Lectionary: 158
Every priest stands daily at his ministry,
offering frequently those same sacrifices
that can never take away sins. But this one offered one sacrifice for sins,
and took his seat forever at the right hand of God; now he waits until his enemies are made his footstool.
In November, the month of death, judgement, heaven, hell and elections, we ponder the end of the age, the last harvest when God's angels will gather all the nations to the summation of history. That apocalypse will not render all human striving, success and failure moot. Human life must mean something! On that day, everything will fall into place by the decree of God. Virtue will be rewarded and wickedness punished.
It is impossible that wickedness should be allowed to stand and its consequences persist into eternity. Rather there must be some kind of reconciliation. Even the terrible wounds on the body of Jesus, who is Innocence Itself, will be made beautiful. As we hear during many funerals and one of the Eucharistic Prayers, every tear will be wiped away.
Allow me, if you don't mind, to digress on this subject of history. It has to do with Catholicity, priesthood and integrity.
If someone offered you ownership of the Mona Lisa or an excellent copy of the Mona Lisa, I suppose you would prefer the original. It's priceless by any market standard. Copies are expensive, and excellent copies that might be indistinguishable from Da Vinci's masterpiece might be extremely valuable, but you would surely prefer the original.
But what if a madman were to slash the original, leaving it damaged but clearly recognizable. It happens occasionally. You might remember someone attacked Michaelangelo's Pieta several years ago. Would you still choose the original? The copy looks very good!
I suppose you'd still want the original.
Merchants and collectors worry about these kinds of things. It's a philosophical question: why should we prefer original art to excellent copies? Can't one get the same aesthetic effect from either one? Sometimes when I go to a museum I finish my tour in the gift shop, looking for copies of the art I've just seen. I take home a picture and have it framed, remembering the experience. But, as much as I admire the purchase, it's not like standing in front of that painting and knowing the artist's own hand touched that very canvas.
During the nineteenth century the brilliant Protestant theologian Rudolph Bultmann taught that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a really important myth. He offered a major insight into how stories, songs, rituals, customs and traditions shape our imagination. A myth is not an untruth; a myth is an important story that expresses and preserves essential human values. Did the lad George Washington cut down a cherry tree and then admit he'd done so to his father? It doesn't matter; what's important is that our children understand the importance of telling the truth. Bultmann taught that, whether there ever was a Jesus of Nazareth, or whether he was crucified and raised up again is not so important as the myth. Every generation should be taught that story because it contains the Gospel; that is, certain values that are essential to human civilization. In fact the entire world should know and accept this European myth because every other continent is plagued with barbaric customs and savage traditions.
Introduced to Bultmann's thought in the seminary, I was deeply distressed by the idea. As a budding preacher, I heard Bultmann say, "It doesn't matter how you act in private, what matters is how well you preach in public. People should believe in your appearance."
In many ways it makes a great deal of sense to our American culture. We are obsessed with image. Our public actions should have no taint of impropriety; but what goes on in private is private. Appearances should be maintained. As as young Franciscan cleric I wondered whether I could keep hidden my struggle with the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience -- with chastity in particular.
Many people, during Bultmann's time, could not suspect that the astonishing European civilization, with its unprecedented abilities to govern millions of people, providing food, clothing, shelter, education, opportunity and leisure to everyone -- would soon collapse into the most savage war the world had ever seen. Even as radios and newspapers breathlessly described the horror of artillery, mines, poison gas and trench warfare, the carnage was unimaginable. Unresolved by four bitter years of mechanized killing, the war would resume in 1939 for another six years. Civilian deaths outnumbered military, setting a precedent for today's wars of terror. There was something rotten in European culture, and not only in Denmark. Nor was it resolved by war, as we're seeing today.
Seeing Christian nations killing each other, many believed Christianity had failed. I don't know if this is so, but I am sure Bultmann's mythological theory has failed. Perhaps the scandal invaded the Catholic Church when some priests believed they could maintain the appearances of integrity but flout its reality. They learned it from the rest of us, from false advertising, phony politicians, serial marriage and divorce, the cult of sexual pleasure, and the culture of image. Every culture has its Big Lies; ours are killing us.
It is impossible that wickedness should be allowed to stand and its consequences persist into eternity. Rather there must be some kind of reconciliation. Even the terrible wounds on the body of Jesus, who is Innocence Itself, will be made beautiful. As we hear during many funerals and one of the Eucharistic Prayers, every tear will be wiped away.
Allow me, if you don't mind, to digress on this subject of history. It has to do with Catholicity, priesthood and integrity.
If someone offered you ownership of the Mona Lisa or an excellent copy of the Mona Lisa, I suppose you would prefer the original. It's priceless by any market standard. Copies are expensive, and excellent copies that might be indistinguishable from Da Vinci's masterpiece might be extremely valuable, but you would surely prefer the original.
But what if a madman were to slash the original, leaving it damaged but clearly recognizable. It happens occasionally. You might remember someone attacked Michaelangelo's Pieta several years ago. Would you still choose the original? The copy looks very good!
I suppose you'd still want the original.
Merchants and collectors worry about these kinds of things. It's a philosophical question: why should we prefer original art to excellent copies? Can't one get the same aesthetic effect from either one? Sometimes when I go to a museum I finish my tour in the gift shop, looking for copies of the art I've just seen. I take home a picture and have it framed, remembering the experience. But, as much as I admire the purchase, it's not like standing in front of that painting and knowing the artist's own hand touched that very canvas.
During the nineteenth century the brilliant Protestant theologian Rudolph Bultmann taught that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a really important myth. He offered a major insight into how stories, songs, rituals, customs and traditions shape our imagination. A myth is not an untruth; a myth is an important story that expresses and preserves essential human values. Did the lad George Washington cut down a cherry tree and then admit he'd done so to his father? It doesn't matter; what's important is that our children understand the importance of telling the truth. Bultmann taught that, whether there ever was a Jesus of Nazareth, or whether he was crucified and raised up again is not so important as the myth. Every generation should be taught that story because it contains the Gospel; that is, certain values that are essential to human civilization. In fact the entire world should know and accept this European myth because every other continent is plagued with barbaric customs and savage traditions.
Introduced to Bultmann's thought in the seminary, I was deeply distressed by the idea. As a budding preacher, I heard Bultmann say, "It doesn't matter how you act in private, what matters is how well you preach in public. People should believe in your appearance."
In many ways it makes a great deal of sense to our American culture. We are obsessed with image. Our public actions should have no taint of impropriety; but what goes on in private is private. Appearances should be maintained. As as young Franciscan cleric I wondered whether I could keep hidden my struggle with the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience -- with chastity in particular.
Many people, during Bultmann's time, could not suspect that the astonishing European civilization, with its unprecedented abilities to govern millions of people, providing food, clothing, shelter, education, opportunity and leisure to everyone -- would soon collapse into the most savage war the world had ever seen. Even as radios and newspapers breathlessly described the horror of artillery, mines, poison gas and trench warfare, the carnage was unimaginable. Unresolved by four bitter years of mechanized killing, the war would resume in 1939 for another six years. Civilian deaths outnumbered military, setting a precedent for today's wars of terror. There was something rotten in European culture, and not only in Denmark. Nor was it resolved by war, as we're seeing today.
Seeing Christian nations killing each other, many believed Christianity had failed. I don't know if this is so, but I am sure Bultmann's mythological theory has failed. Perhaps the scandal invaded the Catholic Church when some priests believed they could maintain the appearances of integrity but flout its reality. They learned it from the rest of us, from false advertising, phony politicians, serial marriage and divorce, the cult of sexual pleasure, and the culture of image. Every culture has its Big Lies; ours are killing us.
The Catholic Church has been savagely attacked since the outset but its worse damage comes from within. Can anyone believe this original work of Jesus Christ, this "Mona Lisa," is more valuable than the copies? There's a wry joke among Catholics in many major cities: the largest Catholic church is an upstart mega-church. They offer very attractive packages, apparently unblemished by the ravages of time, with all the appeal of the original and none of its awfulness. They don't age well; when they get a bit tattered around the edges, they vanish in the shark pool of newer copies.
As we approach the Solemnity of Christ the King, pondering Judgement, deeply troubled by the reemergence of racism, xenophobia and nativism in the United States, horrified by scandal within the Catholic Church, we remember the priest who entered the temple on our behalf, who
As we approach the Solemnity of Christ the King, pondering Judgement, deeply troubled by the reemergence of racism, xenophobia and nativism in the United States, horrified by scandal within the Catholic Church, we remember the priest who entered the temple on our behalf, who
offered one sacrifice for sins, and took his seat forever at the right hand of God; now he waits until his enemies are made his footstool.
I believe in God's Judgement. That Day comes. Everyone is held, and will be held, accountable for private and public life. What is whispered in secret will be shouted from rooftops.We have seen plenty of that already with the Scandal and the Me Too movement. This judgement is not just a myth.
Our Catholic tradition -- with all its faults and some, perhaps, systemic -- cultivates the virtue and Sacrament of Penance. We don't go to confession to admit how good we are. We find a measure of integrity in confessing our sins to another sinful human being. Within that sacred moment I don't have to be my image; I am what I pretend to be. I can beg God again to make me whole. Because I am his enemy I will be his footstool, grateful to have found a place in his presence.
Our Catholic tradition -- with all its faults and some, perhaps, systemic -- cultivates the virtue and Sacrament of Penance. We don't go to confession to admit how good we are. We find a measure of integrity in confessing our sins to another sinful human being. Within that sacred moment I don't have to be my image; I am what I pretend to be. I can beg God again to make me whole. Because I am his enemy I will be his footstool, grateful to have found a place in his presence.
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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.