Do You Also Wish To Go Away?

The concluding exchange between Jesus and Simon Peter pulls together the “Bread of Life” discourse we have been hearing at Mass for a number of weeks. St. John the evangelist tells us that many of Jesus’ disciples left him because of his claim to be “the Bread of Life.” His words clearly troubled them, even angered some. What was the cause? Christ’s words crashed against the walls of their closed minds, and rather than open up to the truth, they refused to listen, and turned away. It is a very old problem in our human condition. Many of us act at times as if we say: “Don’t bother me with truth. I want to cling to my opinions, to what I choose to believe. How dare you rock my boat, challenge my beliefs, shake up my world?” And so they left Christ, turning away from the living God who was addressing them in and through Jesus.

Hence, Jesus turns to the few disciples left with him, and asks one of his probing questions: “Do you also wish to go away?” To go away from what or whom? From Christ, from his words, from the unknown God acting on human beings in and through Christ. In effect Jesus asks, “Do you want to break communion with God? Do you want to leave me? Why?”

Typically it is Peter who speaks for disciples: “LORD, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life....” Note that Peter does not call him “Jesus,” as Peter is speaking to God-in-Christ, and uses the sacred, divine Name, Yahweh (translated as “LORD”). In typical Jewish style, Peter asks a question in response to Jesus’ question. To whom else could Peter go? To whom or to what can you go if you leave God? If you decided to cut free from God and His truth, what would you do? Where would you go to flee the face of God? As the Psalmist notes (139), “Even if I lie in the grave, YOU are there.” How does one escape the living God? Ask the first man. He tried to escape, hiding behind a tree (Genesis 3). Apart from the divine light, it is all darkness. Nothingness.

Then Peter gives his personal reason, Everyman’s reason, for staying with God-in-Christ: “You have the words of eternal life.” Surely each creature wants to live, and to live forever. Nowhere can such life and truth be found except in union with God. That is what “eternal life” means: true human life in union with divine LIFE. It is not only unending, but full of divinity, joyful beyond words, radiant in truth. Because Peter hears Christ speaking “the words of eternal life,” he identifies the One speaking to him: “You are the Holy One of God.”

One God-in-Christ, yet such diverse responses. Why is it that so few persons stayed with Christ? What is there about the unknown God speaking through Jesus that proves unacceptable, undesirable to so many? Is not one reason that many persons prefer ancient beliefs to living in God’s presence? According to Jesus, they think that “the old wine is better.” Ancient beliefs are familiar, safe, unthreatening. The God whose Presence enters a human soul is uncontrollable, ever new, always drawing one beyond himself into unchartered waters. Jesus draws one through religious beliefs into communion with the nameless I AM.

Brief Notes On Possible Interpretations/Distortions Of The Gospel Of Christ

04 August 2012  St. John Vianney

Preparing for the second of five weeks of homilies on the Gospel of John, chapter 6, it occurred to me that there are a number of different developments from the gospel of Christ that one can find in the New Testament. To put the matter more simply: the basic story of Christ could have given rise to various movements and interpretations, and indeed, it has.  Some of these have been more or less legitimate developments from the Gospel, because they embody an unfolding of original intentions into concrete reality. Other developments seems illegitimate, because they involve a betrayal of what one can discover of the evangelists’ intentions.

Jesus and the early gospel movements could and did give rise to:

• Relatively independent, discrete communities of disciples of Jesus gathered around his remembered words, and sharing their lives together. This pattern has been seen in the “low church” movements from the earliest centuries to the present.
• Relatively connected communities of faith, governed by a hierarchy, and developing various forms of liturgical life. This pattern shows up in Orthodox, Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist traditions, and so on.  
• A more individual, philosophical or non-intellectual approach to living the faith of Christ,  such as found among anchorites, hermits, solitaries, and some philosophers.
• Fervent communities of “believers” highly influenced by early Christian apocalyptic, and more or less waiting for “Jesus to return” and “establish the Kingdom.”
• Communities or wandering individuals assuming a Gnostic interpretation of Christ, meaning that adherents understand themselves as essentially Christ, who “know” that they are saved because they “know who they are,” which is God.
• Kinds of “progressive” Christian movements that eschew the thrust of living towards God unto eternal life, but who seek to use “gospel values” to “transform the world.” This approach has been highly powerful and entrenched in recent Catholicism and in various Protestant churches since the Enlightenment, which spawned this interpretation.

Comment:  According to my understanding of the story of Christ contained in documents of our “New Testament,” the first three approaches appear to be more or less legitimate readings; each unfolds some potentialities displayed in the canonical Gospels, the letters of the Apostle Paul, and so on. The apocalyptic variety has been found within Christianity from the beginning, so it, too, could be called “legitimate” to an extent, even though it embodies a split from present reality. On the other hand, the ancient Gnostic interpretation of salvation through knowledge essentially betrays the characteristic humility of Christ, and utterly disturbs the distinction between God and human being.  As for the Progressivist interpretation of Christ and the Gospel: by relegating a concern for the truth of God and eternal life to an at-best second-class status, the “Progressivists” also betray the essential core of the gospel; like Demus of old, they are “in love with the world,” and fail to recognize in the story of Christ a radical movement from this world into the divine Presence, both here and beyond.

Bela

Dear folks,

Just sitting down to write a short blog before heading off to Monarch / Raynesford for week-end duties, I heard a scratching sound about 10 feet from me in the living room. Moses, lying near me, noticed too, and looked at me to take control of the matter. I said, "It's Bela!"  I walked over to a small box with computer accessories, and there s/he was, in the box, seemingly trying to climb out. We may have awakened the creature from sleep, but bats usually sleep in high points in a home, such as a corner of a room. Taking a tip from parishioner Patrick Simpson, I put on leather gloves, handy on the hearth, and picked up Bela. Carefully cradling the bat in my gloved hands, I could not unlock the screen door, so I went to the garden door. I had to slide one hand out of the glove, unlock the door, slide my hand back in, carefully to carry Bela outside.  Zoe and Moses were with me. Bela took off inside the door, and flew to the lowest level, into the laundry. Looking up high, I found the bat on a screen, near the ceiling, and reaching up with gloved hands, gently pulled it down.  Escorted by pups, I carried Bela outside, and released the little fellow onto a high wood pile, where dogs cannot reach.  Quickly the bat sized up the situation, and took off, making a few loops around us, and around the yard, and then headed south towards the neighbor's.  Bela has returned to nature--something Rousseau could never do, despite his efforts.

I first saw him on 1 August, at midnight, with the full moon, and today, 4 August, just before 1 pm, he flew away. A three-day visit by a fascinating creature. Why some people are petrified of bats, I do not know. Bela is dark brown to black, with wings of same color.  And yes, Bela is surely a bat, and not a bird, not a mouse, not a vampire.

The Stream In The Desert (edited for the bulletin)

(The longer version of this mediation can be found here)


Many there are--millions indeed--who are living in the sun-baked, dry, nearly lifeless desert of unbelief. They knew neither their need for God, nor the truth of divine reality. They are oblivious to the spiritual movement into God which constitutes the meaning, purpose, and end of life. These are burned out souls, living in a burned out land. Their inner and outer wasteland is unrelieved by beauty, goodness, life. They live in hardened, certain untruth, and they do not know it, so great is the darkness.

In the midst of the desert there is a river of flowing water, and along its banks are lifegiving plants of all kinds. The bank where many of us in the churches are standing is the familiarity, safety, at-homeness of our institutional religions. Here is Christianity in its various churches, with their Scriptures, creeds, doctrines, rituals, clergy, lay people. On this bank many of us are standing, and enjoying the comfort, ease, pleasure of Christianity as a religion, of being “church-going Christians.” A few of us have wandered into the stream. Indeed, I see the purpose of preaching as a way to help lead people from the desert, into the water, and across the stream to the farther shore. We see no one on the farther shore, but a few have passed in silence, in a life of profound and lasting union with God. Ultimately, the farther shore is what has been called “heaven,” but I would call it “selfless life in God.” Jesus himself crossed over, and indeed lived in that crossed-over state even while on earth, while living and walking among us. And Christ Jesus sought and seeks to lead us, to lead all, across the river to the farther shore. Genuine saints have crossed over. In meeting genuine human beings such as Francis of Assisi and Theresa of Avila, we are encountering a man or woman who even in this life tastes the glories of union with the Unknown God through faith working by love. Their divine union is real and lasting, and endures beyond death into the utter mystery of God. “By their fruits you will know them,” and such saintly souls are rare, beautiful to see, and full of God.

Few of us, it seems, make the effort to cross the stream. We seem all too content with life along the comfortable bank, with our familiar Scriptures, creeds, rituals, with a fixed ministry and priesthood, with all that “just feels right,” because we have known it for years--in some cases, for our entire lives. The point of living, however, is to enter the stream, the stream of life. In the stream we are forced to live by faith, not by the familiar and comfortable; in place of creedal belief, we must exercise real, muscular faith, that costs us everything we have and are. In the stream we encounter the living God, who more than likely does not fit into the neat categories through which we had pinned God down and left him buried in a hollow, doctrinal shell. In the river we live and move by the Spirit of the living God, and we are forced to fare forward by nothing except the light which is burning in the depths of our hearts.

“Come to the waters.” We may dally along the bank of easiness and institutionalized life, but the hidden LORD would lead us into the flowing, turbulent, sometimes muddy waters of life. We need to fare forward, enter the stream, and move into the mystery called God.

The Stream In The Desert

While preparing to preach the first homily on John chapter 6, I was forced to face a number of issues.  The first is what I previously mentioned:  That although we are spending five weeks hearing this one chapter in the St. John’s Gospel, the committee that selected the readings for our lectionary saw fit to excise three passages from the chapter.  Two of the excluded passages--the one describing the scene as “when the Lord gave thanks,” and the episode of Jesus walking on the water--add essential elements to the meaning of the “Bread of Life discourse” in John 6.  One should read a text as the author intended, and surely the evangelist John knew what he was doing in his masterful construction of the chapter; slicing out parts dishonors his intention, and obscures perhaps the single most important theological truth of the entire chapter.  I was also forced to wonder why it is that church officials would omit such decisive material, especially when it throws light on the utterly profound and essential Christian question:  “Who do you say that I am?” It seems that at least too many voices in the churches are not willing to face the penetrating question of Pope Benedict:  “Has the church misunderstood Jesus?”  To this question I would add, “By slicing up the Scriptures the way we do, are we fostering a misunderstanding?”  What have we done to Christ? In preparing the first homily on John 6, I had to face yet another question:  What if the pursuit of truth about God and Christ, and my efforts to preach the truth faithfully, could disturb some of the Catholic faithful? Or more pointedly, and more poignantly, what if some persons are pulled away from their unquestioning creedal “faith” and move, not towards the truth of openness to the living God, but harden their hearts altogether, and end up in a state of unbelief?  In other words, what if preaching could contribute to men, women, and young persons turning away, not only from the God of the creed, but from God altogether, and become, in effect, atheists? The loss of faith is not only a real possibility, but perhaps the single most compelling reality of life in American society today. Many there are who are either atheists or functional atheists, and yet they do not care, or perhaps even know the depth of their spiritual disease.  They are in a sleep of death, and they are relatively content to stay in that sleep. In order to make clear some of these thoughts to myself, and then to share with with those who attended Mass to hear the beginning of John chapter 6, I conceived, or entertained, what may be a kind of allegory of the stream and the desert, or the stream in the desert.   Many there are--millions indeed--who are living in the sun-baked, dry, nearly lifeless desert of unbelief. They know neither their need for God, nor the truth of divine reality. They are oblivious to the movement into God which constitutes the meaning, purpose, and end of life. These are burned out souls, living in a burned out land. Their inner and outer wasteland is unrelieved by beauty, goodness, life. They live in hardened untruth, and do not know it. In the midst of the desert there is a river of flowing water, and along its banks are life-giving plants of all kinds. The bank where many of us in the churches are standing is the familiarity, safety, at-homeness of our institutional religions. Here is Christianity in its various churches, with their Scriptures, creeds, doctrines, rituals, clergy, lay people. On this bank many of us are standing, and enjoying the comfort, ease, pleasure of Christianity as a religion.  A few of us have wondered into the stream. Indeed, I see the purpose of the preacher as one to help lead people across the stream to the farther shore. For the farther shore, where we see no one, but a few have passed in silence, is life in profound and lasting union with God. Ultimately, the farther shore is what has been called “heaven,” but I would call it selfless life in God. Jesus himself crossed over, and indeed lived in that crossed-over state even while on earth, while living and walking among us.  And Christ Jesus sought and seeks to lead us, to lead all, across the river to the farther shore. Genuine saints have crossed over. In meeting a man such as Francis of Assisi, or a woman such as Theresa of Avila, we meet a man or women who even in this life tasted the glories of union with the Unknown God through faith working by love. Their union was real and lasting, and endured beyond death into the utter mystery of God.  “By their fruits you will know them,” and such saintly souls are rare, and full of God. Few of us, it seems, make the effort to cross the stream. We seem all too content with life along the comfortable bank, with our familiar Scriptures, creeds, rituals, with a fixed ministry and priesthood, with all that “just feels right,” because we have known it for years--in some cases, for our entire lives. The point of living, however, is to enter the stream, the stream of life. In the stream we are forced to live by faith, not by the familiar and comfortable; in place of creedal belief, we must exercise real, muscular faith, that costs us everything we have and are. In the stream we encounter the living God, who more than likely does not fit into the neat categories through which we had pinned God down and left him as a rather hollow, doctrinal shell.  In the river we live and move by the Spirit of the living God, and we are forced to fare forward by nothing except the light which is burning in the depths of our hearts. “Without other light or guide than that which in the heart was burning.” “Come to the waters.” The LORD would lead us into the flowing, turbulent, sometimes muddy waters of life, but we dally along the bank of familiarity, of institutionalized religion, of institutionalized life. Christ would have us cross over, and the only way to do so is to wade or to plunge into the stream, and begin the journey.  No doubt we will be tossed about, even scraped up as the stream presses us against rocks, but we keep going, or we perish.

On The Gospel Of John, Chapter 6: The Decisive Truth Of God

For five weeks this summer we will hear passages read at Mass from the 6th chapter of St. John's Gospel, the chapter often known as "the bread of life discourse." To understand the teaching in John 6, it is important to keep the entire chapter in mind in examining each part. Unfortunately, despite spending five weeks on the text, our lectionary omits three distinct passages from the chapter. In my opinion, these passages are parts of the whole and needed for a more careful and complete understanding. As I said at Masses last week, I recommend that parishioners closely read John 6 as a whole, and allow that study to help them benefit more from the homilies. For my part, I will refer to the omitted material as needed to aid understanding.

The first week we hear a passage often known as "the multiplication of the loaves." That is not what the author of the Gospel calls it. A few verses later, in material omitted for public reading, the evangelist refers to the incident in highly significant works: "When the LORD gave thanks..." The Greek is more telling, and highly significant. It can be translated "When the LORD gave thanks," but it could also be translated, "When the LORD eucharistized," or "celebrated the Eucharist." The story known as the "miracle of the loaves," or the "multiplication" would more accurately be known as a story showing that Jesus is present with his disciples at the Eucharist, and that Christ performs the miracle of feeding his disciples with Himself, with his body and blood, and with his divine teaching.

Also omitted from our hearing is the passage known as "walking on the water." Again, the common short-hand titles seem to miss the point. The image of Jesus walking on the water symbolizes God's control over forces of chaos, and hence over all of reality, in and through Christ. This truth is made plain in the revelatory words spoken by Christ as he "walks on the water." The poor translation in our bibles misses the point: "Do not be afraid; it is I." No, the Greek is clearly a reference not just to Jesus, but to the God in Christ, to the God of Moses: "Do not be afraid, I AM." And that this pivotal story is omitted from the five weeks spent reading from John 6 displays the fact that the decisive point of the chapter is downplayed, or neglected. What is taking place in John 6 is not only a teaching on the Eucharist, not only a teaching on Christ as having "the words of eternal life," not only teaching us that through his death Christ gives his life for the world: But in all of these points, and above all, John 6 is a revelation of the the unseen God in Christ: The I AM is the One alive and active and fully present in Jesus. And it is the unknown God, called "the Father," who is "drawing you" to faith in Christ.

We shall seek to make this decisive revelation clear in the series of homilies on John 6.

"Come Away By Yourselves To A Deserted Place"

Do you know how to relax, to rest, to take a vacation? Do you know how to make a good spiritual retreat? They are not the same thing, but each has its proper place in our lives. Some folks have told me, “We went on a vacation, and now I need a vacation.” The word “vacation” comes from the Latin meaning, “emptying,” but often people stuff all sorts of busy activities into a “vacation.” Some folks may find going to amusement parks or ice hockey games to be “relaxing,” but others of us come away from parks and hockey games feeling as though we spent the day tearing up old streets with a jack-hammer. I relax by reading philosophy, but others may find that exhausting.

Clearly, we vary in our wants and needs. So let’s ask a few basic questions: What do you do in your life that refreshes your spirit? What helps you “let go” and feel a still peace? My guess is that for many of us in Montana, we find walking in open spaces, taking a casual ride, or climbing hills, or hunting to be refreshing for the inner person. For musicians, playing their instrument or singing can be restorative of spirit; and in general for artists, doing one’s art (painting, sewing, archery, dancing, photography) helps one feel renewed. Concentrating the mind in an enjoyable activity refreshes the soul. Spending one’s energies, especially in stressful or unenjoyable tasks, dissipates the spirit and leaves one feeling tired.

Each of us needs to develop healthy, refreshing “spiritual exercises.” Many Christians (at least in yesteryear) would spend time daily reading the Bible or praying. How many of us take the time to pray, to meditate, to seek God through study? Some of us have discovered the value of making spiritual retreats once a year or so. My concern, however, is that especially our younger members know how to “have fun,” to play games, to keep themselves busy, but few discover the quiet joy of solitude, of taking time to refresh their spirits away from our busy world. On the other hand, some of our parishioners have a love of solitude and quiet, and have learned the art of accomplishing much while remaining in peace. Such an attitude and practice display the art of living well and happily.

Why would Jesus invite or command his disciples to “come away by yourselves to a deserted place?” What need in them did he perceive, and was he seeking to help meet?