Deuteronomy 10-13

Moses continues his declaration to the Israelites:

What does the Lord, your God, ask of you but to fear the Lord, your God, and follow his ways exactly, to love and serve the Lord, your God, with all your heart and all your soul.

Throughout this passage, and so far throughout Deuteronomy, Moses reminds the people again and again that this means (i) worshipping God and God alone, and eschewing false idols, and (ii) obeying God's commandments, statutes, and decrees. The repetition of these themes gives me some sympathy for the Pharisees from the New Testament. Dare I say it!?! 

But woven into these themes here is another current--love, the greatest commandment of all. Moses expresses this when he tells the Israelites to "circumcise your hearts." That instruction gave me pause. My version of the Bible has a note explaining that the uncircumcised heart "is closed and unreceptive to divine grace and guidance." Interesting metaphor. But Moses seems to be teaching us that there is something fundamentally important beyond simple obedience at issue here.

Moses goes on to direct the Israelites to "take these words of mine into your heart . . . teach them to your children, speaking of them at home and abroad, whether you are busy or at rest."

God is our God, the only God, the loving and merciful God who is always with us.  Every person, every land, every moment. My life cannot be complete or truly fulfilled until I engage in responding to and living His love and mercy.

Deuteronomy 7-9

Moses continues to explain to the Israelites the reason for all that has happened to them since they left Egypt.  He does this in anticipation of their entry into Canaan--without him.  Why has God chosen this people, this nation among all others? 

For you are a people sacred to the Lord . . . . The Lord set his heart on you and chose you . . . You will be blessed above all peoples.

Why has He chosen me? Why has He set His heart on me? He created me; He loves me; He calls me closer. As with the Israelites, He wants to lead me out of slavery--the slavery of my distractedness, my temper, my impatience with others, my stubbornness, my lack of trust in Him, my fearfulness.  I am immensely grateful, when I contemplate these things, and I want to respond and let these things go, but I don't always know how.

Deuteronomy 1-6 Part 2

I said I wouldn't do this very often, but I haven't been able to get the following verse from Deuteronomy off my mind: 

The Lord, your God, who goes before you, will himself fight for you, just as he took your part before your very eyes in Egypt, as well as in the desert, where you saw how the Lord, your God, carried you as a man carries his child, all along your journey until you arrived at this place. Despite this, you would not trust the Lord, your God.

I remember well carrying my children as babies up and down the floor in the evenings.  They were colicky. As an infant, my youngest could somehow distinguish even as he neared sleep, between when I was holding him standing or sitting. And he'd never let me sit until he was fully asleep. There were evenings it was exhausting, but I loved it.  And I miss it.  How comforting to think God feels that same tenderness for me. He carries me as a father carries a child all along my journey through life to the promised land. And yet, still, I have trouble really letting go and trusting the Lord.

Deuteronomy 1-6

The introduction to Deuteronomy in my New American Bible (New Catholic Translation) explains that Deuteronomy is "a partial repetition, completion and explanation" of the law given by the Lord at Mt. Sinai. As I read the first six chapters, a number of the themes that permeated the first four books of the Pentateuch jump out.  

First, fruitfulness:

The Lord, our God, has so multiplied you that you are now as numerous as the stars in the sky. May the Lord, the God of your fathers, increase you a thousand times over, and bless you as He promised!

Second, trust in the Lord:

Do not fear or lose heart.

. . . and again

Fear [your enemies] not, for the Lord, your God, will fight for you.

Third, God's tender caring and the Israelites' lack of trust:

The Lord, your God, who goes before you, will himself fight for you, just as he took your part before your very eyes in Egypt, as well as in the desert, where you saw how the Lord, your God, carried you as a man carries his child, all along your journey until you arrived at this place. Despite this, you would not trust the Lord, your God.

Fourth, the Israelites are a special people, and a light to the nations:

Observe [the Lord's commands] carefully, for thus will you give evidence of your wisdom and intelligence for the nations, who will hear of all these statutes and say, "This great nation is truly a wise and intelligent people."

Fifth, that there is only one god, the Lord our God, who is a jealous God:

For the Lord, your God, is a consuming fire, a jealous God . . . . This is why you must now know, and fix in your heart, that the Lord is God in the heavens above and on the earth below, and that there is no other.

Having sounded these themes, Moses discusses again the Ten Commandments, and focuses especially on the greatest commandment:

The Lord is our God, the Lord alone! Therefore, you shall love the Lord, our God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.

The Lord asks of me only that I believe this and embrace this; that I trust in Him; that I hear His commands and follow them; and that I not "put Him to the test."  Why is this so hard for me?

Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son

I was asked to write a Lenten reflection on Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son.  

I thought I would share my reflection:

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I have always found it painful to look at Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son.  Not because it isn’t beautiful, for it is.  Rembrandt is rightly recognized as one of history’s greatest painters, best known for his portraits.  Here, somewhat out of character for him, Rembrandt has actually painted something happening.  He’s given us a moving scene of a father and son reuniting.  The son is humbled, wasted, bedraggled, sorrowful—pitiful, really.  The father, for his part, looks like he has reached out to embrace his son but missed, as the son has fallen at his feet.  In his finery, the father lays his hands tenderly on his son’s back, lovingly pulling him close.  It is achingly beautiful.

But the reason I find the painting difficult to look at is the way Rembrandt has painted me, there on the right.  Yes, I am the older son.  Look at me.  I stand above my father and brother.  Do you see me looking down at them, disapproving of them, wringing my hands, and judging them?  It’s all there, isn’t it?  My face is pinched.  While my father’s arms are open, mine are closed.  While my father bends to embrace and comfort my brother, I keep my distance. 

And why shouldn’t I?  My brother turned his back on us; walked away from us; abandoned us.  He spent half of my father’s inheritance.  He has incredible nerve coming back here and throwing himself at my father’s feet now.  And what is my father thinking?  What about me?  I worked hard.  I did everything my father asked.  I stayed!  Where’s my fatted calf?  Let my brother throw himself at my feet, and beg for forgiveness; let him tell me how he’ll make it up to me.  Then maybe we can talk.

And I’m right, am I not?  I have read God’s Word.  You can read it, too.  Read Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers.  It’s all there.  God tells Moses to exile the sinners and to stone those who don’t obey His commands; He teaches “an eye for an eye”; and He prohibits the faithless from entering the Promised Land.  Why?  Because God is just.  God is fair.  We live in a world that would be chaos without laws and without rules.  If there aren’t consequences when the rules aren’t followed, then what is justice?  But the message of Jesus’ parable seems quite different.

Well, what did Rembrandt think?  Let’s look at the choices he made.  He could have painted this scene many ways.  In fact, the “moment” he chose to paint does not even “occur” in the parable Jesus told.  There is no scene where the brothers are together. The father is alone when he embraces the younger son. Later, the father steps out of the party alone to speak to the older son, who has refused to join the celebration.  Rembrandt could have chosen not to paint me at all; or he could have painted me looking away.  But he didn’t.  If you look carefully at me, you’ll see that I am not standing straight.  My upper body has begun to tilt toward my father and brother.  I am all about justice and doing the right thing, but Rembrandt somehow knows that even my heart is drawn to my father’s love and mercy, to my brother’s humility and sorrow.  All hearts are called to God’s love and mercy—although we don’t always recognize it. 

There is something incredible and incomprehensible about the father’s choice and about God’s choices—to create us, to love us, and to forgive us again and again.  God’s justice is not our justice.  His capacity for forgiveness and his desire to forgive are boundless.  Jesus surely had this in mind when he shared the parable, and Rembrandt when he painted this scene.  For my part, although I am the older son, I will try to allow myself to be drawn toward God’s mercy as someone called both to forgive and to be forgiven.

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Numbers 33-36

The Book of Numbers closes with a passage that recounts all of the stops along the way of the Israelites' forty-year journey from Egypt to the land of Canaan. It summarizes the setting of the boundaries of the Promised Land, the allotment of land to the twelve tribes (two-and-a-half of which have elected to live just outside of Canaan), and the setting aside of land for the Levites. I find the discussion of the land of asylum an interesting concept: a place where someone who has unintentionally killed another can go and be protected from vengeance by the dead person's "avenger."  There the "killer" must remain until the death of the high priest in order to be protected. I am not sure, honestly, what I think about the concept of Purgatory--maybe a discussion for another time--but this reminds me of that concept. The land of asylum is a temporary place for someone who is culpable for an action, but not a grievous or horrific action that signifies a complete turning away from God and neighbor. Not until the high priest (Christ?) dies is the exile free from retribution for his sin. 

Why does God free me from my sins?  Why does He forgive me? I have done nothing to merit that forgiveness, obviously. I am on a journey to the Promised Land, like the Israelites.  I grumble and complain like the Israelites. I forget His many kindnesses; I want more. Occasionally, I hear His message through some "Moses" in my life--my wife, my children, a friend, a song, nature, a work of art, a poem. But it is only "occasionally" because my heart is not properly attuned to His message. He has to "shout". It is easy for me to read these passages and wonder how the Israelites could have been so stubborn, so arrogant, so blind, so forgetful.  And then I look in the mirror . . . 

Numbers 29-32

The Lord continues to instruct the Israelites, through Moses, as to the appropriate sacrifices and offerings to be made in connection with various holy days.  These holy days, as noted in an earlier post, all have a community dimension to them, as the Lord calls for a sacred assembly on those days as well. There is a discussion of the relationship between husbands and wives and fathers and daughters in the context of vows and oaths, one which seems to reinforce a culture that places women subservient to men. This is followed by a narrative of the slaughter of the Midianites by the Israelites, and a detailed (albeit, odd in my view) discussion of how the booty of war is to be divided among the Israelites. The Lord we meet in this section is vengeful and merciless. Scary. As the Israelites near the time to enter Canaan, two tribes ask that they be permitted outside the boundaries of the promised land. Moses at first rejects this suggestion. But the Reubenites and Gadites promise to help the other tribes cross the Jordan and defeat the residents of Canaan, securing it for the Israelites, before returning to the other side of the Jordan. They pledge: "We will do as you command, my Lord" and again "We will do what the Lord has commanded us, your servants." Thus, agreement is reached with Moses and the Lord. 

One way to look at this is that the Reubenites and Gadites are "negotiating" with God--something we are not typically encouraged to do. Another way to see it, however, is that our dialogue with God, our prayers, should be an open, candid dialogue. Moses, for example, has repeatedly asked the Lord to reconsider His instructions, and sometimes God has acceded to Moses' request. In the end, the Gadites and Reubenites have the right approach: they agree that they will do what the Lord commands--but I think the lesson for me is that God wants me to have a mature, open dialogue with Him. A conversation. So that I can share my heart with Him, and He with me.

Numbers 26-28

The Lord instructs Moses to take a second census as the Israelites near their entry into Canaan. The second census reveals that the Israelite community has grown. It also reveals that, as God had promised, not a single man is still alive who had been counted in the first census at the base of Sinai, except for Joshua and Caleb (and Moses himself, of course)--the rest had perished as the Lord had promised for their lack of faithfulness. The Lord instructs Moses as to how the Promised Land should be divided among the twelve tribes, and reminds Moses that he himself will see, but not enter, the promised land. Moses accepts his fate gracefully, but does ask the Lord to appoint a successor to guide the people:

Set over the community a man who shall act as their leader in all things, to guide them in all their actions; that the Lord's community may not be like sheep without a shepherd.

God directs Moses to appoint Joshua as his successor. Moses lays his hands on Joshua in a ceremony before the whole community, and in this way the community itself also consecrates Joshua. This is a very interesting, and yes comforting, passage to be reading as we prepare for the election of a new Pope. It is an unsettling time for Catholics, with the historic resignation of BXVI, and we pray for God to guide the cardinals in the task ahead.

This passage ends with more detailed descriptions of the sacrifices that God expects the Israelites to offer on various occasions, all of which have that social dimension to them: a shared assembly of the people.

Numbers 21-25

The Lord continues to lead the Israelites in their journey in the desert. They defeat the Canaanites and the Amorites along the way. He continues to ensure they have water and food to survive. And despite all this, they periodically break out in grumbling and complaining. They turn to worshipping false gods and consorting with women of tribes they meet along the way. I find it difficult to read these passages, as I see myself in the Israelites.  How much does God give me in my life, and yet how often do I complain that it isn't enough, or that I want something different? I have a family that is so much more wonderful than I deserve, and yet I cannot control my temper or my moodiness when I am around them. My hope is that, as with the Israelites, God is merciful and forgives and keeps His promises, no matter how unworthy I am to receive them. 

This passage continues with the story of Balak, king of Moab, and his efforts to convince Balaam, king of the Amawites, to join him in battling the Israelites. But Balaam is a man of God, and he listens to the Lord. Although he travels to meet Balak, Balaam stays true to God's instruction that he (Balaam) say only what God directs him to say. Rather than curse the Israelites, Balaam blesses them:

How can I curse whom God has not cursed? How denounce whom the Lord has not denounced?

Four times Balaam acts as an oracle, identifying the Israelites as a special people, "a people that lives apart."  He predicts:

A star shall advance from Jacob, and a staff shall rise from Israel.

A star in the East? The staff of the Good Shepherd? Throughout the Old Testament I continue to see the promise of Christ.

Numbers 15:22-20:29

This passage contains numerous examples of disobedience, distrust of the Lord, grumbling, complaining, and outright rejection and rebellion against God, His promises, and His appointed priests and leaders. Time and again, individuals or groups forget God's laws and His faithfulness and power, doubting and questioning Him. There is the sabbath-breaker, who collects wood on the sabbath and is stoned by the community at God's direction. There are those among the Levites who question why the sons of Aaron are singled out as priests, rather than the Levites. For this, Korah, Dathan, Abiram and more than 200 others pay with their lives. Indeed, Dathan and Abiram and their families are swallowed up by the earth in front of the Israelites in a scene that spreads horror and panic throughout the community. 

The Lord reinforces His choice of Aaron and his sons and their ancestral house as set apart for the priesthood. God explains "I give you the priesthood as a gift." Indeed, the priesthood is a gift to Catholics as well. There is no escaping that the priesthood and priests are a source of some controversy today as well. Some bad actors have spread horror by their actions, although the vast majority are surely committed and good (although, like the rest of us, imperfect). But they are our counselors, mediators, examples--indispensable gifts to us. 

This section ends with the powerful story of the Israelites--grumbling again, complaining that Moses and Aaron and God have led them out of Egypt only to perish. At the Lord's direction, Moses, in front of the whole assembly at Meribah, uses his staff to strike a rock, from which water springs--enough water to slake the thirst of the Israelites and their livestock. Significantly, Moses must strike the rock twice, and this seems to denote some lack of faith in God's power on the part of Moses and Aaron.  The Lord chastises them, telling them that their lack of faithfulness will be punished, and that they will not personally lead the people into the promised land.  I must confess that I am puzzled by this scene, as I do not grasp how the conduct of Moses is unfaithful. But God's ways are mysterious, I suppose. At this point, at least, there is no complaining by Moses and Aaron about their punishment. Some time later, Aaron dies, and the whole community mourns him for 30 days.

Numbers 13-15:21

At God's command, Moses sends twelve men to scout the land of Canaan, the land of milk and honey, the promised land, and the people dwelling there. Upon their return, the scouts confirm the goodness and fruitfulness of the land. But ten of the twelve stir up the Israelites to grumble against Moses and God, convincing them that the Israelites that God cannot keep His promises--that He cannot guide them to triumph over the residents of Canaan and give the Israelites the land He has promised them. Only Caleb and Joshua of the twelve remain faithful and confident in God and His promises. The others, and the rest of the Israelites, grumble and complain and long to return to Egypt as slaves rather than (as they see the alternative) to die in the desert. This moves the Lord to anger. After Moses attempts to intercede for the people, the Lord relents somewhat. But the punishment is that the Israelites must wander the desert for forty years--one year for each day the twelve spent scouting Canaan--until the last of the ten scouts and others who spurned the Lord are dead. On reflection, the people feel "great remorse"--but even then they cannot obey the Lord.  Instead, they set off for battle to take Canaan despite Moses' warning: "Why are you again disobeying the Lord's orders? This cannot succeed." And, of course, without the Lord, it does not succeed and they are defeated. One recurring theme here is that the Israelites repeatedly "spurn" or "reject" the Lord, and even when they have remorse they are so strong willed that they feel compelled to decide how they themselves will "make things right"--even when God, through Moses, instructs them differently. 

How often do I do the same? I grumble and complain, even tough God has given me so much! I am incredibly fortunate and blessed--with health, with a beautiful family, with a job--and yet there are times when I grumble against the Lord.  I want something more, or something different, or I want something when I want it. Then, when I am struck by how much God has already given me, I too have remorse. 

Numbers 10-12

A discontented people set out from the base of Sinai into the desert, following the pillar of fire by which the Lord guides them. Moses, whom the Lord calls "the meekest man on the face of the earth," despairs of the grumbling and complaining of the Israelites. He laments to God:

Was it I who conceived all this people? Or was it I who gave them birth, that you tell me to carry them at my bosom, like a foster father carrying an infant to the land you have promised under oath to their fathers? 

I cannot help but wonder if St. Joseph ever had a moment when he said something like this to God. Perhaps when the infant Jesus cried and cried during the night, and Joseph walked the floor with him, trying to comfort him. I am drawn to Joseph as a father, thinking about all the joys and frustrations and pain of being a father, and wondering how Joseph handled them. I often wish the Bible had more to say about this man.

Meanwhile, back in the desert, Moses is so moved and overwhelmed by distress from the complaining Israelites, that the Lord lightens his burden by taking some of the spirit that is on Moses and bestowing it on 70 elders.  Actually, 70 plus two more who were not at the gathering when this transfer took place. Upon receiving the spirit, the 72 begin to prophesy. Clearly, a foreshadowing of Pentecost, and the number 72 matches the number of disciples cited in the New Testament.  Moses is moved to say later, to a jealous Aaron and Miriam:

Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets! Would that the Lord might bestow his spirit on them all!

Of course, the Lord has done so. He has bestowed His spirit on all of His people in baptism. We are all called to holiness, to meekness, to be part of a community of believers and journeyers on the path to the promised land.

Numbers 8-10:10

Shortly before the Israelites set out from Sinai, the Lord instructs them in the purification of the Levites, the priests who are dedicated to the Lord. What I love about this passage is that God calls on the entire community of Israelites to gather and to lay hands upon the Levites to purify and sanctify them in their service to the Lord. There is a vital link between serving God and serving the community--they are completely intertwined. It is true today of the religious and the priesthood, but also true for all of us who are called by God in love, whatever our vocation. Love and service for God and for our neighbor are in many ways indistinguishable. Chapter 9 closes with another description of the fiery cloud that has guided the Israelites, and which will continue to guide them on their journey to the promised land. The cloud is God's message and instruction to the Israelites about the timing and path of their journey. 

Thus, it was always at the bidding of the Lord that they encamped, and at his bidding that they set out; ever heeding the charge of the Lord.

God wants to guide me and direct me on my own journey to the promised land, to salvation. I pray that I am able to see His Will for me as clearly as the Israelites were able to see the fiery cloud, and that, when I see it, I have the courage to follow.

One last thought here. It is fitting, and likely a very direct message to me, that I am reading this passage today, Ash Wednesday. Like the Israelites, the Church and I myself, embark today on 40 days in the desert of Lent on our way to the promised land of the Resurrection. I hope that I am able to make this a meaningful journey of preparation. But for today at least I will try to remember that I am indeed dust, and to dust I shall return, and I will strive to repent and make straight the way of the Lord.

Numbers 6-7

The Lord continues to instruct Moses as the Israelites are being prepared for the journey from Mt. Sinai to the Promised Land. The passage begins with a discussion of Nazirites, who are people who dedicate themselves to the Lord in a special way (either permanently or for a set period of time). The passage ends with a description of the offerings made to the Dwelling by the princes of the twelve tribes. Tucked between these two discussions is a short description of the priestly blessing. The Lord tells Moses to instruct Aaron to use this prayer to bless the Israelites. This same short, beautiful blessing (or a variation of it) is used to bless the congregation at the end of the Catholic Mass:

The Lord bless you and keep you!
The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!
The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!

Such a tender blessing! So at odds with a lot of the other things we've read in Leviticus and Numbers! I have always been struck by "keep you." What does that mean? Keep you safe? Keep you close to Him? Keep you in His heart? Whatever it means, it sounds wonderful--warm and close and tender. Likewise, "let His face shine upon you." I think about laying in the grass or on the beach on a summer day with eyes closed, feeling the powerful yet soothing warmth of the sun on my face. I had a friend who used to like to do this and to feel that warmth as God's love. And, of course, it ends with peace. I just love this short blessing and often turn it over in my mind. It is hard to imagine a better way to end the Mass, and here it is, tucked away in Numbers. Awesome.

BXVI Resigns

I had not intended to make this a current events or "issues of the day" blog, but I do feel compelled to comment on yesterday's stunning news that BXVI is resigning as of the end of February. Most news outlets are reporting that his is the first Papal resignation since 1415, but that is a bit misleading. In 1415, there was in effect a civil war on, with competing claimants to the Papacy. That Pope's resignation was not exactly voluntary, as he was on the losing side. One must go back several more centuries to Celestine V for the last truly voluntary resignation. Celestine V was essentially a hermit who had been (to his surprise) elected to be Pope. He lasted only five months. During that time, he was responsible for only a few acts, one being the issuance of a decree that establishes the Pope's right to resign from office, a right he then exercised so that he could return to a life of solitude and prayer. 

What to make of yesterday's news? Too soon to tell, I guess. I believe that the Holy Spirit works always through the Church, and so I trust and hope that God is working through these events for the betterment of the faith and of all of us. The Vatican assured us that the Pope's decision came after much prayer and examination of conscience. I do hope so. Interesting that our time without a Pope will coincide with Lent, a time of doing without and journeying toward the Resurrection. Let us see what the journey brings us.

Numbers 3:33-5:31

The Lord continues to instruct Moses and Aaron in preparation for the Israelite's departure from the base of Mt. Sinai. He directs them to assign certain tasks relating to the Dwelling to particular clans within the group of Israelites. The passage shifts to a discussion about expelling the unclean, such as lepers, from the encampment, and then on to directions about the test to be used to confirm a hsuband's suspicions that his wife has committed adultery. In Rediscover Catholicism, Matthew Kelly identifies fasting as one of the seven pillars of the Catholic life. He explains that to give oneself in love (to God, to a spouse), one first must possess oneself. Self-possession, in turn, is aided by--indeed, is impossible without--self-discipline. Habits of discipline when it comes to food, drink, and other daily aspects of our lives can help build and strengthen the discipline we need to be the best version of ourselves and to give ourselves in love to others. As I read Kelly's explanation, I thought of Leviticus and Numbers. The Lord is preparing the Israelites for a journey to the promised land. This time of preparation includes a great deal of detailed instruction from God about what they may and may not do, what they may and may not eat, etc. Perhaps one of God's purposes in this was to instill a sense of individual and communal discipline, which would steel the Israelites for the journey ahead, but would also ready them for entry into the promised land. Likewise, God calls me to look at my habits and my actions, calls me to be more disciplined, for example, about what I ingest (do I treat my body right?) and what I say (do I use appropriate language? Is it sharp, sarcastic, inappropriate?). Living more disciplined in this manner helps to make straight the way for the Lord. As we approach the start of Lent (early this year!), I would like to focus more on this self-possession and self-discipline to help ready myself for Easter.

Numbers 1-3:32

Numbers is the fourth book of the Pentateuch.  It describes the 38 years covering the end of the encampment at Mt. Sinai through the journey in the desert to their arrival at the border of  the Promised Land. It begins with a census of the Chosen People commands by the Lord. Thus, the journey of the law, from Sinai to the Promised Land begins with a census. Similarly, the story of the birth of the New Law, the fulfillment of the law, Jesus Christ, also begins with a census.  The census ordered by the Romans is the reason Joseph and Mary journeyed to Bethlehem, of course. 

Leviticus 22-27:34

As the Lord's explanation of the rules regarding sacrifices, holocausts, and offerings closes, He instructs Moses that an offering must be unblemished; it cannot be an offering of something that the owner would otherwise discard or have no use for. You shall not offer [a sacrifice] that has any defect, for such a one would not be acceptable for you. I was a freshman in college in 1978 when I had the good fortune to score a ticket to see John Paul II at Yankee Stadium. It was quite a memorable experience.  To think that I was present for a Mass offered by a man who will likely be recognized by the Church as a saint in my lifetime! In his homily that day, JP2 urged Catholics, and particularly Americans, to give of their substance and not just of their abundance. I am reminded of that message by the words from Leviticus quoted above. Do I do this? Do I offer to Him, and try to do His Will in, those aspects of my life I hold most dear?  Do I cabin off the "God times"--Mass on Sundays, certain times for prayers--and keep the rest for myself? Or do I try to weave Him into every aspect of my life? Well, I know what I should do, but I also know what I usually do--and unfortunately they are often not the same.

The Lord goes on to instruct Moses about the Holy Days, including Passover, the Day of Atonement, New Years' Day, etc. It is noteworthy that, with respect to each holy day, God calls for "a sacred assembly." Even as He addresses very personal aspects of human behavior in Leviticus, He calls them back to the community. The community, the sacred assembly, is a vital and integral part of living as God's people. So, too, with Catholicism. So much rides on the community and its response to God's call, to its collective action, its collective holiness, its collective sinfulness. The "Old Testament God" comes to the forefront as Leviticus closes, with many warnings about the punishments that await the chosen people should they ignore or reject the Lord--too numerous and frightening to catalog here. But even so, the Lord promises that I will not reject or spurn them, lest, by wiping them out, I make void my covenant with them; for I, the Lord, am their God. He is ever faithful, and will not forget His promises. 

Leviticus 18:19-21:24 Part 2

I don't anticipate doing the "part 2" thing very often, but I passed over something very important in my previous post regarding this section of Leviticus, and I must go back to it. In this section, the Lord essentially re-explains the Ten Commandments to Moses, elaborating on them further and providing examples to facilitate a better understanding of what is meant by them. I am struck by this: Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against your fellow countrymen. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. This last sentence is, of course, cited by Jesus as the second greatest of the commandments in Matthew 22. In all my years of reading and hearing the story of Jesus' identifying the two greatest commandments, I had assumed that these were "new" and revolutionary. New or not, what a challenge it is! I am a grudge-holder, sadly, so this statement speaks to me directly and powerfully. I hold them against others and I hold them against myself. In fact, I am often much quicker to forgive others than myself. Yet both sides of the statement are equally important. It is not "You shall love your neighbor more than yourself," nor is it "You shall love your neighbor less than yourself." 

Leviticus 18:19-21:24

I was afraid that I would shortly run out of things to say about the litany of "do nots" in Leviticus. But I find this passage to be rich (although still plenty of "do nots"). I am struck by these words of the Lord to Moses: Speak to the whole Israelite community and tell them: Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy. And again a little while later: Sanctify yourselves, then, and be holy; for I, the Lord, your God, am holy. We are called to holiness. So many saints and Catholic writers have said the very same thing. I am currently reading Rediscover Catholicism by Matthew Kelly, and he makes this a central part of his message. It's a powerful idea, that God has created me and called me to be holy, as He is holy. St. Athanasius said that the Divine became man so that man could become divine. Doesn't that very powerfully convey the message of Christianity in as compact a way imaginable? The Lord goes on to expand on the Ten Commandments, providing some more insight and explanation. I was struck by this sentence: You shall not curse the deaf, or put a stumbling block in front of the blind, but you shall fear your God. One could obviously take this literally, because to do these things would be not only wrong, but cruel. But they spoke to me as a metaphor. Do I dismiss or condescend to those who don't believe what I believe? Who I perceive to be deaf to God's message? Do I judge them without knowing them as God does? Do I make it harder for those who seem blind to God and His message by failing to show them love, compassion or mercy? Unfortunately, yes. And in doing so, I fail to "fear" or respect (much less love and honor) God and His creation. Perhaps if I cleared the path for them a bit, rather than acting as a stumbling block, their blindness might be "cured"--or at least their vision, their view of God, might be improved. So, my call to personal holiness is not, strictly speaking, purely personal, but rather can and should impact my community as well. 

Leviticus 15:1-18:18

The Lord institutes the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), on which the priest confesses "all the sinful faults and transgressions of the Israelite community" in order to make "atonement for himself and his household as well as the whole Israelite community." It is a day of fasting  to be observed on a set day each year, "so that you may be cleansed of all your sins before the Lord." On that day, the priest places the sins and transgressions of the community on the head of a live goat that is then sent away to the desert. I did not know until now that this is where the concept of a scapegoat came from! The Lord instructs Moses about the sacredness of blood, since "the life of a living body is in its blood." The Lord is very explicit about not partaking in blood, making me wonder if this might be a contrast to other religious rituals of that time. The Lord instructs Moses regarding the sanctity of sex, although it is essentially a list of sex one may not have, rather than a positive discussion. Not exactly John Paul II's Theology of the Body. In this section, however, there is also this powerful statement: Keep, then, my statutes and decrees, for the man who carries them out will find life through them. I am the Lord. Jesus the Lord ultimately fulfills the law and is the Way to new life. 

Leviticus 13:40-14:57

The discussion of leprosy continues and provides more support for the idea that it serves as a metaphor for sinfulness. The leper must rent his garments, keep his head bare, muffle his beard, and cry out "Unclean, unclean!" Moreover, the leper must be separated from the community and "dwell apart." When I sin, when I am less than the best version of myself (the self God created me to be), then I do set myself apart from the community. My sinfulness diminishes me, eats at me if you will, and prevents me from embracing God and my community. My sinfulness isolates me. I find it isolates me even from myself. As if I lose myself and cannot seem to find my way back. When this happens, I find it very frightening. It feels cold and dark. I imagine it is what Hell is--not flames and pain, but dark isolation, like outer space. No connection to anyone; no light and no warmth. 

Leviticus 8-13:39

Aaron and his sons undergo the ceremony of ordination, the details of which were commanded and carefully prescribed by God to Moses. At the end of the ceremony, Aaron "raised his hands over the people and blessed them. Then the glory of God was revealed to all the people." God reveals His glory through the priest-mediator. This is a concept that continues to this day. Jesus of course is the ultimate Priest and Mediator. In some ways, so too is Mary--a mediatrix who intercedes for us in a special way. Catholic priests have a mediating role as well.  Their special, integral role in the sacrifice of the Mass, established through their ordination, becomes the medium through which we can eat and drink Christ's body and blood. I am not sure, though, what to make of the brief story of Nadab and Abihu, two of Aaron's sons. Consecrated as priests, they make the mistake of burning incense not approved by God, and because they offered up before the Lord a "profane fire", the Lord causes a fire to come forth and consume them. Moses attempts to explain the Lord's ways to Aaron, but he says nothing in response. As I said, I am not sure how to understand this. It seems an incredibly harsh punishment for an act that I do not see the evil in. Perhaps Aaron's silence reflects an inner conflict between love for his sons and his respect and trust in the ways of the Lord. But I wonder if Moses, who repeatedly challenged and questioned God, would have stayed silent had it been two of his sons. Another aspect of the priest's role as mediator is captured in the following direction that God gives directly to Aaron: You must be able to to distinguish between what is sacred and what is profane, between what is clean and what is unclean; you must teach the Israelites all the laws that the Lord has given them through Moses.  So, the priest does not simply mediate the sacrifices that cleanse sins, but also must teach the law and must discern between clean and unclean and good and evil.  Priests are called to these very weighty responsibilities in the Church today as well. Finally, Aaron and the other priests are given an important role in diagnosing leprosy, which is a focal point of a long section in Leviticus. This section suggests to me that leprosy serves as a metaphor for sinfulness. It is a disease that eats away at the body just as sin eats away a person's spirit.  At my spirit.  Like leprosy, sin has a social dimension as well, as both can be contagious and can infect and negatively impact a whole community.

Leviticus 5-7

The Lord continues to instruct Moses as to the proper means of making holocausts, sacrifices, and offerings. The priests serve as the intermediaries for those who have sinned and have come to offer sacrifice--"the priest shall make atonement for the sin [using the offering brought by the sinner] . . . and it will be forgiven." But through this mediation the sins are forgiven. Similarly, Jesus as High Priest is the mediator for our atonement. His dying on the Cross was the sacrifice that atoned for the sins of all of us.   

Is it too simplistic (or worse, condescending) to note that the Old Testament, up to this point, makes me think about God as a parent and the Israelites as children? God tells Adam and Eve not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge. He doesn't explain why, just as you don't explain to your toddler why not to eat food off the floor or why you shouldn't put a fork in an electric socket. As the story of the Chosen People continues, God is very directive and prescriptive about what the Israelites are to do--explaining why in some instances--just as you would with an older child. It is possible that God needed to lay the groundwork gradually for what was ultimately to come many hundreds of years later. Now, perhaps my reaction is a function of my ignorance of Biblical scholarship or reflects my lack of sophistication, but no criticism is intended. It just that the tone of much of what I have read so far feels so parental to me.  

Exodus 40:17-38; Leviticus 1-4

We come to the close of Exodus, as the Dwelling has been completed according the Lord's precise instructions. Moses puts the commandments inside the ark, and the ark inside the Dwelling. The presence of the Lord, in the form of a cloud during the day, and cloud of fire at night, settles over the Dwelling. When the cloud lifts, the Israelites continue their journey. The Book of Leviticus begins with a very detailed description of the ritual of sacrifices. Depending on the reason for offering the sacrifice, a different animal might be used. But the animal offered as a holocaust or sacrifice must be unblemished. Just as Jesus, the ultimate Sacrifice and expiation for our sins, was a spotless Lamb. An interesting aspect of the description of these sacrificial rituals is that some of the offerings to be made are as a result of sins committed by an individual (e.g., a priest, a prince)--but the text is clear that these are sacrifices to be offered when the sin is "inadvertent." It is not clear to me what this means, because my understanding of sin includes as a condition that the act (or omission) was intentional, done with knowledge. As we leave Exodus, let me retrace my steps to mention one other thing that struck me. After Moses returned from the mountain, after having been called there by the Lord, we read of his "radiance." This radiance was so striking that Aaron and others were afraid to go near him, and he was given a veil to wear over his face. What a powerful metaphor for the transformative potential of prayer and of giving oneself to God!