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Continue readingNot how, but Who
The first reading today continues our journey into the Book of Job arriving at chapter 19. Here is a concise summary of what has transpired up to this point in the narrative: In the first two chapters, we meet Job, a wealthy, blameless, and God-fearing man about whom “the Satan” asserts that Job only serves God because he is blessed. Satan argues Job will curse God if he loses everything and so God allows Satan to test Job. Within moments, Job loses all his wealth, his livestock, and his ten children. But he does not curse God. In Chapter 3 Job laments his existence. He wishes he had died at birth or never existed at all, wondering why God allows light and life to continue for people who are in absolute misery. This is the central theme that this Wisdom literature explores throughout the remainder of the text.
From this point forward, Job is visited by friends. Eliphaz relied on personal experience and a spiritual vision, arguing that no human is innocent before God. Bildad appealed to ancient tradition, asserting that ungodly people always face swift ruin. Zophar spoke most bluntly, claiming that Job probably deserved an even harsher punishment than what he received. All are coming from the idea of retributive justice, the idea that God always rewards good behavior and punishes evil in this life. (Note: other canonical books of Wisdom will take issue with this premise, but that is for another day…)
Job feels it is all helpless because no human can argue or go to court with God. Job laments that there is no arbiter or mediator to lay a hand on both parties and bridge the gap between a holy God and suffering humanity. This brings us to our first reading:
“Oh, would that my words were written down! Would that they were inscribed in a record: That with an iron chisel and with lead they were cut in the rock forever! But as for me, I know that my Vindicator lives, and that he will at last stand forth upon the dust; Whom I myself shall see: my own eyes, not another’s, shall behold him, And from my flesh I shall see God; my inmost being is consumed with longing.” (Job 19:23-27)
Clearly, Job is indicating what he is about to say is of great importance and needs to be recorded for generations to come. And yet, the meaning of this passage is obscure because the original text has been poorly preserved and the ancient versions do not agree among themselves. Job asserts three times that he shall see a future vindicator, but he leaves the time and manner of this vindication undefined.
What does Job mean by “Vindicator”? The Hebrew is goʾali, “my goʾel.” The word has much richer connotations than simply “redeemer.” A goʾel is a kinsman-redeemer, someone who acts on behalf of a family member whose rights, property, freedom, or justice need defending. The same linguistic root is used to describe God as Israel’s redeemer, especially in Isaiah. Some commentators offer that this points to an early belief in resurrection based on the Vulgate translation, but Job is not necessarily saying, in the original historical sense, “I know that Jesus Christ will someday raise me bodily from the dead.” He is saying something more immediate and, given his circumstances, quite remarkable: someone will ultimately take my side. Someone will vindicate me. Someone will establish that what is being said about me is not the final truth.
Job’s friends have effectively constructed a theological case against him: God is just; you are suffering terribly; therefore you must have done something to deserve this. Job knows that isn’t true. But he cannot prove it. So he appeals beyond his friends and in some respects beyond his own present experience of God to a future Vindicator.
Why carved in stone? Because everything around him presently argues against what he is about to say. His children are dead, his property is gone, his body is afflicted and friends believe he is guilty. His experience is beyond his understanding and there is nothing in sight that things will be put right. And that is precisely the moment when he says: “But as for me, I know that my Vindicator lives.” This is not a case in which it is all resolved and Job then has the assurance that God is faithful. He says it before anything has worked out. It is a lesson for us.
We usually find it fairly easy to recognize God’s faithfulness looking backward. After the illness has passed, the crisis over, prayers answered, and we made it through. Then we are assured and can say, “God was with me.” Job is doing something much harder. He declares his confidence while he is still sitting in the ashes without a clue how his story ends. He has no idea what vindication will look like or when it will arrive. But he knows one thing: my Vindicator lives.
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The Coming Change
This coming Sunday is the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The traditional interpretation holds that the parable is a symbolic account of the history of Israel, whose leadership (tenants of v.34) has rejected God’s earlier prophetic messengers (cf. Jer 7:25–27 seen in servants of vv.34-35). In v.37 the parable leaves Israel’s past and intuits the events of the Passion and Crucifixion that lay in the days to come. Indeed, the leaders of Jerusalem will seize Jesus and crucify him outside Jerusalem (cf. v.39). Where the traditional interpretation begins to waver starts in v.43 taking on a different direction from its OT parallel in Is 5:1-7:
Now, I will let you know what I mean to do with my vineyard: take away its hedge, give it to grazing, break through its wall, let it be trampled! Yes, I will make it a ruin: it shall not be pruned or hoed, but overgrown with thorns and briers; I will command the clouds not to send rain upon it. (Is 5)
Where the owner seems to abandon the vineyard in the OT telling, here in the Gospel according to Matthew, we are told of a very different outcome: “Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.” (v.43) In a scene reminiscent of the encounter of the prophet Nathan and King David, Jesus confirms what the Jerusalem leaders have already offered: “lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times” (v.41)
What does this imply? The whole parable might then be interpreted as a prediction of imminent régime change in Jerusalem. But if the tenants are the Jerusalem leadership, the new tenants are a “people.” In the Greek text, the word used is ethnos, “nation.” When a “nation” replaces the chief priests and elders there may well be something more radical implied, just as the withering of the fig tree symbolized the destruction of the temple, not merely its reorganization, and that same destruction (“deserted,” 23:38; “not one stone on another,” 24:2) is the conclusion to which the present confrontation is heading. More on this later.
A further clue to what sort of new régime may be expected is provided by the quotation from Ps 118:22: “‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes’?” Psalm 118:22–23, quoted exactly according to the LXX version, is part of the climax to the Hallel psalm which has already featured in Jesus’ royal ride to the city (v. 9, alluding to vv. 25 and 26). The speaker is probably the king, speaking on behalf of the nation, and the vindication of the rejected stone represents Israel’s triumph over the enemies who despised her. Thus the text does not in itself require a messianic application, but we have seen in 2:15 and 4:1–11 how naturally it comes to Matthew (and presumably to the wider Christian tradition within which this parable was handed on) to present Jesus as the personal embodiment of Israel, the “son of God.”
After the tenants’ rejection of the son in the parable the builders’ rejection of the stone is not hard to interpret. If the same stone that is rejected will become the cornerstone, then the son who is rejected may also be expected to be vindicated and to replace the present leadership. The addition of this quotation points us beyond the death of Jesus to his resurrection, which is “wonderful in our eyes.” The new “nation” of v. 43 may be understood as the people who follow the risen Jesus, just as the “something greater than the temple” in 12:6 appears to point beyond Jesus himself to a whole new régime focused on him.
Image credit The Parable of the Wicked Tenants, Maarten Van Valckenborch, c. 1585, Kunsthistorisches Museum | Public Domain PD-US
Eyes Front
“Eyes front” was something heard quite often during my naval career. As a plebe at the US Naval Academy the expression was “keep your eyes in the boat” an expression that originates from traditional maritime and rowing culture, where a coxswain or crew leader would instruct rowers or whaler crews to focus on their own oarsmanship. It was a reminder that you are part of a team and have a specific role that requires your full attention and commitment. While serving in the nuclear control room of submarines, it was a simple admonishment for the control room operators to keep their eyes on their panel and indications. I am reminded of all that when I read the gospel verse, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Lk 9:62)
Perhaps to your ears Jesus’ words sound harsh. But imagine trying to plow a field while constantly turning around. With the light plows of the ancient world, the farmer needed considerable attention to keep the furrow straight. There was no GPS, no machinery holding the line. The plowman had to guide the animal, control the plow and keep his eyes directed toward where he was going. If he continually turned around, the furrow wandered. The work of the plowman was always in front of him. And maybe that is what Jesus is reminding us about.
All of us have something behind us. Things we wish we had done differently. People we miss. Hurts we haven’t completely forgotten. Opportunities we lost. Wonderful times we wish we could recover. Perhaps even versions of ourselves we wish we could become again. Jesus doesn’t tell us to pretend those things never happened. They are part of you and who you have become. We all have a past but the spiritual question is: “Is something in my past keeping me from seeing where Christ is leading me now?”
So often in the Sacrament of Confession people are burdened with regret. Sometimes we keep looking backward at a sin God has already forgiven, as though our failure gets the final word rather than God’s mercy. For others, resentment is the burden, allowing something someone did years ago to determine who they are today.
But it is not all a burden. It could even be nostalgia. Sometimes we become so attached to the way God worked in our lives yesterday that we fail to notice what God is doing today. Following Jesus doesn’t have a retirement age. We can easily think in terms of what has already been accomplished: I raised the family. I served the parish. I had my career. I did my part. All of that ground has been plowed.
Perhaps the furrow is shorter than it once was. Perhaps we cannot do what we once did. But there is still someone to love, to forgive, to encourage, to pray for and more. Some part of ourselves we still need to surrender to God.
Your past can be a source of wisdom, strength, and more, but your past cannot be where you are headed.
And so we put our hand to the plow and thank God for the ground already traveled. We learn from the crooked furrows and are grateful for the straight ones. But we keep our eyes on Christ. Whatever lies behind us is just that behind us. The Kingdom of God is always in front of us.
But if we’re still here, there is still some field in front of us.
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Bearing Fruit
This coming Sunday is the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time. In today’s parable, four times the word karpos (“fruit”) appears in the text, although not always translated that way [v. 34 literally “time of the fruits” = NAB’s “vintage time;” 34 and 41 literally “fruits” = NAB’s “produce;” and in v.43 translated as “fruits”]. By comparison the word karpos occurs once in Mark’s version (12:2) of this parable. Matthew’s use of this theme/image is consistent across his gospel (see also: 3:8, 10; 7:16-20; 12:33; 13:8, 23). It is central to this parable.
There are some significant differences between Mk 12:2 (At the proper time he sent a servant to the tenants to obtain from them some of the produce of the vineyard) and Mt 21:34 (When vintage time drew near, he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce). In Mark the servant is sent “at the proper time” (kairos); the implication is that the fruit was ripe and thus the time to harvest the fruit was here. Yet in Matthew vintage time (kairos) of the fruits “drew near.” In other words, the fruit was almost ripe, but not quite. The expression is the way in which Matthew speaks of the in-breaking of the kingdom (3:2; 4:17; 10:7) and of Jesus’ hour (26:45) pointing to the coming (here, but not fully here) sense of God’s kingdom breaking into our time (chronos).
It is perhaps noteworthy that in Mark the landowner seeks to receive “some of the produce,” literally, “a share” of the fruit of the vineyard. Presumably the workers get to keep their share. But in Matthew the landowner seeks to receive “his produce,” possibly implying “all,” since he owned the entire vineyard. This may well be the meaning when one considers v.41:” give him the produce at the proper times.”
In the parable of “The Two Sons,” when the chief priests and elders remain silent in the face of Jesus’ question, in v.41 the leaders of Jerusalem have no problem in answering when Jesus asks: “What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?”. They do so immediately and with some vehemence: “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death.” The tone and tenor of the response indicated that this parable has hit close to home. The story of an absentee landowner reflects a familiar economic situation at the time; some of the chief priests and elders to whom Jesus is speaking would probably have owned land away from Jerusalem. The landowner must be a wealthy man, because a newly planted vineyard could not be expected to produce fruit for at least four years, during which he would have no return on his capital outlay. Once the vines began to bear fruit there would be an agreed proportion of the crop due to the owner, leaving the tenants to derive their living from the rest. The fault of the tenants in withholding the due produce is compounded by the violence upon the servants. This fault is massively compounded by their decision to murder the owner’s son and so to attempt to take over the property.
Image credit The Parable of the Wicked Tenants, Maarten Van Valckenborch, c. 1585, Kunsthistorisches Museum | Public Domain PD-US
The Feast of the Archangels
In yesterday’s post about the opening chapter of the Book of Job, we encountered an opening scene of the heavenly court of the Lord. Present were God, the son of God and the Satan. As noted yesterday, in the Old Testament they are the servants and attendants of God. To imagine them as angels, in the sense of later Christian theology, is probably an anachronism for the divine author of Job. Today is different. Today we celebrate the Feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael.
The date of September 29 originally marked the dedication of the Church of St. Michael in Rome built by Emperor Constantine. By the middle ages the day, known as Michaelmas, became a major celebration and a holy day of obligation in medieval Europe. For centuries, September 29 remained solely dedicated to St. Michael. Meanwhile, in 1921 Pope Benedict XV added universal feast days for the other two archangels named in Scripture: St. Gabriel on March 24 (the day before the Annunciation) and St. Raphael on October 24. During the liturgical reforms following the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI combined the celebrations into our present celebration.
The Archangels
The Archangel Michael (who is like God) is biblically portrayed as a Protector and Warrior. In the Book of Daniel, Michael is described as “one of the chief princes” and the special protector of the people of Israel (Daniel 10:13, 12:1). In the Letter of Jude he disputes with the devil over the body of Moses, declaring “May the Lord rebuke you!” (Jude 1:9). Lastly, in the Book of Revelation, Michael leads the heavenly armies in a climactic battle to defeat Satan (the dragon) and cast him down to earth (Revelation 12:7-9).
The Archangel Gabriel (God is my strength) appears as the Messenger of God. In the Book of Daniel Gabriel explains prophetic visions to Daniel, specifically interpreting the vision of the ram and the goat, and predicting the timeline of the Messiah (Daniel 8:16, 9:21). In the Gospel of Luke He announces the upcoming birth of John the Baptist to the priest Zechariah (Luke 1:11-20). And at the Annunciation, Gabriel delivers the most famous message in human history to Mary, announcing that she will conceive and bear Jesus, the Son of God (Luke 1:26-38).
The Archangel Raphael (God heals) appears as Healer and Guide. In the Book of Tobit Raphael appears disguised as a human named Azarias to guide young Tobias on a dangerous journey. He protects Tobias and his new wife, Sarah, by driving away and binding the demon Asmodeus and he provides the instructions to cure Tobias’s father, Tobit, of his blindness using fish gall. He ultimately reveals his true nature by stating, “I am Raphael, one of the seven angels who stand and serve before the Glory of the Lord.” (Tobit 12:15).
Of course now we have to ask: who are the other four angels “who stand and serve before the Glory of the Lord”?
The Other Archangels
While the canonical Bible only names Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, ancient Jewish and early Christian traditions reference a council of seven archangels. The concept of seven chief angels is hinted at in Scripture such as the Tobit reference above but also when the Book of Revelation mentions the “seven spirits who are before his throne.“
The earliest and most influential list defining all seven archangels comes from the Book of Enoch (Chapter 20), an ancient Jewish text dating to the 3rd century BC. While non-canonical for most Western churches, it remains part of the official scriptural canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Enoch names the remaining four as:
Uriel (Oriel): His name means “God is my light.” In apocryphal texts like 2 Esdras, he serves as an angel of wisdom who instructs prophets and guards the gates of Eden with a fiery sword.
Raguel: His name means “Friend of God.” Enoch describes him as the angel who “takes vengeance on the world of the luminaries,” acting as a celestial coordinator who ensures that other angels and cosmic laws remain in harmony.
Saraqael (Sariel / Zerachiel): His name means “God’s command” or “God has helped.” He is tasked with overseeing the spirits of humans who fall into sin, guarding against spiritual corruption.
Remiel (Ramiel / Jerahmeel): His name means “Thunder of God” or “Mercy of God.” He is designated as the angel responsible for those who rise from the dead, serving as a guide for holy souls awaiting resurrection.
At a later date, drawing upon ancient liturgies and the 5th-century writings of Pseudo-Dionysius, the Eastern Orthodox Churches, offered these as the name of the seven archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel,
- Selaphiel (Sealtiel): “The Prayer of God,” depicted in icons with his hands crossed over his chest in a posture of deep, contemplative prayer
- Jegudiel (Jhudiel): “The Praise of God,” seen as the defender of people working in positions of leadership or spiritual responsibility.
- Barachiel: “The Blessing of God,” often depicted holding white roses or scattering flower petals, representing the distribution of divine blessings.
The Unnamed Archangels in Western Christianity
Both of these sources are “eastern” which raises the question of why the remaining four archangels remained “unnamed” in Western Christianity. In the early western Church, the popular naming of dozens of unbiblical angels led to a rise in folk magic, superstition, and unauthorized angelic worship. To curb this, Pope Saint Zachary enacted a decree at the Council of Rome in 745 AD. The Church officially banned the invocation of any angel names not explicitly recorded in the recognized books of Sacred Scripture. Consequently, the West restricted its official focus strictly to Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, leaving the other four hidden to history and folklore.
The reason for the ban was, in part, adherence to the canonicity of Sacred Scripture, an unhealthy aspect of angelology, but the “tipping point” leading to the ban was when St. Boniface reported to Rome the unauthorized preaching of Aldebert of Soisson, France. He claimed that the Archangel Raphael personally delivered a letter to him from Jesus authorizing his preaching, his evangelization (which amounted to a cult of personality) and a whole rash of actions. Adelbert’s most egregious act was his prayer: “I pray to you, angel Uriel, angel Raguel, angel Tubuel, angel Adinus, angel Tubuas, angel Sabaoc, angel Simiel…” When the Roman analyzed this list, the theologians recognized that apart from Uriel and Raguel several of the other names had distinct roots in Gnostic magic and occultism. The Church came to a chilling conclusion: Adalbert was not speaking to holy protectors; he was unknowingly (or knowingly) entering into pacts with demons. As a whole, his movement centered around a type of angelology that seemed to move certain angels into lateria worship, that due to God alone. While Boniface wanted him excommunicated, the local councils held him to be insane and removed him from public life.
Despite the Council of Rome’s 745 AD ban that removed him from official Catholic liturgy, Archangel Uriel maintained a vibrant presence in Western literature, art, and high culture. He did this by transitioning from a figure of strict religious dogma into a powerful symbol for humanists, poets, and Protestant traditions. During the Renaissance, European scholars became deeply fascinated by classical antiquity, Jewish mysticism (the Kabbalah), and early Christian texts. Because Uriel’s name translates to ‘God is my Light,” artists and humanists adopted him as the unofficial patron saint of the arts, sciences, and divine wisdom. In da Vinci’s masterpiece, Virgin of the Rocks, the angel guiding the infant John the Baptist alongside Mary is traditionally identified as Uriel, drawing from apocryphal legends.
When the Church of England broke away from Rome in the 16th century, it discarded many medieval Catholic decrees and recognized Uriel as the fourth Archangel, placing him right alongside Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Across the UK and the United States, Episcopal and Anglican churches feature stained-glass windows of Uriel holding a solar orb or a scroll of wisdom. He is uniquely venerated within Anglicanism as the patron saint of the Sacrament of Confirmation, guiding the faithful into the light of spiritual maturity
In Paradise Lost, Milton, a Protestant, was completely unbothered by medieval Catholic bans. He cast Uriel as a major character, naming him the “Regent of the Sun” and the sharpest-sighted spirit in all of Heaven.
Probably more than you wanted to know, but interesting nonetheless!
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Matthew’s Vineyard
This coming Sunday is the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Much like Isaiah 5:1-2 (the reading from the OT accompanying our gospel), Matthew’s parable has a vineyard setting (also the preceding two parables: 20:1-16, the workers in the vineyard; 21:28-32, the two sons). What does the vineyard represent? In Isaiah it represents Israel and many have assumed that that is its meaning in the gospel parable, e.g., the vineyard = Israel; the tenants = religious leaders; landowner’s slaves = prophets whom they rejected. With this interpretation, we note that the vineyard is not destroyed, but turned over to new tenants. To use another biblical metaphor, the unfaithful, greedy shepherds are removed (Mt 9:36; Ezekiel 34) and new shepherds are installed to care for the sheep.
In Matthew’s gospel the vineyard takes on a broader, more universal meaning. Rather than simply, “Israel,” the vineyard is generally taken to mean the Kingdom of God. Remember that entry into the Kingdom was central in the closing warning in the parable of the Two Sons that immediately preceded our text.
Another theme that continues from the preceding parable is the importance of actions that reflect the value of the kingdom. The chief priests and elders of Jerusalem are criticized for a manner of living out their faith that is inconsistent with God’s call; they refuse to change their hearts in the face of the prophetic actions of Jesus. They understand that to acknowledge his authority means to abdicate theirs. They not only say nothing in response to Jesus’ question; they do nothing. As seen in the parable of the Two Sons, bearing fruit is expected of all disciples.
Image credit The Parable of the Wicked Tenants, Maarten Van Valckenborch, c. 1585, Kunsthistorisches Museum | Public Domain PD-US
The Accuser
The first reading today is one that often generates lots of questions. Here is the first reading and I suspect you can easily guess the types of questions:
“One day, when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, Satan also came among them. And the LORD said to Satan, “Whence do you come?” Then Satan answered the LORD and said, “From roaming the earth and patrolling it.” And the LORD said to Satan, “Have you noticed my servant Job, and that there is no one on earth like him, blameless and upright, fearing God and avoiding evil?” But Satan answered the LORD and said, “Is it for nothing that Job is God-fearing? Have you not surrounded him and his family and all that he has with your protection? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his livestock are spread over the land. But now put forth your hand and touch anything that he has, and surely he will blaspheme you to your face.” And the LORD said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power; only do not lay a hand upon his person.” So Satan went forth from the presence of the LORD. (Job 1:6–12)
- What is Satan doing in the heavenly court?
- Why is God letting Satan “go to town” on Job?
- Is this like a heavenly “bet” between God and Satan, almost akin to the gods of Olympus getting ready to torment some poor mortal?
As the first reading continues, we discover the way in which Job’s world is “coming apart at the seams.” But he never blasphemes the Lord. I always imagine it is with great resignation that Job simply says, “Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I go back again. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD!” In all this Job did not sin, nor did he say anything disrespectful of God.” (Job 1:6–12)
The setting for the opening chapter is like an ancient monarch holding court. He is surrounded by the “sons of God.” In ancient mythology these were originally lesser divine beings, but in the Bible they are the servants and attendants of God. To imagine them as angels, in the sense of later Christian theology, is probably an anachronism for the divine author of Job.
Among the “sons of God” is not “Satan” but “the Satan” (haśśāṭān) This is not a proper name, as in later Christian theology, but rather describes an office and a function: “the adversary.” It is a fair question to ask if the Satan is a member of the heavenly court, an intruder, or a member of the court who seems to have been God’s investigative agent checking up on things around the world – or perhaps the investigating attorney. What is clear is that across the breadth of the Old Testament the Satan is not associated with diabolos. The context of uses in other places suggest that the best understanding of the use in Job is as “the accuser.” Then again, it is less clear who is being accused, Job or God.
As readers, we are aware of Job’s integrity; the text informs us that God is also aware of it, and in fact takes pride in Job (v. 8). The Satan is skeptical and, in front of the whole heavenly court, suggests that Job is virtuous simply because he gets something out of it. If Job were to lose all these blessings, what would he say then? He would flagrantly curse God. In the context of a shame culture, Yahweh’s honor is now involved and has a stake in the outcome. The Satan is allowed to put Job to the test, something he hastens to do.
What just happened? I’d suggest that the heavenly scene provides an open forum in which God permits the testing of Job. That is, the plan to test Job was not hatched in a secret meeting between God and the Satan. Rather it was decided openly before the heavenly assembly. In this setting Yahweh’s motivation, based on his complete confidence in Job, was fully known and thus it was above question. This is important, for the author has a doubly difficult task throughout his work: continually to characterize Job as innocent and not to characterize Yahweh as demonic or capricious.
Was this a wager? There are scholars who think so, but across Scripture, wagers tend to have a sum or prize to be handed over to the winner. The single issue at stake was the motivation for Job’s upright behavior and his fear of God. The Satan functions as God’s servant, solely an instrument in the testing and God is ultimately responsible for all that happens.
In the end, the Book of Job is a wonderful example of Wisdom Literature whose language and theme are common across the ancient Near East. It explores that enduring question and challenge of why bad things happen to good people. Take a moment to watch this video that offers several different insights about God’s response to Job.
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A Call for Change
This coming Sunday is the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. In this section of the Gospel according to Matthew we encounter Jesus in Holy Week amidst an on-going dialogue with the chief priests and elders. These folk are not happy with Jesus as just the day before he had upset the tables of the moneychangers in the Temple area. When Jesus returned to the Temple the following day, the leaders of Judaism were there with questions about the authority with which Jesus takes such bold and prophetic actions (and interrupts the commerce of the Temple).
Last week’s gospel (parable of the Two Sons) occurs in the shadow of Jesus’ question to the leaders about the bold and prophetic ministry of John the Baptist. Jesus asks “by what authority” did John baptize? Was it of heavenly or earthly origin? As mentioned in a previous post the leaders’ silence reveals their uncommitted reasoning leading to a lack of answer. They do not answer because they do not want the on-lookers to question their authority. Their silence is not to advance or retard the Kingdom of God, but to preserve the status quo. They will not change their status, their minds, or their hearts.
Embedded in the prophetic actions and calls of John and Jesus is exactly that – a call for change. The call for a change of heart comes from a heavenly authority. In their silence, the leaders abdicate not only their authority from “the chair of Moses,” but also their own entrance into the Kingdom.
Eugene Boring has pointed out that there is a strong structural parallel between the parables of the “Two Sons” and that of “The Lord’s Vineyard.”
| The Two Sons | Common element | The Lord’s Vineyard |
| 21:28a | Jesus’ introductory word | 21:33a |
| 21:28b–30 | The parable | 21:33b–39 |
| 21:31a | Jesus’ question | 21:40 |
| 21:31b | Their self-incriminating response | 21:41 |
| 21:31c | Jesus’ concluding pronouncement of judgment | 21:42–43 [44] |
Image credit The Parable of the Wicked Tenants, Maarten Van Valckenborch, c. 1585, Kunsthistorisches Museum | Public Domain PD-US
True Humility
“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted;” a familiar verse from Luke. But that doesn’t tell us what true humility is. Merriam Webster defines humility as freedom from pride or arrogance. That’s a start; it tells us what humility is not and by implication tells us what not to do in life. St. Bonaventure offered that humility is the guardian and gateway to all the other virtues. So, humility is important for being in this life and getting to the next.
St. Francis of Assisi says this of humility: for what a person is before God, that he is and no more. (Admonition 19). I like that saying – but it is more reminder than definition. I think we need to put some “meat on the bones,” something that will guide us into what to do or how to be.
Of course we could all take a moment and think of people in our life that we consider humble. We can consider the traits and characteristics of that person that makes us conclude they are a humble person – not just meek, shy, retiring or quiet, but humble. The Christian writer C. S. Lewis offers that: “True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.” I sat with that a while this week and came up with a list that might reflect Lewis’ thought. The list is not complete, but only a start.
- A humble person has lots to brag about, but he doesn’t boast. He or she might share accomplishments from their life, but for a purpose that has nothing to do with self-aggrandizement. The humble person is just as interested in your accomplishments.
- A humble person can be corrected because they know that life ever operates in the sphere of learning. As my dad would say, “Every man is your better because you can learn something from them.”
- A humble person serves willingly because the motivation is knowing that the one served will be better off.
- A humble person knows the difference between being a leader and being the boss.
- A humble person will choose gentleness before strength, will act the same with the poor and the rich, the young and the old, the friend and the foe – will act with compassion and purpose.
- The humble person pursues greatness. While one might be content in many things, the humble person is not content with their own character. The humble person always seeks greater wisdom, a deeper capacity to love, a balance, and a wholeness…or in our church lexicon – holiness.
- The humble person is in charge of their lives – even when they choose to follow, to be obedient, and take the path less desirable.
- Here’s one I think is very important. The humble person is condescending.
Did he just say, “condescending?” Yes, I did. When most people hear that word, they think of showing a patronizing or superior attitude toward others. But I am talking about the original meaning from the Latin condescendere – to come down so as to be with or to accompany or to serve.
The ultimate condescendere was Jesus being born as one of us. Coming from the Heavenly kingdom to, as St. John literally wrote, “to pitch his tent among us.” Jesus came down to serve us and to do so humbly. I think all of the characteristics of humility above – and more – apply to Jesus. In our second reading, the Letter to the Philippians (2:3-11), St. Paul writes:
Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but (also) everyone for those of others. Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus, Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.
Obedient to death – giving his life for our sins, for our salvation, paying the price – truly thinking not of himself, but of us. Sacrificing everything, never knowing if we would accept and embrace his gift of redemption. His humility to the plan of his heavenly Father brought Jesus to disgrace in the eyes of the power of the world.
Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
There you have it. Some thoughts on humility. Take some time today and make your own list on what it means to be humble and how you plan to walk through this life in humility. You have examples in the people you admire.. You have the testimony of the life of Jesus in Scripture. You have what you need to begin to change the way we think. Then what we think, becomes the words we speak. The words we speak become the actions of our lives. Those actions become our habits. Habits become character. Character becomes who we are as we stand before God. For we are that and nothing more.
Amen
Image credit: Parable of the Two Sons, Andrei Monorov, 2012 | CC BY SA 4.0 |
What Next?
This coming Sunday is the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time: 31 Which of the two did his father’s will?” They answered, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.
It seems that the tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you – at least the chief priests and elders are entering. But then there is a question how much is implied here by proagō, “go before.” There are a couple of possibilities:
- At a minimum it means a reversal of priorities, with the chief priests and elders admitted but only after the sinners have been welcomed in. In that case they must endure the humiliation of being led, “shown the way” (a possible sense of proagō; cf. 2:9) by those they have regarded as beyond the pale.
- But in 8:11–12 the fate of the “sons of the kingdom” was not merely demotion but exclusion, and while proagō normally implies that the other person will follow (cf. 14:22; 26:32; 28:7), in the wider context of Matthean statements about the future for Israel’s leaders many interpreters conclude that it implies here “get there first” and so “take the place of.” In the parable of 25:1–12 those who go in first enjoy the feast, but the door is shut before the others get there. And in 7:21–23 the fate of those who do not “do the will of my Father” is to be excluded from the kingdom of heaven.
- Exclusion is not explicit here, but it would be hazardous to argue from the choice of the verb proagō that here there is, unusually, hope for the ultimate salvation of those who have rejected God’s call—unless, of course, like the good son, they subsequently change their minds, and respond to the preaching of righteousness as the tax collectors and prostitutes have done.
32 When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him.
One should not forget that this parable is preceded by Jesus’ question about John the Baptist and from where came his (authority) to baptize. It is a remarkable testimony to the high view of John the Baptist in this gospel that whereas previously Jesus had condemned those who refused to believe and respond to his own message (11:20–24; 12:41–42), he now places rejection of John’s ministry on the same level.
Those previous denunciations were of unbelief in Galilee, where Jesus had himself been active. Our narrative is located in Judea, where according to this gospel’s story-line he has not previously been heard, and so he speaks now of John as his southern predecessor and “colleague”, to whose call Jerusalem had responded before he himself took up the mission in the north (3:5).
The repentance and its appropriate “fruit” which John demanded according to 3:7–10 matches closely the Matthean sense of “righteousness.” John came to show people how to live according to God’s will, and those who “believed” him repented and were baptized. They included especially the less respectable members of Jewish society, for whom repentance was an obvious need, and perhaps for that reason the chief priests and elders saw themselves as not in need of such “righteousness” as it was something they assumed they already possessed. The obvious and enthusiastic response of the common people should have caused them to change their mind later.
If they refused John’s call because they are unable to discern that John was “of God,” then it is not likely that they will attribute heavenly authority to Jesus.
Image credit: Parable of the Two Sons, Andrei Monorov, 2012 | CC BY SA 4.0 |