quality of sharing and caring that Paul called for did not mean that every member of the community re-ceived the same amount. He was not advocating a “one for you, one for me” policy, but one based on individual needs. A family of eight would need more bread and oil than a family of four. The followers of Jesus should tend to one another’s varying needs with generosity, just as in the days of their desert wanderings, manna was distributed to provide for all in the measure that they needed (Exod 16:18). Jesus himself reached out and gave himself to the one lost sheep who needed him rather than remaining with the 99 who were safe and secure.

This can pose a challenge to the rest of the community. Those whose needs are fewer or those who do not need to depend on the kindness of others may become resentful at what they perceive is an injustice or an unequal distribution of wealth. At times, anger flares against the needy, who are sometimes blamed for their own poverty. The self-emptying love of the Lord calls forth in us a more generous spirit, one that does not resent but rejoices in the well-being of those whose needs are tended by their loving brothers and sisters.

MARK 5:21-43

This Gospel underscores Jesus’ willingness to be flexible and adapt-able in his ministerial efforts, and it also showcases a favorite literary style of the Marcan evangelist. Mark was adept at the technique of inter-polation; by narrating two events in conjunction with one another, the evangelist allowed one incident in Jesus’ ministry to interpret and enhance the other. In this Gospel, Mark began with Jairus’ request of Jesus; he then interrupted the Jairus narrative to tell of the woman who was healed by touching Jesus’ cloak. Then the evangelist returned to tell

the conclusion of the story of Jairus’ daughter. Both narratives work to-gether to affirm Jesus’ power over evil, over sickness and, ultimately, even over death.

Jairus was a layman charged with the responsibility of overseeing the synagogue. His attitude of confidence and deference in approaching Jesus was markedly different from that of other Jewish officials who treated Jesus with hostility and disdain (Mark 3:2, 22). Although the raising of the official’s daughter was one of the many wonders Jesus worked during his ministry, the early church, in retelling this event, thoroughly infused it with insights that can only be attributed to resurrection faith; that is, to a post-Easter awareness and appreciation of Jesus. Jairus’ request that Jesus lay hands on his daughter that she may get well (sozo) and live (zao) reflects the catechesis of the first-century church, in which those same words were understood to mean that she might be saved (sozo) and have eternal life (zao). Similar post-resurrection insights are reflected in the telling of Jesus’ raising of the young girl. By using the imperative “Get up,” and in affirming that the girl “arose” (vv. 41-42), Mark employed two technical terms that were specifically used to refer to the resurrection of Jesus (egeirein, anistemi, as in Mark 14:28; 16:6; 8:31; 9:9, 31). Mark’s narra-tive about Jairus’ daughter not only testified to Jesus’ compassion and love; it was also the early church’s confession of faith in Jesus’ power to save believers from death and grant

them a share in eternal life. The key to understanding this great truth, however, will be found in the related story of the ailing woman he met on the way.

Mark’s description of her plight made it clear that Jesus was the woman’s last resort, for she had tried every other remedy without success. Mark tells his readers that the woman “had heard about Jesus” (v. 23), using the precise language (ta peri ton lesou) that would later be used to proclaim the Paschal Mystery (Luke 24:44; Acts 13:29; 18:25).

On the strength of what she had heard about him, the woman dared to breach the laws of ritual purity in order to touch Jesus’ clothing. Aware that power “had gone out from him” (v. 30), Jesus stopped and questioned, “Who has touched me?” But in order to guard against the commonly held hope for a theios aner or divine man who would work astounding wonders in their midst, Jesus immediately attributed the healing to the faith of the fearful woman. Jesus’ words enunciate the essential teaching of today’s Gospel: “It is your faith that has saved [sozo] you.” Faith brought not only healing to the woman and to Jairus’ daughter but also salvation through the person of Jesus.

For the Marcan church of the 60s, contact with the earthly Jesus was no longer possible. But they were, and we are, privileged to experience the healing presence of our flexible, adaptable Lord in the word; in the sacramental signs of his love; in the presence of the Spirit and in the poor.

Royston Albert Fransen, British high diver and stuntman, jumped from the top of a 100-foot tower into a small tank of water three times a day for 40 years until his death in 1985 during a performance. He was 69.

Imagine how much faith it took to step off that tiny platform into midair, watching the upturned faces of the crowd that has come to see you jump. Taking a leap of faith is risky.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the suffering woman, “Your faith has made you well.” As he heads for the supposedly dead little girl’s house, he says, “Do not fear, only believe.” These are challenging words that lead us to ask ourselves: How strong is our faith? Are we ready to take that leap?

Sermon StartersDeacon Dick Folger


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KEY VERSE(S) / MAIN IDEA (2 Cor) “The relief of others ought not to impoverish you; there should be a certain equality. Your plenty at the present time should supply their need so that their surplus may in turn someday supply your need with equality as the result.” Sharing our wealth.

HOW YOuTH MIGHT INITIALLY AP-PROACH THE MAIN IDEA Uncomfort-able, tempted to say, “Yeah, but …”

STARTER Imagine that you come across a shockingly hungry, literally starving family. Malnourishment has made them unable to fight off sickness. They need help now to stay alive, and they plead with you for help. Would you have an obligation to help them — not just an optional decision to do a “good deed,” but a real obliga-tion? (Lead into below.)

LEADING QuESTIONS Now let’s say you don’t meet this family in person. They live in Haiti or some other desperately poor country, or in a poor section of our country, or in our own city. But you know that they’re there. Does your obligation to help them evaporate just because they’re not standing in front of you?

DIRECTIONS TO EXPLORE * Easy, get-off-the-hook objections: “We have government agencies to take care of that.” “If the poor would just get a decent job, they wouldn’t be poor.” “Charity begins at home. That means me and my needs.” * Matt 25:31-46, especially 25:45 (“Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these [people in great need], you did not do it to me”). * It’s increas-ingly obvious that many of us need to downsize our lifestyle. * Things we can learn from the poor and impover-ished. * Making a personal commit-ment to share time and treasure with those who have little.

QuOTATION “I can only imagine what it would be like to not be able to feed my own kids. It would break my heart” (Oscar-winning actor Jeff Bridges, founder of End Hunger Network).

The word “intent” originates from the Latin word intendere, which means “to stretch toward” or “to aim at.” Today’s Gospel dem-onstrates the miraculous power of faith-filled intention. Both Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman are single-hearted in their pursuit of healing. They display enviable faith and purity of intention. How did they differ from the rest of the crowd who followed Jesus that day? What can we learn from their example?

The Gospel tells us that Jairus pleaded earnestly with Jesus. Ear-nestness is an essential quality of intention. Belief is another. Listen closely to the words of the hemor-rhaging woman: “If I touch his clothes I will be healed.”

And even beyond earnestness and belief, it was their resolve and their ability to focus on the present moment that set them apart from the rest.

In its definition of “intention,” the Catholic Encyclopedia under-lines the importance of present-mo-ment living by distinguishing four different levels of intention: actual, virtual, habitual and interpretive. In three of these levels of inten-tion, an aspect of will is missing. With a virtual intention, the person pursues the goal at hand, but in the midst of the journey becomes dis-tracted about other things. Habitual intention produces action, but over time, the action loses its power, color and force. Interpretative intention speaks to what we know we should do, yet do not.

But in actual intention — the one displayed in this Gospel story — the whole person is involved and is focusing on the goal at hand. When the woman reached out for Jesus’ cloak, she did so with her whole heart and soul. She took aim at her goal and stretched toward it,

just as the definition of intendere indicates. Jairus pleaded. A plea is a soulful request. Surrounded by many, Jesus recognized the touch of faith-filled intent.

Where do you fall in this hierar-chy of intent? When you pray, do you have earnestness and faith, but get distracted along the way? When you ask for healing, do you stretch your whole self forward, totally intent on your goal, or have your habitual prayers lost their heart? When you pray, is your voice unique?

The conclusion of today’s Gospel teaches us that nothing is impos-sible with God. Jairus’ daughter, though dead, is brought back to life. The readings from the Book of Wisdom and Psalm 30 underline that God has power over death and only desires our full and abundant life. Our distractions while praying, our lack of earnestness or focus is a small death when compared to the death the daughter of Jairus experienced. If God can raise her up from her deathbed, can he not restore our prayer life and bring grace and healing into our lives?

What must we do to ready our-selves for such transformation? First, we must acknowledge those places where we brush by Jesus but are too distracted to connect. Once we have identified our failings, we must clearly state our intention to do better. Desire earnestness, faith and focus, and let God do the rest. Jairus and the woman with a hem-orrhage were not extraordinary people but ordinary people who had the courage to walk through their distraction, doubt and fear. The desire to do better, to be better, is in itself enough. The power of intent is transformative. We only need to reach out with actual intent and claim the healing that Jesus wishes to give us.

The Power of Intent

HOMIly

Karen Johnson

Preaching to youthJim Auer



If Only

Do you know the “if only” lament? Many of us do, and chant it of-ten. As we move through life, it becomes like background music or a theme song for the weary, the burdened and the worried: “If

only I were younger, I’d have more energy.” “If only I were older, I could relax and retire.” “If only I had more time, I’d be able to do so much.” “If only others were more cooperative … if only they could see things my way … if only I were prettier, thinner, smarter, braver, stronger … if only I had a better job, a more understanding boss, nicer coworkers … if only I didn’t have arthritis, cancer, depression … if only others would understand me, appreciate me, welcome me, accept me as I am.”

Ezekiel, whose call to be God’s prophet is featured in today’s first reading, could have added a few verses to this lament: If only God would choose someone else … if only the people would listen … if only they would believe God has sent me to them. And Jesus, featured in today’s Marcan Gospel, could have sung a duet with Ezekiel. He had come home “to his native place,” as Mark puts it, and there, where people thought they knew him best, he received a less-than-cordial welcome.

William J. Bausch suggests that the resistance to Jesus was an all-too-human habit of putting others in a box (Once upon a Gospel, Twenty-Third Publications, New London, Conn.: 2008). They thought they knew him; they decided who he was and were unwilling to consider any aspect of him that did not conform to their expectations. Perhaps we can imagine Jesus praying, “If only you could see and believe the gift that God has given to you in me …” But like Ezekiel, who championed God’s word six centuries before him, Jesus would continue to experience rejection and misunderstanding.

Through their faithful service, Ezekiel and Jesus were able to accept the struggles inherent in their efforts for God. In surrendering their “if only” desires, they were able to find and rely on God, and in that reliance, they found the strength they needed to continue to do good and resist evil.

Paul, who shares something very personal about himself in today’s second reading, also had good reason to lend his voice to the “if only” lament. He was burdened by something or someone he referred to as a “thorn in the flesh.” We cannot know what this thorn was, at least not on this side of heaven, but we do know it was troubling enough for Paul to pray for relief from it. He prayed not just once but three times. By his own admission, he begged God to remove what was so painful and trou-bling to him. But relief was not to be his. In his struggle, Paul learned to lean more heavily on God and on grace. He began to regard his thorn as an opportunity for greater intimacy with the Lord whose gospel he preached. He even learned to boast of his weakness, for he saw it as a venue in which God could act freely, unencumbered by human pride or willfulness. Through the many sufferings he endured for the sake of the Gospel (Paul offers a list of them in 2 Cor 11:23-28), Paul cultivated content-ment because he was sure that through it all, Christ was near, dwelling within him and sharing his yoke to ease his burdens.

When choruses of the “if only” lament well up within us, we look to Ezekiel, Paul and Jesus and all those others whose faith grew deeper and whose love grew truer in the crucible of suffering. Sometimes we may be


Ordinary Time

ROMAN LECTIONARY

14th Sunday in Ordinary TimeEzek 2:2-5

Ps 123 2 Cor 12:7-10Mark 6:1-6


Sixth Sunday after Pentecost2 Sam 5:1-5, 9-10

2 Cor 12:2-10Mark 6:1-13

ANgLICAN LECTIONARY

Proper 9Ezek 2:1-7

2 Cor 12:2-10Mark 6:1-6

The “if only” lament becomes like back-ground music for the weary, the burdened and the worried.

Patricia Sánchez has been contrib-uting to Celebration for 33 years. She holds a master’s degree in literature and religion of the Bible from a joint degree program at Co-lumbia university and union Theo-logical Seminary in New York.


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tempted to chant, “If only the church were more in touch with the issues that plague our world … if only the hierarchy were less rigid … if only the rich would give their surplus to the poor … if only there were less bigotry and more merciful love … if only there were more people willing to serve.” When these desires arise, let us learn to surrender them to God, to rely more attentively on grace and to do the best we can with what we have. All the while, let us take care not to be the thorn that prompts others to beg God for relief.

EzEK 2:2-5

Eminent theologian and preacher Walter Burghardt has said that preaching is an audacious act (The Word Militant: Preaching a Decenter-ing Word, Fortress Press, Minneapo-lis: 2007). Indeed, insists Burghardt, it is downright dangerous because the powers of retrenchment are everywhere among us. Many work passionately to keep things as they are rather than let themselves be moved by the word. Preaching and prophesying render the minister of the word exposed and vulnerable, yet Ezekiel would not be silent. The Spirit of God had entered into him, and he could do nothing else but give it voice.

This narrative concerning the call of Ezekiel is actually one of four ver-sions of his vocational experience (see also 3:10-11; 13:17-21; 3:22-27). Each version includes a theophany in which the prophet becomes aware of the presence of God, and a mandate that commissions the prophet to preach repentance to his rebellious brothers and sisters in the faith.

Ezekiel’s initial encounter with God is reported to have occurred on the fifth day of the fourth month of the 30th year (1:1), a date scholars associate with the fifth year of King Jehoachin’s exile. Active as God’s spokesperson from July 593 B.C.E. to April 571 B.C.E., Ezekiel also served as a priest in the Jerusalem temple until he was deported by Babylonia in 597 B.C.E. His call took place by the Chebar Canal near Nippur, where some of his fellow exiles had settled.

There, in the midst of their foreign oppressors, he was commissioned to tell his people that the reason for their disgrace and displacement was rooted in their infidelity to God.

Certainly this was not welcome news, and Ezekiel, as God’s messen-ger, was probably made to suffer for his efforts. As Robert Wilson has ex-plained, the people probably reacted violently to Ezekiel’s charges and to his warning that they would be punished even more strongly if they did not repent (“Prophecy in Crisis: The Call of Ezekiel,” Interpreting the Prophets, Fortress Press, Philadel-phia: 1987). Nevertheless, the prophet was able to persevere because, at every juncture of his ministry, he was assured of God’s support and the presence of the Spirit.

Despite God’s support, it is clear from the outset that Ezekiel’s best preaching and prophesying will not bring about the repentance needed to avert disaster. His people will remain recalcitrant, and Babylonia will pre-vail. When seen from this perspective, says Wilson (op.cit.), the most remark-able thing about Ezekiel’s vocational vision is that it is there at all. It stands as eloquent testimony to God’s desire for Israel’s survival. Even though it was clear from the outset that the

people would not be open to God’s overtures, God continued to call them through the prophet, in the hope that at least a few individuals would listen and repent (see Ezek 18).

In his willingness to keep on going despite the gloomy outlook, Ezekiel offers an example to every minister of the word. Even when it appears that people are not listening, and when it seems that all efforts on their behalf are futile, the Spirit of God is still at work and can bring even the hardest face and most obstinate heart back to God. The very same Spirit that inspires the preacher to preach and the prophet to prophesy also inspires the sinner to repent.

2 COR 12:7-10

Because of what he suffered for the sake of the Gospel, Paul could readily identify with the crucified Christ. In his letter to the churches in Galatia, Paul expressed the relationship he shared with Jesus in these words: “I have been crucified with Christ, yet I live, no longer I but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:19-20). Surely what Paul referred to as “a thorn in the flesh” contributed to his suffering, but it also affirmed him as one who belonged so completely to Christ as to share his cross.

Through the centuries, people have speculated about what consti-tuted Paul’s “thorn.” Out of all the suggestions, three major categories have emerged: (1) persecution; (2) disease; (3) concupiscence. Most scholars believe Paul suffered from some physical ailment. Some have thought he had epilepsy; others sug-gest an eye ailment (Gal 4:14-15). Still others thought Paul may have had a speech impediment, while some even suggested that he was “verti-cally challenged.” Karl Bonhoeffer, father of Dietrich and an eminent medical expert, believed that Paul suffered from chronic depression. To his credit, Paul did not go into detail about his struggle. Rather, he saw it as yet another way of identifying with Christ.

Moreover, Paul regarded his “thorn” as a suffering that would

July 8, 2012


If Only


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counterbalance the great gift he received in the “abundance of the revelations” he experienced (v. 7).

Paul learned from both experi-ences that “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). Paul has taught all who struggle that there is no place where God is not. Moreover, God is especially near and powerful when disciples of Jesus endure suffering because of their belonging to Christ and their service to the Gospel. As Ernest Best explains, grace usually refers to the favor with which God looks at us and forgives us though we are undeserving (Second Corinthians, Westminster John Knox Press, Louis-ville, Ky.: 1987). But when it is linked with power, as it is here, grace is the strength God gives to us to be able to live as believers. This grace can func-tion only when there is weakness and when that weakness is acknowledged. Best offers the example of children who obstinately resist being taught something by a parent. Because they think they know it all, it is impossible to teach them. But once the children recognize their “weakness,” parents can offer their “strength” to them. So God can impart the strength of grace to those who are humble enough to admit their weakness and need.

Paul knew the heights of spiritual joy and the depths of helplessness be-cause of the “thorn” he carried with him. God’s grace enabled him to live with both and to offer an example of the value and place of struggle in the life of every follower of Jesus.

MARK 6:1-6

For his friends and neighbors who heard Jesus teach in the synagogue (probably in Nazareth), his mighty deeds and astonishing wisdom did not mesh with the fact that, in their eyes, he was only the carpenter, the son of Mary. They took offense because he rattled the idea they had of him, and they refused to admit there might be more to him than they thought. The negative reaction of his hometown points to a very important factor at the heart of every miracle or sign or wonder: Astonishment is one thing;

faith is another.Throughout his Gospel, Mark

reports on the astonishment engen-dered by Jesus’ words and works (1:22, 27-28; 2:12; 5:20, 42; 7:37; 11:18; 12:17). However, Mark also has to report that the ordinary origins of Jesus caused many to refuse to believe he could be the Messiah (4:17; 9:42-47; 14:27).

Literally rendered, verse 3 de-scribes the townspeople’s assessment of Jesus as more than just offensive. They were skandalizomai, “scandal-ized at him.” By the time the Marcan Gospel appeared in final form in the late 60s, Jesus’ followers and the message they preached was evoking a similarly negative attitude. Many refused to accept the story of a suffer-ing savior who died an ignominious death on a cross. In telling the narra-tive of Jesus’ rejection, the evangelist hoped to encourage those who were similarly suffering. If scholars are correct, Mark’s intended readers were Christians in Rome who were being persecuted during the reign of Nero. Mark’s portrayal of Jesus probably did much to strengthen their faith.

When we consider this reading together with last Sunday’s Gospel, the importance of faith in the life of the believer is doubly affirmed. Recall the synagogue official (Jairus) and the unnamed ailing woman; both were praised by Jesus, who attributed the wonders he worked for them to their faith. No such faith met Jesus in his hometown, and, as a result, he

was not able to perform any mighty deeds there; indeed, as Mark tells it, Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith (v. 6). Sadly, even Jesus’ family members were not quite sure of the authenticity of his ministry or his message. At one point, they set out to seize him and take him home, believ-ing he was “out of his mind” (Mark 3:20-21). How cruel a cut when family doesn’t understand and support one of its members. But Jesus continued to preach, teach and heal.

The proverb Jesus quoted about prophets not being accepted in their native place was probably well known to his contemporaries and has also been referenced by the other evange-lists (Matt 13:57; Luke 4:24; John 4:44).

In reflecting upon this Gospel and its challenge for the 21st-century church, Lamar Williamson points out clear implications (Mark, West-minster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1983). The spiritual pulse and climate of a community, its sense of expectancy, its openness to the power of God at work in Jesus Christ, will have a great deal to do with how much God’s power can accomplish in that community. Our unbelief does not render God impotent, but when it is dominant in a community, its dampen-ing effect on the mighty acts of God is quite evident and sad. God is found not only in the exotic and the marvel-ous but also in the familiar patterns of worship and the ordinary disciplines and difficulties of daily life.

In one of the great “Peanuts” cartoons by Charles Schulz, Charlie Brown makes a heartfelt appeal: “Believe in me!” A little blonde girl walks by without even giving him a glance.

In the next frame, Charlie cries out again: “Believe in me!” His own beloved dog, Snoopy, trots by, lost in his own thoughts.

In the next frame Charlie has fallen into stride with another little girl, who is trying to ignore him as he cries out again: “Believe in me!”

In the final frame, Charlie is sitting on the curb, chin in his hands, staring hopelessly. “I just can’t get people to believe in me!”

Today’s Gospel paints a similar picture of Jesus being rejected by his own townspeople in Nazareth. Scripture says: “And Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.”



4 | JuLY 2012

KEY VERSE(S) / MAIN IDEAS (Mark) “Where did he get all this. … Isn’t this the carpenter, the son of Mary, a brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters our neighbors here?” Incredulity spawned by the ordinariness of Jesus, which reinforces those who prefer to ignore his message. Jesus’ sanctification of the ordinary labor of our lives.

BACKGROuND NOTE In Mark’s day, “brothers and sisters” could refer to cousins or members of the extended family as well as blood sisters or brothers.

STARTER If wood is not attacked by termites or exposed to the weather, it can last hundreds of years. Imagine a family living in Palestine, specifi-cally in Nazareth, let’s say about the year 300. They are poor, so much of what they own has been passed down for many, many generations. No doubt they are unaware that a piece of their furniture — a table, a chair, a bed frame, a set of shelves — was personally handcrafted by their Lord and Savior: the Son of God, Jesus of Nazareth.

LEADING QuESTIONS * How is the work of carpenters today holy? * How can the work in your chosen career be holy? * How can any work that is not immoral be holy? * Mark tells us that the people of Nazareth found Jesus “too much for them.” Too much what? Or was it too little something? * Do you think people today find the Christian faith too much? Or not enough?

DIRECTIONS TO EXPLORE * Ways of integrating our Christian faith into our daily work without being preachy or overtly holy for all to see. * Making work, our daily routine, a gift that God will be pleased with. * We can’t manufacture our own faith, but we’re not stuck with the level we currently have, either. If we wish we had stronger faith, if we really want that, we must sincerely ask for it. Don’t wimp out and say: “My faith isn’t very strong. Don’t know why. But, I mean, what can I do about it? That’s just the way I am.”

This Gospel episode has a famil-iar ring. Local boy makes good and is rejected by his peers. Some of you have experienced that strange phenomenon. You come home from college or the Army and they say, “Who do you think you are?”

Part of that is jealousy; part of it is resistance to change. Part of it is reluctance to make new adjustments to old relationships, or fear of grow-ing up. These reactions are natural.

Jesus could have gotten past these normal reactions to his preaching. In a sense, they had said: “You don’t know any more than we know. You don’t teach at Jerusalem Biblical School, you have no degree from Cana Divinity College. Why should we listen to you about anything, especially about God?”

That is when the real problem arose. They might have admitted that Jesus could build a better table than they could. Maybe even accepted him as mayor. What they could not accept is that he had special knowl-edge of God.

What they did not realize is that when they cut him down to their size, they also reduced the value of their own lives. They were saying, “We have no knowledge of God — only the scribes do. We cannot come to terms with God by sacrificing in the temple — only the priests can. All we know are plowing and herding and spats with the spouses and trouble with the kids. Once in a while, we have a sense of God, but mostly, God and we live in different worlds.”

This is what happens when reli-gion becomes a specialized activity instead of a way of life. This natural-ly happens to all systems of thought: They become so specialized that only a select few understand them and therefore control them. Mathematics begins with one plus one and ends with mile-long equations known only

to Einstein. Chemistry begins with H2O and ends with mind-boggling formulas inaccessible to ordinary mortals. Religion starts with belief in God and ends up in the minds of theologians.

Systems are good in their own way. Science and technology and religion uncover new aspects of their specialty. But systems can be dangerous, too. Science can help us kill each other more efficiently, technology can control our lives and religion can hand our lives over to other human beings who make religion their career.

Doctrine can be dangerous. Heav-en can distract us from earthly du-ties. Reliance on grace can reduce personal responsibility. Obedience to authority can dull our conscience. Purgatory can be a fail-safe para-chute.

Even sacraments, those sacred actions designed to put us in contact with God, can in fact distance us. Bap-tism can be an empty ritual instead of delving into the death of Jesus. Confession can focus on forgiveness instead of conversion. Communion with Christ can devolve into argu-ments about how he is present in the Eucharist. Ordination can minimize our common priesthood. Anointing of the sick can concentrate more on the oil than on dying with Christ.

Religion is supposed to be the handmaid of faith, not a replacement for it. The kingdom of God is here, not in heaven; it is now, not later. The kingdom of God is within us, among us, inside us, outside us. The cosmos is saturated with divinity; the world is marinated in grace. We might even say that Jesus came precisely to tell us that we don’t have to depend on the temple or priests or sacrifice or laws to connect us with God. Faith is finally pretty simple: We live with our relatives in a God-drenched world.

In a God-Drenched World

HOMIly

Fr. James Smith




Other Christs

Today’s Gospel passage brings up several points that were important for the early Christian community — points we later Christians often overlook.

First, it was significant for Jesus’ first disciples to realize he wasn’t a one-man show. He didn’t expect his followers just to stand around applaud-ing as he engaged in his ministry. One of the deepest insights the Holy Spirit helped Jesus’ disciples achieve after his death and resurrection was that they were expected to carry on his ministry. They were to become “other Christs.”

Mark won’t let his readers forget their responsibility. “Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits. ... They went off and preached repentance … drove out many demons, and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.” Sounds quite similar to the things Jesus did and preached.

But having “authority over unclean spirits” is even more important when we remember that the first miracle Jesus performs in Mark (1:21-28) is exorcising a demoniac in the Capernaum synagogue.

Each Gospel’s first miracle is significant. Evangelists employ them as a way to set the theme for their Gospels. Unless we understand this, we’re liable to think that, historically, there’s only one first miracle: Jesus changing water into wine at Cana in Galilee in John 2. (Of course, if we hold that opinion, we then have to explain why the other three Gospel writers forgot to mention it.) There’s a very good theological reason Cana is first for John. It previews the thesis he defends throughout his Gospel. As the famous Johannine scholar C.H. Dodd once expressed it: “In John, Jesus changes the water of Judaism into the wine of Christianity” (The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, University Press, Cambridge, 1953).

Mark has a different theme. He’s much more concerned with replac-ing evil with good, not Judaism with Christianity. Like everyone in his culture, Mark presumes demons cause more than just moral evil. Among other things, they’re responsible for physical and psychological problems. Paralyzed or mentally ill persons are seen as being diabolically possessed; they don’t need a medical doctor or a psychiatrist, but an exorcist to rid them of their demons. If, for instance, you woke up this morning with a bad cold, we’d presume two or three demons had somehow entered your body during the night.

Those who don’t understand the biblical role of demons have tradition-ally created problems for some Gospel characters. Mary Magdalene is a classic example. In the middle of the sixth century, Pope Gregory I falsely labeled her a prostitute because, in Luke 8, the evangelist mentions she was exorcized of “seven demons.” In what worse morally evil occupation could a woman be involved? Though he was later declared a saint and even given the title “Great,” Gregory didn’t seem to know that scriptural demons are synonymous with all and any evil.

So if Mark tells his readers that Jesus’ first miracle was ridding someone of a demon, he’s also telling them that their task, as imitators of Jesus, is to rid this world of as much evil as they possibly can. If Jesus’ ministry revolves around the elimination of evil, so should ours. Of course, we have to read the rest of Mark’s Gospel to find out how we’re to go about the eradication.

Another Gospel point to explore is Jesus’ use of “the Twelve.” Why didn’t


Ordinary Time

ROMAN LECTIONARY

15th Sunday in Ordinary TimeAmos 7:12-15

Ps 85Eph 1:3-14

Mark 6:7-13


Seventh Sunday after Pentecost2 Sam 6:1-5, 12b-19

Eph 1:3-14Mark 6:14-29

ANgLICAN LECTIONARY

Proper 10Amos 7:7-15Eph 1:1-14

Mark 6:7-13

Today’s three read-ings force us to look at our faith from a broader perspective.

Roger Vermalen Karban is a priest of the Belleville, Ill., diocese and pastor of Our Lady of Good Coun-sel Parish in Renault, Ill. He holds a licenciate in theology from the Gregorian university in Rome and did his scripture studies at St. Lou-is university. He currently teaches scripture courses at St. Louis uni-versity and Southwestern Illinois College.


2 | JuLY 2012

he choose the Eleven, or the Thirteen? To appreciate why he zeroed in on Twelve, we first must understand the names our evangelists employ when they’re speaking about Jesus’ followers.

The most frequently used title is “disciple.” Every follower of Jesus is given this name. It basically describes what he or she does: They follow be-hind someone — in this case, Jesus. But among the disciples are some who are “sent out” on special missions. The Gospel writers refer to them as “apostles,” from the Greek word apos-tello, “to send out.” It’s in that sense that Paul frequently calls himself an apostle. Finally, among those sent out is a unique group known simply as “the Twelve.”

Most of today’s biblical scholars are convinced the Twelve date back to the ministry of the historical Jesus, an outward sign of his passion for inclusiveness. In his Jewish environ-ment, the number 12 can refer only to the 12 tribes of Israel: the descendants of the 12 sons of Jacob.

Historians like Karen Armstrong believe that during Jesus’ day and age there were just two prominent tribes: Judah and Benjamin. The other 10 were regarded as being on the periphery of Judaism, having little importance in the Chosen People’s big picture. Armstrong even narrows that importance. She’s convinced if your ancestors weren’t part of the sixth-century Babylonian Exile, you really weren’t a top-level Jew.

It’s in the midst of such a hierar-chical culture that Jesus of Nazareth appears, preaching a reform of Juda-ism, a reform in which every Jew could participate, not just those in society’s higher echelons. People from the tribes of Dan and Naphtali were just as much children of Abraham and Sarah as those who descended from Judah or Benjamin.

Jesus demonstrated this conviction by traveling with 12 men, a group that in Jewish minds represented all Israel, not just a chosen few. (This seems to be why John never names the Twelve. By the time he wrote — the end of the first century — Christian-ity had evolved into an almost totally

gentile movement. His non-Jewish readers wouldn’t have understood the significance of the Twelve.) In our sacred authors’ mind, the Twelve weren’t the church’s first bishops or priests; they simply were symbols of Jacob’s 12 sons. That’s why there are no women in their number; they would have obscured the message the historical Jesus was trying to convey. It’s ironic that something through which Jesus originally intended to convey inclusivity has today been turned into an argument for exclu-sivity.

The last important point in our Gospel pericope is the instruction Jesus gives the Twelve. They were “to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick — no food, no sack, no money in their belts. They were, however, to wear sandals, but not a second tunic.”

Notice how Matthew and Luke redacted the instructions they found in Mark. In Matthew 10, contrary to Mark, the missionaries are warned not to wear sandals or take a staff. In Luke 9 the staff is also forbidden and one can’t even take along a second tunic, much less wear it. It seems the various Gospel communities had no problem adapting Jesus’ instructions to their specific needs and place. They

presumed one size didn’t fit all. The teachings of the risen Jesus present in their midst obviously trumped those of the first-century historical Jesus.

The Twelve are not to “house-hop.” Even after they discover the family who initially offered them hospital-ity also sports the worst cook in the village, they’re to stay put. Their message is far more important than their accommodations, so important that they shouldn’t waste their time on those who won’t listen. I, as a Catholic pastor, often envy Jesus and his first followers. In many ways, they could pick their audiences. My consolation is the conviction that there are people out there waiting for my message. Even if I can’t surface them right here and now, the message of Jesus’ dying and rising must still be proclaimed.

This is where today’s first and sec-ond readings come in. Just who are those proclaimers?

Amos is probably the most unlikely person in the Bible to be entrusted with the task of proclaiming Yah-weh’s word. In his class lectures, Bible scholar Carroll Stuhlmueller used to describe Amos as someone who follows the rear ends of sheep and goats for about 10 or 15 miles every day. If he took a bath twice a year, he’d be filthy clean, and he wouldn’t recognize a handkerchief or a razor. We can presume at least half his teeth were missing. We can’t imagine what kind of rags he calls clothes. Yet in spite of all these external “flaws,” Amos is Yahweh’s mouthpiece.

The prophet’s appearance is just part of Amaziah’s problem.

Because prophecy was the normal biblical way to uncover Yahweh’s will, ancient religious and civil leaders eventually were forced to develop a way to circumvent that will: shrine and court prophets. These were people on the king and priest’s payroll; false prophets who delivered the message the king or priest wanted their people to hear. They’re often described as “eating at the king or priest’s table” (see 1 Kings 18:19). These are the prophets Amos seems to have in mind when he vehemently states, “I am no prophet, nor have I belonged to a company of prophets!” In other

July 15, 2012


Other Christs


JuLY 2012| 3

words, “I’m not one of your prophets!” Yahweh, not Amaziah, has given him his oracles: prophecies that highlight the selfish failings of organized reli-gion and society’s constant oppression of the country’s poor and helpless. No wonder Amaziah wants Amos out of Bethel, the national shrine. Nothing would make the priest happier and more secure than the prophet’s return to Tekoa and his sheep and goats.

As an aside, we must never for-get that biblical prophets normally prophesy to the “good folk”: people who think they’re already doing what Yahweh wants them to do. That’s why Amos goes to Bethel and, a century and a half later, Jeremiah ends up at the Jerusalem temple. Prophets frequent the places where the good folk hang out, in spite of the good folks’ attempts to send them to the “bad folk.”

But, getting back to the “most unlikely,” the disciple of Paul respon-sible for the Letter to the Ephesians agrees that they’re the individuals usually entrusted with God’s message. Only the writer isn’t looking outside, pointing to some God-sent person who recently arrived in Ephesus proclaim-ing prophetic oracles; rather, the author demands the readers reflect on themselves. Developing the insights Paul first shared in 1 Corinthians 1:26-30, this author is determined to remind us of the difference our faith has brought to our everyday lives.

In spite of our failings, our fragile existence or our social status, God — through the risen Jesus — is working great things through and in us. Listen carefully to the list our author has compiled.

God has “blessed us in Christ, with every spiritual blessing in the heav-ens, as he chose us in him, before the foundations of the world, to be holy and without blemish before him. In love he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ.” And if that’s not enough, “In him we have redemption by his blood, the forgive-ness of transgressions. … He has made known to us the mystery of his will in accord with his favor. … In him we were also chosen … so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, we who first hoped in Christ. … In him you also

… were sealed with the promised holy Spirit, which is the first installment of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s possession, to the praise of his glory.” What a pedigree we have!

It’s important to keep in mind that the Ephesians author compiles this list for gentile Christians, assuring them that Jewish Christians have no advantage over them as members of the body of Christ. All are equal, all are called, all carry on the ministry of the risen Jesus.

After hearing today’s three read-ings, we’re forced, by their prophetic authors, to look at our faith from a broader perspective. As Walter Brueggemann stressed years ago in his classic book The Prophetic Imagination, one of the main tasks of biblical prophets is to champion the freedom of God. Religious institutions traditionally restrict that freedom for their own advantage. The trade-off that the institutions offer for their restriction is accessibility. God can be approached at their sacred places, through their sacred rituals, per-formed by their sacred ministers — as long as one adheres to the institution’s sacred regulations.

As a child, I feared for my Protes-tant grandmother’s eternal salvation. Should she ever commit a mortal sin, she was in peril of everlasting damna-tion. When I, as a Catholic, sinned, I simply had to go to confession. My religion teachers often assured me that, with sacramental confession, “imperfect contrition” was enough

to have my sin removed. All I had to do was be sorry for my sin because I didn’t want to spend eternity in hell. Non-Catholics, on the other hand, because they couldn’t go to confession, had to make a “perfect act of contri-tion” in order to have the same sin for-given. That meant they had to be sorry because their sin had somehow hurt God, not because its consequences would eventually hurt them.

But I was also taught that perfect acts of contrition are “iffy.” No one can ever be certain his or her sorrow is perfect enough. Fortunately I didn’t have to worry about the iffy question for long. One day my pastor removed all doubt. In our confirmation class, he stated, “I don’t think any human be-ing is capable of making a perfect act of contrition.” There went Grandma Simpson! I could only hope and pray she’d never commit a mortal sin.

It never dawned on me that God was free to circumvent my church’s restrictions.

Jesus’ creation and use of the Twelve was intended to break through the social and religious restrictions of his day and age. The Ephesians author likewise tried to tear down the wall separating Jewish Christians from gentile Christians. And the fact that our ancestors in the faith eventually included Amos in our sacred canon of scripture is proof they also expected us to surface the hand and word of God in the most unlikely of people. Our sacred authors simply presume God is free to do whatever God wishes.

In today’s Gospel, when Jesus sends the disciples out two by two, he orders them to take nothing for their journey. No bread, no bag and no money in their belts.

Jesus’ “no bag” instruction sounds very wise if we’re flying. If you check four or more bags you’ll likely be paying up to $100 each. But per-haps Jesus is speaking of a heavier kind of baggage that we need to leave behind if we are going to follow him. That heavy bag is fear. It is packed with images of being unqualified, fears of not being able to perform, of not knowing what to say or do, fear of being rejected and the ultimate, humiliating image of failure.

Leave that heavy bag of fear at home and “fly” free.



4 | JuLY 2012

KEY VERSE(S) / MAIN IDEA (Eph) “Praised be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has bestowed on us in Christ every spiritual bless-ing in the heavens! God chose us in him before the world began, to be holy and blameless in his sight, to be full of love.” Spiritual riches.

HOW YOuTH MIGHT APPROACH THE MAIN IDEA Defensive if they think their material possessions are being demeaned and the homily is slyly trying to persuade them to “go to church and pray all day.”

STARTER Picture a toddler sitting on the floor. In front of the child is a pack of 50 $100 bills — a cool $5,000. There’s also a large mound of pen-nies, brand new, 1,547 of them, to be exact … a not-nearly-as-cool $15.47. Which will the toddler reach for and play with? The pennies, of course. Why? They’re shiny and colorful and make sounds when you pick some up and drop them! You can throw them and swirl them around on the carpet! Pennies win out over paper.

LEADING QuESTIONS * What’s a “spiritual blessing”? Do you have any? * What if the child in the example above is now 15, 18, 21— but still reaches for pennies? * In your opin-ion, what are some things that many people find attractive and consider important when they’re not really important at all?

DIRECTIONS TO EXPLORE * “Spiri-tual” contrasts with “material,” but does not mean imaginary (or imprac-tical in “real life”). Love is spiritual but definitely not imaginary or im-practical. * At the same time, some-thing material is not in opposition to spiritual things. * Material things like the pennies: attractive, but not enough to let us become the person God created us to be. * The treasury of spiritual blessings we enjoy, begin-ning with being chosen and loved by God before the world began.

QuOTATION “Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift you have received” (1 Peter 4:10).

Paul tells the history of Jesus from the promise of the prophets to his resurrection. But is it really history or just Paul’s opinion?

There are two kinds of history: factual history and interpreted history. One is a record of physical events; the other tries to tell what those physical events mean.

Of course, all history is a matter of interpretation. Whoever writes it does so, consciously or not, from their personal, religious, social or political bias. Even the choice of things to record is already an interpretation. Some events are highlighted because the histo-rian deems them significant; other events are omitted as inconsequen-tial. If we simply recorded data, it would not be history, because a list of occurrences has no meaning. It is precisely the historian’s task to assign meaning.

To take a political example: The battle of Gettysburg was a physical event that was immortalized by Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address.” The battle was factual history, the address was interpreted history. That does not make the address non-historical: Without the battle, the address would not have happened. Yet without the address, the battle might have gone largely unnoticed.

The story of Jesus is by human necessity both factual history and interpreted history. Jesus did cer-tain factual things and they were then interpreted. The difference is that there is just one Lincoln address, while there are several Jesus stories. There was also just one space between Lincoln and Gettysburg, while there are several spaces between the factual Jesus and the interpreted Jesus.

For instance, one day Jesus fed some people in the countryside. Joel was an eyewitness. Ten years later,

he told his son, who had missed the event. Ten years later, his son told an evangelist who got it third- or fourth-hand. Each evangelist then wrote the story out of his own personal view of life as well as his church’s situation.

What matters is the uninter-rupted “chain of evidence” between the fact and the interpretation.

That chain itself has a historical aspect that varies according to the recipient. It seems that the first Christians believed in Jesus be-cause of miracles, while we believe in miracles because of Jesus. When Jesus cured a blind man, they said: “He must be close to God.” When he then cured a leper, they said: “He must be a messenger from God.” When he walked on water they said: “He must be the Son of God.”

They were accustomed to mira-cles, and simply needed someone to attach those miracles to. Whereas we modern people suspect miracles, always looking for scientific expla-nations. In order to accept miracles, we have to start with God. We re-luctantly think: “Resurrection is hard to believe, but if Jesus is God he must have resurrected.”

Each of us spontaneously looks at Jesus as primarily divine or primar-ily human, whether we know it or not. Just as we see one vase or two profiles on those black-and-white figures. And even when we toggle to the other image, it may be difficult. We are fond of our first impressions.

Since Jesus is fully divine and fully human, either view is true. But it is important not to favor one and neglect the other. Maybe it would be a good idea to purposely change our favorite image of Jesus to the other side, so we can see what we have been missing in the whole Je-sus; and so we don’t have a lopsided portrait of the human God.

Interpreted History

HOMIly

FrJames Smith




Eucharist as Potluck

Sunday nights were always special in my minor seminary days. Except during Lent, we were treated to a movie; usually a three-reel, 16 mm copy of one that had been in theaters a year or two before. Because

we only had one projector, we had two breaks during the movie, giving the student projectionists time to meticulously thread the first frames of the next reel through the machine.

One night, after we took our first break and came back to our seats, we discovered the second reel was from a different movie than the first reel! Someone at the movie company had mixed the movies. So, with nothing better to do, we watched the new second reel, took our next break and came back to watch the third reel from the original movie. It was a strange and rare experience.

But we Catholics do something parallel every three years. During the B Cycle, we methodically listen to successive readings from Mark’s Gospel — until this Sunday. Then, just at the point the evangelist gives his introduction to the first miraculous feeding narrative, in today’s pericope, we shift from Mark 6 to John 6. After listening to John for five Sundays, we return to Mark.

Since John 6 also narrates Jesus feeding the crowd, few Catholics seem to notice the switch. One account is just as good as another. And since we have no specific cycle for John, this is as good a place as any in which to insert it.

Before World War II, we might have gotten by without anybody — except Mark — complaining. But a new biblical discipline started to emerge in the late 1940s, something that completely changed the way we read Gos-pels: It was called redaction criticism.

Between the wars, Gospel scholars universally followed and taught the insights of the great biblical scholar Rudolph Bultmann. He was convinced that the four evangelists weren’t authors in the ordinary sense of the word; that is, people who sit down with a pen and a blank piece of paper and create an original writing. In Bultmann’s view, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John were collectors, not authors. They had simply collected Jesus’ stories and sayings from early Christian preachers, from previously writ-ten Christian documents and from their own special sources, eventually publishing their collection as a Gospel. Students of these Gospels were expected to surface the sitz im leben, or “life setting,” of each story or say-ing, presuming there was a situation in the life of the early church or the Gospel community that caused it to be remembered and included in the Gospel. Good homilists were then supposed to apply and compare those first-century Christian situations to the modern Christian experience.

Things changed when redaction critics came on the scene. Though they didn’t discard Bultmann’s insights, they changed their focus. From zeroing in on each individual Gospel passage, they began to look at the Gospel as a whole. They stopped calling the evangelists collectors, and began to refer to them as “redactors.”

Among other things, a redactor is someone who takes preexisting material and changes it around to make it agree with his or her ideas and thoughts. We need only check the copyrights of some of our favorite hymns to see the redaction process at work. For instance, “Seek the Lord” was originally copyrighted in 1975 by the St. Louis Jesuits, and then


Ordinary Time

ROMAN LECTIONARY

16th Sunday in Ordinary TimeJer 23:1-6

Ps 23Eph 2:13-18

Mark 6:30-34


Eighth Sunday after Pentecost2 Sam 7:1-14a

Eph 2:11-22Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

ANgLICAN LECTIONARY

Proper 11Isa 57:14b-21Eph 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-44

In Mark’s narra-tive, it’s essential to note that the disci-ples, not Jesus, feed the crowd.

Roger Vermalen Karban is a priest of the Belleville, Ill., diocese and pastor of Our Lady of Good Coun-sel Parish in Renault, Ill. He holds a licenciate in theology from the Gregorian university in Rome and did his scripture studies at St. Lou-is university. He currently teaches scripture courses at St. Louis uni-versity and Southwestern Illinois College.


2 | JuLY 2012

copyrighted again in 1996 when the sexist language was removed.

A perfect Gospel example of such redaction is Luke’s Chapter 9 addi-tion of the word “daily” to Jesus’ well-known command to “carry your cross.” By the time he writes in the mid-80s, most Christians have given up hope of an imminent Parousia. They’re beginning to see that they’re in this faith business for the long haul. Their commitment to Jesus’ dying and rising must be an essential part of their lives until they physically die.

But redactors go further than just changing words. They also order their material in ways that convey their ideas, or in the case of our Gospel writers, their theology. Like movie directors who first shoot individual scenes, then sit down and order them to create a complete, meaningful mo-tion picture, our evangelists took the individual stories and sayings they received from the early church’s preachers and ordered them in a unique way to create a complete, meaningful Gospel. No two Gospels are alike, even when, like the Synop-tics, they contain the same material. Each presents us with a unique the-ology. Commentators and homilists normally show their familiarity with redaction criticism by referring not just to “Jesus,” but to “Mark’s Jesus” or “John’s Jesus.” Each evangelist’s Jesus is different from the other three.

These redaction critics also remind us that our Gospels were never intend-ed to be heard in the fashion most of us hear them: as short, independent snippets proclaimed during liturgical ceremonies. Can you imagine how we would judge “Gone with the Wind” if we saw only disconnected, individual scenes instead of the complete pic-ture? (And not even in chronological order!) Some scenes, like the burning of Atlanta, or lines like “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” might trig-ger some comments, but we’d never be able to figure out the message of the whole movie if we only experienced it scene after disconnected scene.

In the case at hand, those who study Mark and John are quick to point out that each author redacts his material in such a way as to convey

his different, unique theology, even when both deal with the same nar-rative. Theology is different from history. The former presumes the latter, but theology provides us with the implications of history, not the facts of history. As we all know, two people can easily come up with two different sets of implications from the same event. That’s why the late Avery Dulles, in an aside during his 1969 St. Louis University Bellarmine Lecture, stated (with a smile on his lips), “Had there been a Holy Office at the writing of the four Gospels, we Catholics would have just one Gospel [Mark] in our bibles. But in our history books we’d have frequent references to three notorious early Christian heretics named Matthew, Luke, and John.”

Mark and John simply have two different interpretations of the mi-raculous feeding. Though, as we’ll see, both presume the miracle has something to do with the Eucharist, each gives us different implications of the event. Both would be uptight about our making one the middle reel of the other’s movie.

Unless we know what’s coming next, many of us might not under-stand the significance of Mark’s com-ment, “When he [Jesus] disembarked

and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” This intro gives us a preview of what Mark is trying convey by the miraculous feeding story. Among other things, it must have something to do with leadership.

As the late John L. McKenzie clearly pointed out in his classic work, Authority in the Church (reprinted in 2006 by Wipf & Stock Publishers), leadership has always been a problem for biblical communities. Many of those exercising authority in such communities never seem able to get their act together in the way that Yahweh or the risen Jesus want it to be gotten together.

JER 23:1-6

Jeremiah presents us with an example of this in our first reading: “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture, says Yahweh … I will take care to punish your evil deeds.” Yet as bad as things are in immediate, pre-exilic Israel, there’s a ray of hope. “I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says Yahweh.” The prophet then focuses much of this hope on one future, ideal king. “I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; as king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah shall be saved, Israel shall dwell in security. This is the name they give him: ‘Yahweh, our justice.’ ” In other words, that perfect leader will relate to his people as Yahweh relates to them. The only problem with Jeremiah’s optimism is that the biblical Chosen People never seem able to surface such an ideal person. Most leaders continued to use people, not help them.

Christians experienced an excep-tion in Jesus.

EPH 2:13-18

The disciple of Paul who penned the Letter to the Ephesians surfaces

July 22, 2012


Eucharist as Potluck


JuLY 2012| 3

a dimension in the risen Jesus’ lead-ership that benefits all his followers: his ability and passion to unite. “In Christ Jesus you who once were far-off [gentiles] have become near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, he who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity through his flesh, abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two.”

We know from Paul’s seven au-thentic letters that many Christians weren’t happy with his quest to unite gentile and Jewish Christians. They didn’t object to non-Jews becoming followers of Jesus — as long as they first converted to Judaism. Progres-sive Christians like Paul didn’t have an easy faith row to hoe. Their mis-sion was first to accept, then teach that the risen Jesus saw value in gentiles as gentiles, long before they even heard about Abraham, Moses and the 613 Sinai laws. Jesus’ non-Jewish followers were to be on an equal par with his Jewish followers, united in one body of Christ.

MARK 6:30-34

Those who accept this insight are encouraged to return to the theology running through Mark’s first bread miracle. If we become redaction crit-ics and stay with the “first reel,” Jesus’ disciples immediately follow up on his remark about the people being sheep without a shepherd by observ-ing, “This is a deserted place and it is already late. Dismiss them so that they can go to the surrounding farms and villages and buy themselves something to eat.” Good suggestion.

But Jesus doesn’t buy it. Instead, to their complete surprise, he com-mands, “Give them some food your-selves!”

They instantly dismiss that sug-gestion. “Are we to buy two hundred days’ wages worth of food and give it to them to eat?”

Jesus quickly brushes off their impossibility defense. He wants to know only one thing from them: “How many loaves do you have? Go and see!”

One can hear the sarcasm in their

voices when they eventually return with the total: “Five loaves and two fish.” In other words, “Let’s go back to our original plan of dismissing the crowd. We can’t possibly feed them.”

But Mark’s persistent Jesus doesn’t give in. Staying focused on his origi-nal plan, he takes the few loaves and fish, blesses and breaks them, then gives them back to his disciples and tells them to do what he told them to do in the first place, “Feed them!”

In Mark’s narrative — unlike John’s — it’s essential to note that the disciples, not Jesus, feed the crowd. Contrary to their low expectations, “all ate and were satisfied.” And there were 12 baskets of leftovers.

Commentators agree that all six Gospel bread miracles are reflections on the Eucharist. This is especially clear in John. As we’ll see in the coming weeks, John’s Jesus actually institutes the Eucharist not during the Last Supper, but during his Chap-ter 6 multiplication narrative. (Many scholars contend that John’s Jesus institutes an “eighth” sacrament during his Last Supper account: the washing of the feet.)

Mark’s feeding, unlike our modern Eucharists, isn’t a one-man show. All of Jesus’ disciples participate in the event, but they only do so because of his instigation. No Gospel community would have thought it needed one specially consecrated individual to say specific words over the bread and wine in order to turn them into the body and blood of Jesus. As we hear in Paul’s 1 Corinthians 11 reference to the Eucharist, the event was a com-munity affair — an actual “pot-luck”

meal! Long before the participants recognized Jesus in the bread and wine, they recognized the risen Jesus present in the community.

I learned how to “say Mass” in the fall of 1964. As we old-timers remem-ber, the first Vatican II reforms were to be implemented in the United States on the First Sunday of Advent that year, two weeks after my ordination. On some levels, eucharistic presiders were being presented with a new job description.

I’ll never forget the description the late Fr. Frank Murphy presented to us during those pre-ordination ses-sions. The future auxiliary bishop of Baltimore said that our main task as presiders wasn’t to just say all the liturgical words correctly or make the proper gestures. “Your first job during the Eucharist,” he insisted, “is to help form a community of believers — the body of Christ — among those who are participating.”

Later, when I began studying scrip-ture, I discovered Frank’s insight dovetailed perfectly with Mark’s defi-nition of a good leader. His shepherd leads by empowering the flock, by ignoring their claims of inadequacy, and showing that, with the blessing of the risen Jesus, they’re able to meet the needs of all in their community.

Obviously our modern Eucharists are structured in such a way as to make this type of leadership difficult to carry out. But if we don’t know what our ancestors in the faith expected all of us to do, we’ll never have an ideal to aim for, and the unity for which the risen Jesus longs will simply remain an unfulfilled, impossible dream.

July is a time for family vacations. In today’s Gospel, Jesus wants to give his disciples a break after they return from their two-by-two mission, and they all need some quiet time. Retreats are important. Everyone can relate to that.

For Jesus and the disciples, no such interlude was granted. Waiting on the shore for Jesus and his men were more than 5,000 hungry believers who had preceded him on foot.

Sometimes we, too, are called to press on and do more than we think we can.



4 | JuLY 2012

KEY VERSE(S) / MAIN IDEA (Mark) “Upon disembarking, Jesus saw a vast crowd. He pitied them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them at great length.” Spiritual hunger.

STARTER The phrase “a hole in the soul” has been used in song lyrics (or often in song titles) by numerous art-ists, including the classic rock group Aerosmith. What does the phrase mean to you?

LEADING QuESTIONS * What do you think the crowds were so eager, almost driven, to learn? * How would you complete the request, “Jesus, please teach me …”? * The Gospel tells us, “He began to teach them at great length.” What do you think his topics were? (The ever-popular “love others” and “help people” should be starting points, but not easy answers that end thought or discussion.) * Has there been a period in your life when you felt lost or empty? What did you do? Has it been resolved, or is it still hanging around in some way?

DIRECTIONS TO EXPLORE * Ask for guidance before taking steps that turn out to be in the wrong direction. * Types of spiritual hunger: The need for companionship of one whose love is faithful and unconditional. The need for ritual — actions both individual and personal (such as the rosary) and communal (the Mass and other acts of public worship). The need to consciously work on answer-ing: “What’s this all about?” The need for meaning — to know that what we do, study, work toward, is worth some-thing, has a reason beyond personal gratification.

MEDIA LINK The film “Project X” features four teens in search of per-sonal worth and meaning. None are popular. They want to be “legends,” to be “known.” The solution: Throw a memorable birthday party. Teens drink, smoke weed, drop ecstasy, swim naked, throw up, and couple in various ways. All this is done up for laughs. The film’s message: The hole in the soul is best filled with slime.

Jesus took his friends on a little retreat to pray. I wonder if they prayed as we do — with Jesus right beside them.

Prayer is about wanting God, according to Saint Augustine. That sounds simple enough. But as with all simple things, there is a hidden complexity. We always want God, but we often don’t want God badly enough to make much difference. Other wants overshadow our divine desire. We may be afraid that if we get God we will lose everything else.

Or, we may want God, but on our own terms. Like wanting warmth without fire or life without death. God is the Lord of history, the Cre-ator of the cosmos, the Savior of all humankind. But for many of us, our God is far too small. We think that we can chat up God whenever we get the urge and then walk away unharmed, unchanged, uncharred. If we approach prayer in this way on a regular basis, we should wonder how serious we are. Prayer should change our life, not just improve it.

God is the ringmaster of the greatest show on earth; we are just sideshows. On the other hand, prayer is about our little life. That is as important to God as the fate of nations, so we ought to bring our life to prayer every day.

It is futile to complain that our prayer is uneventful or that we feel empty at prayer. Our prayer model is Jesus, who did not complain of being empty. In fact, he purposely emptied himself. Twice. He emptied himself of divinity when he became human; and he emptied himself of humanity when he died. But empty prayer is not loss. It is a paradox that when we empty ourselves into Christ, our small personal cares become part of Christ’s cosmic concern.

We ought to bring other people

and situations with us to God in prayer. We do not need to know how our intercessions affect other people. At the very least, they ex-press our fellowship with the rest of humankind. We do not need to understand how our petition might affect the weather. At the very least, it shows our solidarity with all creation. We do not need to analyze the effect of our petition for world peace. At the very least, it involves us with God’s evolving, universal providence. Each individual peti-tion we make situates us at the very heart of things, where each thing confronts God.

Prayer is about God. A simple approach to prayer comes from God himself. God said simply: “Be still and know that I am God.” There is a lot going on in that simple com-mand.

“Know that I am God.” That is, I am not one of the many other beings that you deal with. I am beyond all of those things. Nor can you roll them all together with me alongside of them. That just makes me a big-ger thing than all other things put together. No — you cannot get your mind around me; you cannot even include me within your most fan-tastic image. I am beyond wonder-ful, beyond beauty, beyond power, beyond wisdom, beyond everything. Know that I am God.

“Be still.” That is, stop fussing with everything else when you come to me in prayer. I am worth your undivided attention. Nothing in the world happens without me; and if it concerns you, I’ll let you know.

“Be.” Just be who you are. I cre-ated you. You do not have to prove yourself or earn your keep or make an impression or become someone you think I would like.

I already like you.

Wanting God

HOMIly

Fr. James Smith




God ProvidesJOHN 6:1-15

The story of the great sharing of the loaves and fishes is the most repeated story in the New Testament, retold six times by the Gospel writers. Of these, the account in John 6:1-15 is the most theological.

John will devote the entire Chapter 6 of his Gospel, a total of 69 verses, to explain Jesus’ teaching and action.

Today’s passage, typical of the pattern John employs, presents the event as a messianic sign that is misunderstood by both the disciples who participate in it and the crowds who witness it. This is the first of five Gospel readings we will hear in the coming Sundays from what is known as the “Bread of Life discourse.”

The section we hear today is very similar to the Synoptic accounts (Matt 14:13-21, 15:32-39; Mark 6:30-44, 8:1-10; and Luke 9:9-17), includ-ing the fact that the people are following Jesus because they have seen the signs and healings he performed, even though there is little indication that they understood them. In fact, by the end of John’s long discourse, we will find that Jesus’ explanation of his mission was too much for many to bear. Only his closest disciples, the Twelve, remain with him when he asks them, “Do you also want to leave me?” Simon Peter answers Jesus in the now-famous lines: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone have words of eternal life” (6:68).

As the scene opens at the beginning of Chapter 6, we hear that a crowd has been fol-lowing Jesus and witnessing his signs. Jesus and his disciples have actually withdrawn from the crowd and crossed over to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, but the people follow them there. So Jesus sits down on “the mountain” — a reference to Moses, who receives God’s Law on Mount Sinai (Exodus 24) and is regarded as Israel’s greatest teacher. John also mentions that it is near the time of Passover, further setting the scene of the multiplication of the loaves in the context of the Exodus story.

While the Synoptics explain that Jesus taught the people at length, John says that Jesus first “raised his eyes,” a phrase found only two other times in the Gospel of John: once when Jesus prayed at Lazarus’ tomb and the second time in his prayer at the Last Supper. The implication is that Jesus was engaged in special and exemplary prayer before taking important action. John’s addition of the detail about the feast of Passover implied a connection between God’s saving action in freeing and feeding the Hebrew slaves fleeing Egypt, and Jesus’ activity among the people, an activity that offered both the necessary food and promised liberation.

Because John’s Gospel does not have a narrative of the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper, this can also be seen as a eucharistic account, especially evident in the details of the long explanation after the feeding and the fact that all the fragments were to be gathered up at the end of the meal (“Collect the pieces so that nothing may be lost,” 6:12).

Without going into the Synoptic descriptions of the length of time the people had been following and listening to Jesus, John tells us that Jesus’


Ordinary Time

ROMAN LECTIONARY

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time2 Kings 4:42-44

Ps 145Eph 4:1-6

John 6:1-15


Ninth Sunday after Pentecost2 Sam 11:1-15Eph 3:13-21John 6:1-21

ANgLICAN LECTIONARY

Proper 122 Kings 2:1-15

Eph 4:1-7, 11-16Mark 6:45-52

Jesus will attempt to teach the people the significance of their experience: that he himself is the bread that has come from heaven; not the magic provider of everything they want, but the genuine source of all that they need.

Mary M. McGlone is a Sister of St. Jo-seph of Carondelet. She is a freelance writer and executive director of FuVI-RESE uSA, a charitable foundation that supports work with people with dis-abilities in Ecuador.


2 | JuLY 2012

first concern had to do with their need for nourishment — both spiritual and physical. Thus, he called on Philip, who was from the area, to ask where they could find food for the crowd. Philip’s almost exasperated reply was that it would take almost a year’s wages to provide enough food for so many people. Then Andrew came up with the absurd solution that there was a child who had five barley loaves and a little bit of fish. Each of the Gospel writers then has Jesus tell the people to sit on the grass: an allusion to the verdant pastures of Psalm 23.

While Matthew, Mark and Luke repeat Jesus’ eucharistic words of looking to heaven, blessing, break-ing and then giving the food to the disciples to distribute, John simply says that Jesus gave thanks (the word from which we derive “Eucharist”) and then he himself distributed the bread and fish to the people. Finally, he had the disciples gather up 12 baskets of fragments. The note that the Passover was near has given this reading a eucharistic tone that will be elaborated throughout the rest of the chapter. It was also a reminder of the manna in the desert (Exod 16).

The crowd was fed, they saw what Jesus was doing, but they did not understand the import of the event. To them, it was more remarkable than revelatory. In contemporary language, they might have judged it a “miracle,” a suspension of nature or some sort of magic. In John’s vocabulary, a “sign” is something different. Rather than providing in-controvertible proof of anything, a sign demands discernment; it belongs to the realm of revelation and faith rather than science. A sign is a truth that does not deny the reality of the event, but recognizes it as a gift of God rather than a violation of any physical law.

The people did discern something in Jesus’ action; they recognized him as a prophet. But their response to this was to try to carry him off to compel him to be their king, their political leader and provider — a prospect Jesus fled by withdrawing alone up in the mountains. In the readings of the weeks that follow this Sunday

Gospel, Jesus will attempt to teach the people the significance of their experience: that he himself is the bread that has come from heaven; not the magic provider of everything they want, but the genuine source of all that they need.

2 KINGS 4:42-44

The connection between the read-ing from 2 Kings and today’s Gospel is instantly apparent. First we meet the prophet Elisha, whose many deeds foreshadow Jesus’ activities, and not only in feeding the crowds. In the context of Elisha’s whole story, we see him raising the dead, curing a leper and providing long-term sustenance for a widow who shares her last bit of food with him (2 Kings 4:1–5:15). When the prophet Elisha ensures that there is enough food available for the crowd, this shows him fulfilling not just the role of a prophet, but also that of the king of Israel, whose first responsibility was to see to the wel-fare of his people and, in particular, the widow, the stranger and the poor. Elisha’s activity provides an apt com-mentary on Jesus’ gift to the crowd in John 6: The people ate and were more than satisfied with the simple bread from heaven.

An interesting and theologically important correlation between the stories of Elisha and Jesus is that the “miraculous” provision of nourish-ment for the donors came not from the wealthy or even from the “prophet,” but from God’s work through the poor: through a farmer who could offer but 20 loaves of bread and a child who had only five barley loaves and some fish (barley loaves being the food of the poor). Through the poor, God provided for the people.

Part of the lesson we can take from the stories of these signs becomes a commentary on the Paschal Mystery: When we give all we have, God can provide all that is needed for every-one. The other obvious teaching of the accounts of Elisha’s miraculous deeds is that they are signs of God’s abundant love working through simple human beings, not suspen-sions of nature or a manifestation of the magical power of some chosen prophet.

PS 145

Today’s Psalm 145 could hardly provide a better response to the read-ings. God’s generous love responds to all our needs, especially when there are open-handed, willing and faithful servants who will further God’s cause.

EPH 4:1-6

The Letter to the Ephesians seems to be directed to more than one com-munity. In this letter, the church is envisioned as more cosmic than local. In Ephesians, we hear echoes of the universal role of the church empha-sized in the Letter to Romans. As in Ephesians 1:10, we hear about God gathering all things in heaven and on earth into Christ. In Romans 8:19-23, we hear about all of creation groaning in one great act of giving birth until the revelation of the children of God.

There is significant debate about the identity of the author of Ephe-sians. The author claims the name “Paul” and refers to himself as “a prisoner for the Lord.” Both of those designations emphasize his author-

July 29, 2012


God Provides


JuLY 2012| 3

ity. Nevertheless, in Ephesians 2:20, the author refers to the church as “built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets,” a description that puts this reading well beyond the first generation of church leadership that Paul was part of. In addition, although many ancient manuscripts identify the letter as addressed to the community of the Ephesians, it lacks the personal touches that gen-erally characterize Paul’s letters to the communities he was intimately associated with, such as greetings to individuals. In that sense, we can consider this a letter addressed in a particular way to the universal church, from Paul’s day to our own,

In Ephesians, one of the themes typical of Paul is that Jew and gentile together have been “reconciled to God in one body through the cross” (2:16), becoming one person instead of two. Nevertheless, unlike many of Paul’s writings, there are no explicit references to the parousia or to the end of the world. Ephesians focused on present-day Christians (then and now) who are sharing in the resurrec-tion: the faithful who have received new life, who have been raised up and who now “sit with Christ in the heavenly places” (2:5-6).

In last week’s reading (Eph 2:13-18), we heard of the marvelous transfor-mation of the Christian community: Jews and gentiles who had been two distinct peoples have now become one in Christ. Making no distinction, the author says that Christ came and preached peace to those who were far-off and those who were near, providing identical access for all to the one Spirit who brings the people to the Father. This teaching applies to us as well.

In Eph 2:4-8 we read: “But God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ (by grace you have been saved), raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.”

The thought is completed and

summarized in Eph 3:20-21: “To him whose power now at work in us can do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine — to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations, world without end. Amen.”

Paul’s identification of himself as a “prisoner for the Lord” is not simply a description of his incarceration, but, because he has already proclaimed

the unity of the entire Christian community, he is implying that his imprisonment includes the church community. They, like him, are cap-tive in the vocation to serve the Lord. On this basis, he can make his appeal that they too live “in a manner worthy of their call.”

And what is that call? Humility, gentleness, patience, sharing love among themselves, unity through the grace of the Spirit, always remem-bering that they have been called to the very same vocation through the one Lord, faith and baptism: a call to share the life of God who is through all and in all. The key to this list is humility, and that key was prepared from earlier passages that reminded the members of the church that they had earned nothing, but were the recipients of God’s gratuitous and loving grace.

Although Lectionary second read-ings often pick up different themes from the first and third, which are chosen as commentaries on one another, today’s selection from Ephe-sians calls forth perfectly the same generosity and faith we hear in 2 Kings and John 6.

If we wanted to summarize it all, we might return to the Paschal theme at the center of our liturgy: giving all that we have. That sort of generosity allows “The hand of the Lord to feed us and answer all our needs.”

Today’s Gospel is a wonderful affirmation that Jesus is indeed the prophet who has come into the world. The teaching tells us that with almost no resources, Jesus was resolved to feed the people. He did it miraculously and abundantly. And, in fact, the scraps were more than what he started with. Those who ate of the meal were so impressed they wanted to make Jesus their king.

Perhaps our 21st-century lesson from this Gospel is that we can feed the world. Individually, we don’t have the resources, but if we have the faith and the resolve to start somewhere, there is great hope.

The hunger statistics are staggering. No one really knows how many people are malnourished, but the most recent estimate says that 925 mil-lion people in this world are hungry. Nearly all of the undernourished are in developing countries. When six of us have food and one has none, how can we not follow Jesus’ lead and take action?


Part of the lesson we can take from the stories of these signs

becomes a commentary on the Paschal Mystery:

When we give all we have, God can provide all that is needed for everyone. The

other obvious teaching of the accounts of Elisha’s miracu-

lous deeds is that they are signs of God’s abundant love working through simple hu-man beings, not suspensions of nature or a manifestation of the magical power of some

chosen prophet.


4 | JuLY 2012

KEY VERSE(S) / MAIN IDEA (John) “Jesus then took the loaves of bread, gave thanks, and passed them around to those reclining there.” Meeting Je-sus, the bread of life, in the Eucharist.

BACKGROuND NOTE This miracle is the only one recorded by all four evangelists. Its eucharistic sig-nificance is abundantly apparent to those who have studied scripture. A youthful assembly, however, is likely to receive the story quite literally and ask (even a bit indignantly!), “Why doesn’t Jesus do that for starving people today?” The homily suggested here is intended to be an invitation to approach the story less literally.

STARTER I’ve been thinking about the story in today’s Gospel, and frank-ly I have a ton of questions. How did the evangelist John know there were about 5,000 people? Go through the whole crowd and get a rough estimate? Those 12 baskets — did somebody think, “You know, I’d better take along a dozen empty baskets, just in case there’s a picnic for 5,000 people and they need containers for the leftover bread”? The story doesn’t say any-thing about something to drink. Did Jesus pass around a canteen of water that never went empty?

LEADING QuESTIONS * If we had answers to those questions, would we better understand the meaning of the story? Would we better appreciate what Jesus did? Why or why not? * What does this story tell us? What meaning does it have for us today?

DIRECTIONS TO EXPLORE * The Gospel was written to instruct be-lievers, not to convert nonbelievers. But if we simply think, “Well, there’s another cool thing that Jesus did,” we miss the purpose of the story. * The similarity of the words of Jesus and the words of consecration. * Jesus doesn’t just hand us bread, he is the bread of life for us. He is nourishment. We miss all that if we receive Commu-nion mechanically, with our minds on something else. * What happens here in the Eucharist is just as miraculous as the multiplication of the loaves.

You heard how similar the first and third readings are today. They describe the same circumstances: so little food, so many people — yet they were all fed, with food to spare. Some of the dialogue is almost word for word. The Gospel feels like a re-write of an incident that happened hundreds of years before.

That is all in an effort to connect the Hebrew scriptures with the New Testament. You may have noticed over years of listening to the scrip-ture at Mass that the second reading is a continuation of the same epistle from last week, while the first read-ing and the Gospel have some con-nection. The similarity between the first and third readings connects us with our religious roots.

Judaism is strongly concerned with the past. Its motto is: “Remem-ber, your father was a wandering Aramaic.” It recalls how God chose Abraham and Moses and Jacob and David; how God took them over the Red Sea from slavery in Egypt and from exile in Babylon. Passover is the signal feast when Jews annually recall the Great Escape. It is cause for celebration, because God’s ac-tion for them in the past guarantees God’s action for them in the future.

Christians look at the past as a symbol of the present, as a model of the present, as an incomplete pres-ent. This makes the present action of God a completion of past actions, a fulfillment of God’s promises. So, for Christians, crossing the Red Sea is a sign of our salvation through the waters of baptism; Elisha feed-ing the crowd is a preview of Jesus feeding the crowd; the miraculously shining face of Moses prefigures the brilliant transfiguration of Christ; the transport of Elijah into heaven in a fiery chariot prefigures the as-cension of Jesus into heaven.

In this vein, much of the work of

the evangelists was to search the Hebrew scriptures for stories that would show how Jesus was the new Abraham, the new Moses, the new Elijah; how Jesus was wiser than Solomon, more obedient than Adam; how Jesus was the new Israel, the suffering servant who was sacrificed in fulfillment of Isaac, who foretold the sacrifice of Christ.

The past is not really past for us. We know that without creation there would be no beautiful earth, without the crucifixion we would not be reconciled to God, without Christ’s resurrection we would have no hope.

Actors say they are as good as their last role, athletes say they are as successful as their last game, everyone says, “What have you done for me lately?” This is not an ungrateful attitude toward past benevolence. It is simply the recog-nition that however wonderful the experience, no matter how enrich-ing the relationship, if there is no continuity, no connection, no more, then the present is sterile. If the past is not a prologue to the future, then the present is a dead end.

That is why we rewind and fast-forward the story of God’s dealing with us. The story of creation is a mythological way of saying that God continually creates everything at every moment. Baptism signals that God saves us by water and the Holy Spirit. Anointing tells us that God still heals our infirmities while confession shows us that God is eager to forgive at all times. Above all, the Mass is the reminder that the saving effect of the crucifixion and the new life of the resurrection are ongoing realities.

Catholicism is a marvelous synthesis, a powerful synergy of past and present. It is a diagram of how God continues his unbroken activity.

Past and Present

HOMIly

Fr. James Smith


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