Again he said, “To what shall I compare the Kingdom of God?
It is like yeast that a woman took
and mixed in with three measures of wheat flour
until the whole batch of dough was leavened.”
Periodically we should be reminded of the threefold hiddenness of our God. As tempted as we might be to tear away the veil, or at least to press against upon it and discover what palpable, substantial reality might be found behind it, we must be content to worship an invisible God.
I refer to our doctrine of God's presence in Jesus. He was born of Mary -- we insist -- and was clearly a man of his time, subject to the laws, politics, economics, and religious forces of first century Palestine. And yet he is God, the Son of God. That is a hidden mystery; we cannot see with our eyes any direct proof of his divinity, although we infer it from the stories we tell about him. Which we have on the integrity of his (long-dead) apostles and disciples.
Secondly, we believe he gives himself to us, and invites us into the mystery of his passion, death, and resurrection, under the forms of bread and wine. They are "the body and blood of Christ!" (Many people say more simply, "Jesus!") We cannot see Jesus there, although some people describe a mystical experience of his presence. Nor can any scientific instrument prove this mystery to skeptics.
Finally, with Saint Paul and twenty centuries of testimony, we believe that the Church is the body of Christ. It remains as pure and substantial as it was when the Lord demanded of Saint Paul, "Why do you persecute me?" Despite our innumerable, staggering, and scandalous sins, we present Jesus to the world. We don't simply represent him in some distant, ambassadorial sense; we are his presence.
Today's teaching about wee mustard seeds and powdery yeast reminds us of God's invisible presence, and of the Kingdom which is being built before the uncomprehending eyes of the world.
Presbyters and preachers are powerfully tempted to tear away, penetrate, or somehow press against that mysterious veil to discover a more palpable, substantial form. Just about any pagan religion does a better job of it, like the Egyptian priests who turned their staffs into serpents.
Saint Paul's rivals -- his so-called super-apostles -- described to gullible Corinthians their powerful mystical experiences of the seventh heaven, whereas Paul mockingly suggested he'd only seen the third heaven, And he followed that remark with his boast about the many indignities he'd suffered, although they only proved his personal weakness.
Only faith can penetrate the hiddenness of God as the Letter to the Hebrews attests,
Therefore, brothers, since through the blood of Jesus we have confidence of entrance into the sanctuary by the new and living way he opened for us through the veil, that is, his flesh. and since we have “a great priest over the house of God,” let us approach with a sincere heart and in absolute trust, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience* and our bodies washed in pure water. (Hebrews 10:19-22)
Presiding at Mass, priests, in their efforts to persuade their congregation to believe in Jesus, can become too demonstrative. But their affectation becomes only a distraction between the Lord and his people. While I might use frequent reminders to keep children's attention, during an ordinary Mass among adults I hope my manner and enunciation only leads in prayer. I should not have to persuade anyone to believe; we are a congregation of believers. Pomposity demonstrates a lack of faith in, and perhaps contempt for, the congregation.
As evangelists, every Christian must remember there is nothing obvious about God's presence in our world. He is not immediately accessible to reason. Nothing is gained by rudeness, pushiness, or cajoling people to believe. The hidden Lord is seen only in our dedication and sincerity, and in our deep respect for every person. For everyone is, in some sense, a very particular image of God. We see him everywhere, and we find him especially in our disappointments and hardships.
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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.