This past weekend our RCIA catechumen (or candidates, in the case of my parish) went through their first Scrutiny, which means that we heard proclaimed the readings from Year A instead of Year B (and yes I know that candidates don’t technically go through the Scrutinies, but that’s a topic for another time).  Our RCIA director is off on vacation until just before Easter so I’m flying solo including for the Breaking Open the Word, where we go back and discuss further the readings of the day while the Liturgy of the Eucharist goes on at Mass.

Well I was all high and full of myself this past Sunday thinking I had found a great little tidbit to share, tying together the Gospel reading of the Samaritan woman at the well (from John 4)  with our topic of conversion.  It was all about how the pattern of her speech and her word choice changed as she slowly came to understand bit-by-bit who was this Man with whom she was talking.  Really good stuff, and compact enough to fit in the roughly half hour we have for the session.  That plan was working itself out just fine right until Father started his homily.  Let’s just say that Father and I must have been using some of the same sources.  My wonderful presentation went up in flames right before my eyes.  I think the folks behind me thought I had my own private stash of incense as my plans slowly smoldered.

Did I survive?  Yes.  Was the discussion as good as it could have been?  Hardly.  Did I learn a lesson?  Absolutely.  Never, ever, go into a discussion on any reading of the Bible with only one plan for what to say.  You just never know when someone else might be reading the same commentary.  To be honest, it also served as a humbling reminder that: 1) I can’t afford to be getting lazy just because I’m flying solo and 2) the depth of the Scriptures cannot be plumbed in a half hour and I do everyone a disservice by prepping only a half hour’s worth of material.  Mea culpa, my friends.  This weekend I intend to do better – at least two commentaries this time!

In my effort to get back on track in reading the Bible I came across this little tidbit, from Mark 17:14-21:

^14 And when they came to the crowd, a man came up to him and kneeling before him said, ^15 “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is an epileptic and he suffers terribly; for often he falls into the fire, and often into the water. ^16 And I brought him to your disciples, and they could not heal him.” ^17 And Jesus answered, “O faithless and perverse generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him here to me.” ^18 And Jesus rebuked him, and the demon came out of him, and the boy was cured instantly. ^19 Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, “Why could we not cast it out?” ^20 He said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.”

A couple of things jump out at me here.  First, verse 16:  “And I brought him to your disciples, and they could not heal him.“  Let us not forget that only a few chapters earlier, in Matthew 10:1 we see the Apostles were sent out with “authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every infirmity.”  So the disciples had been given the authority to cast out demons but have run into a case they could not solve.  This had to be demoralizing and confusing to the Apostles.  Something did not add up – either this demon was more powerful than Jesus or there was something wrong with them.

But in the midst of this confusion Jesus injects one of the most harsh statements you will find on His lips, “O faithless and perverse generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you?“  “Faithless and perverse.”  Certainly the Apostles must have been cut to the quick, not to mention the people around Him.  The words hurt to read even now, at least in part because they reflect how far we too have fallen.

He did not, however, leave this tongue lashing as His last statement.  “Bring him here to me.”  Despite all the failings in those around Him, Christ’s mercy overwhelms all.  With what seems like no effort the demon is cast out and the boy is cured.  The demon the Apostles could not budge is cast out by Jesus and the Apostles are left, I suspect, rather speechless.

Unable to understand how all of these preceding events add up the disciples ask Jesus to explain what has happened – why could they not cast out this demon even though they only recently been given the authority to do so?  Jesus’ reply must have been stunning.  “Because of your little faith.“  How often do we fail to believe that what Jesus has promised us He can – no, will – do?  Are we not often like the Apostles, willing to do some or most of what is asked of us but afraid to go the final distance and be completely committed?  This Lent let us take that extra step, be not faithless, but have faith “as a grain of mustard seed” and see the wonders God will work through us.

With Lent coming fast around the corner I thought this little quote was quite timely.  I’m trying to get back on track with my Bible and Catechism reading after some family events and a bout of illness, so expect these to come more frequently.  The quote I’m going to look at but briefly today comes from Matthew 10:34-39, where we find Jesus saying:

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.  For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s foes will be those of his own household.  He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and he who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.  He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Goodness.  Far from the meek, humble and peaceful Jesus we think of, particularly when considered in the light of the Beatitudes.  Let us not forget, however, that in Luke’s Gospel  the Beatitudes are also followed quickly by the Woes (“woe to you that are rich…woe to you that are full now”, etc.).  Jesus just isn’t as simple as we’d like to make him out to be.  With Lent coming fast, now is a good time for us to check our understanding of who Jesus is and what He asks of us.

First He says he has not come to bring peace, but a sword (Mt 10:34); that certainly sounds dark, but let us take a trip back in Jewish history for a moment to another time when a sword played a prominent part, back to the story of Solomon’s wisdom, to the story we have come to know as Solomon’s cutting the baby in half.  For brevity, the story can be found in 1 Kings 3:16-28 – read it and come back.  What did Solomon use as an implement to divine the truth?  Not finely honed reason, not a well-crafted theological exegesis of the Bible, but a sword.  The one willing to do the right thing in the presence of imminent danger was found to hold the truth in this story, and so we must always be reminded that we too are always in some form of imminent danger of being judged by the Judge.  What shall we say, what shall we do?  Jesus calls us to the truth, and calls Himself the Truth – do we now take cover in a lie and hope no one will notice?  The sword of Justice is at the ready – which do we choose?  “I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live” (Deuteronomy 30:19).

As if that wasn’t enough, Jesus goes on to tell us that even members of our own household will stand against us.  This is very clear to those who are converts, who so frequently lose contact with their family and friends for their decision; it was even more true in the early Church when those who chose to follow Christ were all too often turned in to the Roman authorities during persecutions by members of their own families.  But, for my money, the real doozy comes next.

“He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (Mt 10:37).  As a father (and, obviously, a son) this at first seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle.  I must love Jesus more than my own flesh and blood, more than my parents, more than my children?  In a word, yes.  But it is not a calling to love our family members any less, but rather to love them differently.  We are not to love them just because they are our parents or children, but first because they are children of God, worthy of the Blood of Christ and then in a special way due to our familial connection.  It is not a lowering of their dignity to reframe our relationship in this way, but rather a raising of it.  No matter who I am in this world, no one due to their relationship to me can ever have a dignity even approaching that given them as a child of God.  “Jesus first, everyone else second, myself last”.

I have more thoughts on this excerpt, but for now that will have to suffice.  Any additional thoughts would be most appreciated.

Tonight I’ve been going over the readings for tomorrow, the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (B), and, since I’m the contrarian sort, was trying to think of something other than the expected theme.  Sometimes you run into readings and you can virtually guarantee what the homily will be because the theme is so singular and clear; I do not suggest this as a bad thing at all, but it does make the RCIA “breaking open the word” segment difficult.  The last thing I want to do is drag people out from Mass only to tell them all over again what the priest just said in his homily.

So … what do I expect to hear from these readings?  I expect we’ll hear something about how we’re all called by Christ and possibly even to notice that the disciples’ response was total and immediate.  That pretty much covers the Gospel.  So I went digging around and lo and behold this story, while appearing in all four Gospels, is told slightly differently.  In Matthew and Mark Jesus calls to Andrew and Peter from the shore and they respond; in John (from which this Sunday’s reading is taken) Andrew comes to find Simon and Jesus upon seeing him gives him the name Peter; in Luke, Jesus sets out in Simon’s boat and after a miraculous catch of fish Peter proclaims both that Jesus is Lord and that he, Simon, is a sinner.  I don’t think this is just an artifact of different writers and different audiences.  What is this telling us?

While I’m no Biblical scholar, here’s what I’m seeing:  God does, yes, call us – but He can call us in three different ways.  First, He can call us directly, as in Matthew and Mark – in our day, a pretty rare occurrence.  Second, He can call us through events, sometimes even miraculous events, in our lives, as in Luke – something much more common today I’d think.  Third, He can use someone else to call us to Him,  as in John – something probably about as common as the second form.  Then, of course, there are hybrids such as in the first reading from Samuel where God calls Samuel directly but it requires the (God-inspired) intervention of another person for that call to be recognized.

So what am I taking out of all of this?  Pay attention.  God may not call to me in the way I’m looking for or the way I’d prefer.  He may well be using someone else to pull me by the hand even while I’m standing there waiting for Him to come in glowing radiance.  Perhaps it is some event or series of events in my life through which He is nudging me in the right direction while I am waiting for someone to just say something.  God does His own thing in His own way, and we ought not to constrict Him to doing it our way in our time.

Finally, yes, we must respond and we must do it the way these disciples did – quickly and decisively.  We are told Peter left either his father and servants behind or, as in Luke, that he left everything behind.  Follow God; the rest will sort itself out later.

Oh, and one more thing.  Your call may be to call someone else.  Following the John’s telling, if Andrew had not called Peter things would have been incalculably different.  We have not just a right but a duty to let others know about Christ and His Church; if we love them we can do no less.

One of the things I enjoy doing, particularly but not exclusively, with Scripture is to look at frequently referenced quotes in broader context.  So very often we learn much more about what the author or speaker meant and sometimes we even learn that what they meant was not how it is commonly understood.  As a part of my project to read through the Bible and the Catechism, and drag y’all along with me, I’d like to make this a regular feature of this blog.  With that intro, let’s begin with this nugget:

I know it’s been really quiet here and I can’t say as I’m all that happy about that fact.  Despite plenty of excuses know that I am doing my best to get back to a regular blogging routine.  Honest.

That said, I plan on dragging you all along with me as I work to tackle three projects over the course of a good chunk of this year.  First, I’ve committed to getting my Latin studies going for real.  I’ll be going through John F. Collins’ Primer of Ecclesiastical Latin and using its associated Answer Key targeting roughly one unit per week.  There are 35 units in the book, so that means it’ll take me the better part of the year, but I’m going to let myself get ahead if I can.

Second and third, I’m going to read the entire Bible this year as well as the entirety of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  I’ll be following the schedule set up by the good folks at the Coming Home Network.  I started this once before and hit a roadblock a couple of months in.  Hopefully this time will go more smoothly, although I am already a few days behind in starting.

I intend to share any reflections I may have or quotes that strike my fancy or even just the occasional “wow, Latin is a weird language – did you know …”.  That won’t be all I’ll be blogging about, but at least it will give me some structure going forward.