Jesus said to his disciples: “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
Matthew 5:13
I am the salt of the earth. Hearing this, I’m inclined to wonder if a little bit of me goes a long way. Am I overpowering if someone relies on me too much? Does too much of me contribute to high blood pressure? Undoubtedly, the answer to these questions is sometimes “yes.”
But I don’t think salt had these associations for people in Jesus’ time. Wikipedia’s entry, “Salt in the Bible,” says salt is used in the Scriptures “signify permanence, loyalty, durability, fidelity, usefulness, value, and purification . . . . Salt was widely and variably used as a symbol and sacred sign in ancient Israel Numbers 18:19 and 2 Chronicles 13:5 illustrate salt as a covenant of friendship. In cultures throughout the region, the eating of salt is a sign of friendship.” (Yes, I know Wikipedia is not a foolproof source of information, but I’d like to be able to make this post available to you sometime this week.)
Before embarking on this post, I was aware that humans have used to salt as a preservative for a long, long time, so it makes sense to me that, especially before the advent of refrigeration, salt would be associated with permanence, durability, usefulness, and value. The association with fidelity also makes sense in that food must be preserved to remain what it is.
The human body requires a small amount of sodium to conduct nerve impulses, contract and relax muscles, and maintain the proper balance of water and minerals. It is estimated that we need about 500 mg of sodium daily for these vital functions. But too much sodium in the diet can lead to high blood pressure, heart disease, and stroke. It can also cause calcium losses, some of which may be pulled from bone. Most Americans consume at least 1.5 teaspoons of salt per day, or about 3400 mg of sodium, which contains far more than our bodies need.
Some people believe that salt needs be replaced during hot weather or strenuous exercise to avoid muscle cramps. This is not correct. What you need to replace is water.
The human body can happily survive on just one gram of salt a day, as hormones keep a check on sodium levels and make adjustments for hot weather. A genuine sodium shortage brought on by hot weather or exercise is extremely rare, even among hard-working athletes.
When salt is used judiciously, when one might say it’s treated like it has value rather than used carelessly, it brings out the best not only in our bodies but in our food. It enhances other flavors rather than overpowering them. Maybe the ability of salt to have a positive effect on other flavors is good to remember as we seek to have healthy relationships with the people around us. Our call and our challenge is not to take charge all the time but to journey with one other and to work on building communities that bring out and benefit from the best qualities of their members.
I’m sorry to say I don’t always bring out the best qualities in the people around me. Why? Because I’m not the pure salt. A footnote in my Bible says the following: “The unusual supposition of salt losing its flavor has led some to suppose that the saying refers to the salt of the Dead Sea that, because chemically impure, could lose its taste” (Mat. 5:13n).
The websiteNatural Pioneers has this to say about Dead Salt’s limited effectiveness for flavoring food: “Dead Sea Salts are made up of about 60% magnesium and potassium, 8% sodium and some rare minerals. . . .While a small percentage of extracted Dead Sea salts are washed and processed to edible salt, the majority is not” (Dead Sea Salts Vs. Sea Salt Are They The Same? [Studies]).
Lord, help me to come to You so that You can wash me. Refine me into the pure salt You created me to become. Grant me the grace to treat others as my valued brothers and sisters rather than carelessly. Help me to cooperate with those around me to flavor our surroundings with Your Love. In other words, grant me the grace to be salt for the world but not salty. Amen.
Works cited
The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning.
1 Corinthians 1:17
This verse from the readings for this past weekend is the one that grabbed my attention. It did so because it left me with questions.
What does Paul have to say to me with the words “Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel” (1 Cor. 1:17)?
He did baptize people, didn’t he? Verses 14 through 16 say he did. So why does he say Christ didn’t send him to baptize? It seems to me that he provides the answer in verse 13. One question in that verse reminds the flock in Corinth it isn’t in his name that they come together. It isn’t in his name that they share what they have with those who have less. It isn’t in his name that they forgive one another and love and pray for those who persecute them. It isn’t in his name that they share their spiritual gifts. Rather, it’s in Christ’s name that they do all these things, as it was in Christ’s name that they were baptized, not in Paul’s. Christ worked through earthly leaders of the Church in Corinth to baptize people. None of those leaders were acting on their own behalf.
This first part of the verse also reminds me that while different members of Christ serve different functions within his mystical body, (for example, some regularly baptize new members, while others normally don’t) all members are called to preach the gospel — and not just with words. Conveying the limitations of language seems part of the message of the verse’s second half: “and not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning”[italics mine] (1 Cor.1:17).
Even Christ’s words, by themselves, didn’t keep sin and the suffering that resulted from having the final say. The words themselves didn’t unite to himself and to one another anyone who wanted to be united. His death on the cross and the resurrection that followed made that possible. He carried our wounds and our weaknesses to the fullest extent he could — to the point of death. He was victorious after he offered his life on the cross. But in the final hours of that pre-resurrection life, when he spoke at all, he didn’t tell parables or give sermons as he once had. He spoke in short phrases.
Jesus’ words prepared hearers to receive the union with the Divine that he would offer through his body on the cross and through His Spirit on Pentecost.
The words themselves didn’t complete the adoption, yet they paved the way for the proceedings. Nevertheless, despite the important role words sometimes play in bringing us closer together as members of Christ’s family, and of the human family Paul writes that “human eloquence” can empty the cross “of its meaning (1 Cor. 1:17).
How can this happen?
One answer is that words themselves are a means of dividing the people, ideas, and objects they represent into categories that separate one thing from another. Language distinguishes between an apple and an orange, between people from one tribe or place and another. Language defines an “us” and a “them.” It names God and the elements of God’s creation. Such differentiation has its place because recognizing our differences can help us learn from each other and grow in humility. Certainly recognizing that we are not God can help with the latter.
But problems arise when we let ourselves believe that the ways we are different from other people make us better than them. This belief won’t let us celebrate others as the unique reflections of God that they are. Problems also arise when we get so focused on the challenges that our differences present that we don’t recognize what we have in common. Third, problems arise when we focus so much on our separateness from God that we don’t grow in our relationship with God. These problems are some forms sin can take.
The effects of sin are the opposite of the effect of the cross of Christ, which has the power to close the painful gaps we create between ourselves and others and between ourselves and God. Is this closure complete? No, because each of us has to receive healing (the reception of which sometimes means carrying crosses of our own) so that we can share it again and again. Also, this healing is not complete because we haven’t yet reached the end of time as we know it.
And there’s another reason besides the frequent divisiveness of “human eloquence” that can empty the cross “of its meaning” (1 Cor. 17). Human eloquence can have this effect when it isn’t supported by action — which is not to say that words cannot be actions in and of themselves. Sometimes words can help us comprehend the full meaning of actions. Yet they can also be attractive but devoid of meaning. Presenting an eloquent argument in favor of one solution to a problem doesn’t, in fact, solve the problem. For that to happen, someone has to put the solution into action. Talking about giving someone a meal or a drink of clean water is not the same as actually providing it. Eloquent prayers and reflections by themselves are empty unless they are accompanied by actions. And yet, it can feel so much easier to talk about doing something and to tell someone else to do something than to participate in doing it myself
Lord, help me to recognize how I can be an answer to prayers today. Amen.
The Bible.The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
The LORD bless you and keep you! The LORD let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace!
Numbers 23-25, New American Bible
I’m beginning this post with the verses from Numbers because I can’t think of a better New Year’s blessing.
The psalm expands the message of the Old Testament blessing. It might be helpful to make a note of these verses for those times when you need a pick-me-up throughout the year. If you look up the psalm verses listed above, it might also be helpful to remember that when we read or hear that we should fear God, it’s a reminder to guard against arrogance, to maintain openness to God’s desires and to recognize our dependence on God. God’s nature isn’t to harm us. For evidence of this statement, Jeremiah 29:11.
The epistle (the third reading) refers to the New Testament events we’ve been and will be revisiting. It also brings to mind the words of the Lord’s Prayer and the events of Pentecost.
The New Testament reading offers the blessing from Numbers using more than words. The shepherds find exactly what the angel promised they would. God’s glory has shined on them not only through the presence of the angels but through the little face of the baby Jesus.
Looking at the Old Testament reading and the New Testament reading together made me wonder why it seems so much easier for the shepherds to see the fulfillment of God’s promises than it does for me? Then I remembered some things:
The shepherds play important supporting roles in a unique event. It’s understandable that they might need more clarity to play the parts God was inviting them to play. On the other hand, for me to grow spiritually it might be necessary to look for God’s presence without the help of the clear signage the angel gives the shepherds. I say the signage was clear, but as I write this, it strikes me that the angel doesn’t say where in Bethlehem the manger cradling Jesus; therefore,
The shepherds probably had to take more time and effort to get from the fields to the manger than I realize.
The shepherds had been waiting for the Messiah their whole lives, however long that had been, and their ancestors had been waiting their whole lives, as had the people who came before that generation. This was true going back thousands of years.
In short, I find it helpful to remember that the characters in the Bible didn’t get to fast-forward to the parts of their stories that I know. There was undoubtedly a lot of waiting, and struggling, and struggling to wait in those segments of their lives that haven’t been handed down to us.
The New Testament passage gives some hints about what I can do while I wait to better understand what’s unfolding in my life. Luke 2:19 says “Mary kept all these things, [the unique events she’s playing a central role in] reflecting on them in her heart (New American Bible Revised Edition). Perhaps “reflecting on [these events] in her heart” describes a process of taking note of what she’s experienced, considering what the experiences have taught her, and of reminding herself of those lessons frequently over time (Luke 2:19). Perhaps this process results in the lessons becoming part of her so that she can then reflect them, and in doing so, him can bless the lives that intersect with her own. She and the shepherds can live their lives “glorifying and praising God for all they [have] seen and heard, just as it [has] been told to them” (Luke 2:20).
Will their praise always look and sound glorious to those around them? Will their praise look and sound as extraordinary as God coming into the world as a baby boy? Not necessarily. Right after Luke tells us how the shepherds responded to finding Jesus, the book tells us that Mary and Joseph did what other Jewish parents of a newborn son did. They circumcised Jesus and announced his name, the name Gabriel had given him (Luke 2:21). These ordinary acts of faith and of honoring those who came before are as much fulfillment of what had been foretold as our the angelic appearances and the miraculous conception.
Maybe these readings invite me to take note of and to reflect in my own heart on God’s promises and presence so that I can reflect both. Lord, help me to accept this invitation and challenge. Help me to trust in Your promises and to discern and to surrender to Your will more often. Amen.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
The Bible.The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
I first heard the reflection that inspired today’s post as part of the Hallow App’s Advent #Pray25 Challenge. Though I’ll be writing about the reflection from Day 24 of the prayer challenge, which was released on December 21, I decided I’d go back to it for this week’s post because it invites me to imagine I’m one of the shepherds from the Christmas story.
The reflection reminded me that the Old Testament “is full of” shepherds — David for one— who were also leaders of their people. However, by the time of Jesus’s birth the life of a shepherd was not an esteemed one. Shepherds spent much of their time not within communities but outside of them and in the company not of other people but of smelly, dirty animals. One of the narrators of the reflection, Jonathan Roumie, the actor who plays Jesus in the series The Chosen, says that because of the isolation and company (or lack thereof) associated with their occupations, shepherds were often thought of as “coarse” and assumed to be criminals.
Now that I’ve shared this context, I’m going to listen to the reflection again. As I do, I’ll share what comes to me. You can listen to the reflection here. (If the link doesn’t give you access to the reflection, please let me know.)
My first thought is that, given the historical, it’s no wonder the translation of Luke 2:9 included in the reflection says they were terrified. Not only are they confronted with sights and sounds they’ve never seen before and don’t have the words to describe, but also they’re being given news that it seems they’re meant to share with “everyone.”
In response to this message, I can imagine a first-century shepherd thinking, “Of all people, why has God chosen me to receive this news now, and why would anyone listen to me if I repeat it? Why would anyone believe me if they listen?
God understands where these questions are coming from. At the same time, God strengthens their faith by telling them, through an angel, what the Divine Presence looks like and where He could be found in the most complete and tangible way on that night.
The shepherds being chosen as the first people outside Jesus’ family to receive the news of his birth is a reminder that God doesn’t use the criteria that humans sometimes use when making choices. God doesn’t rely on sight or any other biological sense when God chooses someone, nor is God’s ability to choose wisely negatively affected by past experiences with other people or even with the person God chooses. It’s often said there is no linear time for God the way there is for us. I take this to mean that there is no past or future in God’s perception. In some way that I can’t understand as I experience linear time, past, present, and future are all unfolding at once for God. And yet, Luke tells us, God entered time by being born of Mary in a stable.
At the invitation of reflection, I imagine myself a shepherd who approaches that stable and the holy family in it. I imagine Mary turning toward the sound of my approach and trying to rise from lying in the straw. I tell her not to trouble herself, that I’ve heard something of what she’s been through. I recount what the angel said.
Mary says nothing, but despite my protests, she sits up and gestures for me to come to her. I do as she asks, and she lifts her baby from the manger. Before I have a chance to step back, she’s placing the baby into my arms.
Dear God, help me hold him gently but firmly. Don’t let me hurt him. What would become of me? Of him? Of this sorrowful world if I dropped him?
He begins to cry.
The sound brings me back into the present of that stable. I focus on making him feel secure. In doing so, I relish his soft solidness and the warmth of him as he wriggles out of the cloths in which his mother has wrapped him. I see to it that he is swaddled snugly once again.
He already smells like the donkey who’s been watching over him. The smell is not unlike that of the sheep whose odor I carry.
Jesus, thank you for trusting me to come to you, to hold you. You were so vulnerable at your birth and at your death so that I could approach you when I am at my most vulnerable. Thank you for the gift of vulnerability — mine and yours. Amen.
What I thought would be this week’s post is taking longer to get ready than my posts normally do. The readings I’m currently reflecting on are taking my writing in all different directions. Not being open to where each one takes me doesn’t feel right. So for this week’s post, while I’m seeing where multiple trails lead and how they are connected, I’ll link to a reflection from Julie Hanlon Rubio and one of my favorite websites, Catholic Women Preach.
If and when what I thought would be this week’s post feels ready to share, I’ll be so excited to share it with you.
In the meantime, my experience with writing for this space this week has taught me that part of patience might be a willingness to take detours from what seems like the surest road to a destination. Maybe what seems at the beginning of a journey to be the best route to follow actually isn’t. Maybe I’m not always called to take the most direct route to where I think I’m called to go — especially in writing. Maybe getting sidetracked is an important part of some journeys.
This week, I feel prompted to reflect on the readings listed above as a unit and to discuss them generally, for the most part. I sense that focusing on a verse or two in just one of these readings might be to miss their point, to do, in a way, exactly what they are advising us not to do. Nonetheless, I encourage you to go to these passages yourself and see what they say to you.
I think they’re telling us that, yes, everything but God is passing away. But they’re also warning us not to fixate on what passes or on the signs that it’s passing. We can get so focused on the future that we neglect what the present asks of us. If we never consider what the present asks of us, we don’t become who we are in God, and we don’t do what God has given us the ability to do. Such not becoming and not doing would be tragic because to become who we are in God and to do what each of us is uniquely suited to do is the reasons were alive. Such not doing and not becoming means not entering through the “narrow gate” that leads to union with God and with those who have entered that union before us (Matt. 7-14).
There are so many gates that can look like they lead us toward the one the one each of us is called to move toward, when, in fact, they stop our progress toward that ultimate gate. As a result, it can be tempting not to seek the ultimate gate at all, to think somehow that if we don’t engage with the present, for fear of choosing the wrong gate, the gate we seek will come to us. But it won’t — unless we seek it.
The process of seeking the ultimate gate will be a mixed experience. When we travel the thin wire that is using the gifts God has given us without forgetting that those gifts are not the ultimate gate but a means to it, the wire leading toward the ultimate gate will feel able told our weight, even if, to someone else, the wire looks flimsy. On the other hand, when all we can see is the thinness of the wire, or all we can focus on is our desire for a shortcut to the gate, the necessity of crossing the wire will feel more like an impossible trial. Furthermore, when we operate under the illusion that there are shortcuts to and through the gate, we’ll forget what we’ve learned about what the wire looks like and how to navigate it. As a result, we’ll fall off the wire. Acknowledging resistance and desire for shortcuts will help to keep us from falling off.
While each of us can benefit from knowing our weaknesses, we also need not to assume that someone else is surrendering to resistance or seeking shortcuts. We should not use 2 Thessalonians 3:10 to judge others. The verse instructs that anyone who is “unwilling to work should not eat” [italics mine]. Let’s not assume that someone isn’t working because he or she is unwilling. A person may face limits keeping him or her from working, limits only he or she and God can understand and that the rest of us cannot see. Let’s also be open to the work each of us is called to looking different than the work of the next person.
I’d like to wrap up this week’s post by moving from the third to fourth reading — that is, the Gospel reading. I find it significant that the reading mentions natural disasters, wars, and persecutions but the references aren’t presented in a way that points to a specific disaster, war, or persecution. I think this presentation reminds us that nothing is eternal but God and those who are united to God. Everything but God will be created, destroyed, and re-created. This process happens in our lives over and over and again then at the end of our earthly lives. It also happens to any systems we have, whether within our bodies, within systems we create, or within systems recognized by us as patterns in the universe. It happens to cells and to solar systems. It happens on the smallest and grandest scales. It’s not a one-time event. The challenge is trusting God to lead us through this recurring process until trust leads us through the “narrow gate,” and that which is eternal is all that remains (Matt. 7-14).
The Bible.The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be? For all seven [brothers] had been married to her.” Jesus said to them, “The children of this age marry and remarry; but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God because they are the ones who will rise.
Luke 20: 33-36
I struggle with these verses because they seem to take a view of marriage as existing only for the continuation of humanity. This view of marriage is not very appealing to me. Let’s face it: I’m a romantic. I like the idea of the intimacy of a healthy marriage. I want such intimacy in my life after my time here on earth. So I take comfort in indications from other Scripture passages that if I strive to remain aware of the Divine Presence and strive to let it work in me in this life, I’ll find intimacy in the next one, even if anyone who can no longer die doesn’t need to reproduce. For an extensive discussion of where wedding imagery appears in the Scriptures, search for Bride of Christ on Wikipedia.
The parable in Matthew 25:1-13 implies that Jesus is a bridegroom, and the bridegroom arrives to enter the wedding feast. Anyone who doesn’t lose faith that the bridegroom will come and has prepared for his arrival will join the bridegroom at the feast (Matt. 25:10). Who is the bridegroom marrying? Anyone who has cultivated a relationship with him and is ready to consummate that relationship because anything that used to get in its has been removed. Anyone who enters into that consummation has become the person God created him or her to become. (See Klein.)
Such a person wears no masks, costumes or anything else from his or her mortal life. He or she surrounds him or herself with no defenses and carries no inhibitions because he or she doesn’t need to. There’s nothing to hide or defend against because all has been revealed and all that is not from God has melted away. (See 1 Cor. 3: 15 and Heb. 12:27 and 29.) The guests of honor at the wedding feast no longer know lack of any kind. (See Rev. 21:14) Their deepest desires are fulfilled, so they have no reason to be selfish, no reason not to be fully open to all God is and all God offers, nor are they left with any reason to be less than fully open to each other our and what each other offers.
The reality of eternal life is not merely one of intellectual existence. (Again, see Klein.) I don’t think of it as an eternal staring contest between the bridegroom and all his beloveds either. Instead, I think of it as creativity experienced to its fullest. After earthly life, if we are fully open to creativity at its fullest, who is the bridegroom of Scripture, we find ourselves in union with him and others who are united with Him. It’s a state that doesn’t mean the loss of intimacy but rather the fullness of it—because eternal intimacy isn’t limited by time, space, or anything else. It is intimacy with dimensions beyond our imagination, and it’s unending.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things; and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent. For you love all things that are and loathe nothing that you have made; . . . . [y]our imperishable spirit is in all things!
Wisdom 11:23-26 and 12:1
I’m starting with these verses because it would be helpful to me if they were permanently engraved into my mind. If your Bible doesn’t include the book called Wisdom, look it up. It’s an offering of poetically presented but practical advice and encouragement, just like Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes are.
These verses are part of the Old Testament readings for October 30, and for good reason, it seems to me. Why? Because the New Testament reading for that day, Luke 19:1-10, tells the story of Zacchaeus and his neighbors. It’s a story that, for me, inspires a lot of questions. It says Zacchaeus was “seeking to see who Jesus was,” not that he wanted to listen to Jesus or talk to Jesus or even see what Jesus looked like. No, he wanted “to see who Jesus was” (Luke 19:3). [italics mine]. This says to me that he was curious about Jesus’ character and identity. Why does he think he can find what he seeks using nothing more than his eyes?
Well, Wisdom 12:1 tells me it’s not just his physical eyes that are at work. More is already going on here than meets the physical eye. That “imperishable spirit that is “in all things” is already at work in him. Maybe he knows it. I imagine he longs for the days when he was a valued and respected member of the community. I imagine he longs for the days when he didn’t see his reflection in a puddle and find looking back at him a man dressed in finery he had obtained by not sharing with his less fortunate neighbors, by extorting his them even, and in doing so, by betraying the call and community he had received as “a descendent of Abraham” (Luke 19:8-9).
I wondered what had caused the behavior that cut him off from his people. I began my quest for possible answers by looking “extort” on m-w.com and found it defined as “to obtain from a person by force, intimidation, or undue or illegal power.” I wonder why he got started down unjust paths. Maybe he was just prone to greed and selfishness. Or maybe as he was growing up, his family barely had enough to survive. Maybe he had felt powerless and as he came of age, greed and selfishness were the shields he put up to protect himself from the fear of repeating the struggles in his past. Maybe Roman authorities were extorting him, requiring him to meet certain quotas to protect himself and to be able to continue protecting and providing for his family. Regardless of why he had become the person he had become, I get the feeling that giving “half of [his] possessions… to the poor and paying back “four times over” anyone he has extorted would cost him more than material goods (Luke 19:8).
If Zacchaeus keeps his promises, he’ll have to face people he has badly hurt — probably not just in ways that affected them in the short term. He may have to face that he has made others suffer in ways that still others once made him suffer. Facing such a reality would reopen old wounds as would giving away the possessions he may have used to help himself feel secure. And these costs don’t take into account that Roman authorities may not appreciate his generosity. Their lack of appreciation could bring another level of hardship — or worse—to him and his family.
Perhaps the Roman authorities would bear appraising if they didn’t allow Zacchaeus to keep his promises of reparation and so they wouldn’t punish him. But I have my doubts. I remember the decisions I’ve read that authorities made during Jesus’s final pilgrimage to Jerusalem. If I had cost like these and the material ones Zacchaeus has promised to pay on my horizon, I have a hard time believing I’d have the faith to follow through. As I write this, however, I pray for that kind of faith. Faith aside, maybe Zacchaeus’ own fear the crowds and what they could accomplish will encourage him to keep his promises. The Lord works in all kinds of ways.
Maybe when Zacchaeus keeps his promises, his neighbors will forgive his unjust behavior toward them. But I bet the forgiveness will take time, and the time between fulfillment of the promise and the forgiveness will be difficult. Who knows what the people have lost as a result of Zacchaeus’ actions that cannot be paid back. Poverty has many ways of taking lives.
I imagine that some of the people in Jericho that day may have hoped Jesus would provide them relief from their poverty — for example, by healing a sick or injured family member so that person could return to contributing to the well-being of the family. And I imagine that while Jesus was in their midst he did work miracles. Yet other Gospel stories suggest not everyone who clambered after Jesus received what they had hoped to. When I consider this likelihood and that Jesus spent part of his time in Jericho having dinner with a person who contributed to the suffering of people who sought Jesus’s help and guidance, the Lord’s invitation to himself is challenging as much as consoling. I empathize with the people who call Zacchaeus out as a sinner.
Then there’s the reason I do find the story consoling. The narrative doesn’t tell me whether Zacchaeus kept his promises. Jesus announces that he’s coming to dinner at the tax collectors house before the promises are fulfilled. Now that’s mercy. That’s “overlook[ing] people’s sins so they may repent [italics mine] (Wis. 11:23). Jesus seems to know that Zacchaeus is going to keep his promises (Luke 19:9). I imagine that Jesus wants to reassure the crowd and Zacchaeus of this. Moving forward in time, I also heard somewhere — where I don’t remember — my apologies if you are the source — that names are mentioned in the Gospels when a person was known in the Christian community at the time the gospel was written. That says something about how things might have turned out for Zacchaeus. But as I go back to experiencing Luke’s story of Zacchaeus as if it currently unfolding, the message I get is this: Jesus knows — and wants to remind us and the extorted crowd — that Zacchaeus, like all the rest of us, needs to know that, no matter what a person has done, God wants his or her company. Zacchaeus needs to know God’s unconditional love before he can give it back to God and share it with the people around him. All of us need the same.
Work cited
The Bible. The New American Bible, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.174, Universalis Publishing Ltd.,7 Oct. 2022, https://universalis.com/.
I almost never serve God entirely willingly. Starting to draft this post is a drag. The thought of going back to watching a baking competition is much more pleasant than the thought of having to come up with my own content. Yet I always enjoy having written here, and the thought that someone else might be encouraged by something I’ve written keeps me coming back.
Too often when I’m at church, my mind isn’t there with my body. My mind is either on a hamster wheel of anxiety or wandering in a daydream. I’m most inclined to pray alone, outside, and in my own words—the fewer the better.
Yet I recognize that while some moments of practicing faith can and should be solitary, faith isn’t living if it’s not a group activity as well as an individual one. Liturgies and formal prayers are part of that group activity. The more fully I engage in such group activities, with their ancient, traditional prayers, the more they have the power to put the movements of my heart, mind, and will into perspective and to unite them to the mind, heart, and will of Christ. To the extent that we all experience this transformation into communion, we’re united to each other. This communion spanning time and space and joining God and creation is what liturgy offers, Showing up for it each week is part of my commitment each week to wrestle with getting out of my own head.
Do I think God doesn’t hear my prayers because I struggle with being present in the moment and with choosing to participate in life? No. God doesn’t need me to pray. Prayer is for my benefit and for the benefit of all creation. The more space I have in my mind, my heart, and my will for this benefit, the better I’ll able to receive it and the more good it can do me and the world around me. This is what the verse from Sirach means to me.
But I’m far from being able to fully receive this benefit — and not just because my faith often isn’t as alive as it might appear. I don’t feel as courageous as friends seem to think I am. My default approach to life is not to rock the proverbial boat, not to bring disapproval on myself, and not to disrupt my routines — because disruption triggers anxiety. My default approach is to follow my inclinations. I don’t write this blog because my faith, hope, and love are mature. I write this blog because I want these virtues and others to mature in me.
I constantly fall into the trap of comparing myself to others. I either focus on how my life doesn’t measure up to theirs or how their lives fall short of the ideals I wish we both lived up to. This tendency toward comparison makes me sinful and unwise, and it steals my joy, the very joy God brought me into being to share. And for that reason, the prayer of the tax collector in Luke 18:13 is also my own: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
The Old Testament and New Testament readings from this weekend offer reassurance for those times when we face helplessness, hostility, injustice, despair, and discouragement.
In Exodus 17:8-13, Moses, by himself, can’t send the army attacking his people into retreat. He can pray, but even that gets hard to do without stopping. That’s why God works through relationships, so others can support us when the balloons of our faith, which are inflated with persistence, deflate. In Exodus 17:12-13, support takes the form of Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’ arms whenever they grow fatigued from being extended in prayer.
The next time I’m the person whose balloon of faith is deflated, I’ll take comfort in Luke 18:1-8. It tells me that just making a habit of talking to God will open me to closer union with God, to doing God’s will, and to receiving God’s gifts. Even when the balloon of with my faith is no larger than a mustard seed, when my faith is more about being consistent than about growing in love, it has the power to shape me for the better, little by little, like a creek carving a canyon. Even when my faith is far from bottomless and my love far from unselfish, both virtues can sculpt me into my best self. They’ll grow in me — as long as I don’t give up on them.
Work cited
The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Sitting with the Sacred 