Archive for the 'Romans' Category

For Dec. 21, 2014: 4 Advent, Year B

The Reading                                                              2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

When King David, the mighty but undeniably flawed ancestor of Jesus, takes it into his head to build God a house as grand as David’s own, the prophet Nathan at first tells him to have at it. As 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16 tells it, however, God has other plans, including a “house”—a dynasty—for David.

The Response                                                            Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26

Psalm 89 dates to the period of Israel’s subjugation by Babylon, but the verses here sing of the Lord’s love for Israel and for David. The Great Sea is the Mediterranean and the River is the Euphrates, in Mesopotamia: this dominion is thus most of the known world. The speaker in verses 3-4 and 19b-26 is the Lord.

The Epistle                                                                  Romans 16:25-27

In the book of Romans, written around 57 AD, Paul sets out the Church’s earliest understanding of the nature of Jesus Christ and of the salvation he brings. Romans 16:25-27 ends the document with a complicated sentence that dedicates the book forms a doxology, or statement of faith.

The Gospel                                                                    Luke 1:26-38

Luke 1:26-38 tells the story of the Annunciation. Mary learns from the angel Gabriel that she has been chosen to bear the son of God who will rule as the heir of David, if she agrees. Mary responds not by strutting and preening and making grand plans—unlike David—but by questioning and listening and at length saying yes.

 

Further thoughts

Whoever said, “Life is what happens while we are making other plans,”[1] the saying resonates for most of us—and it resonates in the readings for the last Sunday in Advent.

King David, having unified Israel and made Jerusalem its capital, receives from King Hiram of Tyre a grand house of cedar (2 Samuel 5:11). While relaxing in it, David gets a terrific idea: the Lord surely needs a house as grand, and David himself plans to build it. That night, however, the word of the Lord comes to Nathan. It is not for David to build the Lord a house. Instead, the Lord is going to make of David and his sons a “house”—a dynasty—that will rule in God’s name forever. As the following history of Israel amply demonstrates, however, the kings who follow all fail, in large ways or small, to carry out God’s plan, and the line seems to die out.

Mary’s plans for her life must have been much simpler: she is going to marry Joseph the carpenter. Then an angel shows up: “Hail, favored one! You can be the mother of a mightier king than David.” Unlike her famous forebear, Mary stops to think and to listen. Not only is the child to be a new David, he will be called the Son of God. Then she says yes, trusting in God to make this work. Mary is rightly honored above all women as the Theotokos or God-carrier. It is good to remember that being favored of God does not mean being spared all trouble: Mary will stand at the foot of the cross and watch her innocent boy die the most horrible of deaths.

And even in that darkness, the Lord is no less with her.

 

[1] http://quoteinvestigator.com/2012/05/06/other-plans/

For Sept. 7, 2014: Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18

The Reading            Ezekiel 33:7-11

At chapter 33, the book of Ezekiel begins to turn from warning of Israel’s conquest by Babylon to prophesying comfort to follow. In Ezekiel 33:7-11, the speaker is the Lord God: the first three verses lay out the penalty if Ezekiel fails to warn the wicked—but the last reveals the Lord’s yearning for the wicked to repent and live.

The Response            Psalm 119:33-40

Psalm 119 is a psalm of 176 verses divided into 22 stanzas; the verses in each stanza all begin with the same letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Verses 33 to 40 begin with the letter ה (heh) and beg the Lord to keep the psalmist following the torah—that is, God’s statutes, law, commandments, decrees, and judgments.

The Epistle            Romans 13:8-14

Psalm 119:33-40 implored God’s help in keeping torah, the Law. Romans 13:8-14 reminds us that the God’s Law is summed up as “Love your neighbor as yourself”—and advises us that it is high time that we do just that.

The Gospel            Matthew 18:15-20

In Matthew 18:15-20, Jesus explains how to respond when a member of the church does ill: first speaking with the member privately, then bringing in one or two witnesses if needed, and confronting publicly only as a last resort.

 

Further thoughts

A friend of mine, one of the quietest adults I know, must have been a wild toddler. Whenever he wasn’t within earshot, his mother learned to tell the family servant, “Find Paul, and tell him to stop.”

Ezekiel is a sentinel with a similar job: keeping watch on God’s people and, when the word of the Lord says so, warning them to stop. The Lord’s stated goal is that Israel not die but live, like the child who thrives under a good parent’s rules. Psalm 119:33-40 celebrates the loving Parent’s rules, the torah, and begs God’s help in obeying them. Love motivates the rules; as the letter to the Romans notes, love is what we owe each other—and communicating in love about what is wrong can be a powerful act of healing.

Matthew 18:15-20 is sometimes taken to mean that a churchgoer who feels wronged by another is permitted or even required to shun the other, have the other excluded, and expect the Father to follow suit in heaven. As D. Mark Davis notes, however, in his blog Left Behind and Loving It, the Greek text can support a different reading. First, the topic of Matthew 18 as a whole is the “little ones” and our duty to put no stumbling blocks in their way. Second, though the NRSV translates ἔσται δεδεμένα and ἔσται λελυμένα as ‘will be bound’ and ‘will be loosed’, these phrases are more accurately if less idiomatically ‘will have been bound’ and ‘will have been loosed’, which suggests not that earthly binding causes binding in heaven but the other way around. Third, Jesus’ own approach to the despised Gentiles and tax collectors is to heal (15:21-28) and feed (15:32-39) them, associate with them (9:9-10, 11:19) and even make disciples of them (10:3).

Who do I regard as a Gentile and a tax collector? Is that who I need to love as Jesus loves?

Davis, D. Mark. “The Power of Reconciliation.” Left Behind and Loving It, 2 Sept. 2014. Web. 3 Sept. 2014. <http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com/&gt;

For August 31, 2014: Twelfth Sunday in Pentecost, Proper 17, Year A

The Reading            Jeremiah 15:15-21

A jeremiad is a scathing denunciation of bad faith, in any of several senses. In Jeremiah 15:15-21 the prophet, who has proclaimed God’s word and been rebuffed, turns his anger and disappointment on God Almighty. The Lord chides Jeremiah, reminding him not to stop speaking precious words, but promises strength and comfort.

The Response            Psalm 26:1-8

Unlike Jeremiah, the composer of Psalm 26:1-8 seems not to have a bone to pick with the Lord. It is clear, though, that the psalmist is challenging the Lord with his integrity, trust, faithfulness, and innocence.

The Epistle            Romans 12:9-21

In the first reading, Jeremiah complained of being persecuted and insulted for speaking the words of the Lord, and the Lord promised him vindication and deliverance. Romans 12:9-21 takes a different tack, counseling Jesus’ followers to live in harmony with all and to overcome evil with generosity.

The Gospel            Matthew 16:21-28

On announcing that Jesus is the Messiah, Simon was renamed Peter and receives rabbi-like power to bind and loose in the kingdom of Heaven. In the verses that follow, he takes initiative, rebuking Jesus for predicting a horrible death—and Jesus calls him Satan. This kingdom must not be business as usual.

 

Further thoughts

In Matthew 16:18, Jesus stated that the gates of Hades will not prevail against the church. Hades is not Hell, the place in which the wicked are punished eternally for their bad deeds. In fact, the ancient Greek concept of Hades comes close to the early Hebrew Sheol, where all souls go when they die. Like Hades, Sheol is a place of oblivion and obliteration: in the stark King James translation of Ecclesiastes 9:5-6, “The living know that they will die: but the dead know not anything, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten.” Death cuts us off from life and the living and consumes our work and those we love, inevitably. And we can’t help but feel death as a cutting off from God, for the most compelling metaphors for faith and closeness to God all invoke life and breath: the word Spirit itself derives from the Latin spiro ‘I breathe’.

So Simon, newly named Peter and steward of Jesus’ life’s work, sensibly demands an end to Jesus’ talk about dying—and gets called “Satan” and “a stumbling block”. One wonders whether it’s that Peter is really so culpable in saying this, or perhaps that his plea to stay safe hits Jesus right where his own human body’s fear of dying intersects his divinity’s revulsion that such a waste as death even exists.

Yet, Jesus has already said, unstoppable death will no longer have the last word, for not even the prospect of death will stop him from laying himself down to conquer sin, separation, and death for the world he so loves.

He calls us to follow—literally, to come behind him. Does that mean dying exactly as Jesus did? For most of us, no. But what if Romans 12:9-21 sketches out the path? What if the task for me is to live, day by day, as though other people’s hopes and fears matter as much to me as I like to think I matter to God?

For August 24, 2014: Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 16, Year A

The Reading            Isaiah 51:1-6

Isaiah prophesies hope in the daunting days after the return from exile in Babylon. Just as the Lord raised Israel from barren Abraham and Sarah, so also comfort and new life are coming to the Lord’s people and light for the peoples; even after the world ends—or we do—salvation and deliverance will come to stay.

The Response            Psalm 138

Psalm 138 is a psalm of thanksgiving to God for deliverance from trouble. The psalmist praises the name of the Lord: mighty enough to be praised by kings, yet nevertheless preserver of the lowly, and whose love is for always.

The Epistle            Romans 12:1-8

Isaiah 51:1-6 opened with a call to those who pursue righteousness. Romans 12:1-8, sketching out that pursuit, responds to the frictions between Jew and gentile in the church at Rome: we all bring to God’s table the gifts of God, and the gifts that each of us brings are all precious to our common good.

The Gospel            Matthew 16:13-20

After healing the Canaanite woman’s daughter near Tyre and Sidon, Jesus and the disciples travel to the Roman city of Caesarea Philippi, well north of Jewish territory. It is there, near a grotto and spring sacred to the pagan god Pan, that Jesus asks the disciples who it is that people say he is.

 

Further thoughts

The readings for Proper 16 are full of surprises.

Isaiah, in the rubble and desolation of post-exilic Israel, sings God’s promise to transform the ravaged land into the Eden that God designed it to be. That’s surprising enough, but then God will use Israel as a beacon of hope to draw other nations—pagans—to salvation and deliverance that will outlast even heaven.

The psalmist chimes in: the big shots on earth—who, as history shows, tend to be as supercilious to those they outrank as they are defensive toward anyone more powerful than they—will be so transformed by listening to the Lord that they sing the praise of the Lord for protecting the lowly from the big shots’ machinations.

Jesus chooses, of all places, a pagan shrine well outside Israel as the place to ask the disciples who they think he is. When Simon blurts out, “The Messiah, the Son of the living God,” Jesus renames him and gives this rough fisherman the job of rabbi in deciding who and what is in or out of this new thing called a church.

Then the epistle instructs us to make of ourselves living sacrifices. That sounds messy enough—but the analogy of the body and its parts makes me wonder uncomfortably whether this means all of me. For all of me is not just the nifty attributes that I hope will make God and everyone pleased with me, but also the fears and the scars and the wretchednesses that I try so hard to hide.

What if it is God’s good pleasure to hallow and accept all of me that I place on the altar? And what if the salvation that outlasts even heaven, that humbles the mighty to praise, that brings all God’s children in, lives in the space where admitting my need blesses us both by giving scope for your gift from God to shine?

For August 17, 2014: Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 15, Year A

The Reading            Isaiah 56:1,6-8

By the time Isaiah 56 was composed, in the late 6th century before Christ, some people exiled to Babylon had returned to begin rebuilding Jerusalem. Isaiah’s powerful words recall God’s covenant with Israel—and this time, says the Lord, the door of the house of prayer is open not just to the Jews but to all peoples.

The Response            Psalm 67

Psalm 67 tells much the same story as Isaiah: God’s saving health is for all nations, as is gladness in God’s judgments, and all the peoples to the ends of the earth are to praise and stand in awe of God.

The Epistle            Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32

The short but rich epistle passage builds on Isaiah’s proclamation and the psalmist’s rejoicing. The Jews’ rejection of Jesus cannot make God repudiate them—but, through God’s mercy, it opens the door to a wider definition of “God’s people” that embraces and accepts the Gentiles.

The Gospel            Matthew 15:21-28

Isaiah, the psalmist, and Romans all proclaim welcome to Gentiles as God’s people alongside the Jews. In Matthew 15:22-24, however, Jesus ignores and even disparages the Canaanite woman’s desperate pleas for healing for her daughter. Might even Jesus in his lifetime have needed to be startled into learning and growth?

 

Further thoughts

Three of the four readings for Proper 15 abound with comfort to those of us who need mercy but can’t trace our physical pedigree back to Abraham. The gospel, however, starts out disquietingly different. When a woman begs Jesus to have mercy on her little girl’s torment, at first he doesn’t even bother to shrug. Next he tells the disciples that her kind aren’t on his agenda. Then, though she abases herself before him, Jesus blows her off with an analogy that casts her and her daughter as kynarioi or ‘little dogs’—this in a society in which dogs aren’t cosseted pets but barely tolerated scavengers. (Translating with “the b-word” might not be too strong.)

Commentators over the millennia have dealt with the disquiets in this story by explaining either that Jesus was joking gently with this woman or that he was testing her faith. I’m not comfortable with either possibility, partly because of the dehumanization in “little dogs” and also because no other story in the Bible has Jesus being this determinedly rude unless someone’s hardness of head or heart clearly merits a comeuppance.

A different possibility is advanced by Grant LeMarquand. He notes that Matthew makes a point of identifying this woman not merely as a gentile but as Canaanite: a descendant of the idol-worshipers from whom the Israelites wrested the land of promise and for whom Deuteronomy 7:1-4 explicitly commanded total extermination without mercy. Canaanites are the worst of the worst, and Jesus’ scorn follows from the Torah and his cultural conditioning. But when the woman turns his analogy on itself, it changes his thinking and his reach, and he moves to fulfill the prophecy of God’s mercy extending to all nations.

If the Son of David can rethink things, why shouldn’t I? And what can I do to extend God’s mercy to all?

For August 10, 2014: Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 14, Year A

The Reading            1 Kings 19:9-18

1 Kings 19 opens with Queen Jezebel of Israel promising to kill the prophet Elijah for having trounced and slain 450 priests of Baal. Elijah flees for his life. On Mount Horeb (Sinai), the Lord orders Elijah to go home to anoint new kings of Aram (Syria) and Israel—while the kings still live!—and Elisha as his own successor.

The Response            Psalm 85:8-13

In the difficult days after Israel’s exile, Psalm 85:8-13 paints an extraordinary picture of God’s: salvation and prosperity are coming for God’s people, because the truth and righteousness that condemn us are not merely in the same neighborhood but happily working hand in hand with God’s mercy and peace for our good.

The Epistle            Romans 10:5-15

The beautiful vision in Psalm 85—“Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other”—is echoed in Romans 10. Righteousness comes through faith and God’s gift, and it is not just for the Jews. Let us heed the call to proclaim Jesus Christ to all the children that God yearns to bring home.

The Gospel            Matthew 14:22-33

Matthew 14 follows the story of the feeding of the multitude with the account of Jesus at the crack of dawn walking on the water of the turbulent Sea of Galilee. Seas and lakes are water in chaos and an unsurprising source of evil spirits—but Jesus controls even these.

 

Further thoughts

Expectations are subverted again and again in the readings for Proper 14. Elijah expects to meet God in the cataclysms of nature—wind, earthquake, fire—but instead the voice of God comes in the stillness. The command to return and anoint new kings is an order to participate in overthrowing those kings, in violation of ordinary civil and religious law. For the disciples struggling all night in the little boat, the Sea of Galilee fulfills the expectation that water unconstrained partakes of chaos, the primordial chaos that it took God to wrestle into ordered Creation. And of course no human being walks on the slippery willful stuff: little wonder that the disciples at first took Jesus to be something unholy!

In the psalm and the epistle, the subversion is happier. It stands to reason—human reason—that striving after righteousness is how we earn grace: given the grubbily sinful mess that is the natural truth of me, mercy surely cannot stand to be in the same room. But the psalm tells us that mercy and truth, righteousness and peace are not merely together by God’s will but cuddled up together on the sofa and beaming at me. And the epistle underscores the point that righteousness is right here, right now and always, by the will and gift of God, and for absolutely everyone irrespective of birth or means.

Like Peter, of course, I vacillate between calm certainty that I can trust God’s grace to cover my unbelief and the terrified conviction that my not-goodness means it’s all too good to be true. O Lord, save me from myself!

Whether following Jesus means literal walking on water, I hesitate to say. But what if it means extending to every one of God’s children the mercy and saving hand that I hope Jesus extends to me?

For July 27, 2014: Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 12

The Reading            1 Kings 3:5-12

Solomon was not King David’s oldest son, but his mother Bathsheba and the prophet Nathan prevailed on David to name Solomon his successor. The dream at Gibeon, one of the two most holy places before the Temple was built, confirms the correctness of the choice, as does Solomon’s request for wisdom with which to govern.

The Response            Psalm 119:129-136

Solomon responded to God’s invitation to asking for wisdom. Psalm 119:129-136 celebrates God’s decrees, word, commandments, and law and the understanding that they give.

The Epistle            Romans 8:26-39

Solomon, in asking for wisdom, compared himself to an ignorant child before God. The letter to the Romans begins by assuring us of the Spirit’s aid in our weakness before supplying a magnificent catalogue of perils and powers that God simply will not permit to come between us and God’s love.

The Gospel            Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Chapter 13 of the gospel of Matthew continues with a series of short parables that compare the kingdom of heaven to a large weed from a small seed, yeast, hidden treasure, and a net full of fish, followed by a parable of knowing the value of both new and old.

 

Further thoughts

The religions originating in the strife-ravaged Middle East, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, agree in revering Solomon son of David: he was very wise, wise enough to choose wisdom as his coronation gift from God rather than more ostentatious trappings of kingship. Psalm 119 praises God’s Word as a way to avoid iniquity—but the Bible tells us that even Solomon, for all his wisdom, made choices that led him into sin, and both his descendants and his realm paid the price.

On the one hand, this is sobering. If even Solomon’s storied insight could not keep him pure, what hope is there for me? On the other hand, Solomon never stopped being a favorite with God, and the epistle presses home the point that, Jesus having borne the price for me on purpose to make me right with God, what hope isn’t there for me? Not even my own choices can make God stop loving me. How astonishing!

That the kingdom of God is a dizzying array of astonishments is underscored by Jesus’ parables. He likens the kingdom to a tiny seed that grows into a bushy mustard plant—that his hearers, like my neighbors in Southern California, would have judged an invasive weed. He likens the kingdom to yeast in flour; the word that our translation renders as “mixed in with” is Greek ἐνέκρυψεν, which is more like ‘hid in’—but the yeast of everyday bread spoils the unleavened bread of Passover. He likens the kingdom to treasure and a fine haul of fish, unsurprisingly—but surely treasure found and rehidden in a field rightly belongs to the original owner, and the merchant who hangs on to The Best Pearl Of All is out of business, and Jesus flat out tells us that the job of sorting good from bad—do we covet issuing such judgments?—is for God’s angels at the end of the age.

Parables, clearly, have their limits. But what if the point of these parables is that, in more ways than we can count, the kingdom of God is much more willing to tolerate messiness and divergence, surprises, and saints that look like sinners, than we ourselves are?

For July 20, 2014: Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 11

The Reading            Isaiah 44:6-8

The earliest books of the Old Testament proclaim that the Lord God is the greatest of the gods. Isaiah 44:1-15 relates a different claim: that the Lord is the only god.

The Response            Psalm 86:11-17

Psalm 86 combines elements of lament—begging God for aid against enemies who despise both the psalmist and God—and praise. After extolling God’s graciousness, slowness to anger, and kindness, the psalmist asks for a sign of favor with which to shame the haters.

The Epistle            Romans 8:12-25

The early church in Rome included both Jews and former pagans, though not without disagreements. Paul explains humanity’s common birthright as adopted children of God: we all share in Christ’s glory, but we are also to share humbly in Christ’s suffering while we wait in hope for our redemption.

The Gospel            Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

We continue examining Jesus’ parables that use the imagery of plowing, planting, and harvesting, with his explanations. The “weeds” in this parable would probably have been darnel, a plant that looks a great deal like wheat until it ripens.

 

 

Further thoughts

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) is the three-year cycle of Bible readings, followed with more or less fidelity by most Christian churches, that works from first verse to last through most books of the Bible. A challenge for the RCL’s makers is that the Old Testament, even without the psalms, comprises several times more text than do the epistles and the gospel taken together. To even things out, in Pentecost season the RCL splits just the Old Testament readings and apposite psalms into two tracks. Track 1 begins with Genesis and traces the covenants, falls, and redemptions of God’s children, while Track 2 focuses on prophecy, on calls for repentance or proclamations of righteousness. That a given day’s epistle and gospel tend to be about equally complemented by either track’s pair of readings is both intentional and remarkable.

The gospel readings for Propers 10 and 11 reflect a rare but sensible choice and a surprising choice. As the gospel of Matthew has it, Jesus tells a large crowd two parables and then the disciples urge him to interpret them. The rare but sensible choice is by the makers of the RCL, who allot each sermon-worthy parable and its explanation to a different Sunday: the parable of the sower for Proper 10 last week and the parable of the bad seed this week. The surprising choice that Jesus even complies with the disciples’ demand: he almost never explains parables, and these explanations are almost painfully literal and obvious.

How does this square with the other lections? Isaiah testifies that the Lord is not merely the greatest god but the only god, who alone knows the future, and the reason we are not to fear. The psalm celebrates this God’s graciousness and compassion. Yet, as the epistle notes, suffering and decay are inextricably part of this world: from birth onward we learn that there is plenty to fear in pain, sickness, shame, disaster, and death. As I write, we mourn the 295 passengers and crew of Malaysian Airlines 17, including almost 100 AIDS experts bound for a conference, sacrificed for a political cause relevant to few or none of them. How can God foresee such evil and not forestall it?

For July 13, 2014: Fifth Sunday of Pentecost, Proper 10, Year A

The Reading            Isaiah 55:10-13

The reading from Isaiah, written as exiles were returning from Babylon to what was left of Jerusalem, takes the Lord’s voice in comparing rain and snow to the Word: both come down from heaven to bring the blessing and fruitfulness intended by the Lord.

The Response            Psalm 65:9-14

Psalm 65 was composed during the period of the return from Babylon. Verses 9 through 15 probably commemorate the end of a terrible drought. By God’s grace come the rains, the seed for planting, the harvests, and the flocks and herds.

The Epistle            Romans 8:1-11

The epistle to the church at Rome amounts to a short course in theology. In previous chapters the apostle Paul has analyzed our existential quandary: we cannot possibly hope to save ourselves. Nevertheless, Paul now tells us, we have hope: it is in God’s grace, which is exactly what allows us to live according to God’s Spirit.

The Gospel            Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

The parable of the sower in Matthew 13:1-9 deploys imagery from agricultural life that would have been familiar to first-century rural Jews. In Jesus’ time, and even in ours, a yield of sevenfold—seven times as many seeds reaped as sown—would have been very good: even the smallest yield of this good soil is spectacular.

 

Further thoughts

The reading from Isaiah, the psalm, and the gospel all invoke the bounty of God’s creation, though each takes this in a different direction. Psalm 65 praises God’s provision of water and grain: water smoothes the furrows and makes the harvest possible. Isaiah’s God announces the fruitfulness as an accomplishment for God’s glory and the restoration of Israel. In Matthew, Jesus contrasts the nonexistent return from seed sown in adverse conditions with a staggeringly rich harvest from sowing in good soil and subsequently explains that the varying conditions represent different hearers of God’s Word.

In failing to continue the agricultural metaphor, the epistle to the Romans seems anomalous; one could say it comes out of left field. It notes, though, that it is God moving in us that makes us as fruitful in the spirit as we are. That is God’s grace—but it is also up to us to “set our minds on the things of the Spirit”, as verse 5 says: being open to receiving grace requires some movement on our parts.

But Matthew’s sower sows in all conditions, rather than prudently saving the seed just for the soil where it is likeliest to sprout. This reminds me of Matthew 5: 45, which we read last week for Independence Day: our God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” What if being children of the Father in heaven means letting go of the right to judge not only whether we ourselves are worthy of grace but also which of God’s children deserves the good things—from decent wages and housing and health care and education to forbearance and grace—that we crave for ourselves and those we love? What if our task and joy is to sow goodness as freely as God?

For June 29, 2014: Proper 8, Year A, St Alban’s Day

The Reading            Jeremiah 28:5-9

As this reading opens, most Jews are captive in Babylon, just as Jeremiah prophesied. The prophet Hananiah gladdens the king by predicting an early end to Babylonian rule and restoration of Israel to Jerusalem. Jeremiah responds to Hananiah skeptically: only if a prophet’s words come true is that prophet sent by the Lord.

The Response            Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18

From verse 37 onward, Psalm 89 laments Israel’s subjugation, for which there is no end in sight. The beginning of the psalm, however, celebrates the eternal love of the Lord for David and Israel. The speaker in verses 3-4 and 19b-26 is the Lord.

The Epistle            Romans 6:12-23

The reading from the letter to the Romans continues the argument against persisting in sin because God keeps giving grace. Putting oneself in service to God for righteousness is the slavery that leads away from death and to both sanctification and eternal life.

The Gospel            Matthew 10:40-42

In the reading from Matthew, Jesus finishes his instructions to the disciples as he sends them out. His words are also for us: whoever welcomes anyone—especially as God’s agents, but not exclusively so—welcomes us and Jesus and the Father; moreover, even the humblest of good deeds by or to the humblest looms large to God.

 

Ponderables

June 29, 2014 is the third Sunday after Pentecost or the thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, which covers the two parts of the church year that fall outside the major seasons of Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter. On this Sunday we also celebrate the feast of St Alban, our patron saint—a week later than usual, partly because the Rev. Allisyn Thomas is here to celebrate the Eucharist with us in her capacity as Canon to the Ordinary.

Wait: Everyday time? Canon to the commonplace? How can we make sense of these two uses?

The term ordinary time originated in the Roman Catholic Church in the 1970s, as part of the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Instead of counting Sundays after Epiphany and then Sundays after Pentecost, Catholics started counting all 33 to 34 Sundays as a unit, starting with the four to nine Sundays after Epiphany and resuming after Pentecost; if Ash Wednesday fell early in the year, readings that were skipped in the shorter Epiphany would shift to the end of Pentecost to round out the church year. In English and most modern European languages, that unit is called ordinary time. In the everyday sense of ordinary, the phrase sounds odd—Eucharists that are boring?—so some sources in English assert that ordinary is a corruption of ordinal, as in ordinal numbers: first Sunday, sixteenth Sunday…) That sounds plausible, except that the original 1970s Latin phrase should be tempus ordinalis, and it isn’t: it’s tempus per annum ‘time through the year’.

Let’s shift for a moment to the other ordinary. Its roots go back much farther, to nearly the beginning of the church. While the source of our English word bishop is the Greek episcopos (literally ‘overseer’), Latin also used a term derived from Latin ordo ‘order or rule’: the ordinarius is ‘the one who keeps order’. In English, that would be ordinary, and the word remains in the vocabulary of church law and common law: a judge ordinary has jurisdiction over a case in his own right, as is to be expected, whereas a judge extraordinary has been specially appointed outside her normal sphere. So the Canon to the Ordinary is the clergyperson who assists in carrying out the customary duties of the bishop, such as visiting St Alban’s for its patronal feast day. We can argue, then, that ordinary time is a matter neither of time that is nothing special nor of weeks in sequence but rather of Sundays that are celebrated not for a special feast or fast but because they are Sundays and therefore worthy in their own right.


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