Sunday, November 5, 2023
Wisdom and Good Deeds
We have another parable from St Matthew’s gospel. This time it is that of the ten bridesmaids who fall into two categories. A distinction is made between the sensible and the foolish ones. What differentiates one group from the other? The sensible ones treasure wisdom while the foolish ones show disdain for it. What is this wisdom which some yearn and seek while others ignore and reject?
Wisdom or Chokhmah, according to Hebrew understanding, is not just intelligence or theoretical or philosophical concepts regarding the nature of things. Wisdom is a direct attribute of our Divine and Eternal Lord. When applied to man it is the ability to judge correctly and to follow the best course of action, based on knowledge and understanding. As opposed to the Greek idea of wisdom, Chokhmah is practical. Wisdom leads to right action. It grants a person the ability to see something from God’s viewpoint. That is why a rejection of wisdom is not just a matter of rejecting reason and logic but rather, the rejection of God.
In the wisdom literature of the Old Testament, such as the example taken from the Book of Wisdom in the first reading, God’s infinite wisdom is personified as a woman. The association of divine wisdom with the feminine is not accidental. The relationship between a wife and her husband is the reflected spiritual relationship between Israel and God. The Law and the Prophets provided the wisdom writers with many feminine images (including homemaker, counselor and wise woman, and lover) that influenced their use of female imagery for divine wisdom. The maternal aspect of wisdom comes to the fore. Just as a mother would be the first teacher for her children, guiding them and tutoring them, wisdom literature was written to teach young male students how to function in society and find meaning and order in the world.
In the first reading, we are assured that people have access to common wisdom, which is described as being right out there on the street—out in public. It is in the forest; it is in the city; it is on the job—it is everywhere! We are surrounded by it! While wisdom belongs to God, it can be pursued and in fact pursues individuals. This is why St Paul can make the accusation that the Gentiles who do not have the law are a law unto themselves when they do what the law says is right (Romans 2:14). Their own conscience bears them witness that they understand what is right and what is wrong (verse 15)!
As we turn to the Gospel, we see how our Lord uses this principle of wisdom in a novel way. Wisdom is now the prerequisite for salvation, being admitted to the eschatological wedding banquet, whereas those who had ignored her counsel would be denied entry.
The storyline is simple enough. The parable takes place within the festive and joyful context of a wedding, yet the final message is a sober exhortation to be properly prepared. It relates that ten young maidens, bridesmaids, were outfitted with torches/lamps and oil, were awaiting the arrival of a bridegroom. Notice the feminine and the lover-bride motif in this parable, both being traditional symbols of wisdom. Five of the maidens, the wise ones, had extra oil with them, the others, foolish ones, did not. When the time of the bridegroom’s arrival finally draws near, the foolish ones needed more oil and asked the wise for oil; the wise refused and sent the foolish ones to buy their own. Meanwhile, the wise ones went in with the bridegroom to the wedding feast and the door was locked. The foolish ones returned and were turned away. Thus, the parable ends with our Lord’s admonishment to stay awake, to be prepared.
This story begs the question, “Why would the five maidens not share their oil?” This appears selfish, so why are they called “wise.” First, while it is not clear whether they were carrying lamps or torches (the Greek word can mean either), they would need oil, either to fill the lamps or to apply to the rags used for torches. On the human level, these five maidens had foresight; they had not only made immediate plans but had also planned for any eventuality, including a long wait, and they knew they might not have enough oil to last the night. But this logical explanation is inadequate for us to discern their behaviour. If the bridegroom is Christ, however, and the wedding feast is the end-time banquet, we have a clue to unravel the conduct of these maidens.
In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord tells His audience that they are “the light of the world.” He encourages them: “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in Heaven” (5:14-16). Light is not just a metaphor for evangelisation, but we see in these words of the Lord a clear connexion between light and good works.
At the end of the Sermon, our Lord says: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (7:21) – this saying reinforces the truth that deeds are necessary to enter the kingdom. At the end of today’s parable, the foolish bridesmaids make this request: “Lord, Lord … open the door for us.” The repeated petition, “Lord, Lord” allows us to connect this to the necessity of good deeds in verse 7:21 in the Sermon on the Mount. Finally, a later Rabbinic text, Midrash Rabbah, uses “mixed with oil” to refer to the study of the Law combined with good deeds.
And so, the oil for the lamps/torches was meant to signify good deeds. Then it is clear why the five sensible bridesmaids could not share their oil with the foolish ones; these latter would need their own good deeds. No one can borrow the good works of others to make up for the good works they’ve failed to do. Its merits are non-transferable. Each person must, as St Paul wrote, “work out [their] own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Wise are those who understand this. Foolish are those who don’t.
Chapter 9 of the Book of Proverbs, a reading read during the Feast of Corpus Christi, describes how Lady Wisdom has built her house, set her table and invites her guests to a special banquet. The Eucharist is meant to empower all of us who dine in wisdom to go into the world with the Life of Christ we have received. To faithfully partake of the supper of the lamb in His flesh and blood is to be sufficiently prepared and to have opened the door to wisdom in the Holy Spirit. Let us all pray to receive Christ today and as we return to our seats in our time of thanksgiving after communion, let us ask Him for the gift of wisdom to know how to do His will in our particular life’s calling. With the fuel of Holy Communion, let us keep the flame alive in our hearts as we await our Lord’s coming, not idle but committed to a life of good works, so that we may shine the Light of His Gospel on the world.
Thursday, December 9, 2021
What must we do?
Third Sunday of Advent Year C
St John the Baptist was truly an enigmatic figure of his time, as he remains one today. An ascetic who lived away from the company of friends and society out in the wilderness, who dressed strangely and survived on a stranger diet in the manner of a lunatic, performing ablutions which were usually done on initiates into the Jewish faith or priests before they performed the Temple sacrifices, and finally calling his audience, even those who considered themselves pious and righteous, to repentance. Despite his strange appearance and his sober message, there was something intriguing about him which drew crowds to him like a rock star and celebrity, and he did all this without having any miracle recorded in his name.
Last week, we were already introduced to
the Baptist as the son of Zechariah who lived out in the wilderness and “went
through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the
forgiveness of sins.” St Luke describes him as the fulfilment of Isaiah’s
prophecy concerning the voice in the wilderness calling all to prepare the way
of the Lord. In today’s gospel, he is in the wilderness again excoriating the
crowds who came seeking baptism and repentance and deliverance. “Who warned you
…?,” John wants to know. "Who told you to come out here? What did you
think you would find?" Who the crowds find is a fiery prophet of God,
preaching judgment upon the injustice that permeates this world.
If you pay attention to the thread of
gospel readings for Advent, you would soon realise that John is an irritant
fixture of this season. He appears in all three lectionary cycles. He is like
apple is to apple pie, and cheese is to cheesecake. The Church places him here
for a distinct purpose - not just because he is a precursor to the Messiah,
whose birth we will welcome at Christmas but because of his message which is
needed in every age.
We need a John the Baptist who will speak
prophetically and clearly in the wilderness. We need a John the Baptist who
will warn us that judgment is at hand. We need a John the Baptist who will tell
us what we need to hear, and not just tell us what we want to hear. We need a
John the Baptist who will name the sins that pervade our lives and the
injustices that structure our broken world. But we also need a John the Baptist
who will point us to the path God has set before us.
In today’s passage, three groups come before
him with the same question: “what must we do?” John provides each with a
customised answer.
The first group are identified as “all the
people.” The crowds wonder how they should respond to John’s prophetic
condemnations. He tells them to love their neighbours. To share what extra they
have with another and to give to those who lack even the most basic necessities.
Nothing outlandishly radical. He is merely calling them to ordinary acts of
grace and charity.
Next comes the deplorable tax collectors
who ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct
these agents of the Roman colonial power to get new jobs helping those in need,
to stop serving their imperial masters and repay those they previously had
taken advantage of. No, instead, John calls them to be good tax collectors, to
collect only that which is required of them. Once again, he calls them to
ordinary acts of grace and charity.
Finally, the soldiers come along to ask
the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these
soldiers to lay aside their instruments of violence and embrace a way of peace.
Instead, John tells them not to use their position of power to steal life or
livelihood from anyone. Be good soldiers, he demands of them. He does not call
them to do anything extraordinary or radical, but merely to ordinary acts of
grace and charity.
So, what might John the Baptist say to us
today? What would he say to us if we approach him with this question: “what
must we do?”
On this Third Sunday of Advent, we can
imagine John using the words of Saint Paul in the second reading, “I want you
to be happy, always happy in the Lord,” or its other translation found in the
entrance antiphon, which has given this Sunday its Latin name, Gaudete Sunday -
“Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say Rejoice.” You may protest that joy
doesn’t seem to be one of the vibes that you are getting from this man who
lived an austere life in the wilderness and who sternly calls us to repentance.
Believe it or not, John the Baptist is the
patron saint of spiritual joy. After
all, at the presence of Jesus and Mary at the scene of Mary’s visitation to her
cousin Elizabeth, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb (Lk. 1:44). And we are told that he is the friend of the
bridegroom who rejoices to hear the bridegroom’s voice (Jn. 3:29-30).
Such joy arose from John’s humility who
did not see our Lord as a rival or a competitor. Many, especially among the
religious elite, felt threatened by Jesus’ popularity. But John actually encouraged his disciples to
leave him, and follow the Lamb of God.
When people came, ready to honour John as the messiah, he set them
straight. He was not the star of the
show, only the best supporting actor. He
stressed that he was not even fit or worthy to occupy the position of a foot
slave to remove the sandals of his master. Even his coveted baptism by water
would be inferior to the Messiah’s baptism of fire and the Holy Spirit. John
makes it clear that he was not the Word Incarnate, only the voice who announces
the word. Our Lord Jesus was the one to watch.
John may have been centre-stage for a while, but now that the star had
shown up, he knew it was time for him to slip quietly off to the dressing room.
Perhaps here is where we need John the Baptist most. He might turn to us and call us to ordinary acts of grace and charity. He might call us to give what we have. He might call us to stay at our jobs and do them well. He might call us to the radical idea that seemingly ordinary lives can be imbued with the extraordinary spirit of God to transform the world. But ultimately, John is calling us to be convincing witnesses of joy because we have been touched by the Messiah.
During this Christmas season, we expect to
enjoy with the family and friends times of conviviality and joy. Such expectations have
been shattered this year. We could throw our hands up in despair. We could
lament over a shattered world. We could grieve those we have lost, the dreams
that have been shattered. We could continue to take the necessary precautions
to keep our loved ones and us safe. Yes, we should do all these things. And as
we do all these things, we should also live ordinary lives infused by the
extraordinary call to love God and love neighbour and be joyful witnesses of
the gospel. In a bleak world filled with discontent and weighed down by failure
and discouragement, let us show that it is possible with God’s
Grace to rejoice always, especially knowing that “indeed, the Lord is near.”
Such joy can be contagious.
Thursday, November 4, 2021
Giving till it hurts
Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B
Today we are given two examples of remarkable generosity - the sort that really hurts. We have one story in the first reading where God commanded a widow to give her last bit of food to a prophet, and another story in the gospel, where Our Lord after having rebuked the teachers of the law for devouring widows’ houses, points to a widow’s giving at the Temple as exemplary. In both cases, these two women risked starvation and losing their entire livelihood in giving and sharing - one for a stranger whom she treated as an intimate neighbour and another to God.
In a way, both these women epitomise the
two-fold commandment of love which we heard last Sunday. In fact, some ancient
commentators have seen the two mites offered by the widow in the gospel as a
symbol of the two-fold Great Commandment of love.
But both these stories are not just
amazing stories meant to inspire us to be more generous and to give more, and I
can assure you that I have absolutely no issue with this message. Instead, both
stories are pointing to something greater and beyond themselves. They both
point to God’s magnanimous giving, ultimately seen in the willing sacrifice of
His Son’s life on the cross. The stories of these two widows serve as actual
living witnesses to the Lord’s death and resurrection, which is more apparent
in the first story, where we see the generous widow’s dead son being
miraculously raised to life.
The story of the widow’s mite in the
gospel could be considered from three different angles.
First, from the angle of the Temple. The
meagre contribution of this woman would have little value since those two small
coins would have made little difference to the financial upkeep of the
religious establishment. It’s the kind of loose change that one will have
little hesitation to drop in the coin box set aside for tips. The unloading of
a few extra coins would outweigh the inconvenience of keeping them. The Temple
authorities would not have missed their absence.
The second perspective would be to compare
the woman’s contribution with the other donors. St Mark tells us that other
rich people are also making offerings at this time. As their substantial
contributions are dropped into the metallic trumpet-like receptacles, it would
have been both a sight to behold, as well as produce a sound that would have
warmed the cockles of the hearts of those in charge of the Temples. They would
be thanking God for these generous donations! What would the tiny chink of the
widow’s two miserable coins matter in comparison with these generous donations.
But the last and most important
perspective of considering this story, is from the angle of Christ and God.
Those two metal flakes would have little value from the perspective of the
Temple authorities or in comparison to the other large donations, but to our
Lord, it mattered most. Because the true value of a gift depends on its cost to
the giver. Her gift may be small, but to her, it could possibly cost her her
life. That is why our Lord was quick to say, “I tell you solemnly, this poor
widow has put more in than all who have contributed to the treasury; for they
have all put in money they had over, but she from the little she had has put in
everything she possessed, all she had to live on.”
We begin to see how the generosity of this
widow in the gospel matches the generosity of the widow of Zarapeth. Both had
given up what little they “had to live on.” Their giving would have not just
have cost them their livelihood but more radically, their lives.
If this story merely focuses on the
generosity of our giving, the demands made on this poor woman would certainly
be scandalous and unjust. Aren’t we suppose to help the poor instead of
demanding such sacrifices from the poor? So, merely focusing on generous giving
cannot be the sole purpose of these stories. Our Lord is not justifying nor is
He giving approval to an exploitive system which robs the poor, the widows and
orphans. This would be the main criticism of many, who view any efforts by the
Church to do fund-raising, as a violation of the principles of social justice
and reduces the Church to a money-making enterprise. We must remember that when
the widow gives, her giving is ultimately to God Himself, who has given
everything to her. She never once complained about her gift giving but rather,
it is the rich who often use the excuse of the poor to complain about giving.
Remember Judas Iscariot, who complained about how Mary of Bethany wasted
expensive oil on the Lord.
These women never counted nor begrudged
the amount they gave because they were truly grateful for what they had
received from God. Their generous giving was merely a reflexion of their
gratitude. In this way, the widow in the gospel (just as the widow in the first
reading) is a type, who points to the extravagant giving of our Lord, He gave
up everything, including His own life, and held nothing back. Was His sacrifice
and death unjust? Most certainly by any standards. But when done willingly and
lovingly, it restored justice to our world.
The offering to the Temple will soon cease
with its destruction. But the Lord will build a new temple in His body, that
will minister to the broken, the neglected, the sinners and the poor. He will
lay down His life for this widow (and for all of us) in a way that far exceeds
her or anyone else’s faithful giving. In doing so, this widow will have a new
husband—Christ Himself—and her humble gift of two miserable coins will be
reciprocated with the greatest gift of all - the eternal life of her Divine
Spouse, who will not allow her to be exploited by those who would wish to
swallow her property because He is the One who will never leave her nor forsake
her, nor will death ever separate them.