The Law & the Good News--a meditation for the 3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time

 “He has anointed me to bring

good news to the afflicted...

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

sight to the blind... to proclaim

a year of favor...”

--Luke 4:18-19

In today’s first readings we hear that stirring passage from Nehemiah (cf.8:2-10) that tells of the unrolling of the scroll and the reading of the law before all the people and how the people began to weep when they heard the law.  But Nehemiah, Ezra and the Levites remind the people that this is a day not for weeping but for celebrating. The law is supposed to be a source of consolation and renewal and joy, not an oppressive burden.

And there is an echo of this story in the Gospel for today.  Jesus unrolls the scroll and reads from Isaiah the passage I quoted above. And when He finishes, says something so beautiful it astonishes His audience: Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. (cf. 4:21)

Jesus is the Word of God, the Law come in person into their midst –and what does he bring? Fearful judgment and hard justice? That is not what He comes to proclaim.  He comes to proclaim liberty to captives, sight to the blind, and good news to the afflicted! Liberty, sight, and good news; a year of favor.  Quite a jubilee, I would say.  That is what Jesus brings, the same Jesus who tells us elsewhere that He has not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it.  He is the fulfillment of the law.  In the next several chapters of Luke we will see Jesus go about healing the blind, setting people free from illness and demons, feeding the hungry, cleansing the leper, and proclaiming a message of love and mercy.  This is the law in its fullness abiding among us; He is the law.

When I wrote about that passage from Nehemiah a few months back I focused on the weeping of the people. I was struck by their tears, because I had recently read Deuteronomy (and Leviticus and Numbers) and the echoing of all those laws, those restrictions, regulations was still reverberating in my head.  In a half ironic mode, I had to wonder if some of those tears weren’t tears of dread: Lord, what have we got ourselves into! Weren’t we better off not knowing? But, in all seriousness, we are never better off in ignorance. Because ignorance is captivity.  Ignorance is slavery; it is life in Plato’s cave; fearing shadows.  The law sets us free.  But how can that be?  If the law sets regulations on our behavior, then aren’t we simply trading one for of slavery for another?

And I guess that depends on how we look at the law.  Do we see “the law” (the Ten Commandments, the Deuteronomic code, etc) as a rule book meant to control our behavior, a way of keeping us in check?  Or do we see it as a guidebook, an instruction manual, that helps us live our lives more fully, more completely, more joyfully?

Do you hear the law as good news? Does it set you free? Or does it sound like the turning of a key in a lock, the clanking of shackles fastened to your ankles?

Does it open your eyes? Or does it feel like a darkness cast over them?

How do you see the law?

Recently someone at my house told me I was being passive aggressive. Their words hurt. It was like a stinging slap to my face (or my ego).  And my gut reaction was to lash back. To defend myself with excuses and reasons for why I had behaved and spoken the way I had.  But, whether my reasons were valid or not, what I was really saying is: I don’t want to see that truth.  I don’t want to know that truth.  I would rather be blind to it. I would rather be ignorant.

But –with time, and reflection—I realized there was truth in what they said. There was a truth that could only set me free if I accepted it and let it dwell in my heart.  There words opened my eyes to something I had not wanted to see, but something that was true and something that was becoming a bit of a habit.  And I could only be set free from the captivity of my own habits and ego if I listened and accepted and let myself hear them not as something to fear, but as “good news.” A chance to grow and change and become better. I had to adjust the way I received those words. I had to receive them not as a slap on the face, but as a kind of nudge –like bumping up against a guard rail that protects us from going over a dangerous cliff.  It is hard to accept sometimes, but occasionally we need to be corrected. That’s how we get better: whether it is at math or spelling, fixing a dryer, or just being a husband.

How do we hear the law? I think the good news is this: regardless of what we think, the sound of God’s law is always the sound of a door opening.   

The law and the widow’s mite

11 Nov 2018

 “The people were all in tears

as they listened to the words of the law...”

--Nehemiah 8:9b

“As [Elijah] arrived at the entrance of the city

a widow was gathering sticks; he called

out to her: Please bring me a small

cupful of water...” –1 Kings 17: 10-16

“I tell you the truth, this poor widow

has put more into the offering box than all the

others. For they all gave out of their wealth.

But she, out of her poverty,

put in all that she had...”

--Mark 12:43-44

In my last post, I was contemplating the people and their tears (from Nehemiah). And this week, as I waited to go to confession, I was still thinking about that passage, about those people and their tears. But, standing in the line for confession, I found myself watching the Quinceanera families stage their pictures in the church and over by the baptismal font instead of contemplating my sins.  So, I took out my Magnificat and tried to focus my thoughts on something other than the astonishing dresses and tuxedos and the abundance of bolo ties.  Opening it, I turned to the Gospel for this Sunday and read  the story of the widow’s mite.  I have always liked this story; it has the wonderful Cinderella appeal of an unknown impoverished woman suddenly coming to prominence; her tiny --almost meaningless-- offering singled out for praise.  See! See her; the one with the two pennies.  She is giving more than all the rest.  I think it appeals to the inner child in me who still remembers a time when all I had were two pennies and thought it was a lot (I loved gumball machines).  And it still speaks to me today when I worry that I have so little give. And I don’t mean just money.  When I look around and see the other teachers at my school doing so many extra duties –coaching, heading up clubs, going on field trips, I feel a pang of guilt, of inadequacy, a sense of my own insufficiency, not measuring up. 

And then I realized—that is often how I feel when I think of “the Law.” I think about those regulations and restrictions and punishments and feel a sense of dread and insufficiency.  I am unable to meet that mark, to measure up to those expectations.  I am a disappointment, to myself and to God (and possibly to my principal too, though she hasn’t come out and said it).  When I look at the Law as a set of benchmarks that I need to meet to be considered “good,” then I find myself wallowing in self-doubt and dread and fear. I dwell in the certainty of my own failure; anxious about my next slip up –my next misstep or moment of weakness; gossiping over coffee about a co-worker, whining about a student on the way home in the car, hiding in the garage and eating all the doughnuts –so my family won’t know... You know, just the ordinary stuff.

But in this story of the widow and her mite, we get a different view; to some extent, we get a God’s eye view of living the Law.  In the story from Mark, Jesus is watching the people put their offerings into the treasury –something that is commanded by the Law. As the crowd puts money in, Mark notes that some rich people put in large amounts, but then comes this poor widow with her two small (almost worthless) coins. And it is her that Jesus singles out as having put in “more than all the others.” 

The rich people putting in their large sums are fulfilling the letter of the law –even quite possibly giving more than is required.  Metaphorically they are the expectations we measure ourselves against; they are the human measure of success.   Those large donations of theirs will pay for a new science building or a new sports stadium. They are the kinds of donations remembered with names engraved in stone or up in lights...

And yet, Jesus reveals something about how God sees the Law when He singles out the widow and the gift of her two pennies as worth more because out of her poverty she contributed all she had. 

From the human point of view it is very easy to look at the Law as a game of numbers; boxes we check off for and against.  Done this, done this, done this, not that... Good Lord, I’ve never even imagined doing that! Oh my! Don that so many times I’ve lost count...  Tithed -check! DSF—check! Raffle tickets –check! It’s all numbers—sums (both large and small).  

But from God’s point of view it’s not about the numbers –not about how many or how few laws we break, or keep; not about how well we measure up to some cosmic or karmic or spiritual regulation –it’s not about perfect attendance at mass or how much we put in the weekly envelope.  Perhaps the Law of God really only asks one thing—everything! That’s all.  And perhaps the value of our gift is measured not by how much we put in, but how much we hold back. 

From the outside, from the human side, the Law of God can look ominous and daunting. There are 613 laws in the Old Testament cannon; 365 prohibitions (thou shalt nots) and 248 positive commandments.  And yes, one might weep at the thought of so many laws, and so many opportunities to fail, and some of the people in that story from Nehemiah may have wept out of fear or dread... but I wonder if –in that crowd there in Jerusalem, listening to the Law—there wasn’t at least one poor widow standing off by herself listening to the words of the Law, her face warm with tears not of anguish, but of joy, because she understood exactly what the Law meant. It meant that God loved her. For her the Law was simple –in fact, it was everything.

 

The tears and the law --some thoughts on Nehemiah 8

“...the people were all in tears

as they listened to the words

of the law...”  --Nehemiah 8:9c

Are the laws of God proscriptive or prescriptive?  Proscriptive means to prohibit, denounce or condemn; to forbid.  I think traditionally I was raised with the proscriptive reading of the laws.  I believed that certain acts and desires and even words were forbidden.  And due to human weakness, we were (all of us) in desperate need of the grace of the confessional.  But this view of God’s law leads to a view of God as a judgmental figure who watches our every move.  This God has an eternal tally sheet that he keeps on each and every one of us.  He makes a hashmark every time we cross the line (break His law).  I guess when we go to confession He gets out His eraser.  This God is –in some ways—our nemesis.  He is standing apart and ever ready to accuse.

The more I read the Old Testament, the more I am beginning to see “the law” not as proscriptive, but as prescriptive. More of a guide or road map (an ideal) to help us find our way, than a benchmark we must achieve to avoid punishment or banishment or another stay in the long line outside the confessional.

And yet, the other night a friend reminded me that often the law shows up in scripture hand in hand with what often seem like hard and fast punishments. In fact, the death penalty seems –at times—almost ubiquitous:  blasphemy = death (Lv 24:10-16), contempt of court = death (Dt 17:12), incest = death (Lv 20:19), adultery = death (Lv 20:10), cursing your parents = death (Ex 21:17), etc.  And so, there does seem a kind of punitive element to “the law” which implies at the very least a proscriptive element.  However, as I read, that isn’t the picture of God that I am hearing from the Bible: a God tallying our missteps and failings, imposing or withholding appropriate punishments at His whim –that isn’t the God I meet in the Old Testament.

And all of this is on my mind because I have been reading the book of Nehemiah. This book tells the story of the restored Israelites who have returned from exile.  They are back in their homeland rebuilding Jerusalem.  When they finish their main work, they hold a massive week long celebration (8-9), and the people ask the priest Ezra to “bring the Book of the Law of Moses (perhaps Deuteronomy) which the Lord had prescribed...” (8:1-2) and he reads to them from the book –from “dawn til noon” (8:3)—for seven days straight. Then on the eighth day there is a solemn assembly and as Ezra reads, he sees that the people have tears in their eyes.  He tells them: “Today is sacred to the Lord. Do not be mournful; do not weep...” (8:9b).  But, listening to the reading, the people are so moved they are in tears.  And my first thought was what? Who weeps over a book of laws?  And my second thought was: Uhm, you know...uhm... all this law stuff is really good; great stuff! I mean it. I mean...who doesn’t like a little stoning and... all... But –uhm—I—uh-- I think I left a fleshpot boiling back in Babylon. I was in such a hurry... I uh... I just... You know... I’ll just go back and check on that. Better safe than sorry.  Be right back. And, uhm... If I uhm ...for some reason if I don’t make it... well, you just go ahead and start all that purifying and smiting stuff without me. Okay? Really.  I’ll catch up... No worries...

Like my imaginary character –I am not a rule person. I don’t like doing things because I have to. So, when I read of laws and rules, I tend to react strongly against them. Either by looking for a loophole or by simply declaring that it doesn’t apply to me.  That’s my gut reaction.  I think it is kind of an American reaction –that instinctive: You can’t tell me what to do! You can’t tell me what to say! attitude.

And so, to read that “the people were all in tears as they listened to the law” struck me as an odd paradoxical line.  Attracting my readerly attention. What would cause such a reaction?  What kind of tears did they cry? Tears of joy? Tears of consolation? Tears of dread? Fright?  What is the author telling us with this strangely stirring detail? About the people? About their relationship with God?  About their relationship to the law?

And I began to wonder about my own relationship to the law. My troubled relationship... The hours in line at the confessional trying to make right what I willfully made wrong.  Perhaps if I had greeted the law not with dread, but with tears of gratitude, I could have saved myself some pain, some hours spent in line on a Saturday afternoon at the local church. 

If, I could just remember that we have a God who loves us. A God who wants for us only what is good.  A God of mercy and tenderness. A God who brings us back from exile and offers us again and again (endlessly it seems) His love... A God who gave Himself on the cross for me, for my sins... if only I could remember that, then –instead of fleeing the “prohibitions” of the law, I too might beg for the words of the law to be read aloud, and I too might find my face wet with tears of gratitude and love for a Father who loved me enough to offer me the guidance, the counsel, the prescription of His law.

Nehemiah is a short book with lots of census information but buried in the lists of names and the brief descriptions of action is a beautiful image of a merciful God and a people returning to His love.

NOTE: I think I have more to say on this, but that will have to wait.  I know that reading Dante has inspired my reading of scripture and influenced it greatly.  Perhaps that is where I need to go next time.