"My friend..."

Last Sunday's Gospel reading had me a little stumped - not like these stories are new, but sometimes you start second guessing something you've heard a hundred times over. Really, what is up with the one guy being called out? 

Clearly the wedding feast is the Eucharistic meal. Who's invited first? Israel, especially the priests and elders. They reject the invitation (as we all do, just to be clear on that). In a sense, the Jewish rejection of Jesus is necessary so that the Gentiles are invited. Thus, the invitation is extended to all, never withdrawn. Still, what's up with the one guy being called out?  

The king said to him, 'My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?'

Ahhh... that word, "friend." Sometimes Jesus calls his followers "friends" and that's a good thing. But I think when you're having a literal "come to Jesus" talk mano-a-mano, maybe you don't want to hear that word. 

Jesus answered him, “Friend, do what you have come for.”

No parable can be a perfect mirror, but this is setting the stage. Jesus wasn't concerned about the outer garment, but his audience was, and naturally he's sowing the seed to recall the sacrifice that God desires. 

I'm sure much more can be said, but I'll leave it there for now. 

Explain the Old Testament to me like a five year old

I picked up one of these children's Catholic Bibles early this year because we had finished reading the short Bibles that are made for toddlers and our oldest (actually six years old) wanted to read the "real" Bible. He's not ready for that, so I found a more thorough version thats more comprehensive that most Bibles for kids, though still an abbreviated version. 

Unfortunately I wouldn't recommend this particular Bible, but we're rolling with it. Reading through the Old Testament with a curious toddler is quite a spiritual exercise. We just finished the Old Testament. I think you gain a better perspective of the "big picture" story of salvation by reading a kids' Bible, at least if you see how God is gradually working to mold people to be like him. It's a terribly long process. I mean, eventually we come to a place where Gentile rulers profess belief in the God of Israel - and proceed to persecute pagans in their lands.  

We just finished the Old Testament and talked about this period of about 400 years between the last book of the Old Testament and Christ. We should be able to finish around year end. I think our next book will either be The Wilderking Trilogy (about David as a boy) or a book in that style about Daniel and his companions, if I can find a good one! 

 

The Death of Saint Francis of Assisi - Jose Camaron Boronat 

If you'll indulge me...

Indulgences. 

Sweet, sweet indulgences. 

The very word feels like sin to the well trained Evangelical tongue - though not the delightful kind. 

I entered full communion over 20 years ago, and it's only maybe a year ago that I started to feel okay with the idea of that which shall not be named. Not that I doubted the Church's authority, but rather upon reading the Terms & Conditions, this particular business about detaching yourself from any sin seemed to to be an immediate disqualifier. 

When you're in a place where confessing grave sin is a routine matter, like Forrest Gump meeting the President, why bother with these extra bells and whistles? 

Before you read on, know that I encourage conferring with a trusted pastor, spiritual director, or otherwise seek wise counsel on sensitive matters. Don't take my word for it. But this much was an encouragement to me and it could be for you:

The Church is not asking you to actually be detached from all sin. 

From the Decree of the Apostolic Penitentiary which proclaimed a jubilee year for the 800th anniversary of St. Francis' death, her first condition upon the faithful is "a heart detached from sin." 

My mistake was interpreting "heart" to mean my entire self. 

This is where self-knowledge and sound formation are truly helpful. 

Your soul may be attached to sin. So may your strength - that is, your body. And if you've read anything about neurochemistry (an excellent starter is "The Power of Habit" by Charles Duhigg) then you know how our minds are attached, and how your mind can be freed. 

All that to say: Your heart is where freedom begins. 

You can choose detachment in your heart, even when the rest of you feels like a lost cause. It may feel like your heart is attached to sin or worldly things. Only God can truly judge that, but I'll hazard to encourage you that it's more likely the rest of you which is more attached while your heart is yearning for God. 

Our recent Sunday readings speak to this. Tax collectors and prostitutes entering the kingdom of God ahead of chief priests and elders. Laborers hired at five o'clock who receive a full day's wage. How the Father deals harshly "unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart." 

If you'll indulge me with a quick tangent, hear me out. When you think about the spiritual reality of what happens at Baptism, it is a sacrilege to justice. In a sense, it should make you angry. Think about someone whom you find repulsive. You might think of a political leader, a rapist, serial killer, or child abuser. Think about what it's like to be a helpless victim of a horrendous, heartbreaking crime. 

Now think about wiping clean the slate of that offender for no better reason that he or she asked forgiveness. 

You see, if anything should make you angry, it is Baptism. The despicable notion that the worst human could enter heaven only because of God's grace. (To be clear, this deal doesn't work if the offender's heart remains closed to grace.)

That righteous anger you're feeling is exactly where the Angel of Light stood. Now turn. "It is in forgiving that we are forgiven."

Therefore, make your amendment, seek grace, and keep growing. 

P.S. I know this post might be a hot take. My intent is definitely to recognize the beauty and simplicity of sincere repentance and reconciliation. Baptism is a beautifully scandalous thing. 

Flea Market Bibles

One of my guilty pleasures in life is snatching up two arms full of interesting books at flea markets. I try to be discerning, but when they're practically free, who can you resist these poor books when their eyes beg for a loving home?  

Thrift stores and church flea markets are especially great hunting grounds. That's where I recently landed upon a Douay-Rheims Bible. I didn't even get to this flea market early, and it was hosted at the kind of church where people love tradition and old books, so it surprised me a bit somebody else didn't beat me to this treasure. I've had this on my list for many years. Still can't spell it right on the first try, but to paraphase Red in The Natural, "Can't spell it, but it reads pretty good, don't it?"

Here's a picture. I paid all of one dollar for this Bible:

It could use a cover... the ugly duckling of Bibles here.

Appreciate the personal touch in Archbishop Cardinal Gibbons' Imprimatur, "The sacred volume is printed in an attractive style." 

Unfortunately, this is a fragile book. It's paperback, and I've already slightly torn one page. I probably need a sturdy cover for it if I'm going to, you know, actually use it. 

Why do I like this old text so much when capitalism has delivered to our poor souls a plethora of translations in modern English to save thee from thy trials of thinking while reading?   

One, Bishop Challoner's revision is relatively recent, completed in the mid-18th century. Yes, there thee's and thou's and wilt's, but by this era English was largely modernized (at least what we call modern, I don't know what they will call future versions of our language). So the vast majority of the vocabulary is familiar and current. 

Second, I enjoy the sprinkling of thee's and thou's. It's just the right mix to make for a poetic reading of Scripture, without detracting from understanding the message. 

Third, the entire Scripture (for Catholics, anyway) is published in this volume without apology, explanation, or pandering to our separated brethren. 

Boom. Take it or leave it. 

I also find compelling the arguments which support the scholarship behind this translation. Below is the Preface from Tan Books. Specifically the second paragraph mentions how St. Jerome read many Hebrew and Greek manuscripts are lost to time and not available to scholars today. This ties into the argument at the bottom of the first page into the top of second page about how the Latin Vulgate and Douay-Rheims are potentially the most "original" versions of the Scriptures. Another factor specific to the Latin is that being a dead language, scholars who read the Vulgate have the benefit of engaging with a langauge that hasn't changed since St. Jerome penned the words. 

In other words, it's fascinating to hold in your hands 1,392 pages of text that carry with them a direct tie to our history and countless clues that are otherwise lost to time. 

Think about St. Jerome becoming fluent in Hebrew and Greek. Maybe he learned these languages as. child during his education? (I honestly don't know much about his life, which would be interesting to dive into.) How many hours and years did he expend into detailed reading and comparison of Scriptures? Just the physical act of writing his translation by hand must have required a few years. 

And then Bishop Challoner's project to provide a much-needed update from the Shakespearean Era. 

Years of scholarship, painstaking labor, and preservation work over 1,500 years for the grand sum of $1.00. 

That's why books are amazing things. We live in a time of stupid wealth when you think about all the knowledge and wisdom that is practically free. 

The one knock on this version is the limited commentary. There are great study Bibles with extensive commentaries and teaching. This is not a study Bible, in that sense. Maybe the perfect Bible would be the Douay-Rheims translation with extensive commentary by someone like John Bergsma. Maybe capitalism shall bless us yet with such manna from heaven. In the meantime, I guess we shall make do with using two separate books. 

Addiction

A paraphrased version of Matthew16:24-25, from today's Gospel reading, inspired by real life struggles, based on the Douay-Rheims translation because I believe it's the next best thing to reading Scripture in her original tongue:

If any man will come after me, let him deny his addictions, and take them up as his cross, and follow me. For he that will cling to his past hoping to save his life, shall lose it: and he that shall lose the life he knows for my sake, shall find it.

Almost 19 years ago, I wrote a post about today's Old Testament reading, You seduced me, O Lord, and I let myself be seduced. Every time this reading comes up at Mass, I am reminded if that old post. It's always held a special place in my heart, as I still appreciate the translation "seduced" as one who is familiar with seductions I know that a small voice within those moments is God drawing me to heaven. The apparent path is to use my body as a sacrifice, down a path of cynicism and despair, eventually to death. The temptation is to fight, deny, and abandon that person by the roadside. But in taking up my ugliness, embracing it, and taking it upon myself - this is finding a new path, offering my body as a living sacrifice, a spiritual worship. 

Good Friday and Ice Cream

Every Good Friday, I remember the shaky, haunting, old voice of my 78-year-old grandma lilting through the verses of "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" 

It was an odd refrain for an 8-year-old enjoying his carefree summer between chomping down a few scoops of ice cream, taking a bike ride, more ice cream, building dinosaurs, then more ice cream (Nanny had forgotten about the earlier servings). All the while, often a hymn carried through. But "Were You There" is the only one I remember because it confused my child brain. No, I wasn't there. I don't wanna be there. Sounds like a bad place to be... mmm ice cream. 

She was accepted to the heavenly chorus nearly 30 years ago. It's interesting the things you'll remember decades later, like how she lost her mother to the Spanish Flu at 4 years old. Maybe she felt Jesus speaking uniquely to her, "Behold your mother." Or maybe she just enjoyed the hymn because it's beautiful. Unfortunately, at my age, tricking nanny into giving us more ice cream was more important than learning about her life. 

Yet three decades later, her voice echoes through. 

And if I was there when they crucified him, knowing myself, I'd be putting my name in the raffle for a seamless tunic. Then heading back to town for ice cream.