Wednesday, June 7, 2023

Wednesday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 355

Jesus said to them, "Are you not misled because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God?


I am struck by the contrast between Tobit's grief and remorse which opens our first reading today, and the lack of either among the Sadducees in today's gospel. 

They intend to test Jesus with a story which entails deep, constant grief on the part of a young widow. The story is risible and like many humorous stories lacks plausibility, but it also betrays the Sadducees' indifference to human grief.  They surely knew of Sarah and her seven husbands in the Book of Tobit. Were they unmoved by her story?

In fact, people often suffer an apparent assault of death as several loved ones die within a short period of time. Suddenly the world has changed and they're left confused, anxious, and overwhelmed. These friends and companions who were there are now gone, and they wonder, "How will I live without them?" Sadducees and people like them would mock their sadness.

Tobit also wept with grief over his lost eyesight. And his loss of self-righteousness. He had made a habit of burying the dead even when they had been murdered by government-sponsored terrorists. Following one particular incident, he had gone blind. It was accidental; it could happen to anyone. But he and others saw it as a curious consequence for his sacrifice -- as in, "No good deed will go unpunished." 

And then, in his helpless state, he had become querulous. When his wife was rewarded a bonus by her employer, he accused her of thievery. And she replied, "Where are your charitable deeds now? Where are your righteous acts?"

The Sadducees cannot be bothered with human realities like grief; they consider themselves above young widows, querulous old men and their long suffering wives. They seem to know nothing of disappointment or sorrow when they hector One who consoles the sorrowing, heals the sick, and raises the dead. They disrespect the authority of one who is wiser than Moses; they have no fear of one more powerful than Elijah. 

They are so determined to humiliate Jesus that they have lost all human compassion. They know nothing of the grief which looks to heaven for consolation, finding none on earth.  

Their faith in God is little more than entrenched ideology. Their opinions are like houses built on sand, cheap and expendable; with foundation in neither truth nor Jewish tradition. When the politics of the moment changes, their opinions will change as readily. But, in the encounter with Jesus, they're driven by the fear of One they can neither overcome nor control. 

Jesus knows grief, his own and ours. The gospels tell how often he is moved by compassion, for "they seem like sheep without a shepherd." His belief in eternal life is built on the human experience of God's historic mercy. He remembers how God heard the cry of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt. He knows the story of the Maccabean widow and the martyr Eleazar. When someone of deep faith dies, we take comfort in the assurance that our Good God will raise them up and restore them to us. He is surely not indifferent to our sadness! 

During this time of polarized controversy, the gospel challenges us to slow down and examine our own beliefs about abortion, homosexuality, transsexuality, and so forth. While our opinions might conform with the Church's teaching, are they energized by compassion or by anger? 

Where do these convictions lead us? I knew a fellow who was so assured of his fight against abortion he excused his adultery as necessary self-care. It happens. And there's no excuse for it. 

In our struggle for the truth, we must continually examine our motives and suspect the energy that drives them. The teachings of our Church and our religious convictions have solid foundations but, individually, we might not. 

Long time readers of this blog know that I sometimes get carried away and descend into harangue. My practice has been to write two weeks before publication, in the hope that I can still live with what I have written at the time of publication. I always read the post a day before it goes on line for typos and potential rewrite. But even two weeks has not always been enough to undo some nonsense, and there it stands. But I let it stand in testimony against me because, as Pontius Pilate said, "What I have written, I have written." 

“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.” Omar Khayyam

Jesus also knew our anger. I am sure his angry cleansing of the temple was focused and appropriate. It was as solidly founded as the oracles of Isaiah and the curses of Jeremiah. But he understands when we're driven not by the Holy Spirit but by some personal demons. And he forgives as we confess our sins. We cannot back down in our convictions but we can be more circumspect and more compassionate, especially toward bewildered youth, abandoned women, and deeply distressed compatriots. 




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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.