Friday, February 17
Matthew 12:9-14: This story continues the theme of the Lord’s relationship to the Sabbath. Rabbinical theory permitted acts of healing on the Sabbath only in danger of death; otherwise such actions had to be postponed. In this text, and generally throughout the gospels, Jesus ignores this distinction. In the present instance His enemies are completely frustrated, because Jesus does not do anything with which they can accuse Him. He does not touch the afflicted man; He does not speak one word that could be interpreted as an act of healing. He simple tells the man to extend his impaired hand, and immediately the hand is healed! In their frustration the Lord’s enemies take the action to which most of the narrative has been building up to this point—they resolve that Jesus must die. That is to say, they resolve to do what Herod had failed to accomplish in the second chapter of Matthew.
Psalm 102 (Greek & Latin 101): This psalm is structured on a contrast, pursued through two sequences. The first half of the first sequence is all “I”—I am miserable, I am sad, my heart withers away like the grass in the heat, I lie awake at night, I feel like a mournful bird, I mingle my drink with tears, my days flee like the shadows of an evening, and so forth. Life being rough, a goodly number of our days are passed with such sentiments, so it is usually not difficult to pray this part of the psalm.
The second half of the first sequence arrives with the expression, “but You, O Lord,” which is just as emphatic in the Hebrew (we’attah Adonai) and the Greek (sy de Kyrie). “You” is contrasted with “I.” God is not like me; God is almighty and does what He wants and does not die. God is enthroned forever, and His name endures from generation to generation. God will arise and deliver His people.
The second and shorter contrasting sequence repeats the first. Once again, as at the beginning, there is the sense of our human frailty, our shortened days, our strength broken at midcourse. To this is contrasted the eternity of God; His years endure unto all generations. Thus, both sequences in this psalm form contrasts between the permanence of God and the transience of everything created.
Jeremiah 8: In this chapter (verse 22) is the first of two instances when Jeremiah refers to the “balm of Gilead” (cf. 46:11). This medicinal ointment, known in Islam as “balsam of Mecca,” is first mentioned in Genesis 37:25 as one of the products transported by Midianite traders. Native to Arabia, this resinous gum was domesticated in ancient times and was well known to the whole Fertile Crescent and the Mediterranean Basin.
The “balm of Gilead” is well known to students of literature and the stage. Although “Balm of Giliead” is the title of an early play by Lanford Wilson, perhaps the expression is best known from Poe’s “The Raven”:
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird of devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whatever tempest tossed thee ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore — Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Saturday, February 18
Psalms 107 (Greek & Latin 106): The outline of this psalm is given early: “From the regions He gathered them—from east and west, from the north and from the sea.” The “four corners of the earth”—expressed in the ancient Greek text in this unusual way—indicates the fourfold progression in a poetic narrative of redemption. Four times we read, “they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, / And He delivered them from their distresses.” This is an historical meditation for attaining contemplative wisdom; its final line asks, “Who is wise and will guard these things, and will understand the mercies of the Lord?”
The four “distresses” in this psalm are the wandering in the desert, a situation of imprisonment or bondage, a sickness, and a storm at sea. The last of these, the storm at sea, explains why, in the four directions listed at the beginning of the psalm in Greek, we read of “sea,” instead of the expected “south.”
Just as the people are delivered four times, so they are four times summoned to the praise of God: “Let them confess the Lord for His mercies, and His wonders to the sons of men.”
These four distresses may be understood literally or by way of metaphor, or as combinations of these.
Thus, for instance, when our psalm speaks of suffering in a waterless, trackless wasteland, this may be understood as referring to the return from the Babylonian Exile as well as to the earlier wandering of the Exodus generation.
It may also include any experience of being lost and trying to find one’s way back home. Thus, it may describe the journey of a reckless son lost in a distant country and already given up for dead (Luke 15:13, 24). This son, in turn, may be Jacob exiled in Harran, where the drought consumed him by day, and the frost by night, and sleep departed from his eyes (cf. Gen. 31:40).
And it may likewise be any or all sinners, exiled from the Garden and wandering away from the face of God, “without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12).
Similarly, the psalm’s next part, dealing with bondage or imprisonment, may refer to Joseph sold into slavery, fettered in a foreign land and presumed already to have perished (Gen. 37). Or it may be descriptive of Micaiah (1 Kin. 22:26, 27), or Jeremiah (chapters 37—39), or John the Baptist (Matt. 11; 14), or the Apostle Paul (Acts 23—26). And it may refer to our spiritual captivity, of which Jesus said that He came to set the oppressed at liberty (Luke 4:18).
Then there is the section of the psalm describing conditions of sickness, which is potentially manifold in its applications. This could be a prayer during the deathly illness of King Hezekiah, for instance, or the affliction of the paralytics of Capernaum (Mark 2) and Bethesda (John 5), or the woman with chronic bleeding (Mark 5), or the lame man at the gate called Beautiful (Acts 3). To Jesus, after all, they brought “all sick people who were afflicted with various diseases and torments, and those who were demon-possessed, epileptics, and paralytics; and He healed them” (Matt. 4:24). And the Lord’s healing especially concerns the forgiveness of sins (cf. Mark 2:5; John 5:14). This part of the psalm, then, is also a metaphor of our own various illnesses, whether of body, mind, or heart.
Likewise, when our psalm speaks of enduring a storm at sea, it may refer to the storm suffered by the shipmates of Jonah, or St. Paul, or the disciples on the Lake of Gennesaret, while Jesus yet slept in the stern of the boat. The fierce storm of this story may also indicate all of us as “children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting” (Eph. 4:14). Many and diverse are this world’s storms and hurricanes.
Our psalm is addressed to “those redeemed by the Lord.” Its historical meditation, that is to say, is directed to those who stand already “within” that history, the beneficiaries of its blessing. This is the Church, made up of “those whom He redeemed out of the hand of the enemy,” those whom He gathered from the four regions of the earth.
This psalm summons such as us to meditate on what the Lord has done in our midst and on our behalf, “that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God” (1 Cor. 2:12). Psalm 106 is a call to that profound effort of reflection and praise. (from P. H. Reardon, Christ in the Psalms (2011 edition)
Sunday, February 19
Matthew 12:22-30: The Lord’s work of driving out of demons is once again (cf. 9:32-34) the object of controversy, as His enemies allege that this power comes from Jesus’ collusion with the dark forces themselves. Among the Synoptic accounts of this controversy (cf. Mark 3:20-30; Luke 11:14-23) only Matthew records a healing from blindness in the context. This liberation of a man from satanic darkness is contrasted by the example of those who remain steadfast in their own blindness of heart. Having made up their minds to destroy Jesus, they become ever more inveterate in their sins. Hence, this story leads immediately to the theme of the unforgiven sin, the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.
Psalms 149: A verse in the Greek version of Blessed Hannah’s canticle reads: “The Lord has ascended into heaven and has thundered forth. He will judge the ends of the earth. And He will give strength to our kings and shall exalt the horns of His Christ” (1 Samuel 2:10). Eusebius of Caesarea saw in this line a reference to the Ascension of our Lord and the consequent proclamation of the Gospel throughout the world:
The Lord who descended from heaven, the very Word of God, again ascended to heaven and, ascending, He thundered forth with His divine power the evangelical message (to evangelikon kerygma), so that it might be heard throughout the whole world. He Himself will judge the ends of the earth and those who live therein, as He has received all judgment from the Father. But He has also given power to His disciples—even the Apostles and the prophets—that is to say, our kings, and He has exalted the horns of His Christ, that is, of His people so named because of their participation in Christ” (Fragments from the Prophetic Selections 1.18).
This exaltation of the saints in the victory of Christ, their evangelical struggle for the Gospel, and the ultimate judgment of the world thereby are the themes of Psalm 149. This is a psalm of triumph in warfare, specifically that warfare described in Ephesians 6, the battle “against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (6:12). As we have had occasion to observe so often in the psalms, combat and invocation, battle and blessing, are inseparable in the evangelical life. Therefore, we may take this same sixth chapter of Ephesians, a true warfare passage, to help us penetrate the meaning of Psalm 149.
Monday, February 20
Matthew 12: 31-37: Strictly speaking there is no “unforgivable” sin, because God’s mercy stands ready to forgive any sin of which repent. The whole business of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is that it is, by definition, the sin of which men do not repent. It is total and inveterate blindness of heart, in which men can no longer discern the difference between light and darkness. Such appears to be the sin of which the Lord’s enemies are guilty in these texts where we find them plotting His death.
From a pastoral perspective it must be said that those Christians who fear they may have committed such a sin should be take courage from the thought that their very fear is strong evidence that they have not done so. Those who are approaching the unforgiven sin are those who no longer even think about repentance and feel no need for it.
Psalm 25 (Greek & Latin 24): This prayer begins with such a “lifting up” of our inner being to God, and it is significant that Christians have traditionally prayed this psalm in the morning. If we want to “pray always,” as Holy Scripture tells us to do, it is important to raise our souls to God right away, before we face the day’s labor. Otherwise, there is great likelihood that our occupations will involve us in endless distractions that blind us to the thought of God’s presence.
But this is also a prayer for the Lord’s guidance throughout the rest of the day: “Show me Your ways, O Lord, and teach me Your paths. Lead me by Your truth.” And also a prayer for deliverance during the day: “My eyes are ever turned unto the Lord, for He will snatch my feet from the snare.” And for protection against the many enemies that afflict the soul: “Behold how many are my enemies, and with an unjust hatred have they hated me. Guard my soul and deliver me, that I may not be put to shame, for in You have I placed my hope.”
If this is a good psalm with which to commence the activities of the day, nonetheless, it is also an excellent psalm with which to close them. In this respect, several lines of the psalm beseech the mercy of God for those many sins and failings with which our conscience is invariably stricken as we look back over the previous activities of the day. Mindful of our numerous offenses, we pray at nightfall, “Remember Your compassion, O Lord, and Your mercy, for they are eternal. Remember not the sins of my youth nor my stupidity; but remember me in Your mercy—in Your compassion, O Lord.”
And if with such a supplication we end the day, it is with such a supplication that we should likewise finish our lives: “Remember not the sins of my youth nor my stupidity.” We pray to be remembered only with the divine compassion. Having no righteousness of our own, having “done no good deed upon the earth” (as the Liturgy of St. Basil says it), possessed of no other ransom note in our favor, this will be our prayer: “Remember me, O Lord, when You come in Your kingdom.” Thus our psalm ends, “Deliver Israel, O God, from all his afflictions.”
Tuesday, February 21
Matthew 12:38-45: Both examples given here, the Ninevites and the queen from southern Arabia, are Gentiles, those of whom Matthew has just been speaking in 12:18-21. The figures of Jonah and Solomon should also be understood here as representing the prophetic and sapiential traditions of Holy Scripture.
Jesus is the “greater than Jonah,” whose earlier ministry foreshadowed the Lord’s death and Resurrection and also the conversion of the Gentiles. The Lord’s appeal to Jonah in this text speaks also of Jonah as a type or symbol of the Resurrection. The men of Nineveh, who repented and believed, are contrasted with the unrepentant Jewish leaders who refuse to believe in the Resurrection (cf. 28:13-15). Matthew will return to the sign of Jonah in 16:2. Jesus is also the “greater than Solomon,” who was founder of Israel’s wisdom literature and the builder of the Temple.
The Queen of the South, that Gentile woman who came seeking Solomon’s wisdom, likewise foreshadowed the calling of the Gentiles. She was related to Solomon as the Ninevites were related to Jonah—as Gentiles who met the God of Israel through His manifestation in the personal lives of particular Israelites.
It is a point of consolation to observe that in neither case—whether Solomon or Jonah—were these Israelites free from personal faults!
Psalm 39 (Greek & Latin 38): If we do not venerate in the valleys in our lives—the low places, as distinct from the mountain tops—we will not be praying at all times, as Holy Scripture bids us do. If we are to follow that injunction, then, it is important to learn the ways of struggling prayer, worship down in the valleys. That is to say, we must find a prayer appropriate to those times when we do not enjoy the broad vista and brighter view. This is the reason that the Bible contains, not only the Song of Solomon, but also Ecclesiastes and the Book of Job.
This is also the reason that the Book of Psalms contains the likes of Psalm 39. This is a valley supplication and one of the very few psalms ending on a tenebrous note: “Do not be silent at my tears; for I am a stranger with You, a sojourner as all my fathers were. Remove Your gaze from me, that I may regain strength, before I go away and am no more.”
Yes, God permits us to say such things to Him, for these sentiments of profound despondency are also part of Sacred Scripture, inspired by the Holy Spirit. God would not have us hide from His gaze these dark places in the heart: “Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor. Surely every man walks about like a shadow [in the Hebrew, kol hebel, “all shadow”]; surely they busy themselves in vain . . . You make his beauty melt away like a moth; surely every man is vapor.”
The psalmist himself is reluctant to say such things to God, afraid of sinning by doing so: “I will guard my ways, lest I sin with my tongue. I will restrain my mouth with a muzzle . . . I was mute with silence, I held my peace even from speaking good.” But all this effort of restraint comes to nothing, for these sentiments only grow more fierce when thus confined: “And my sorrow was stirred up. My heart was hot within me; while I was musing, the fire burned. Then I spoke with my tongue.”
“Hope that is seen is not hope,” says St. Paul (Romans 8:24), and here below, in the valley, on the workday, our prayer of hope must strive with other, darker voices rising from our hearts. But these honest voices too can be our prayer: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”
Ash Wednesday, February 22
Joel 2:12-17: The context of Joel’s prophecy was some extraordinary visitation of locusts, in which the harvest of an entire season was destroyed, endangering the people’s survival during the following winter. The whole population was facing famine. Joel’s response to the situation may be summarized like this: “You think you are having a rough time now? Just wait. The present disaster is only a warm-up exercise for the Lord’s Day, the time of His visitation in judgment. For those who refuse to repent, far worse things lie in store.”
Joel’s prophecies present the reader, therefore, with a sustained call to repentance, fasting, and prayer, which is why Joel 2:12–17, the prophet’s summons to “sanctify a fast,” has for centuries been read in the West on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten observance. Lenten appeals to Joel are hardly limited to the West, however. In the Paschal Letter that Athanasius of Alexandria wrote at the beginning of Lent in 329, he cited that same text of Joel (Epistolae 1.4). Indeed, it has always been proper, in both East and West, to invoke Joel with respect to repentance at any time. On Pentecost morning, when the Apostle Peter summoned all of Israel to repent, he began that exhortation with a quote from Joel.
Psalm 102 (Greek & Latin 102): This psalm, the fifth of the traditional “penitential psalms,” is structured on a contrast, pursued through two sequences. The first half of the first sequence is all “I”—I am miserable, I am sad, my heart withers away like the grass in the heat, I lie awake at night, I feel like a mournful bird, I mingle my drink with tears, my days flee like the shadows of an evening, and so forth. Life being rough, a goodly number of our days are passed with such sentiments, so it is usually not difficult to pray this part of the psalm.
The second half of the first sequence arrives with the expression, “but You, O Lord,” which is just as emphatic in the Hebrew (we’attah Adonai) and the Greek (sy de Kyrie). “You” is contrasted with “I.” God is not like me; God is almighty and does what He wants and does not die. God is enthroned forever, and His name endures from generation to generation. God will arise and deliver His people.
The second and shorter contrasting sequence repeats the first. Once again, as at the beginning, there is the sense of our human frailty, our shortened days, our strength broken at midcourse. To this is contrasted the eternity of God; His years endure unto all generations. Thus, both sequences in this psalm form contrasts between the permanence of God and the transience of everything created.
Thursday, February 23
Matthew 13:1-9: As we now come to the third and central of the five great discourses in Matthew, Jesus once again sits down as teacher (Compare 5:1). Taking up a standard mystic number in Holy Scripture, this discourse will be composed of seven parables: the sown seed, the wheat and tares, the mustard seed, the leaven, the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price, and the fishing net. Four of these, as we will have occasion to note, are found only in Matthew. Even in wording this first parable is nearly identical with Mark 4:1-9.
In this chapter, a sharp distinction is made between those that understand the parable—the ‘insiders”—-and those that don’t—the “outsiders” (verse 11). Thus, when the chapter opens, Jesus is speaking to large crowds (verse 2), but afterwards He speaks only to an inner circle and privately (verse 36). This move indicates a change in the focus of the Lord’s ministry and preaching. This change is not surprising, in light of the bitter controversies that have been mounting in Matthew’s narrative.
Jesus begins this sermon by sitting down (verse 1)—the posture of the teacher—just as when He began the Sermon on the Mount (5:1; cf. 24:3). A close reading of this text discloses a striking parallel with Revelation 7:9-12, where a great multitude stands before God seated on the throne beside the sea (4:6).
This first parable, in which most of the sown seed is lost, summarizes Jesus’ own experience, as narrated in the previous chapter. So little of the Gospel, it seems, has fallen on fertile ground. As directed to the Church, this parable urges a sense of modesty about “success” in fruitful preaching. A great deal of the sown Word will simply be wasted.
This first parable also provides the foundation for the other six; it is the fountain out of which they flow. Thus, the second parable (wheat and tares in verses 24-30), is concerned with the wasted seed that falls by the wayside and is eaten by birds. The “enemy” that sowed the tares in verse 24 is identical with the “wicked one” in verse 19. Similarly, the third parable (mustard seed in verses 31-32) and the fourth (leaven in verse 33) deal with the seed that is sown on stony ground. Parables five (hidden treasure in verse 44) and six (pearl in verses 45-46) are concerned with the seed sown among thorns, while the seventh parable (dragnet in verses 47-50) parallels the seed sown on fertile ground and bringing forth much fruit.
The seed sown by the wayside (verse 4) is the Word preached to the unworthy heart, an interpretation introduced by the quotation from Isaiah in verse 15: “Lest they should understand with their hearts.” The key is an understanding heart (verse 23). The failure in this case has to do with the first imperative of the Shema: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart.”
The seed fallen on rocky ground (verses 5-6) is the Word preached to a shallow soul, which is unprepared for the trials that the reception of the Word will bring. The failure in this case pertains to the second imperative of the Shema: to love God with the whole soul.
The seed sown among thorns (verse 7) is the Word preached to the worldly, who are concerned with wealth and the strength that comes with wealth. In this case the failure is related to the Shema’s command to love God with all one’s strength.
The seed fallen on good ground (verse 8) is the Word preached to someone with an understanding heart. Such a man is described in Psalm 1: the man who “brings forth his fruit in its season.” This is the man who fulfills all the imperatives of the Shema.
Friday, February 24
Matthew 13:10-17: In the Gospel dialogue that immediately follows the parable of the sown seed, only Matthew quotes at length the long text from Isaiah found in verses 14-15. This text well fits the pattern of growing obstinacy on the part of Jesus’ enemies, a theme that has been growing steadily since 11:16. The argument the Lord uses in these verses is obscure, for the plain reason that hardness of heart is an obscure and mysterious subject.
If the workings of divine grace are difficult to comprehend, even more difficult to grasp is man’s willful refusal of that grace. Because a choice is both an effect and a cause, there is a tautology in human choice, and like all tautologies it can only be expressed by what seems a circular argument. That is to say, we choose because we choose. This is what is meant by “free” choice.
Mysteriously, then, the refusal to believe is also the punishment for the refusal to believe. These verses are also a sort of explanation of the following section, particularly verses 19 and 23, which contrast the “understanding” and “non-understanding” of God’s Word.
In this respect the disciples of Jesus are distinguished from the others who hear the parables. The “to you” is contrasted with the “to them” (verse 11). The “whoever has” is distinguished from the “whoever has not” (verse 12). There is an antithesis between those that see (verse 16) and those that do not see (verse 13).
Matthew thus introduces the historico-theological themes of grace and rejection. To those who have, more will be given, while from those who have nothing, even that will be taken away (verse 12). Matthew will return to this irony in the Parable of the Talents (25:29). The judgment aspect of this antithesis will be illustrated in the suicide of Judas (273-10).
Inasmuch as these things cannot be understood, they are called “mysteries” (verse 11—contrasted with the “mystery” in Mark 4:11), indicating God’s free and mysterious (and mysterious because free!) interventions in history through grace and rejection. Matthew, in his own lifetime, was watching the fulfillment of these words of Jesus in the very painful relations between the Church and the Jews.