Friday, March 21
Romans 16:1-16: As the rising sun moves up toward the eastern horizon each morning, one by one the myriad stars of heaven start to disappear. They do not depart the sky, of course, but the stars do become invisible by reason of the sun’s larger and more garish light, and we upon the earth may no longer gain our bearings by observing them.
Not so the saints who shine on high. The true Sun of Righteousness does not, at His rising, eclipse those lesser lights by which the Church on earth is guided. On the contrary, He Himself illumines the saints, who have no light apart from Him. The reign of Christ does not dethrone the saints, who have no reign apart from His.
The saints, because they are so many and their serried ranks so closely stand together, are described as a “cloud” (Hebrews 12:1). Yet, on closer inspection we perceive that not one of the saints loses those personal and particular traits by which each friend of Christ may be distinguished from the others. The Good Shepherd calls them each by name.
The individual and particular names of the saints are inscribed in the Book of Life, and the names of many of them are written likewise in the Bible. It is the singular merit of Romans 16 that it contains the New Testament’s largest collection of names of individual Christians. They belong to the “church,” a word that now appears in Romans for the first time (verses 1, 4, 5, 16, 23).
In verses 1-16, here under consideration, these are all names of Christians at Rome, with the exception of Phoebe, the “deaconess” of Cenchrea (the eastern port of Corinth), who will carry this epistle to the church at Rome.
Since Paul himself had never been to Rome, how are we to explain the obvious fact that he knows so many of these Christians personally? Indeed, this problem has so vexed commentators over the centuries that they have doubted that chapter 16 belongs at the end of the Epistle to the Romans at all. They have suggested that it originally may have been attached to some other epistle, such as Ephesians.
Since there is no manuscript evidence for such an hypothesis, however, it seems better to regard chapter 16 as an integral part of Romans, seeking some other explanation for Paul’s personal familiarity with so many Christians in a city that he has never visited.
I suggest the following explanation. When the Emperor Claudius expelled the Jews from Rome in A. D. 49 (Acts 18:2), that expulsion also included many Christians. Many of these came east and settled in cities that Paul evangelized. This is how they came to be the friends of Paul and even his co-workers. However, with the death of Claudius in the year 54, about three and a half years before the composition of Romans (January to March of 58), some of these Christians naturally returned to Rome, where they owned homes and other property.
Paul’s greetings here, then, are directed to those who had returned to Rome over the previous forty-two months. This suggestion, I believe, reasonably explains how Paul came to know twenty-eight Christians at Rome personally.
This suggestion is especially clear in the case of the first two whom Paul greets, Prisca and Aquila (verses 3-4), whom he had first met as exiles from Rome in Greece in the year 49 (Acts 18:2).
It is significant that the next one named, Epenaetus, who is also from Greece (verse 5). Moreover, it is reasonable to think that Phoebe herself, who is described as a “patroness” (?????????, or patrona) of Paul (verse 2), is another of these exiled Romans returning home.
The “Rufus” who lived at Rome with his mother (verse 13) was known to Paul from Jerusalem itself. They were the son and wife of Simon of Cyrene. Eight years later, writing in Rome during the persecution that followed Nero’s fire (July of 65), Mark mentioned him and his brother Alexander, who had also arrived in Rome by this time (Mark 15:21).
Since the Epistle to the Romans and the other New Testament epistles were composed to be read at the Christians’ weekly Eucharistic gathering, and because Christians normally greeted one another with a kiss after the prayers that followed such readings, the closing remarks of these epistles sometimes refer to that kiss (verse 16).
Saturday, March 22
Matthew 18.1-9: Here begin the sayings that form the fourth great dominical discourse in Matthew; this one is devoted to what may be called “rules for the congregation.” It begins by the memorable scene in which Jesus holds up the faith of children as a model for adults. Far from refusing children access to Jesus until they arrive at the explicit and doctrinal faith of adults, Jesus admonishes adults to model their own faith on the more elementary faith of the child. Because children are the most in danger of being scandalized, this topic of children leads naturally into the subject of scandal, and in this connection come the Lord’s statements about millstones and self-mutilation. The latter are certainly to be understood by way of hyperbole.
Going through in more detail, we begin with the question of which of the disciples is the greatest (verses 1-5). In the parallel text in Mark 9:33-37, the disciples themselves argued which of themselves was the greatest. Matthew not only changes the question, then, he changes also the context of the question. It is no longer a debate among competing apostles; it is a question put to Jesus, as though a point of speculation. The question becomes spiritual and theological; it pertains to the Kingdom of Heaven. When the question is answered in verse 4, it is still about the Kingdom of Heaven.
The “child” held up as a model here is a paidion, roughly meaning someone under the age of twelve, someone who has not yet made the bar mitzvah. That is to say, it is a “kid,” someone not quite taken seriously. Hence, the lesson is one of humility. Elaborating on the point (verses 3-4, for which there are no parallels in the accounts of Mark and Luke), Jesus says that unless one becomes a paidion, he will not even enter the Kingdom, much less be contender for “greatest” cf. 20:26-27; 23:11-12).
Then Jesus asserts in a positive way (verse 4) what He has just affirmed negatively (verse 3). This disregard for power and social status elaborates what Jesus said about the poor in spirit in 5:3.
Proverbs 17: Wisdom is learned and practiced in the home and the community (or the village, as Aristotle would say). It has to do with simple, quotidian experiences, both domestic and immediately social. Consequently, a number of these maxims are concerned with man’s life in his home and in society: the blessings of a quiet household (verse 1), the raising of children (verses 21,25), dependable servants (verse 2), reverence for the younger and older generations (verse 6), the maintenance of friendships, even the friendships of others (verses 9,17), the resolution of conflicts (verse 14), and respect for the poor (verse 5).
The perfect man, we are told, is the one who “does not stumble in word” (James 3:2). Because a man’s speech is his chief means of associating with his family and his community, his ability to govern his tongue will chiefly determine the quality of his social relationships. It is a man’s speech that will make or break him in the moral and social orders. Without proper control of his tongue, a man is of no decent use to either God or his fellow men. It is not surprising, therefore, that this chapter on man’s domestic and social life should contain several references to the power of speech, not only good speech (verse 7) and controlled speech (verses 27-28), but also perverse speech (verse 20) in a number of forms, such as mendacity (verses 4,7), ridicule (verse 5), and gossip (verse 9).
Sunday, March 23
The First Epistle to the Corinthians: This letter of the Apostle Paul was written from Ephesus during the spring, near the Passover. Indeed, it contains an unmistakable indication that, at the very time of its composition, Christians were already observing this new Christian Passover feast: “Christ, our Passover, is sacrificed for us. Therefore, let us keep the feast” (5:7f.). The next feast, Pentecost (50 days after Passover), would soon be upon them, and Paul planned to stay at Ephesus until then (16:8). If the reader keeps this seasonal timetable in mind, Paul’s special emphasis on the Resurrection in chapter 15 will seem perfectly consonant with a specific historical setting. From other chronological considerations derived from the New Testament, it further seems that the year was probably 55. If so, this Epistle was written near the end of the three years that Paul spent at Ephesus (Acts 20:31).
Paul had started the mission in Corinth in the winter of 49–50 and was to remain in the city for 18 months (Acts 18:11). He had come to Corinth from Athens, and his spirit was still trying to recover from his experience in that other city. In his final sermon to the philosophers on Mars Hill near the center of Athens, he had managed to preach for 10 verses without once mentioning the Cross or even the name of Jesus (17:22–31); very few had been converted by that effort (17:34).
By the time he reached Corinth, Paul was deeply discouraged; perhaps he wondered if he had treated the gospel as a kind of philosophy. Had he gone too far in accommodating his sermon to those worldly philosophers on Mars Hill? He wondered. He was upset. He later described his feelings as those of being “in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling” (1 Corinthians 2:3). He resolved that there would be no more of what had occurred at Athens. No more concessions to philosophy; no more worldly wisdom; no more “excellency of speech.” Among the Corinthians, he would “know nothing but Jesus and him crucified” (2:1f.).
That was Paul’s resolve when he began the Corinthian mission, and it quickly bore fruit. Within 18 months he was able to leave the pastoral task to others, while he headed back eastward (Acts 18:18f.). Shortly after his departure, supervision of the pastorate at Corinth was taken over by quite another kind of preacher, a man named Apollos (Acts 19:1), “an eloquent man and mighty in the Scriptures” (18:24). Apollos was a native of Alexandria, one of the great intellectual centers of the ancient world.
Now it is a matter of constant experience among Christians that different preachers seem to appeal to different sorts of people, so it was no wonder that Apollos was able to bring to conversion many individuals that Paul himself had never been able to reach. So the church at Corinth continued to grow. Alas, however, as it grew, it also began to divide along lines of a displaced loyalty to the individual preachers. Before long, there were those who thought of themselves as Paul’s people, others as Apollos’s people, and then a third group who had somewhere along the line been converted by Cephas (Simon Peter). These last, accordingly, thought of themselves as Cephas’s people.
By that spring, none of those three preachers was any longer at Corinth, but now the Corinthian Christians found themselves divided into perhaps four groups, the last one apparently calling themselves Christ’s people! (1 Corinthians 1:12). It was not a good situation.
In the spring of (probably) 55, then, the current leadership at Corinth sent a delegation to Ephesus to seek help from the founder of their congregation, the Apostle Paul. He himself was disposed to send Apollos back to Corinth to straighten things out, but Apollos, probably embarrassed by the scandalous situation, did not feel “up to” the task (1 Corinthians 16:12). Paul himself was not yet ready to leave Ephesus, so he decided to send our present Epistle, First Corinthians, by way of dealing with the strained relationships among the believers at Corinth.
Monday, March 24
Mathew 18.10-14: The parable of the lost sheep, found both here (verses 10-14) and in Luke 15:3-7, carries a very different emphasis in each setting.
In Matthew the parable of the lost sheep is placed in an ecclesiological setting. It pertains to Matthew’s fourth great discourse, which is concerned with the Church. Bear in mind that in this chapter we have two of the three times that the word “Church” appears in the Gospels.
The link verse in this story is verse 10, a negative command that ties the parable back to the section on scandal (verses 6-9). The “little one” in this context—henos ton micron—can be a child, but it can also include any “little person,” whom we are tempted to overlook, to neglect, perhaps even to despise.
Here is Matthew’s difference from Luke’s version of the parable. In Luke this is a story of Jesus’ regard and behavior with respect to the sinner, whereas here in Matthew it is concerned with the attitude and behavior of Christians.
Let us further observe that this ecclesiological and moral accent in Matthew’s version is muted or even lost in the manuscript tradition by a copyist’s insertion of verse 11, which is missing in the older, more reliable manuscripts of Matthew. Some later copyist evidently borrowed it from Luke’s story of Jesus and the publican Zacchaeus. The insertion of this verse significantly alters the flavor and nuance of the text, changing it into a Christological story rather than an ecclesiological and moral exhortation. The text, then, should be read without verse 11.
Thus read, then, the parable is not about Jesus seeking the sheep that was lost. It is an illustration of the command not to despise one of these little ones. It is an exhortation to the Church to let no one “fall between the cracks.’ It is an order to seek and find that which was lost.
Each of these little ones, who (we observe) are no longer just children, has a guardian angel that contemplates the face of God. This is one of the “proof texts” for the Church’s belief in the guardian angels (cf. Acts 12:15).
The Church must exercise, then, a certain stewardship over the sheep, a theme that follows the prophetic criticism (cf. Ezekiel 34:6,15-16 for instance) of the shepherds of Israel, who neglected to go out and bring back the sheep that were lost.
These sheep have not only “strayed”; they have been “led astray” or “deceived” (planao), an expression that Matthew sees as a sign of the last times (cf. 24:5). They have separated themselves from the flock, because they have followed a “deceiver” (24:11). In Matthew’s context, then, to stray means to be led astray by a false teacher (24:24). In these texts it is evident that the danger of straying is great, because the false teachers are described as numerous.
We are not, says our parable, to despise those who have been led astray. They still have their guardian angels, and the Father still loves them. Hence, the people of God are never to despise those that wander and become lost, to treat such persons as negligible and beyond the solicitude of the Church
Nonetheless, Matthew phrases the admonition in such a way as to suggest that the stray sheep may not be found (verse 13). Such searches for the wandering are not invariably successful.
Still, the loss of such a sheep is never God’s will (verse 14). No sheep is predestined to be lost. The Bible knows nothing about predestination to hell; indeed, the very concept is contrary to the mind of the God who wills all men to be saved.
The “wandering” in Matthew, in short has to do with becoming separated from the flock, the Church. There are no insignificant sheep in this flock. There are no “nobodies” in the Church, no unimportant souls for whom Christ died.
In Matthew, then, this is a parable about life in the Church. Reconciliation in Matthew always means reconciliation with the Church. There is no such thing as reconciliation with God apart from the Church. Reconciliation always means restoration to the flock, and the Church is to go after the “stray.”
Tuesday, March 25
The Annunciation: Today, exactly nine months before Christmas, we accompany the angel Gabriel, who declares to Mary of Nazareth God’s intent to make her the mother of His own eternal Son. This is the day when that Son empties himself and assumes the form of a human zygote, miraculously fertilized by the “power of the Most High” and the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit.
The event commemorated today is consistent with all of God’s interventions in our history. Salvation and holiness consist in the loving union of the divine and human wills, a union in which the work of the human being is to assent to, and to cooperate with, God’s salvific intervention in human history.
Mary’s response to the angelic message — “Be it done unto me according to thy word” — uses the same verb that Jesus used when, during the agony in the garden, he placed his own will under obedience to the will of the Father.
The Holy Spirit is the active agent in the Incarnation, but this action is not forced on the young Galilean woman. Her assent and cooperation are required by the very nature of salvation. The most significant fact about Mary was her consent to God’s invitation. Absolutely everything else recorded in the four gospels depended on that consent. Without human consent there was no salvation. Without Mary’s response to the angel, we would still be in our sins. Without Mary’s response to the angel, there would be no Sermon on the Mount, no walking on the water, no healing on the Sabbath.
Apart Mary’s response to the angel, the blind man of Jericho would still be blind, the widow’s son at Nain would still be dead, and Zacchaeus would never have climbed the sycamore tree. The sisters of Lazarus would still be weeping at his tomb. All of these things came from Mary’s consent to the angel.
If in the Incarnation God’s works salvation on the earth, He exacts of the human race a free assent to that salvation. In this respect, the young Galilean woman speaks for all of us. She becomes the first to assert, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Personal history takes place one step at a time, and those steps represent the advance of holiness if they are, one by one, guided by the Word of God. “Thy Word,” we pray, “is a lamp unto my feet.” It is just a lamp; it sheds just enough light for the next step. It is not light at the end of the tunnel; it is lamp we hold in our hands. We light this lamp each, when we open the Sacred Text, so that it may guide our steps, one at a time. It is important that we do this everyday.
And here we may take the Mother of Jesus as the model for our own lives. Even as Simeon prophesied that Jesus was “destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign of contradiction,” the old man took care to warn Mary, “yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul also” (Luke 2:34-35). This prophecy was mainly fulfilled on Mount Calvary where “there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother” (John 19:25), loyally adhering to him unto to the end.
Wednesday, March 26
Matthew 18. Once again we perceive Matthew’s conviction that the Church is a house of redemption and reconciliation. To be redeemed, for Matthew, and to be reconciled, means to be at peace with the Church.
This message, once again, is obscured by copyist’s insertion of the words “against you” (<i>eis se</i> in verse 15, an insertion that makes the offense appear to be a private matter between two Christians. This insertion, unknown to Origen in the third century and missing in the two oldest codices of the Sacred Text, seems to have been made under the influence of Peter’s question in verse 21, “How often shall my brother sin <i>against me</i>?”
This insertion alters the sense of the passage rather dramatically. If the reading “against you” were original, the sense of the text would indicate a private offense involving only me and my brother. Without that insertion, however, the text refers to <i>any</i> sin that I see my brother committing, any sin that I hear he is committing. In all such cases, he remains my brother, for whom I am responsible, and his sin is my business. I have an obligation in charity to consult with my brother on thee matter.
The case proposed here concerns sins that are not general knowledge, sins not commonly known. If a sin is blatant, open, and public, there is no need for this graduated approach indicated in the Sacred Text. Public sins, by their nature, come directly to the attention of the whole Church (cf. 1 Corinthians 5:1-5; Philippians 4:2). The reprimand of public sins may be just as public as the sin itself.
Proverbs 21: A wise man will learn, not only when he submits to reprimand, but also when he sees others appropriately chastised (verses 11-12). This truth points us to one of the great advantages of studying history, because history is, among other things, the chronicling of God’s judgments against fools and scorners, and a wise man will take these lessons of history to heart.
We recently learned that a prudent woman is a gift from the Lord (19:14); a contentious wife, on the other hand, is a curse beyond human endurance (verses 9,19; cf. 25:24; 27:15).
God’s assessment of a man’s heart is not to be identified with a man’s assessment of his own heart (verse 2; cf. 16:2). “Feeling good about yourself” (Also known as “It works for <i>me</i>) is the most deceptive of feelings and keeps the soul forever immature and self-centered.
The “king” in verse 1 is any king. Since kings, holding sway over nations, are in an excellent position to influence the paths of history, God may be said to follow a certain economy of effort by using the decisions of kings to bring about His own purposes. God does not have to do this, obviously, but Holy Scripture indicates that He does.
On the other hand, while kings have their own projects and programs that affect the lives of many, the Bible (including Proverbs) is persuaded that God’s plans are not identical with those of the king, even when He employs the king’s decisions to bring them about. Ultimately, then, it is not the great men of the earth who determine the destinies of nations, but the Lord, who sees and knows all things, even those events that lie in the contingent future. God’s will prevails (verses 30-31).
Thursday, March 27
1 Corinthians 2.1-16: This chapter takes issue with those Christians at Corinth who boasted of their superior wisdom, which St. Paul was careful to distinguish from the wisdom of God revealed in the Cross.
The distinction between ungodly wisdom and the wisdom of the Gospel is the setting in which St. Paul, declares what I take to be the subject matter of Sacred Theology; that is to say, the knowledge of ta charisthenta — “the things freely given.” This expression is plural. It pertains to Paul’s reference just a few verses earlier: “we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery.” For Paul, “the wisdom of God”—Theou sophia—is God’s redemptive design, which is concealed in the logos tou stavrou, the“word of the Cross.”
The expression, “things given us freely by God,” indicates a cognitive plurality in the wisdom of God. That is to say, in the proclamation of “the word of the Cross,” it is necessary to employ various words and concepts to designate aspects and dimensions of the “wisdom of God.” The proclamation is discursive.
The words employed in this reflection are given by the Holy Spirit. Paul proceeds to argue the point by citing the Prophecy of Isaiah: “For ‘who has known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct Him?’”
Paul answers, “But we have the mind of Christ.” Paul, who up to this point has been speaking of the Holy Spirit as the source of God’s wisdom, now suddenly speaks of Christ. He does this, I presume, under the influence of Isaian text he has just cited. This text asks, tis egno noun Kyriou—“Who has known the mind of the Lord”?
For Paul the Lord is Christ. The mind of the Lord is the nous Christou, “the mind of Christ.” Paul’s shift of emphasis here strikes me as very important. The whole task of reflection on the wisdom of God in a mystery is dependent on the nous Christou.
This is, I submit, the font of Sacred Theology. It is an introduction, through the grace of the Holy Spirit, into the mind of Christ, a participation in his perception and understanding.
Sacred Theology is traditionally spoken of as reflection on the content of Divine Revelation. This concept is, I suppose, formally correct. It seems to me necessary, however, to say something further; namely, Sacred Theology must include the experience, the sensus, of Revelation. In other words, there is no what of Revelation apart from the living event of Revelation. What is revealed must not be separated from the experience of its revealing. Sacred Theology must embrace—yes, even begin with—the experienced reception of the knowledge of the Father into the human mind of Christ. Christ understood Holy Scripture from within his relationship to the Father.
This means that Holy Scripture, which is the stuff of Revelation, is not simply a record of what was divinely disclosed in the past. It is the energetic Word—the Son’s communicated knowledge of the Father—in the here and now. Sacred Theology is communion with God in His present and living Word, as we grasp it in the mind of Christ.
The Christian understanding of Holy Scripture comes from within Christ’s understanding of Holy Scripture. There is no other theological entrance into the Bible than the mind of Christ.
Friday, March 28
Proverbs 23: The greatest conceit a man can cultivate is a trust in “his own” wisdom (verse 4), because true wisdom is the shared inheritance of human experience. Therefore, it is no proper goal of education that a student should be taught “to think for himself.” Any idiot can learn that on his own. (The Greek word for “his own” is idios.) It is a proper goal of education, rather, that a student should learn to think the thoughts of Plato, of Aristotle, of Amen-em-Opet, of Ahikar, of Confucius, of the other great minds whose ideas have fed and sustained entire civilizations. A true education, an introduction to wisdom, comes from hearing the instruction of those who are truly wise (verse 12). Idiosyncratic isolation is arguably the greatest enemy to the acquisition of wisdom.
Verses 15 to 28 take up again some of the motifs of the first part of Proverbs, encouraging the fear of the Lord (verse 17), custody of the heart (verse 19), sobriety and self-restraint (verses 20-21), respect for tradition (verses 22,24-25), and chastity (verses 27-28). This chapter closes with a colorful and amusing description of drunkenness (verses 29-35).
Psalm 69 (Greek & Latin 68): From the very beginning the Christian reading of this psalm has uniformly interpreted this prayer in the context of the Lord’s suffering and death. “Save me, O God, for the waters have come even unto my soul. . . . I have come to the depths of the sea, and the flood has submerged me,” prays the Man of sorrows who described His approaching Passion as the baptism with which He must be baptized (cf. Mark 10:38; Luke 12:50; Rom. 6:3).
This same Sufferer goes on to pray: “Zeal for Your house has consumed me,” a verse explicitly cited in the New Testament with respect to the Lord’s purging of the temple (John 2:17). In the context this consuming of the Lord was a reference to His coming Passion; He went on to say to those who were plotting to kill Him: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” In saying this, the evangelist noted, “He was speaking of the temple of His body” (vv. 19, 21).
The very next line of Psalm 69 says: “The reproaches of those who reproached You have fallen on me,” a verse later cited in Romans as bearing on the sufferings of the Lord. The apostle’s lapidary and understated comment was that “even Christ did not please Himself” (15:3). In this passage St. Paul could obviously presume a common Christian understanding of Psalm 68, even in a congregation that he had not yet visited.
Still later in our psalm stands the line: “Let their dwelling be deserted, and let no one live in their tabernacles.” Even prior to the Pentecostal outpouring, the Church knew this verse for a reference to Judas Iscariot (cf. Acts 1:20), that dark and tragic figure who guided the enemies of Jesus and betrayed his Lord with a kiss.
Psalm 69 is the prayer of Him “who, in the days of His flesh . . . offered up prayers and supplications, with vehement cries and tears to Him who was able to save Him from death” (Heb. 5:7). The Christian Church has ever been persuaded that Psalm 68 expresses the sentiments of that soul “exceedingly sorrowful, even to death” (Matt. 26:38). In Psalm 68 we are given a vision into the very heart of Christ in the circumstances of His Passion: “Deliver me from those that hate me, and from the depths of the waters. Let not the flood of water submerge me, nor the depth swallow me down, nor the mouth of the pit close over me.”
This is the Christ who in dereliction sought in vain the human companionship of His closest friends during the vigil prior to His arrest: “What? Could you not watch with Me one hour?” (Matt. 26:40). Psalm 68 speaks of this disappointment as well: “My heart waited for contempt and misery; I hoped for someone to share my sorrow, but there was no one; someone to console me, but I found none.”
According to all four Gospels, the dying Christ was offered some sort of bitter beverage, oxsos, a sour wine or vinegar, as He hung on the Cross. This is the very word used at the end of the following verse of Psalm 68: “And for my food they laid out gall, and for my drink they gave me vinegar.”
But there is another dimension to the Passion of the Lord—the resolve of His victory. Even as He was being arrested, His enemies were unable to stand upright in His presence (cf. John 18:6). This was the Christ, “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame” (Heb. 12:2). No man takes the Lord’s life from Him, for He has power to lay it down and to take it up again (cf. John 10:18). This is the Christ whom death could not hold, who descended a very conqueror into hell to loose the bonds of them that sat in darkness, and who “went and preached to the spirits in prison” (1 Pet. 3:19).
This sense of Christ’s victory also dominates the final lines of Psalm 68: “I am poor and distressed, but the salvation of Your face, O God, has upheld me. I will praise the name of God with song; and I will magnify Him with praise.”
The victory of Christ is the foundation of the Church, those described when our psalm says, “Let the poor see and rejoice. Seek God, and your soul will live. . . . For the Lord will save Zion, and the cities of Judah will be built, and they shall dwell there and hold it by inheritance, and the seed of His servants will possess it.”