Friday, June 27

Mark 3:31-35: The Lord’s own blood relatives have already been introduced in a negative way in 3:21, where they were said to think Jesus “out of His mind” (exseste; cf. the identical assessment of the Apostle Paul in Acts 26:24 and 2 Corinthians 5:13).

In the present scene these relatives are endeavoring to reach Jesus, but the press of the crowd, as seems often to have been the case (cf. 2:2; 5:31), prevents their entrance into the house where He is teaching. They remain “outside” (3:32). Mark thus introduces the distinction between “outsiders” (hoi exso) and “insiders” (hoi esso), which will function in Jesus’ teaching in parables. The “outsiders” are those to whom it has not “been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God” (4:11). In the present scene the Lord’s own relatives, because they have not yet understood Him, fall into that category.

Jesus’ real family, He says, is made up of those who do the will of God (3:35). Fortunately, as we know, even the Lord’s relatives will become “insiders” to the kingdom in due course (cf. Acts 1:14), but the principle remains that true kinship in Jesus is a matter of the Spirit and not of the flesh.

Saturday, June 28

2 Samuel 12: Probably the most important person in the life of King David was the Prophet Nathan. His very name means “gift,” and Nathan was certainly God’s generous gift to the king. Were it not for Nathan, in truth, we would have no reason to believe that the Bible’s final word on David would be any more favorable than the Bible’s final word on King Saul.

David, himself a prophet (Acts 2:29, 30), had lost his way, not only succumbing to an adulterous passion, but even initiating a cunning plot of murder, so it was Nathan’s divinely appointed task to call him back from sin to the path of repentance (2 Samuel 12). As was noted by Saint John Chrysostom, “one prophet was sent to another” (Peri Metanoias 2.2.8). Nathan was assigned to do for David what the Apostles were appointed to do for all mankind—to preach repentance and the remission of sins (Luke 24:47).

Among the various ways by which to preach repentance to sinners,
Nathan’s inspired choice is that of the parable, a preference evidently
shared by a certain Prophet from Galilee at a later period. Nathan tells David the story of the ewe lamb, a narrative surely to be numbered among the Bible’s finest examples of what T. S. Eliot called “the moral imagination.” By means of storytelling Nathan successfully engages the king’s own sense of decency and justice. He skillfully stimulates David’s return to “the permanent things.”

Nathan’s method is to cloak the king’s sinful actions within the folds of his own homespun. As Nathan’s account progresses, David becomes morally aroused, with no suspicion that he is himself the villain of the narrative. Finally he pronounces the anticipated moral judgment, or, as the Scripture says, “David’s anger was greatly aroused against the man, and he said to Nathan, ‘As the Lord lives, the man who has done this shall surely die!’” It is at this point, finally, that the prophet’s impeaching finger is thrust at the royal face: “You are the man!” (12:5,7).

It is important to observe that, in preaching repentance from sin,
Nathan does not “preach down” to the sinner. He does not assume the “higher moral ground.” On the contrary, the prophet’s story compels David himself to seize that ground. Nathan does not directly accuse the king until after he causes the king to accuse himself. Nathan’s method is to transform the sinner’s imagination within a drama, until at last David is disclosed in the character of the villain. Again in the words of
Chrysostom, “Nathan wove a dramatic scene, secretly concealing his weapon” (op. cit., 2.2.9).

Moreover, even as David is explicitly condemned, the man himself is implicitly affirmed. That is to say, in order to impugn the very worst in David, Nathan addresses himself to the very best in David—his innate, more deeply abiding sense of right and wrong. As a result of this preaching, the king’s condemnation of his sins springs forth from his own conscience; David becomes his own accuser: “I have sinned against the
Lord” (12:13). Thus, Nathan’s preaching functions very much like the
crowing of the nocturnal rooster that dramatically awakened the sleeping conscience of Simon Peter (Matthew 26:75).

One may further argue that this narrative of Nathan also provides the key for understanding biblical parables in general. Simply put, the parables of Holy Scripture are not to be interpreted “from outside,” but to be engaged from within. These are imaginative stories of the human heart. We do not so much interpret the parables as we permit the parables to interpret us. They are narrative invitations. They summon us hearers of the Word to become parabolic, so to speak. They are mirrors of the soul, stories about our inner selves; we enter them by searching the inner caverns of the heart and mind. Otherwise we remain “outsiders.”

Sunday, June 29

Saints Peter and Paul: From the earliest centuries Christians in both the East and the West have celebrated this double feast day of those two apostles who are linked in a special way by their martyrdoms in the city of Rome. Even though there seem to have been Roman Christians right from the day of Pentecost (cf. Acts 2:10), the origins of that local church were always associated with the two great men who there shed their blood for the name of Christ. Writing to the Christians at Rome in the year 107, Ignatius, the Bishop of Antioch in Syria, could say to them: "I do not give you commands, as did Peter and Paul." With respect to the ministry and martyrdom of Peter and Paul at Rome, the evidence from the dawn of Christian history is overwhelming, nor was there any dissenting voice on this matter from any ancient source._

With respect to Paul, of course, we have the Book of Acts and the Second Epistle to Timothy. With respect to Peter, we are not entirely sure when he did reach Rome, but it must have been in the early 60s. If he were at Rome in the late 50s, it is impossible to understand why he was not mentioned among that long list of Christians who are named in Romans 16.

_However, we do know quite a bit about the place, time, and circumstances of Peter’s death. The fourth century historian, Eusebius, cites testimonies from the second and early third centuries to bolster his thesis that the chief of the Apostles was crucified in Rome during Nero’s persecution (mid-60s): Tertullian, Caius of Rome, and Dionysius of Corinth. From another writer of about 200, Clement of Alexandria, we learn that Peter’s wife was also martyred and that the apostle was a witness to it.

When the African, Tertullian, speaks even more boldly of that crucifixion at Rome, "where Peter equals the Lord’s passion," he treats the information as though it were common knowledge. _Indeed, the early Christians seem to have been so familiar with the circumstances of Peter’s martyrdom that Clement of Rome (writing from that city) and Ignatius of Antioch (writing to that city) had not felt the need to elaborate on the place and circumstances.

The story of the Apostle’s crucifixion was so widely reported among the churches that the Gospel of John, probably written at Ephesus, could simply refer to the stretching out of Peter’s hands as "signifying by what death he was to glorify God" (John 21:18f). John did not have to explain the point; everyone knew exactly how Peter had died. That this Johannine passage ("thou shalt stretch forth thy hands . . . . signifying by what death he was to glorify God") did in fact refer to Peter’s crucifixion in Rome was perfectly obvious to Tertullian. Citing that Johannine verse, he wrote: "Then was Peter ‘bound by another,’ when he was fastened to the cross" (Scorpiace 15.3). Moreover, the symbolic extension of the hands as signifying crucifixion is attested to in early Christian and even pagan writings (Pseudo-Barnabas, Justin Martyr Irenaeus, Cyprian of Carthage, Epictetus).

The Christians at Rome, however, have never clung to this special twofold grace in any jealous or exclusive fashion. Throughout the years they have shared this feast day of the two apostles with all other Christians, and this feast day is observed with equal solemnity throughout the Christian East. Indeed, in recent years it has become customary for Rome and Constantinople to exchange special delegations and greetings on this day, with the intention of maintaining those cordial relationships of charity that may, in God’s time and by God’s grace, bring the Christians of the East and the West back to full communion one with another.

Monday, June 30

Acts 13:42-52: In this scene we discern the context of certain impulses that produced agitation in the early Christian mission. Judaism itself already had an extensive mission in the Greco-Roman world (cf. Matthew 23:15). As synagogues were established in the major cities, serious pagans were impressed by what they saw, because the life of the synagogue stood in stark contrast to the cultural and moral decay of the surrounding world, where despair was common. In the pagan world some of the major cultural institutions–particularly marriage and the family–were in serious trouble. Sex had become increasingly separated from marriage and from child-bearing, and there was some sense that this separation was related to various forms of polytheism.

What the pagans beheld in the local synagogues, however, was different: communities of great strength and hope, solid marriages and the joys of family life, a strict moral code in which all of life was integrated and filled with purpose, a firm emphasis on simple labor as the basis of economic existence, a rich inherited literature that imaginatively interpreted the life of the community, and the regularly scheduled, disciplined worship of a single, no-nonsense God. All of this proved to be very attractive to those serious pagans who felt distress and discomfort at the popular culture.

Some of these pagans accepted circumcision and the observance of the Law, thus becoming full-fledged Jews; these were known as proselytes (Acts 2:10; 6:5). Other pagans were unwilling to go so far, because such a decision obviously tended to cut them off from their own families and friends.

This second group simply attached themselves to the synagogues as best they could, bringing certain structures of Jewish piety into their lives, such as regular prayer and fasting and the study of the Scriptures; these were known as “fearers of God,” of which we have already seen examples in Cornelius and his friends. Thus, there were two groups of Gentiles who in varying degrees joined themselves to the local synagogues in the larger cities of the Roman Empire. Now both of these groups felt a spontaneous attraction to the Gospel when they heard it proclaimed in the synagogue by Paul and his companions. In the Gospel they saw a form of religion with all the advantages of Judaism, but with none of the social disadvantages, such as circumcision and the observance of the Mosaic Law.

In the present reading, we observe that these people invite their other Gentile friends to come with them to the synagogue on the following Sabbath (13:44). Now, all of a sudden, the Jews find their own synagogue over-run with all sorts of “undesirables.” They perceive Paul and his companions simply to be “taking over” the synagogue, preaching a doctrine that they themselves cannot control, and, from their perspective, things are getting entirely out of hand. The local Jews react with jealousy and animosity (13:45,50). After all, the Jewish religion had survived pure and intact by preserving those very disciplines that Paul and his friends seem to want to overthrow.

The Gospel, then, they experience as chaos. The very “popularity” of the Gospel becomes a reason for the stricter Jew to feel uncomfortable about it. Trouble breaks out. This sequence of events, repeated over and over again in the synagogues of the larger cities, causes the Christian Church to grow among the Gentiles, who are finally obliged to establish their own local congregations apart from the local synagogues (14:1; 16:13; 17:1,10,17; 18:4,6,19; 19:8; 28:28).

Tuesday, July 1

Psalm 120 (Greek and Latin 119): Today we pray the first several of fifteen consecutive psalms known as the “songs of ascent.” Though the origin of the expression is not entirely certain, a very probable interpretation takes this title to mean that these particular psalms were chanted by pilgrims to Jerusalem as they drew near and began to ascend the heights on which the Holy City is settled. Truly, quite a number of lines in these psalms are readily understood in such a context. In any case, these fifteen form a distinct collection within the Psalter.

Eastern Orthodox Christians will recognize them as the usual psalms at midweek Presanctified Liturgy during Great Lent. In the Western monastic tradition, moreover, the first nine of these “songs of ascent” were invariably among the earliest to be learned by heart. From Tuesday through Saturday each week, these nine psalms, broken into three groups of three, were recited at the third, sixth, and ninth hours of the daily office. As these canonical hours were often prayed by the monks during short “rest breaks” while at work in the woods or fields, it was necessary that they be memorized.

Thus Psalm 120 was on most days the first psalm of the canonical hour of Tierce, or Third Hour, and immediately followed a short hymn to the Holy Spirit, who is most appropriately invoked at the day’s “third hour” (cf. Acts 2:15).

We know that the Church in the upper room, as she anticipated the arrival of “the Holy Spirit of promise” (Eph. 1:13) from on high, “continued with one accord in prayer and supplication” (Acts 1:14), nor is it difficult to hear this psalm arising from her mouth as she waited: “To the Lord I called in my distress, and He answered me. O Lord, deliver my soul from wicked lips, and from a deceitful tongue.”

Lies and deception lay all about the Church on that morning. Already, for instance, the rumor was started that the disciples had stolen the dead body of Jesus from the grave while the soldiers slept (cf. Matt. 28:11–15). And as for the body of believers, already “we know that it is spoken against everywhere” (Acts 28:22). But soon would arrive that Holy Spirit to confront their accusers and “convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment” (John 16:8).

Meanwhile the Church answers her calumniators in prayer: “What further would you have, or what more be given you, a deceitful tongue? The warrior’s sharp arrows, with coals of desolation? Ah me, that my sojourn (paroikia) is prolonged, and I have made my home among the tents of Kedar. So much the sojourner (paroikesen) is my soul. Peaceful, I spoke peace to those who hated me. When I addressed them, they warred against me without cause.”

The poetic imagery of these lines is dense. “The warrior’s sharp arrows, with coals of desolation” probably means the incendiary arrows that destroy civilizations. The “tents of Kedar” refers to a warlike tribe in the Arabian desert and should be taken as a metaphor for surrounding hostility.

Used for many centuries by pilgrims marching to Jerusalem, this is a psalm about a “sojourn.” Indeed, the word for “sojourn” in this psalm, paroikia, is the root of our English word “parish,” meaning a congregation of pilgrims. It is the Church that is in exile, on pilgrimage, here in this world, encompassed by calumny and malice.

The First Epistle of Peter may serve as a kind of commentary on Psalm 120. Indeed, St. Peter actually uses the word “sojourn” with reference to the Church; “conduct yourselves throughout the time of your stay here [or “sojourn” (paroikia); see textual note] in fear” (1 Pet. 1:17), he exhorts “the pilgrims of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia” (1:1). Their situation is exactly that of our psalm. Peter calls them “sojourners (paroikous) and pilgrims” (2:11). He also mentions that these pilgrims of the Dispersion are being tempted, “grieved by various trials” (1:6), and constantly reproached by those outside as evildoers (2:12, 20; 3:16; 4:14, 16). But by doing good, Peter assures them, they will “put to silence the ignorance of foolish men” (2:15). For their model, he holds out to them the suffering of Christ, “who, when He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten” (2:23). “Therefore let those who suffer according to the will of God commit their souls to Him” (4:19).

Wednesday, July 2

Psalm 119:145-176: Today, as on most Wednesdays, we pray another section of the longest psalm, Psalm 119 (Greek and Latin 118), which is constructed of twenty-two stanzas of eight lines each. While there are several other psalms that are called “alphabetical,” in the sense that each verse, or pair of verses, begins with the next sequential letter in the Hebrew alphabet, Psalm 119 is alphabetical in a more extreme way. In this instance every verse in each stanza begins with the same letter of the alphabet. Thus, in the first stanza, each of the eight verses commences with the first Hebrew letter, aleph. Each line of the second stanza begins with beth, and so on, through all twenty-two letters of the alphabet.

If the artificiality of this alphabetic arrangement is not the stuff of powerful poetic impulse, it does serve an important theological purpose: Psalm 119 is concerned entirely with the Law of God, the Torah, and its structural use of the alphabet serves here the purpose of asserting that the Law of God is the inner core and essential substance of human language.

This is a very deep reflection. Language is the gift of God. Its primary function, in the Bible (cf. Gen. 2:19, for example), is the formation of thought in accord with reality, and the world’s deepest created reality, according to the rabbis, is the Torah, the eternal Law of God, on which the inner being of all created reality is based. The eternal Law of God, the Torah, reflects in turn the very being of God, and the final purpose of language is to lead man’s thought to the knowledge of God. Language and Torah, thus, are inseparable. In Psalm 119 Law and Word tend to be used interchangeably.

The Christian will, of course, want to assert something further. The Christian will insist that the eternal Law is really derived from God’s eternal thought, and that God’s eternal thought is His Word, that same Word that for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven. The Torah, that is to say, speaks of Christ; the Law of God points to Christ and is fulfilled in Christ. The final purpose of language is that men may know Christ. He is, after all, the Word, the very Word that was in the beginning. He is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end of language (cf. Rev. 1:8; 21:6; 22:13), both human and divine.

Christ, as the Latin Fathers called Him, is the verbum abbreviatum, God’s Word abbreviated, in the sense that all that God has to say is summed up in Christ. Christ is likewise the goal of man’s own language, because the purpose of human language is that men may know the truth, and Christ is the truth, the very truth that makes true all things that are true.

All through this psalm, then, the Law of God is described as the path to knowledge of the truth. It is the Law of God that “is a lamp unto my feet,” that “gives light to my eyes,” “my meditation all the day,” “sweeter than honey to my mouth,” and “better unto me than thousands of gold and silver.”

Thursday, July 3

Matthew 27:3-10: There is ample reason to believe Matthew, when he narrates the suicide of Judas, is not guided by strict chronological sequence. We observe, for instance, that he pictures the chief priests as talking with Judas in the temple at the same time they are talking with Pilate at the pretorium (verses 2-3). We also recall that Luke does not narrate the death of Judas until somewhat later (Acts 1:18-20). It is rather easy to demonstrate, in fact, that both writers tell the story of Judas’s death at a place appropriate to the theological points they want to make. Let us consider the case of Matthew, where the suicide of Judas fits into the larger account of Jesus’ trials.

Thus, by framing the interrogation of Jesus in the house of the high priest within the interrogation of Peter in the courtyard of the high priest, Matthew has in mind to contrast the fidelity of the one with the disloyalty of the other. He intends a similar contrast by framing the suicide of Judas (verses 3-10) within the context of Jesus’ trial before Pilate (verses 1-2,11-14).

In the second case, this arrangement also permits Matthew to compare Judas and Pilate. Each man recognizes the innocence of Jesus (verses 4,18,23-24), but both of them refuse the path of responsibility and repentance (verses 5,24). Both men assume an unwarranted authority of a human life, and in each the reader recognizes the profile of a coward.

Although Judas feels remorse at his treachery (metameletheis), Matthew avoids the vocabulary of repentance (metanoia, for instance) in his description. Indeed, this story, which follows almost immediately on the repentance of Peter (26:75), invites a contrast between these two disciples with respect to their sins: repentance in the one case, despair in the other. “I have sinned,” says Judas—hemarton, but he quickly finds he cannot undo the sin. In fact, his efforts are mocked by men hardened in sin, who feel no remorse. The chief priests, playing Mephisto to Judas’ Faust, have purchased a soul at market price and are quite content with the deal.

In pronouncing Jesus “innocent” (athõos), Judas prepares for the self-assessment of Pilate, who somehow recognizes that he, too, is on trial: “I am innocent [athõos] of the blood of this person” (27:24). When Pilate goes on to tell the Jews, “You see to it” (hymeis opsesthe), he simply pluralizes what the chief priests told Judas: “You see to it” (sy opsei).

Judas finds himself in the state described by St. Paul, when he writes of the Law’s inability to justify the sinner. Judas has fallen under what St. Paul calls “the curse of the Law” (Galatians 3:13). Specifically, the conscience of Judas is faced with the divine judgment, “Cursed is he who takes a bribe to slay a soul of innocent blood” (my literal translation of LXX of Deuteronomy 27:25). Deuteronomy’s expression, “soul of innocent blood”—pyschen haimatos athõou—is obviously the reference Matthew has in mind when Judas says he sinned in his betrayal of “innocent blood”—haima athõon. Judas, then is the man cursed by the Law, and whom the Law can in no wise justify (cf. 26:24).

The suicide of Judas finds its Old Testament prefiguration in that of Ahitophel (2 Samuel 17:23), which we also read today. Similar circumstances attend both cases: Judas betrays the true king; indeed, Jesus’ kingship is the burden of Pilate’s question that immediately follows the death of Judas. With respect to Ahitophel we recall that he, too, betrayed the true king, David, in order to side with Absalom, the usurper. Both betrayers come to the identical fate of suicide by hanging.

Friday, July 4

Psalm 33 (Greek and Latin 32): For the first time, the Book of Psalms uses an important expression—“new song,” shir chadash—which will later appear four more times in the Psalter and once in Isaiah: “Sing to Him a new song” (see Psalms 96:1; 98:1; 144:9; 149:1; Is. 42:10). The praise of the righteous, of the just man to whom the Lord imputes no guilt and in whose mouth is no deceit, is characterized by a particular kind of newness, of renewal, of new life, inasmuch as “He who sat on the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new’” (Rev. 21:5). The song of the believers is always a new song, because it springs from an inner divine font. It is the song of those who are born again in Christ and therefore “walk in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4). The song of the Lord’s redeemed is a new song, for they adhere to the new covenant in Christ’s blood and “serve in the newness of the Spirit” (Rom. 7:6).

All Christian praise of God is a participation in the liturgy of heaven where the saints gather in glory about the Lamb in the presence of the Throne. According to Revelation 5:9, our “new song” has to do with the opening of the seals of the great scroll by the Lamb who gave His life for our redemption: “You are worthy to take the scroll, / And to open its seals; / For You were slain, / And have redeemed us to God by Your blood.” The new song is for those who have been made “kings and priests to our God” (5:10). The new song is “the song of the Lamb” (15:3). The new song, according to Revelation 14:1–3, is sung by the redeemed as they gather about the Lamb on Mount Zion. This is the folk of whom our psalm says: “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He has chosen as His own inheritance.”

Therefore, when the present psalm summons us to the “new” praise of God, it is to a newness that will never grow old. Indeed, it will grow ever newer as, day by day, we “are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory” (2 Cor. 3:18), and our “youth is renewed like the eagle’s” (Psalm 102:5).

Friday, June 20

Psalm 88: Psalm 88 (Greek and Latin 87) is possibly the most difficult of the psalms. In any case, it is arguably the darkest. It even stands among the most somber compositions in all of Holy Writ, comparable to the overcast pages of Job and Ecclesiastes. It is appropriately prayed on Fridays, the day of our Lord’s death.

It not being readily apparent, perhaps, how to reconcile such tenebrous tones with evangelical hope, some may judge the sentiments of this psalm too dismal for it to serve as Christian prayer at all. Psalm 88 is not only darksome in its every line; almost alone among the psalms, it even ends on a dark note. Its final line says: “My friend and confrere have You kept afar from me; and my neighbors, because of my distress.” Now, how can that sort of sentiment be the “last word” in a Christian prayer?

But then, on closer inspection, we may observe certain subtler features softening this impression of our psalm. For all its gloom and shadow, for example, is it without significance that Psalm 88 begins by thus addressing the Almighty: “O Lord, the God of my salvation”? The intimacy and quiet hope of this address put one in mind of Psalm 22, in which the crucified Jesus, asking why God has forsaken Him, nonetheless continues to call Him “my God, my God.”

Three further comments seem appropriate regarding this umbrageous aspect of Psalm 88. First, one must bear in mind that, like all the Bible, it comes to us from the Holy Spirit. If death is portrayed in this psalm as a very bad thing, then the Holy Spirit wants us to regard death as a very bad thing. One occasionally meets pagans and unbelievers who avow that they are not afraid to die. Well, this psalm suggests that maybe they should be afraid. In line after line of Psalm 88, a writer under the guidance and impulse of the Holy Spirit says, in the sharpest terms, that death is a most terrifying prospect.

Second, bearing in mind that our fear of death is a reaction of the fleshly man, the “old Adam,” still active within us, we should be mightily consoled to think that the Holy Spirit, in this psalm, has made such generous provision for this fleshly side of ourselves. The Holy Spirit, that is to say, gives our fleshly fear its due. If we yet feel this fear of death, the Holy Spirit is careful for this fear to find expression in prayer. Here is the tender condescension of God, that He provides even that our fallen nature may voice itself to Him in supplication and the lowly fealty of our very fear.

Third, Jesus took on Himself, not our pristine, unfallen nature, but our nature as weakened at the ancient tree and throughout the rest of our history. So the fear of death expressed in this psalm is certainly a fear that Jesus felt. If, in addition, as Holy Scripture indicates in so many places, death is but the outward expression of sin and our alienation from God, then a deeper understanding of sin must surely imply a more profound understanding of death. And who understood sin more than Jesus? Likewise was His perception of death vastly more ample and accurate than our own. And, as He knew more about the power of death than any of the rest of us, there is every reason to believe that He felt this fear of death more than the rest of us possibly could.

Finally, it is an ironic feature of liturgical and homiletic history that one expression from this psalm has been consistently used by the Church to refer to the death of Jesus, not as a term of doom but as an emblem of the high triumph and validation inherent in His Cross. That expression is “free among the dead.” In the mystic vision of Holy Church, Jesus was indeed “free among the dead” in the sense that death had no dominion over Him. He was “free” with respect to death, inasmuch as it could not hold Him fast. Reaching to seize Jesus in the moment of His final breath, death found itself, instead, cast down and trampled by the rush of His abundant life crashing into that realm where the grave, hitherto undisputed, had so long held sway. Every antagonist fell beneath His mighty, grinding tread.

And forthwith striding to the nether world, Jesus “went and preached to the spirits in prison, who formerly were disobedient” (1 Pet. 3:19, 20). To demonstrate, moreover, that our Lord was truly free among the dead, “the earth quaked, and the rocks were split, and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the graves after His resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many” (Matt. 27:51–53).

Saturday, June 21

2 Samuel 5: This is a very important chapter of political transition. Abner’s adherence to David, followed quickly by the death of Ishbosheth, prepared the way for David’s assumption of authority over all of Israel. His capital still at Hebron, David had reigned over Judah since the Battle of Gilboah in 1000 B.C. The present scene brings us to about 992, some seven and a half years later, when David assumed complete power over Israel and moved his capital to Jerusalem. This recently captured city, because it belonged to no particular tribe of Israelites, would less likely be subject to tribal rule and tribal rivalries. David’s reign at Jerusalem was to last until 961 (verse 5).

A chief reason prompting the northern tribes to place themselves under David’s rule, surely, was the need for a common defense against the Philistines, who had so soundly defeated Saul’s army at Mount Gilboah. Consequently, dealing with those Philistines, now that he has a larger army, becomes David’s first order of business (verses 17-25).

David, having great plans for Jerusalem, established diplomatic and commercial relations with the Phoenicians to Israel’s immediate north (verses 11-12). It was the Phoenicians that would provide the sundry materials for the construction of a new city on that site, including the Temple that David’s son would eventually construct.

There was a special reason that the Phoenicians respected David: His recent defeat of the Philistines had removed them as a naval threat.

Sunday, June 22

Mark 3:7-12: Jesus now makes His third trip to the sea (verse 7). On each such occasion so far, He has called disciples, and this time a great number from a very wide area, from as far south as Idumea (in the Negev Desert) to as far north as Tyre and Sidon (in contemporary Lebanon), and even from east of the Jordan River. Meeting Jesus at seaside should put the reader in mind of Baptism, of course

To this image of the sea, however, Mark now adds that of the boat (mentioned in passing in 1:20), which Jesus uses to escape the press of the crowd (3:9). In the next chapter the boat itself will become the place of catechesis (4:1).

Although Jesus’ human enemies are absent from the present scene, His demonic enemies are once again very much in evidence, and their perception of Jesus has become more defined. Whereas they had earlier called Him “the Holy One of God” (1:24), they now address Him very specifically as “the Son of God” (3:11 and again in 5:7). What the Pharisees cannot bring themselves to see is now becoming unmistakable to the demons. This is the fifth instance in which Mark has spoken of them so far. Their presence will become ever more obvious in the story, until they finally bring about the death of Jesus through the treachery of Judas and the hatred of the Jewish leaders.

Monday, June 23

Acts 12:5-19: From the perspective of chronology, Acts 12 is something of a “flashback.” Luke’s narrative so far has taken us up to the year 46. Now, however, he looks back to the reign of Herod Agrippa I (A.D. 37-44), and more specifically to the end of that reign. He will bring us back to A.D. 46 at the end of this chapter.

For a proper understanding of this story of Peter’s imprisonment, it is important to make note of the time the event happens. Peter is delivered from prison at the Passover, the very night commemorating Israel’s deliverance from bondage in Egypt. As the angel of the Lord came through the land that night to remove Israel’s chains by slaying the first-born of Israel’s oppressors, so the delivering angel returns to strike the fetters from Peter’s hands and lead him forth from the dungeon.

And as Israel’s earlier liberation foreshadowed that Paschal Mystery whereby Jesus our Lord led all of us from our servitude to the satanic Pharaoh by rising from the dead, so we observe aspects of the Resurrection in Peter’s deliverance from prison: Like the tomb of Jesus, Peter’s cell is guarded by soldiers (verses 4,6). That cell, again like the tomb of Jesus, is invaded by a radiant angelic presence, and the very command to Peter is to “arise” (anasta —verse 7).

It is no wonder that in regarding Rafael’s famous chiaroscuro depiction of this scene in the apartments in the Vatican (over the window in the room called “the Stanza of Heliodorus”), the viewer must look very closely, for his first impression is that he is looking at a traditional portrayal of the Lord’s Resurrection. And what is the Church doing during all that night of the Passover? Praying (verses 5,12); indeed, it is our first record of a Paschal Vigil Service. Peter’s guards, alas, must share the fate of Egypt’s first-born sons (verse 19).

Tuesday, June 24

The Birth of John the Baptist: Although our Lord said that “among those born of women there has not risen one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11), only Luke thought to provide us with the name of the woman who gave John birth.

In fact, Luke went into some detail to tell of that lady named Elizabeth and the circumstances surrounding her unexpected conception of a son in her advanced years. The Angel Gabriel, who had been somewhat quiet in Israel after the days of Daniel, appeared to Elizabeth’s husband and predicted the pregnancy (Luke 1:13).

Moreover, God clearly intended to leave a special mark on John even before his birth. Six months into the gestation, Elizabeth received another visitor, this one a human visitor: her young kinswoman from Galilee named Mary. At Mary’s greeting, John’s mother sensed another Presence, as “the babe leaped in her womb” (1:41). Mary, in fact, like a new Ark of the Covenant, bore within her body God’s newly incarnate Son, whose Father chose her greeting at that moment as the occasion to sanctify the unborn John the Baptist. This event fulfilled an earlier prediction of Gabriel with respect to John: “He will also be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb” (1:15). In drawing our attention to John’s prophetic consecration before his birth, Luke portrays him in the likeness of the Prophet Jeremiah, to whom God said, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; / Before you were born I sanctified you; / I ordained you a prophet to the nations” (Jeremiah 1:5).

If John resembled Jeremiah, however, his resemblance to the Prophet
Elijah was even more pronounced. Once again, it was the Angel Gabriel, who used of John the very words with which the Prophet Malachi foretold the return of Elijah: “And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. He will also go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, ‘to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children,’ and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:16–17; Malachi 4:5–6).

Since Elijah’s return had been predicted in the last of the Old
Testament’s prophetic books, there was considerable expectation on the
matter, even among the Lord’s Apostles (Matthew 17:10). Although John himself denied that he really was Elijah in a literal sense (John 1:21), he surely felt some affinity to that earlier prophet; he even dressed like him (Matthew 3:4 [and 11:8]; 2 Kings 1:8).

Whatever John felt about the matter, nonetheless, Jesus Himself asserted that “Elijah has come already,” and, when He asserted this, “the disciples understood that He spoke to them of John the Baptist” (Matthew 17:12–13). John’s affinity to Elijah was more than haberdashery, however, for his appearance in this world introduced the days in which “the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force. For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John. And if you are willing to receive it, he is Elijah who is to come” (11:12–14).

Wednesday, June 25

Acts 12:20—13:3: This scene of Herod meeting with the Phoenician delegation is also described by another writer contemporary to the event, Flavius Josephus, who includes a gripping depiction of Herod’s silver robe glistening in the sunlight. Like Luke, Josephus mentions their addressing him as a “god.” The action of the angel who kills Herod Agrippa I in verse 23 stands in contrast to the angelic liberation of Peter, narrated earlier in this chapter. The description of Herod’s death is usefully compared to the death of the blaspheming Antiochus Epiphanes IV in 2 Maccabees 9:5-28.

Immediately after telling the story, Luke takes us forward again to A.D. 46. Barnabas and Saul, having delivered the collection for the famine to the church at Jerusalem (11:30), leave to return to Antioch, taking with them John Mark, a younger kinsman of Barnabas (12:25; cf. Colossians 4:10).

Then begins the story of Paul’s three missionary journeys, which will occupy the next several chapters. We observe that Antioch has now risen to the status of a missionary center (which it has remained unto this day). Indeed, the very severe political climate at Jerusalem in the late 60s, culminating in the destruction of the city by the Romans in the year 70, caused Antioch to surpass Jerusalem as a missionary center in the East, rather much as Rome became in the West, and, somewhat later, Alexandria in Egypt.

In the year 325, these three churches (Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch) were made the patriarchal churches, each having oversight of the other churches in those three continents that shape the Mediterranean Sea.

Thursday, June 26

Mark 3:20-30: In response to His exorcisms in Chapters 1 and 3, Jesus’ critics advance the accusation that He is using demonic force to expel demons.

The Lord’s answer breaks into three parts: First, their accusation violates logic, implying that the demonic world had radically turned on itself (verses 23-26). Second, the expulsion of the demons is much more plausibly explained by their having met a superior force (verse 27). Third, the accusation itself is an act of blasphemy, because it ascribes to the demons what is in truth accomplished by the Holy Spirit.

Such a confusion of light and darkness indicates total intellectual and moral depravity, so radical a commitment to evil as to preclude repentance. The scribes’ accusation of blasphemy (2:7) is thus turned back on them (3:29).

In the course of His argument, Jesus uses certain plays on Aramaic words that are rather lost in translation (whether English or the inspired Greek!). For example, the “house” in verse 25 is zebul in Aramaic, which is part of the name “Beelzebul” (“lord of the house”). Similarly, the verb “divide” (verses 24-26) is pharas, which is the root of the word “Pharisee.” Jesus’ response thus hints at the ironic question, “Has Satan gone Pharisee?”

Friday, June 27

Mark 3:31-35: The Lord’s own blood relatives have already been introduced in a negative way in 3:21, where they were said to think Jesus “out of His mind” (exseste; cf. the identical assessment of the Apostle Paul in Acts 26:24 and 2 Corinthians 5:13).

In the present scene these relatives are endeavoring to reach Jesus, but the press of the crowd, as seems often to have been the case (cf. 2:2; 5:31), prevents their entrance into the house where He is teaching. They remain “outside” (3:32). Mark thus introduces the distinction between “outsiders” (hoi exso) and “insiders” (hoi esso), which will function in Jesus’ teaching in parables. The “outsiders” are those to whom it has not “been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God” (4:11). In the present scene the Lord’s own relatives, because they have not yet understood Him, fall into that category.

Jesus’ real family, He says, is made up of those who do the will of God (3:35). Fortunately, as we know, even the Lord’s relatives will become “insiders” to the kingdom in due course (cf. Acts 1:14), but the principle remains that true kinship in Jesus is a matter of the Spirit and not of the flesh.

Friday, June 13

Acts 8:26-40: The conversion of the Samaritans, who may be described as half-Jewish, was a step toward the universalizing of the Gospel. Now, however, we come to the case of someone of completely Gentile blood, one of the many Gentiles who maintained some active interest in Judaism without joining it.

It should be noted that this first completely non-Jewish person to become a Christian was from Africa. He was a governmental official of “Candace,” which is not a proper name but, like the word Pharaoh, the title of an office, in this case the queen of Ethiopia (the kntky of Egyptian inscriptions).

This man is obviously reading the Bible out loud (which was the common practice among the rabbis and, with the exception of St. Ambrose, the Fathers of the Church) and is overheard by Philip. The man wants someone to “guide” (hodegein in verse 31) him in understanding Isaiah. Instructed in the Church’s understanding of the Old Testament (cf. Luke 24:27,44-45), Philip interprets the text for him, going on to explain other passages as well.

This exercise terminates in the Sacrament of Baptism. (The Scriptures are intrinsically, and of their very nature, ordered to the Sacraments. All proclamation outside the Church is ordered to Baptism, as in this case. All proclamation within the Church is ordered to the Eucharist; cf. Luke 24:30-35.)

Saturday, June 14

Acts 9:1-9: Among the spiritual blessings conferred on the Apostle Paul in his experience of conversion, it is arguable that none was more significant than a strong and indelible sense of the union of Christ with His Church.

This union was expressed in the first words that Jesus spoke to him, the question, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?" To this question the persecutor answered with another, "Who are you, sir?" To this the Lord responded by repeating the same accusation: "I am Jesus of Nazareth whom you are persecuting?" (Acts 22:8)

Even in the blindness that accompanied this stunning revelation, Saul immediately perceived at least three truths. First, this Jesus of Nazareth, whom he had thought to be dead, was very much alive. Second, this same Jesus took very personally the "threats and murder" that Saul was breathing against His followers (Acts 9:1). Indeed, Jesus regarded that activity as directed against Himself. "Why are you persecuting Me?" he asked. Third, this revelation was a warning of divine mercy to Saul himself, a grace-filled call and opportunity to repent.

Such was Saul’s introduction to the mystery of the Church. Jesus of Nazareth showed him the infinite mercy of revealing to him, at his very conversion, the truth that would remain central to his mind for the rest of his life: "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for <i>Me</i>" (Matthew 25:40 NIV). Paul perceived immediately an intimate identity between Christ and His disciples. Beware, he learned; touch the Church, and you touch Jesus of Nazareth.

Paul’s next question was a very practical one: "What do you want me to do?" By way of response to this inquiry our Lord gave him not a single line of instruction beyond telling him to go and put himself under the authority of the Church: "Arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do" (Acts 9:6).

This answer of the Lord to Saul was significant in two ways. First, it strengthened the substance of the original revelation itself, affirming once again the union between Church and Christ. It asserted that the Church had the authority to speak for Christ. This answer repeated, in specific reference to this Saul of Tarsus, what Jesus had earlier declared to the Church: "He who hears you hears Me" (Luke 10:16). This was the first lesson the soon-to-be apostle was to learn at depth–that he enjoyed no special, one-on-one access to Christ that did not involve the Church. Christ would give Saul no instruction beyond, "Do exactly what the Church tells you to do."

Second, in addition to conveying a truth important to all Christians, this answer of the Lord to Saul addressed the immediate context of his trip to Damascus. He was going there, after all, "so that if he found any who were of the Way, whether men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem" (Acts 9:2). Now this same man must continue his journey into the city, "trembling and astonished" (9:6), blind and fasting (9:8-9), to submit the welfare of his soul to the very people he had come to arrest.

Such was the new apostle’s introduction to the Christian life. He did not find salvation and then look around for likeminded folks with whom to throw in his lot. The Church was not optional. It was of the very substance of the revelation that Saul received. He did not start with a personal theology about salvation and proceed to search for some group that agreed with that theology. No, the revelation of the risen Christ was also a revelation of the Church. In Paul’s experience, there was no separation between these two realities.

The rest of Paul’s ecclesiology over the years was a development of this perception. First, it was at Damascus that the Church told him exactly how to get rid of his sins: "Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on the name of the Lord" (22:16). For Paul, forgiveness of sins was not something distinguishable from being baptized into the Church. That is to say, Paul learned that "by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body" (1 Corinthians 12:13). Through this sacramental experience he came to know that there is "one body and one Spirit, . . . one Lord, one faith, one baptism" (Ephesians 4:4-5). Then, sharing in the Lord’s Supper, Paul learned the mystic source of the Church’s union with Christ, discerning that "we many are one bread, one body, for we all partake of that one bread" (1 Corinthians 10:17). The Church was Christ’s own body because she partook of that body through the celebration of the Eucharistic Mystery.

In short, Paul’s experience of grace in his conversion included the meaning of the Church, the union of those joined to Christ and to one another in the living, specific, and defined institution with which Christ so completely identified Himself.

Sunday, June 15

Acts 9:10-25: We are not free to choose the framework and shape of our repentance—surely this is one of the clearest teachings of the Bible. Jesus “poured water into a basin,” says the Sacred Text, “and began to wash the disciples’ feet” (John 13:5). The Lord determined the basin, the instrument that gave specific contour and dimensions to the shape of His cleansing water. He then came to each of the disciples, one by one, and they understood that they had to put their feet into that basin, so that
He could wash them.

In other words, the Lord Himself chooses the manner and pattern of our washing; how we are cleansed by Christ is not a decision for our personal choice. “Here is the bowl,” the Lord’s action affirms; “put your feet right in here, this specific basin, and I will wash you clean, for if I do not wash you, you have no part with Me.”

This truth was among the most important that Saul of Tarsus had to learn, and God took special care that he learned it well. As he was ruefully to reflect so many times during his later life, Saul had been a persecutor of the Holy Church (1 Corinthians 15:9; Galatians 1:13, 23; Philippians 3:6; 1 Timothy 1:13). “As for Saul,” we are told, “he made havoc of the church, entering every house, and dragging off men and women, committing them to prison” (Acts 8:3). So when the Lord converted Saul on the road to Damascus, He made an explicit point of obliging that persecutor to submit to the Church that he had afflicted.

Some modern Christians imagine that they can come to God by “Christ alone and not by an organized religion,” but the Lord would suffer Saul to entertain no such illusion. On the contrary, in Saul’s conversion Jesus most explicitly identified Himself with the Church: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me? . . . I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (9:4, 5). It was in this moment that Saul learned that Jesus and His Church are inseparable.

Thus, Saul would never be able to say that he came to God by “Christ alone and not by an organized religion.” Indeed, after Jesus identified Himself to Saul, He gave him not one word of further direct instruction. When Saul asked Him, “Lord, what do You want me to do?” Jesus simply directed him to make that same inquiry of the Church: “Arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do” (9:6). That is to say, not even the Apostle Paul, in the very hour of his conversion, was permitted to deal with Jesus “one on one.” The contour and shape of his repentance had to be determined by a specified “organized religion.” Paul would have no “personal relationship to Jesus as Lord and Savior” except through obedience to the doctrine, discipline, sacramental worship, and corporate life of the Church; he could not have a “personal relationship to Christ” on his own terms. Apart from the Church, the saving knowledge of God in Christ was not available even to St. Paul. He was constrained, rather, humbly to submit his heart and conscience to the divinely commissioned authority of that same body of Christians that he had hitherto been persecuting.

Paul’s sins were not taken away simply by his “asking Jesus to enter his heart.” There is nothing in the biblical text to suggest that he did any such thing on the road to Damascus. (Indeed, “Receive Jesus into your heart” is an expression unknown in Holy Scripture.) On the contrary, Paul’s sins were taken away by his deliberate submission to the Church’s sacramental discipline: “Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on the name of the Lord” (Acts 22:16), because he “who believes and is baptized will be saved” (Mark 16:16). Paul was obliged to adhere to the same procedure as every other believer, a prescription enunciated in the Church’s very first sermon on Pentecost: “Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins” (Acts 2:38). Paul was forgiven his sins in exactly the same way required of everyone else, by joining the sole organization in this world that has the authority to forgive sins (cf. John 20:23).

Surely, then, it was in the experience of his conversion that the Apostle Paul received the seed of all his later teaching about the Church, which he identified as “the pillar and ground of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15). Paul knew nothing of any non-institutional Christianity. He was familiar with no Christ except the Christ of the Church—that constituted, organized communion of believers so intimately identified with Christ as to be called His “body” (Ephesians 1:22; 4:15–16; 5:23; Colossians 1:18, 24).

(Taken from P. H. Reardon, Christ in His Saints)

Monday, June 16

Acts 9:26-43: Given the grievous animosity that had long estranged the Jews and the Samaritans, it is no small grace to read in verse 31 that "the Church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria had peace." This initial reconciliation now accomplished, Luke will direct our attention more emphatically to the conversion of the Gentiles, initiated by Philip’s baptism of the Ethiopian and to be extended by Peter over the next two chapters.

Prior to Peter’s baptism of Cornelius, however, Luke describes the apostle’s new travels outside of Jerusalem, to which he had returned in 8:25. Two more miracles of Peter are narrated in this section, the healing of Aeneas and the raising of Tabitha.

The first occurred at Lydda, some 28 miles northwest of Jerusalem, and the cured paralytic was Aeneas, named for the fabled leader of those Trojans who laid the ancient foundations of the Roman Empire. Since Virgil’s account of that adventure, the Aeneid, published in the previous century under Augustus, enjoyed a quasi-official status in Roman culture, it is unthinkable that the cultured and cosmopolitan Luke would have been ignorant of it or have missed the spiritual significance of Peter’s healing a man bearing that name.

Joppa, where Tabitha was raised from the dead, was another twelve miles further northwest, on the Mediterranean coast and thirty miles south of Caesarea Maritima ("Caesarea on the Sea," as distinct from Caesarea Philippi). Tabitha, the seamstress of Joppa. died what the Acts of the Apostles indicates was a premature death, for we are told that she perished of a sickness. Tabitha’s bereaved companions, learning that the Apostle Peter was currently visiting in the nearby town of Lydda, “sent two men to him, imploring [parakalountes] him not to delay in coming to them” (9:38). We observe here the dynamics of Christian intercession. At Tabitha’s death the congregation at Joppa was not content to “go to God directly.” They sought, rather, the intercession of Peter, and to obtain that intercession they sent, not one, but two men to “implore” Peter on their behalf. It is clear that “imploring the saints,” communication among the saints, took place all through this episode. Later generations of the saints would call this process a “prayer chain.”

One is impressed by the several similarities between this story of Tabitha and another biblical account of intercession, the Gospel narrative of the raising of Jairus’s daughter. First, each case involves a premature death, the daughter of Jairus being only twelve years old (Mark 5:42; Luke 8:42). Second, in both episodes attention is drawn to the people weeping near the corpse (Matthew 9:23; Mark 5:38; Luke 8:52; Acts 9:39). Third, in each instance the curious bystanders are dismissed from the room prior to the raising from the dead (Matthew 9:25; Mark 5:37; Luke 8:51; Acts 9:40). Fourth, both Jesus and Peter take the hand of the one deceased (Matthew 9:25; Mark 5:41; Luke 8:54; Acts 9:41). Fifth, there is a resemblance between these two accounts even in the wording of the formulas used to raise the dead persons. This similarity is clearest in Mark, who alone transcribes the original Aramaic of Jesus’ command, “Little girl, arise”: Talitha, koum (5:41). We note that a difference of only one letter separates this word talitha from the Aramaic name “Tabitha,” for which Luke provides the Greek translation “Dorkas,” meaning “antelope” or “gazelle” (Acts 9:40). Thus, Peter’s Aramaic command to the deceased seamstress of Joppa was, Tabitha, koum.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly, in each case there is an intercession–literally an “imploring”–and it is instructive to observe that the same word, parakalo, is used with respect both to imploring Jesus (Mark 5:23; Luke 8:41) and to imploring Peter (Acts 8:38). In the context of prayer, that is to say, the saints speak to the saints in a way resembling the way they speak to Jesus. Thus, this identical verb, parakalo, is employed by Paul both to “implore” the Lord in his affliction (2 Corinthians 12:8) and to “implore” the saints at Rome to pray for him (Romans 15:30).

Tuesday, June 17

Mark 2:1-12: In all three Synoptic Gospels, the healing of the paralytic (Matthew 9:1–8; Mark 2:1–12; Luke 5:17–26) is followed immediately by the calling of the tax collector and the Lord’s eating with sinners (Matthew 9:9–13; Mark 2:13–17; Luke 5:27–32). This common sequence of the two narratives probably reflects an early preaching pattern, explained by the fact that both stories deal with the same theme: Jesus’ relationship to sin and sinners. The paralytic was healed, after all, “that you may know that the Son of Man has power [authority] on earth to forgive sins,” and the point of the second story is that “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Thus, the most significant thing about the paralytic is not his paralysis, but his “sins,” so this is what Jesus addresses first. Indeed, even when He heals the paralysis, Jesus does so in order to demonstrate His authority over the man’s sins. In what He does in this scene, then, Jesus inserts Himself between God and the man, speaking to the man with God’s authority. It is not without significance that all three versions of the story also include the detail that Jesus could, like God, read His accusers’ inner thoughts.

In each of the three Synoptic Gospels, moreover, the Lord’s claim to authority over sin here becomes the first occasion on which His enemies accuse Him of blasphemy. This is significant too, because at His judicial process before the Sanhedrin blasphemy will be the crime of which He is accused. In a sense, then, Jesus’ trial begins with His healing of the paralytic, because this scene is recognized by even His enemies as the occasion on which He forcefully claims divine authority.

This more dramatic aspect of the account is perhaps clearest in the versions of Mark and Luke, where it is the first of five conflict stories that cast an ominous cloud over Jesus’ activity through the rest of those Gospels (Mark 2:1—3:5; Luke 5:17—6:11). In Mark’s rendering, furthermore, the resolve to “destroy” Jesus is explicitly taken at the end of this sequence (3:5).

In all three Synoptic Gospels the paralytic becomes the “type” of the sinner. He is helpless, carried by others because he cannot carry himself. He is utterly in need of mercy above all things. Indeed, even his forgiveness and his cure are not credited to his own faith. All three accounts mention that the Lord sees the faith, not of the paralytic, but of the men who support him. This point of “corporate faith” in the forgiveness of sins is accentuated in Matthew’s version, where the authority of Jesus to forgive sins is shared with “men” (9:8). The plural here is significant and touches on an important theme in Matthew, the Church’s authority to bind and loose in God’s name (16:19; 18:18). This theme is related to the Great Commission at the end of that Gospel, where the entire mission of the Church is rooted in the total “authority” of Christ (28:18).

Even functioning as a literary and theological type, however, this paralytic is certainly not reduced to an abstraction. Indeed, because of the detail of the removal of the roof (in Mark and Luke) in order to lower the paralytic down into Jesus’ presence, still dangling between earth and heaven, this is one of the more colorful and unforgettable scenes in the Gospels.

Wednesday, June 18

Mark 2:13-17: Since the call of Levi falls in exactly the same sequence in the Gospels of Mark and Luke as Matthew’s call in the Gospel of Matthew, we are surely correct in regarding these two men as identical. Mark and Luke place this tax collector’s calling fairly early, soon after the calling of the fishermen, where we might naturally expect it. Matthew puts it somewhat later in the narrative, after the Sermon on the Mount.

It is much more significant, however, that all three Synoptic Gospels treat the call of the tax collector (Levi/Matthew) as a centerpiece bracketed between two stories about sinners: the paralytic being forgiven his sins and Jesus having dinner with notorious sinners. Thus set between these two events, the call of the tax collector represents above all the evangelical summons to repentance and the forgiveness of sins.

The dialogue connected with the meal at his house illustrates this meaning of the tax collector’s call. Jesus, criticized for his association with sinners on this occasion, explains that “those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick” (Mark 2:17). In thus addressing sin through the metaphor of sickness, the Lord strikes again the note recently sounded by His healing of the paralytic as proof of His authority to forgive the man’s sins (2:5–12).

Furthermore, summoning sinners to repentance and salvation is not just one of the things Jesus happens to do. There is a sense in which this is the defining thing that Jesus does–the very reason He came into this world. This truth is affirmed at the meal at the tax collector’s house, where He proclaims, “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance” (Luke 5:32; cf. Matthew 9:13; Mark 2:17). Again, it is in the context of the call of yet another tax collector, Zacchaeus, that Jesus says, “the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10).

One of those “lost” was the Apostle Paul, who remembered himself to have been “a blasphemer, a persecutor, and an insolent man.” But then he recalled that the same Lord who received the friends of the tax collector also received him: “This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief” (1 Timothy 1:13–15).

Christ can call sinners, only because He can really do something about their sins. And He can forgive their sins precisely because He has paid the price of those sins. Therefore, Jesus’ forgiveness of sins is theologically inseparable from His dying for sinners. Correct repentance, then, brings the sinner to the foot of the Cross.

In truth, this soteriological dimension of the call to repentance is implied in the Gospel stories under consideration. Both at the forgiveness of the paralytic and at the tax collector’s dinner, all three Synoptics speak of the hostile presence of Jesus’ enemies, the very men who will contrive to kill Him. They accuse Him of blasphemy on the first occasion (“This man blasphemes”—the very charge for which He will be condemned to death) and find fault with Him on the second (“Why does your Teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”). In both cases Jesus confronts them on this matter of His relationship to sin and to sinners.

Thursday, June 19

2 Samuel 3: Did we pay him more mind, the Bible’s portrayal of Abner would surely appear as a case study in psychology and moral analysis. As Abner’s persona is partly eclipsed, however, by his proximity to David, Saul, and other more obviously “complicated” figures, we may easily fail to notice the interesting moral complexity of his life and career. A kinsman of Saul (1 Samuel 14:50), Abner was a military leader, part of the royal court, and a sharer at the king’s private table. In one of the accounts, he is credited with originally bringing David to Saul’s attention (17:55–57).

With David’s rapid rise, however, the popular prestige of Abner was doubtless diminished as much as Saul’s; nor is it unwarranted to guess at his reaction when David’s superior military ability likewise earned him a place in the royal family and at the royal table. If the popular mind made David something of a rival to Saul, he was surely as much to Abner. Later, indeed, David’s open jeering at Abner in the presence of the army strikes one as the taunt of a personal contender (26:5, 13–16).

But harder days for Abner lay ahead. As a royal relative and the recognized commander of Israel’s army, his responsibilities were considerably increased after the death of Saul and Jonathan at the Battle of Mount Gilboa. Indeed, the political stability of the northern tribes greatly depended on his personal authority during those troubled years, nor could the house of Saul have stayed in power had it not been for the backing of Abner. Events would prove that Saul’s lackluster heir, Ishbosheth, could occupy the throne only by Abner’s assent.

Following the Battle of Mount Gilboa, the Israelites were divided between the northern tribes, nominally ruled by Ishbosheth, and the tribe of Judah under David, a division rendering it easy for the Philistines effectively to control most of the northern area west of the Jordan.

This hapless situation, threatening to become permanent, posed for Abner a true moral dilemma. He was an instinctively loyal man, principled, and innocent of personal ambition. The sundry loyalties of even such a man, nonetheless, may sometimes stand in conflict, and Abner was compelled in due course to choose between his expected adherence to the house of Saul and his more abiding concern for the nation’s very survival. Long accustomed to viewing David through the eyes of Saul, Abner experienced much of the same conflict of loyalties that had plagued the conscience of Jonathan some years earlier, and his painful resolution to that conflict, like Jonathan’s, would lead directly to the tragedy that ended his life.

When he did decide to join with David, Abner’s moral authority in Israel was such that he was able to bring with him, not only the army, but the various tribal elders of Israel (3:17–19).

Abner’s decision, though it probably took shape over some period of time, was brought to abrupt closure when Ishbosheth accused him of disloyalty to the house of Saul (2 Samuel 3:7–11). Decisions about loyalty are particularly tough ones that often can go either way, so it is not surprising that not everyone would agree with Abner. The line of his critics and second-guessers extends from his murderer, Joab (3:24–30), all the way to certain modern commentators, one of whom writes of Abner’s “treachery.”

As we would expect, David took an opposite view of the matter (3:37), as did Solomon (1 Kings 2:32). Abner himself claimed his decision was based on theological truth, not mere political expediency (2 Samuel 3:18). David, after all, had been anointed by Samuel and was recognized by the high priest Abiathar. Ishbosheth, in contrast, had nothing to recommend him beyond his descent from Saul, whose house the Lord had clearly repudiated.

Still, Holy Scripture does not disguise the fact that Abner’s resolve, for all his high-minded adherence to principle, was not untainted by some element of the fleshly and the mundane. In the end it was a sense of disgust with Saul’s son that drove Abner to David’s side.

Nor does the biblical narrator himself say, in so many words, that Abner was an honorable man; he simply tells the story and lets the reader decide. (Indeed, he may not have known whether there was truth in Ishbosheth’s accusation.) Only God, after all, can fully measure any man or his moral decisions.

Friday, June 20

Psalm 88: Psalm 88 (Greek and Latin 87) is possibly the most difficult of the psalms. In any case, it is arguably the darkest. It even stands among the most somber compositions in all of Holy Writ, comparable to the overcast pages of Job and Ecclesiastes. It is appropriately prayed on Fridays, the day of our Lord’s death.

It not being readily apparent, perhaps, how to reconcile such tenebrous tones with evangelical hope, some may even judge the sentiments of this psalm too dismal for it to serve as Christian prayer at all. Psalm 88 is not only darksome in its every line; almost alone among the psalms, it even ends on a dark note. Its final line says: “My friend and confrere have You kept afar from me; and my neighbors, because of my distress.” Now, how can that sort of sentiment be the “last word” in a Christian prayer?

But then, on closer inspection, we may observe certain subtler features softening this impression of our psalm. For all its gloom and shadow, for example, is it without significance that Psalm 88 begins by thus addressing the Almighty: “O Lord, the God of my salvation”? The intimacy and quiet hope of this address put one in mind of Psalm 22, in which the crucified Jesus, asking why God has forsaken Him, nonetheless continues to call Him “my God, my God.”

Three further comments seem appropriate regarding this umbrageous aspect of Psalm 88. First, one must bear in mind that, like all the Bible, it comes to us from the Holy Spirit. If death is portrayed in this psalm as a very bad thing, then the Holy Spirit wants us to regard death as a very bad thing. One occasionally meets pagans and unbelievers who avow that they are not afraid to die. Well, this psalm suggests that maybe they should be afraid. In line after line of Psalm 88, a writer under the guidance and impulse of the Holy Spirit says, in the sharpest terms, that death is a most terrifying prospect.

Second, bearing in mind that our fear of death is a reaction of the fleshly man, the “old Adam,” still active within us, we should be mightily consoled to think that the Holy Spirit, in this psalm, has made such generous provision for this fleshly side of ourselves. The Holy Spirit, that is to say, gives our fleshly fear its due. If we yet feel this fear of death, the Holy Spirit is careful for this fear to find expression in prayer. Here is the tender condescension of God, that He provides even that our fallen nature may voice itself to Him in supplication and the lowly fealty of our very fear.

Third, Jesus took on Himself, not our pristine, unfallen nature, but our nature as weakened at the ancient tree and throughout the rest of our history. So the fear of death expressed in this psalm is certainly a fear that Jesus felt. If, in addition, as Holy Scripture indicates in so many places, death is but the outward expression of sin and our alienation from God, then a deeper understanding of sin must surely imply a more profound understanding of death. And who understood sin more than Jesus? Likewise was His perception of death vastly more ample and accurate than our own. And, as He knew more about the power of death than any of the rest of us, there is every reason to believe that He felt this fear of death more than the rest of us possibly could.

Finally, it is an ironic feature of liturgical and homiletic history that one expression from this psalm has been consistently used by the Church to refer to the death of Jesus, not as a term of doom but as an emblem of the high triumph and validation inherent in His Cross. That expression is “free among the dead.” In the mystic vision of Holy Church, Jesus was indeed “free among the dead” in the sense that death had no dominion over Him. He was “free” with respect to death, inasmuch as it could not hold Him fast. Reaching to seize Jesus in the moment of His final breath, death found itself, instead, cast down and trampled by the rush of His abundant life crashing into that realm where the grave, hitherto undisputed, had so long held sway. Every antagonist fell beneath His mighty, grinding tread.

And forthwith striding to the nether world, Jesus “went and preached to the spirits in prison, who formerly were disobedient” (1 Pet. 3:19, 20). To demonstrate, moreover, that our Lord was truly free among the dead, “the earth quaked, and the rocks were split, and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the graves after His resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many” (Matt. 27:51–53).

Friday, June 6

Matthew 24:36-42: The second illustration, in the extended exhortation to vigilance, is the example of Noah at the time of the flood. All the signs of impending danger were present, but only Noah was able to read them. According to the Epistle to the Hebrews, "By faith Noah, being divinely warned of things not yet seen, moved with godly fear, prepared an ark for the saving of his household, by which he condemned the world and became heir of the righteousness which is according to faith" (11:7).

But Noah not only lived in righteousness; he also proclaimed righteousness. The Apostle Peter referred to him as "a preacher of righteousness" (2 Peter 2:5), and late in the first century Clement of Rome wrote that "Noah preached repentance, and those who heeded him were saved" (7.6).

This picture of Noah as a righteous preacher of repentance came to the early Christians from Jewish lore about that famous builder of the ark. Flavius Josephus wrote of Noah’s relationship to his contemporaries in this way: "Noah was most uncomfortable with their actions, and, not at all happy with their conduct, he persuaded them to improve their dispositions and their actions. Seeing, nonetheless, that they did not obey him but remained slaves to their own wicked desires, he feared that they would slay him, together with his wife and children, as well as the spouses of the latter, so he departed out of that land" (Antiquities 13.1).

Unable to convert his contemporaries, Noah then followed the divine leading to build an ark for the delivery of his family. He knew that God intended to flood the earth and destroy its wicked. This is what things will be like, says our Lord, at the end of the world.

The similarity between “days of Noah” and the “advent” (parousia–verses 3,27,37,39) of the Son of Man consists in the suddenness of the crisis. Not until it is actually upon them do men realize what is happening. It is literally a kataklysmos (verses 38,39), from the verb klyzo, “to wash over,” “to wash away.” The people in Noah’s time, like those at the beginning of The Plague, by Albert Camus, were living what they thought were normal lives, not expecting the catastrophe about to befall them. This is how it will be when the Son of Man returns.

Among those people living normal lives will be believers. They will be living with the unbelievers, working in the fields, grinding at the mill (verses 40-41). Yet, God will distinguish between the believer and the unbeliever. He will take the one and leave the other.

This distinction, or judgment, already introduced in the parables of the tares and wheat (13:24-30,38-42) and the good and bad fish (13:47-50), is not taken up thematically. It will appear in the parables of the good and bad servant (verses 45-51), the wise and foolish virgins (25:1-13), and the sheep and goats (25:31-46). God’s judgment means that some men be saved, others lost. Holy Scripture gives no evidence of any other conclusion.

Saturday, June 7

Matthew 24:45-51: Matthew’s third metaphor for the last days is drawn from common social experience—namely, the vigilance necessary to prevent the entrance of a burglar into the home (verses 43-44). This image of impeding thievery appears often in the New Testament, not always as a quotation from Jesus. In his very first epistle, nonetheless, St. Paul explicitly presumes that his readers are already familiar with it (1 Thessalonians 5:2). Matthew and Luke (12:39-40) are nearly identical in their preservation of this wording of this parable.  The warning to the Church at Sardis is very similar in its wording (Revelation 3:3). Second Peter 3:10 and 1 Thessalonians 5:2 both add “in the night” after “thief.” The metaphor appears again in Revelation 16:15.

This image of the household in danger introduces the parable distinguishing the wise, good, and loyal servant from the lazy, dissolute, and wicked one (verses 45-51). This is the first of three consecutive stories in Matthew, in which the passage of time is integral to the testing of God’s servants. The next two are the parables of the ten virgins (25:1-13) and the talents give to three servants (25:14-30). Although Matthew encapsulates the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world into a consistent set of images, it would be wrong to interpret too literally the word "immediately" in verse 29. These next three parables, in fact, suggest that the end of the world may still be some way off.

Nonetheless, the Lord’s return in judgment must be constantly looked for, and the anticipation of it becomes a formal principle of Christian morality. Hence, this parable distinguishing the loyal and unfaithful servant is the first of four parables about the final judgment. All four end in punishment for those who are unfaithful (verse 51; 25:12,30,41,46).

In this first parable Jesus describes as “faithful and wise” (verse 45). In the present context “faithful” (pistos) probably bears the meaning of “loyal” rather than “believing.” Several times St. Paul uses this very adjective to describe the ideal pastor, missionary, or Christian leader (1 Corinthians 4:1-12; Ephesians 6:21; Colossians 1:7; Titus 1:9). In the present text, we observe that the vocation of this servant is to feed the others in the household (verse 46).

He is also called phronimos, often translated as “prudent” or “wise,” but perhaps better rendered here as “thoughtful” or “reflective.” It is the same adjective used to describe five of the maidens in the next parable (25:2,4,8,9). Matthew also uses it to describe the man who builds his house on a rock foundation (7:24). It is the characteristic that Christians are to share with snakes! (10:16)

The wicked servant, on the other hand, assures himself that he still has opportunity to neglect his stewardship. He is coaxed into this disposition precisely because there appears to be a delay in the return of his master. "My master is delaying His coming," he says to himself (verse 48). That is to say, the sense of a postponement is an essential part of the story. The failure of the servant has to do with his inability to deal with the prolonged passage of time. What he lacks is perseverance. The Son of Man will come when the slackers do not expect him (verses 44,50).

Whereas in Luke (12:46) the punishment of the unfaithful servant places him among “unbelievers,” in Matthew he shares the lot of the “hypocrites” (verse 57). Matthew thus sounds again the repeated condemnation of the hypocrites in the previous chapter (23:13,14,15,23,25,27,28).

Also unlike Luke, Matthew here refers to “weeping and gnashing of teeth” as an element of the final condemnation. This expression is fairly often found in Matthew as a concluding statement of judgment (8:12; 13:42,50; 22:13).

Sunday, June 8

Psalm 24: As indicated in the New Testament, the recorded testimony of eyewitnesses is the basis for the Church’s proclamation of the Gospel and, consequently, for the articles of the Creed (cf. John 1:14; Acts 1:21, 22; 1 Cor. 15:1–8; 1 John 1:1–3). Certain specific events, occurring within time and space, were both the direct objects of empirical observation and the topics of apostolic preaching: “For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20).

There are exceptions to this rule, nonetheless, for certain other events, though central to both the Gospel and the Creed, were neither seen nor heard by anyone on the earth; they were not empirically available within time and space, for the simple reason that they did not take place in this world. Such events include the conquering descent of Christ into Hades (cf. Eph. 4:9; 1 Peter 3:19) and His glorious entrance into heaven. These two events are celebrated on Holy Saturday and Ascension Thursday, respectively, the days at either side of that period during which the risen Lord “presented Himself alive after His suffering by many infallible proofs, being seen by them during forty days and speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God” (Acts 1:3).

Relative to the Lord’s Ascension, we may say that the Church saw Him “going” (Luke 24:51; Acts 1:9) but not “arriving.” That triumphant arrival in heaven, nonetheless—Jesus’ crowning as “Lord of all”—is explicitly affirmed in the New Testament (cf. Mark 16:19; Phil. 2:9; 1 Tim. 3:16).

The heavenly glorification of our Lord Jesus Christ is not simply an aftermath to our redemption, but rather an essential component of the very sacrifice of the Cross. His Ascension is integral to our Lord’s priesthood. Indeed, if Jesus simply “were on earth, He would not be a priest” (Heb. 8:4). The atoning sacrifice of Christ did not end on Golgotha, but was rendered perfect and complete by His definitive entrance into the eternal Holy of Holies: “But Christ came as High Priest of the good things to come, with the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation. . . . For Christ has not entered the holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us” (Heb. 9:11, 24).

Psalm 24 (Greek and Latin 23) is a celebration of the Lord’s entrance into that heavenly sanctuary and royal court: “Who may ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who may stand in His holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who has not lifted up his soul to an idol, nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.”

This “blessing from the Lord,” this “righteousness from the God of his salvation” is the eternal redemption won for us by the sacrifice of Jesus at His heavenly glorification: “Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption” (Heb. 9:12); “But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God” (10:12).

This King of Glory comes to the entrance of heaven with the blood of the conflict still fresh upon Him (cf. Is. 63:1–6; Rev. 19:13), and a kind of dialogue takes place as the angels call for the opening of the portcullis at the approach of the returning Warrior: “Lift up your heads, O you gates! And be lifted up, you everlasting doors! And the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.”

The moment, however, is most special and most to be prolonged. Indeed, the moment is eternal, and the angelic dialogue goes on: “Lift up your heads, O you gates! Lift up, you everlasting doors! And the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory.”

By virtue of the redemption, all of creation belongs to this Jesus, King and Priest, for God “raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come. And He put all things under His feet, and gave Him to be head over all things to the church, which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all” (Eph. 1:20–23). Thus, our psalm begins: “The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein.”

Monday, June 9

1 Samuel 24: When Saul’s jealousy and dangerous behavior drove David from the royal court, he was obliged to wander, much like an outlaw, in the desert regions in the south of Judah. Harassed and pursued by the army of the increasingly deranged king, David was constantly on the move, he and his small band of friends, hiding here and there as chance provided, often hungry and always exposed to danger. Saul had put a price on David’s head, moreover, so there was the added peril of betrayal; the king’s spies might be anywhere.

David’s plight was dire indeed: “in weariness and toil, in sleeplessness often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness,” “being destitute, afflicted, tormented,” while wandering “in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth” (2 Corinthians 11:27; Hebrews 11:37-38).

It was apparently during this period that David composed some of those many psalms on the themes of persecution and treachery. For example, the ancient titles of the Psalms assign Psalm 52 (51) to the time of Doeg’s betrayal of David (1 Samuel 22:9), Psalm 54 (53) to the incident when David was sold out by the Ziphites (23:19), and Psalm 57 (56) to David’s seeking refuge in the cave of Adullam (22:1).

The present reading tells the story of David’s concealment in another cave, this one at En-gedi, just west of the Dead Sea, where Saul had led a military detachment to apprehend the young fugitive. The circumstances of this encounter draw attention to two features of the story, both of them typical of this whole period of David’s desert wandering.

First, there is the quiet, subtle working of Divine Providence, whereby the Lord protects David from capture and delivers his enemy into his power. This theme will be repeated in the next two chapters, the story of David and Nebal, and a second encounter with Saul.

Second, David shows mercy to Saul, whom he yet regards as Israel’s rightful king. This trait of mercy will also be manifest (and put to the test) in the two chapters that follow.

Throughout this period of great hardship and relentless persecution David learned by experience that “all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). God has “called” David to become the next and better king, and David must bide God’s time and pleasure to reveal that call.

Tuesday, June 10

Matthew 25:31-46: The story of the Last Judgment, which closes Matthew’s fifth great discourse and comes immediately before the account of the Lord’s Passion, was chosen by the Orthodox Church to be read immediately before the start of Lent each year. This custom places the Last Judgment as the context for repentance.

This parable makes it very clear, if we needed further clarity, that "a man is justified by works, not be faith alone" and that "faith without works is dead" (James 2:24,26).

It is imperative to observe that the last activity ascribed to Christ in the Nicene Creed is that "He will come again in glory to judge." This is Matthew’s fourth straight parable about the parousia of the Son of Man for the purpose of judgment. He had introduced this theme of final judgment much earlier, among the parables of the Kingdom (13:41), and in the coming trial before the Sanhedrin in the next chapter the Lord will speak very solemnly on this subject by way of warning to Israel’s official leaders: “I say to you, hereafter you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Power, and coming on the clouds of heaven” (26:64).

Let us also observe that the Son of Man does not return to earth alone. He is accompanied by the angels, who have a distinct function in the coming trial (verse 31; 13:41,49; 16:27; cf. Zechariah 14:5; 1 Thessalonians 3:13).

The Son of Man will sit in judgment over “all the nations”–panta ta ethne (verse 32; 24:14; 28:19). Israel is numbered among these nations. As in any trial, a verdict will be given, leading to a division, the latter symbolized by the sheep and the goats.

The Son of Man is identified as the King (verses 34;40), an image that goes back to the beginning of Matthew’s narrative (1:1,20; 2:2,13-14) and will appear again at the Lord’s trial and crucifixion (27:11,29,37,42).

The elect are addressed as the “blessed of My Father” (verse 24). The inherited Kingdom has been planned and prepared since the beginning of Creation; it had been in the divine mind all along.

Then comes the criterion of the judgment, in which we recognize the components of Luke’s parable of the Good Samaritan (10:29-37)

Especially to be noted in this parable is Jesus’ association with all mankind, especially the poor, the destitute, and the neglected. To serve the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the sick, and the imprisoned is to serve Jesus, who identifies Himself with them. This is the basis for all Christian service to suffering humanity. This is not a negligible aspect of the Gospel; it pertains to the very subject matter of the final judgment.
The dominant idea of this parable, in fact, is the divine judgment. God really does judge. He really does discriminate. He will not confuse a just man and an unjust man. He discerns the difference, and that difference means a great deal to Him. He does not take difference lightly. He assigns eternal destinies to men on the basis of that difference.

This is what we see in the present parable: Sheep and goats are spread asunder, just as wise and unwise maidens are separated one from another, and wheat is distinguished from chaff. In this world the generous and the mean have existed side by side, but at the judgment it will be so no more.
How can we know where we stand with respect to that judgment? In a sense, we cannot know. In a sense, it is not important that we know. We might become complacent. God will not have a Christian feel so secure that he neglects his duties in this world.

In the present parable the just are not preoccupied with themselves. They are preoccupied with the needs of the poor. Their lives are spent addressing those needs. They have neither the leisure nor the inclination to think about themselves, even about their “eternal security.” They are too busy doing God’s will with respect to their fellow men.

Thus, at the final judgment, they arrive unaware that they have ever served Christ at all. They imagined all along that they were taking care of the poor, simply because the poor needed to be cared for. At the judgment, then, the righteous are even surprised that they have been serving Christ all along. Their thoughts have been solely for the crying needs of their fellow men. They have had neither time nor opportunity to think about themselves.

As for the unrighteous, they are condemned to “eternal fire” (verses 41,46), this image apparently identical to the “fires of Gehenna” in 5:22. This fire also appeared in the parables of the Kingdom (13:30,40,42,50). This fire was not intended for human beings but was “prepared for the devil and his angels.” In this respect, heaven and hell are very different, because heaven was “prepared for you from the foundation of the earth? (verse 34). It was never God’s intention that men should be damned. He predestined no soul to hell. Men choose that fate for themselves when they join themselves to “the devil and his angels.”

The condemnation of the unjust—“Depart from Me”—is the direct antithesis of the invitation offered to everyone through the Gospel: “Come to Me” (11:28).

Each of the four parables of the last judgment (24:45—25:46) ends with an emphasis on condemnation. The negligent servant is condemned after the faithful servant is rewarded (24:46-48). The five foolish maidens are condemned after the five prudent ones have been rewarded (25:10-12). The slothful steward is condemned after the industrious stewards have been rewarded (25:21-26). The goats are condemned after the sheep have been rewarded (25:40-41).

Two things are to be inferred from this sequence. First, it shows that the parables serve chiefly as warnings. The promised reward is spoken of first, in order to set up the warning. Second, it suggests that God’s punishment is an afterthought, as I have already suggested. It was not part of His original plan, so to speak. Punishment was not part of God’s original plan for mankind.

The same adjective, aionion (“eternal” or “everlasting”), is used to describe both heaven and hell. This parallel points to the confusion of those who deny the eternity of hell. One cannot logically deny the eternity of hell without denying the eternity of heaven.

Wednesday, June 11

The Feast of Saint Barnabas: Although the history of Christian iconography may give us an idea of what some early saints looked like (the very primitive sketch of Peter and Paul in the excavations under the Vatican, for example), it is generally hard to gain knowledge of this sort from the New Testament. It is true that, unless the expression “of short stature” in Luke 19:3 refers to Jesus (which is grammatically possible), we know that Zacchaeus the tax collector was not tall, and we are probably justified in suspecting that Mary of Bethany was blest with ample tresses (cf. John 11:2; 12:3). On the whole, however, the New Testament is not a copious source for such information.

It differs, in this respect, from the Old Testament, which more often remarks on the physical characteristics of this or that individual. We are told, for example, of David’s handsome complexion (1 Samuel 16:12;
17:42), Saul’s unusual height (9:2; 10:23), and the density of Absalom’s hair (14:26; 18:9). We learn too, with no little distress, that Esau’s skin felt like a goat’s (Genesis 27:16–23), and of Elisha we are informed, not only that he was bald, but that he was more than slightly sensitive on the subject (2 Kings 2:23–24). Regarding the women of the Old Testament, the reader may lose track of how many are described as beautiful.

If the New Testament is less satisfactory in providing these engaging details, there is a major exception in the case of Barnabas. We really do have a good idea of what Barnabas looked like, because some ancient devotees of Zeus mistook him for the object of their devotion.

It happened in the city of Lystra, where Paul had just healed a lifelong cripple. In immediate response to this marvel, the citizens of the city “raised their voices, saying in the Lycaonian language, ‘The gods have come down to us in the likeness of men!’” After that, matters got very much out of hand. In the enthusiasm of the moment, “the priest of
Zeus, whose temple was in front of their city, brought oxen and garlands to the gates, intending to sacrifice with the multitudes.” Because of the language barrier, which apparently required them to speak through an interpreter, it took several minutes for the two apostles to put a stop to the business, but they eventually did so, proceeding then to preach one of the shortest sermons in history (three verses). Even then, says the text, “with these sayings they could scarcely restrain the multitudes from sacrificing to them” (Acts 14:8–18).

Now the curious point here is that the crowd, persuaded that the gods had just arrived in town, took Barnabas for Zeus. It was somewhat natural, given their premise, that they thought Paul to be Hermes, the messenger god, “because he was the chief speaker.” Indeed, it was Paul who had healed the lame man with a simple command. But why Barnabas as Zeus? It must have had something to do with his appearance. These folks would never have taken an average-looking guy to be Zeus.

Now it happens that we know exactly what sort of fellow those people thought Zeus, should he ever come to visit his temple, would look like, because Zeus is portrayed in dozens of extant old art works and described in scores of ancient texts. This “father of gods and men” was massive in height and powerfully muscular in bulk. His great brow extended broad and serene over clear, far-seeing eyes, and a full majestic beard lay upon his barrel chest. Brother to Poseidon, god of the sea,
Zeus, when he condescended to speak, spoke with the deep rumblings of oceanic authority. Now this . . . this is what the citizens of Lystra saw in Barnabas! No wonder they were impressed.

In fact, they never quite lost their awe in the presence of Barnabas. A few days later, when some Jews from Iconium arrived and stirred up the crowd against the two apostles, it was Paul that they stoned, nearly to death. Nobody dared throw a stone at Barnabas! (14:19–20)

The impressive appearance of Barnabas was matched by his generosity and nobility of soul. He made one of the first large financial donations to the Christian Church, and it was the trusted Barnabas who could introduce the recently converted Saul of Tarsus to the frightened Jerusalem church, oversee the new ministry at Antioch, lead the first mission to Cyprus and Pisidia, and later restore young John Mark to the mission field (4:36–37; 11:22–25; 13:2–14; 15:36–39). Reassured even to be in the presence of this huge, competent, and gentle human being, all Christians knew Barnabas as the “Son of Consolation.”

(From P. H. Reardon, Christ in His Saints)

Thursday, June 12

The Gospel of Mark Outlined: In the Saint James Daily Devotional Guide, the Gospel of Mark is outlined section by section. The full outline is given here:

Introduction (1:1-13): Jesus is introduced to the reader as God’s Son, especially in verses 1 & 11.

Part I. The mystery of Jesus as Messiah is progressively revealed to the others in the story, first the demons and then the disciples (1:14—8:3). In this section there are three parts, each beginning with a summary, containing a pericope about the disciples, and ending with some mention of unbelief, called blindness or hardness of heart. This first half of the Gospel of Mark closes with Peter’s Confession of Jesus as Messiah, which leads immediately into the second half of the Gospel.

A. Jesus with the crowd and the Jewish Leaders (1:14—3:6)
1. Summary of the Gospel (1:14-15)
2. The Call of the First Disciples (1:16-20)
3. The Teaching of Jesus With Power and Miracles (1:21-45)
4. The First Disputes With the Enemies (2:1—3:5)
a. Forgiveness of the Paralytic (2:1-12)
b. The Tax Collectors (2:13-17)
c. The Question of Fasting (2:18-22)
d. Lord of the Sabbath (2:23-28)
e. The Man With the Withered hand (3:1-5)
5. The Unbelief of the Pharisees (3:6)

B. Jesus and the Disciples (3:7—6:6a)
1.   Summary of Healings and Exorcisms (3:7-12)
2.   The Choice of the Twelve (3:13-19)
3.   Jesus Withdraws With His Disciples (3:20-35)
4.   Jesus Teaches His Disciples
a. By Four Parables (4:1-34)
b. By Four Miracles (4:35—5:43)
5. The Unbelief of Jesus’ Compatriots (6:1-6a)

C.   The Messiah is Revealed to His Disciples (6:6b—8:26)
1. Summary of Healings (6:6b)
2. The Mission of the Twelve (6:7-13)
3. Jesus and John the Baptist (6:14-29)
4. The Bread Cycles in Parallel (6:30-
a. The First Cycle (6:30—7:37)
The Multiplication of the Loaves (6:30-44)
The Boat Trip (6:45-56)
The Dispute With the Pharisees (7:1-1)
A Discourse on Bread (7:14-30)
The Healing of Speech and Hearing (7:31-37)
b. The Second Cycle (8:1-30)
The Multiplication of the Loaves (8:1-9a)
The Boat Trip (8:9b-10)
The Dispute With the Pharisees (8:11-13)
The Unbelief of the Disciples and
A Discourse on Bread (8:14-21)      
          
The Healing of Sight (8:22-26) (cf. 10:46-52)
The End of Part I: Jesus Confessed as Messiah (8:27-30)

Part II. The Sufferings of the Son of Man, and the Resurrection of the Lord
A. Three Prophecies of the Passion and Resurrection (8:27—10:52)
1. The First Prophecy      
a. The Passion and Resurrection Foretold (8:31)
b. The Disciples Fail to Understand the Cross (8:32-33)
c. Jesus Instructs About the Cross (8:34—9:1)
d. The Transfiguration and Elijah (9:2-13)
e. The Healing of the Epileptic Child (9:14-29)

2. The Second Prophecy
a. The Passion and Resurrection Foretold (9:30-31)
b. The Disciples Fail to Understand the Cross (9:32-34)
c. Jesus Instructs About the Cross (9:35-57)
d. Marriage, Children, Economy (10:1-31)

3. The Third Prophecy
a.  The Passion and Resurrection Foretold (10:33-34)
b.  The Disciples Fail to Understand the Cross (10:35-37)
c.   Jesus Instructs About the Cross (10:38-45)
d.   The Healing of Sight (10:46-52) (cf. 8:22-26)
B. The Revelation in Jerusalem (11:1—12:37)
1. The Messianic Entry (11:1-11)
2. The Fig Tree and the Temple (11:12-25)
3. The Final Disputes With the Enemies (11:27-33)
a. The Priests and Others: The Authority of Jesus
                       (11:13—12:12)
b. The Herodians and Pharisees: Tribute to Caesar (12:13-17)
c.  The Sadducees: The Resurrection (12:18-27)
d.  The Scribes: The First Commandment (12:28-34)
e.  Jesus Raises a Question About David (12:35-37)
f.  Jesus Denounces the Enemies (12:38-40)
g. The Widow’s Mite:
     Link With the Next Discourse (12:41-44)
C. The Eschatological Discourse (13:1-37)
D. The Death of the Son of Man (14:1—16:8)
1.  The Plot, Anointing, and Betrayal (14:1-11)   
   
2.  The Last Supper (14:12-25)
3.  The Agony in the Garden (14:26-52)
4.  The Trial by the Sanhedrin (14:53-65)
5.  The Denials of Peter (14:66-72)
6.  The Trial by Pilate (15:1-15)
7.  The Way of the Cross and the Death of Jesus (15:16-41)
8.  The Burial of Jesus (15:42-47
E. The Resurrection of the Lord (16:1-20
1.  The Empty Tomb (16:1-8)
2.  The Post Resurrection Appearances (16:9-20)

Friday, June 13

Acts 8:26-40: The conversion of the Samaritans, who may be described as half-Jewish, was a step toward the universalizing of the Gospel. Now, however, we come to the case of someone of completely Gentile blood, one of the many Gentiles who maintained some active interest in Judaism without joining it.

It should be noted that this first completely non-Jewish person to become a Christian was from Africa. He was a governmental official of “Candace,” which is not a proper name but, like the word Pharaoh, the title of an office, in this case the queen of Ethiopia (the kntky of Egyptian inscriptions).

This man is obviously reading the Bible out loud (which was the common practice among the rabbis and, with the exception of St. Ambrose, the Fathers of the Church) and is overheard by Philip. The man wants someone to “guide” (hodegein in verse 31) him in understanding Isaiah. Instructed in the Church’s understanding of the Old Testament (cf. Luke 24:27,44-45), Philip interprets the text for him, going on to explain other passages as well.

This exercise terminates in the Sacrament of Baptism. (The Scriptures are intrinsically, and of their very nature, ordered to the Sacraments. All proclamation outside the Church is ordered to Baptism, as in this case. All proclamation within the Church is ordered to the Eucharist; cf. Luke 24:30-35.) Sad as I am to say so (for I love it), verse 37 is a later addition to the text, not found in the older and more reliable manuscripts of the New Testament.