Saturday, August 3, 2019

Saturday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time


This fiftieth year you shall make sacred by proclaiming liberty in the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you,


Like many good ideas of priests, the jubilee year, as described in Leviticus 25, never actually happened. It requires little experience or insight to see how impractical it is. Human beings don't act that way, not even the devout who are eager to do God's will.
One time, as a boy, I played in a game of field hockey. The competition was a summer program sponsored by the city parks division. Anyone could join. I got there soon enough to be given a mallet ahead of the arriving crowd. I played for a few  minutes when a bystanding kid persuaded me to let him play with my mallet for a few minutes. I saw what happened next. He traded with another player, and when I wanted my mallet back he pointed to the other fellow. Property changes hands and possession is nine-tenths of the law. I found something else to do.
The Levite priests who wrote Leviticus were not supposed to own property. It was easy for them to make such rules for other people. It was nice of the Jews to keep the idea; as ridiculous as it was it sounded like something God would suggest. The Church drew upon this inspiration to create the tradition of Holy Years.
The jubilee year, as a fantasy, reminds us that the Earth belongs to God, and we mortals belong to Earth. Earthlings, we might be called mudlings, for we're made out of mud. We're here only for a while; our claim to ownership of movable and immovable property is useful for its purposes but never absolute. If we don't lose it through bankruptcy, eminent domain, theft or war, we'll lose it to death. As Flannery O'Conner wrote, "You can't be any poorer than dead." 
Nor will our accumulated wealth mean anything once we're dead and standing before the Judgment Seat of God. How we used it might help, if we used it for the benefit of others.
Deep in the heart of Jewish/Christian religion is the care and concern we owe to the least among us. Ownership comes with the onus of responsibility. This is most clearly demonstrated by the God who appeared among us not as a god but as one with nothing. He was an exile with no fixed address and no means of support who nevertheless gave everything for the salvation of the world. Had the Lord appeared as wealthy and powerful and willing to give some of it to others, he would not deserve our love or respect. At best, we might be grateful to him -- but that would be optional.
This passage from Leviticus reminds us that we are, in fact, like Jesus. We owe everything and own nothing. We have no abiding place in this world.

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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.

Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.

I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.

You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.