The Word of Jesus—laden with power and authority
An exegetical reflection on the Gospel of the
Fourth Sunday of Year B (Mark 1:21-28)
January 29, 2012
By Msgr. Lope C. Robredillo, SThD
WHEN SOME POLITICIANS expound their platform and make promises during election campaigns, many people do not care to listen, even though they hear them speak. For them, the talks of some politicians are merely part of the political rigmarole and circuses. Their speeches are grand, but their words are empty. In fact, they have become cynical to these politicians because they know that for the most part the latter’s words and promises are never fulfilled. To put it differently, what they utter are devoid of authority. Hence, people hardly believe their words, which are scarcely any guide for them to listen and follow. Of course, some of those with empty words do win in elections, but that is because of things that do not come from the upper orifice, which are translated into votes. Even so, their words remain empty, and so they do not deliver the goods. Meanwhile, the people remain in the morass of evil.
But it is God’s will that all be saved from evil and come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4). For this reason, he raised prophets to speak his word. Because they speak for God, their words have authority. These are powerful. The Bible characterizes these words as having “exousia”, which means authority and power. The prophet Isaiah compares the word of God with the rain and its effects: “For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down, and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it” (Isa 55:10-11). Thus, the word of the prophet Ahijah about Jeroboam (1 Kgs 14:10) was fulfilled: the entire house of Jeroboam was utterly killed off, “according to the warning which the Lord had pronounced through his servant, Ahijah, the Shilonite” (1 Kgs 15:29). Because the word of God has authority and power, it can destroy, as Jeremiah says (Jer 1:10), but it can also save: “the word that has been planted in you… is able to save your souls” (Jas 1:21).
In the century before the time of Jesus, it seemed to the Jews that God has stopped communicating his powerful word: “There had not been such great distress in Israel since the time prophets ceased to appear among the people” (1 Macc 9:27). The Jews were dependent on scribes who were experts of the Law of Moses and were called rabbis. They extracted rules and principles from the Torah for daily living, taught and transmitted the Law and its development, and gave judgment. Nevertheless, the Jews kept hoping that God would send his prophet again: “The Jewish people and their priest have made the following decisions: Simon shall be their permanent leader and high priest until a true prophet arises…” (1 Macc 14:41). After all they were assured—the 1st Reading tells us—of God’s promise to send a prophet: “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kinsmen, and will put words into his mouth; he shall tell them all I have commanded him” (Deut 18:18).
In today’s Gospel, Mark would have us understand that by his coming, Jesus fulfilled this prophecy in Deuteronomy and the Jewish expectation. And elsewhere in the New Testament, we are told that God has finally spoken to us through his Son (Heb 1:1). In Jesus the Word, therefore, we have an infallible guide for human thinking and living, and a power to salvation. The Gospel tells us how Jesus spoke: “The people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes… All were amazed and asked one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching with authority. He commands even the unclean spirits and they obey him’” (Mark 1:27).
This poses the question: now that Jesus is taken up to the heavens, through whom does God speak with authority to us? God speaks his authoritative word through the Scriptures: “All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that one who belongs to God may be competent, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim 3:16). The Gospel remains powerful, as is shown in Thessalonica, where it came to the people in power and in the holy spirit, and they became imitators of Paul and Jesus himself (1 Thess 1:5-9). That is why the Bible is important to us. Also, God speaks through the ministers of the Church, who have been charged to preach the Gospel (2 Tim 4:2-5) to move us. And, according to the 2nd Reading, he likewise speaks to us through those persons, married or unmarried, who by their lives prophesy here and now the possibilities of the life to come (1 Cor 7:35).
The new social order that Jesus began to establish for his people
An exegetical reflection on the Gospel of the
Third Sunday of Year B (Mark 1:14-20)
January 22, 2012
By Msgr. Lope C. Robredillo, SThD
IF CHIEF Justice Corona is on trial at the Impeachment Court, this is due to the vision of President Aquino to help create a Filipino society that is free of a culture of corruption especially at the top and of a culture of impunity. Leaders and prophets usually envision for their people a form of society that addresses the pains and sufferings of the past. To be sure, at all levels of life—international, national, local and even personal–we all experience the negative: oppression, deceit, fear, destruction, war, suffering and death. Because of these negative experiences, we all wish to construct a better world. After the war of the allied forces against Iraq, George Bush spoke of establishing a new order. After the exile of the Jews, Isaiah had a vision of a new earth. During the industrial revolution, Karl Marx posited a classless society where the poor will come into their own. At the personal level, most of us try to achieve our vision of our own future: secure, full of milk and honey. Knowing that, in a sense, this is not the best of all possible worlds, and that a better world is possible, we try to envision it and put that vision into some concrete programs.
Today’s Gospel is about Jesus’ proclamation of a new social order: the Kingdom of God. In the Old Testament, this order is captured, among others, by the symbol of a new Jerusalem where God tenders a banquet: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will provide for all peoples a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines” (Isa 25:5). And Jesus sometimes used the same picture for the Kingdom: “And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves cast out. And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God” (Luke 13:28-29). This image embodies what all of us hope for—love, brotherhood, forgiveness, peace and happiness among men in the community. This was the center of Jesus’ preaching, his life and even his death. But this new social order was not just a dream; it was a reality that began to be realized in Jesus, in his life and ministry. Moreover, it was not simply an otherworldly reality. On the contrary, Jesus made it clear that the Kingdom was to be experienced in this world, in the here and now. And he invited us to be part of this social order.
But what are we to do in response to the invitation? To be part of it, we have to pay the price. Though it has broken through in Jesus, it will not spill over to us unless we take two steps: first, we need to repent, and second, we have to believe in Jesus and his Kingdom. Like Jonah who—according to the 1st Reading–preached repentance to the inhabitants of Nineveh (Jonah 3:4-5), Jesus required us to repent: ”This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). Repentance is more than just being sorry for our sins. The Greek word,“metanoein”, literally means “to change one’s mind,” but as in the New Testament, it is close to the Hebrew “shubh”, which means to turn about, to return to Yahweh, and this presupposes a deep understanding of the nature of sin (Joel 2:12-13). It is a 180 degrees turn-around: “Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil, learn to do good. Make justice your aim; redress the wronged, hear the orphan’s plea, defend the widow” (Isa 1:16-17).
Repentance, therefore, means the setting aside of the past and the embracing of a new life. To embrace a new life means to embrace a community life in discipleship. That is how we express our faith in Jesus. Discipleship of the community is the translation of our faith into deeds. The Kingdom of God will come if we respond to his invitation (Mark 1:17), and follow the requirements of discipleship: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Mark 8:34). In communal discipleship, our concern is the Kingdom of God and its values: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you besides: (Matt 6:33).
This demands reordering of our heart and affection, our purposes and goals, our priorities and loyalties in the community. Only if we are willing to pay the price can we participate in this new social order, in which people experience the positive in community life—love, brotherhood, forgiveness, justice and peace, as Jesus so promised: “Amen I say to you, there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come” (Mark 10:28-30).
To be a child of the Kingdom (like the Sto. Niño) Is to accept humiliation, powerlessness and poverty
An exegetical reflection on the Gospel on the
Feast of Santo Niño (Mark 10:13-16)
January 15, 2012
By Msgr. Lope C. Robredillo, SThD
ONE WILL PROBABLY find little difficulty in claiming that the cardinal is his uncle, the governor is his cousin, or the bar topnotcher is his best friend. But most likely, it will not be easy for him to openly admit that a certain prostitute is his sister, a convicted murder is a nephew, or street bum is his grandfather. For, in identifying himself with the powers that be, with those at the top of the social ladder, one feels that this raises his dignity a few notches above the herd of humanity. On the other hand, who would dare to add disgrace to one’s misery? But if the feast of Santo Niño has any message to tell us about being at the top or below with the miserable in the context of the Gospel, it is that we are never truly human, nor are we spiritually children of God, unless we are able to accept as brothers and sisters those rejected by the normal society.
Although today’s Gospel is about Jesus’ blessing of children (Mark 10:13-16), it is very likely that Mark saw some other significance in this narrative. Let us, to begin with, look at the story in its proper literary context. It is interesting to note that Mark has three predictions of the passion. (For Mark, to follow Jesus is to follow him on the road to his passion.) Each time Jesus uttered a prediction, there follows stories which betray a misunderstanding on the part of the disciples who heard them. Today’s Gospel comes after the second prediction. Together with this story of the blessing of children are the narratives on the question of divorce and on the danger of riches. In the story on the issue of divorce, the disciples could not understand why what God has joined could not be separated (Mark 10:10). And in the story of the rich man, the disciples were overwhelmed at the declaration that it is easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle than for a wealthy man to enter the kingdom of heaven.
But what is the difficulty in Jesus’ saying, “It is to such as these [children] that the kingdom of God belongs”?
To understand it, we may recall that in the Palestinian Society of Jesus’ time, children were never given importance. The society was the world of the adults. Children had no rights; in fact, they were considered property of their father. A child is thus a symbol not of humility but of unimportance. One is nothing before the world of men. He has nothing to boast. He is empty. Hence, theologically, to be a child is to empty oneself of what he is, which is akin to what is known in Patristics as kenosis. Literally, this means empty, but this usually refers to the action of Christ described in Phil 2:6-7: “Though he was in the form of God, he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediently accepting death, death on a cross!” That is to say, though equal with God in rank, Jesus put that rank aside. Though as God the highest honor belongs to him, he assumed the lowest rank of humanity, that of a slave. Though innocent, he accepted the punishment of the guilty. Thus, to be a child of God is to move from riches to nothingness, from powerful to powerlessness, from honor to humiliation, from the regal to slavery.
What Jesus did, and our tendency to identify with those at the top—these crystallize that there are two movements in human life: upward and downward. In the upward movement, we tend to accept honor and praise, we like to assume high position in society, and we delight in building towers that reach the high heavens for recognition. As we noted at the beginning of this essay, most of us do not recoil from such movement. But what is difficult to accept is the downward movement. This occurs when we become miserable, when we suffer defeat or humiliation, or are demoted, when we go down from the top to the lower rung of society. Viewed from this angle, for God to become a child, to empty oneself is to experience such movement. Part of that movement is loving the poor. And Jesus did not only give to the poor, nor simply sympathize with them. To love them, he became one with them. To love the miserable, he experienced their misery. Jesus loved us by becoming one of us, accepting human limitations, and even human misery.
That makes being a child difficult. We recoil at the thought of it, because we are scared of emptiness, loneliness, suffering and death. We backpedal because we are afraid of losing our self-importance, we are afraid to let go of our securities. As in the story of the young man who wanted to gain eternal life (Mark 10:17-27), our face may fall if Jesus challenges us to make ourselves children of the kingdom. With the apostles, we might exclaim, “Who then can be saved?” But Jesus’ answer was to the point: “For man, it is impossible, but not for God. With God all things are possible” (Mark 10:27). This simply means that to accept the kingdom of God like a child is a gift. It is God’s gift. It would not be easy for us, left to ourselves, to make a downward movement. We tend to cling to ourselves, and to what is ours. Indeed, many of us even tend to take for themselves what belongs to others. We are basically selfish. But God can move us. He can give us this gift, and enable us to embrace poverty rather than riches, misery rather than opulence, humiliation rather than honor, to be at the last rather than at the first before the eyes of men. With God, we can even rejoice at our failure and defeat, at our suffering and death. With him, we can be real children of God. Like the Santo Niño.
December 25: Actualizing the Church as Community-in-Mission
Actualizing the Church as Community-in-Mission
Is 52:7-10
Heb 1:1-6
Jn 1:1-18
Reference: PCP II 102-109
A ten-year-old girl asks her mother, “Nanay, we know that St. Joseph was a carpenter. What about Mama Mary? I think she was a dressmaker, wasn’t she?” “What made you think Mama Mary was a dressmaker?” the mother asks back, puzzled. “Because,” the girl explains, “when we pray the ‘Hail Holy Queen’, we say, ‘To Thee do we send up our size’” The mother suppresses her laughter and says, “No, child. It’s not ‘size’. It’s ‘sighs’.” “Oh,” the child gasps, her eyes widening with realization. He mother at that very moment became her light.
One of the things that fascinate me about light as such is that it doesn’t exist for itself. Think about it. We don’t say, “The sun shines to enjoy its own light.” Jesus himself reminds us in the gospel of Matthew: “No one lights a lamp and puts it under a bushel basket. Instead he puts it on a lamp stand where it gives light to everyone in the house” (Mt 5:14-15).
Jesus is that light. He doesn’t exist for himself. He it is who, in our first reading, whose feet are beautiful because he “brings glad tidings, announcing peace, bearing good news, announcing salvation…” And he does so for you, me and every human being. Isaiah utters the reason why he who says, “I am the light of the world” (Jn 8:12; 9:5) comes to us on Christmas day: “For the Lord comforts his people, he redeems Jerusalem” (Is 52:9).
I came home last December 23, 2011 to the rectory from the Parish Community Christmas Party. It was dark on the walk in front of the rectory. I could have hit the concrete rails to my right or the iron pillars of the walk to my left. But I did not because eventually the sacristan turned on the lights. We were in the dark about God. But the Child born on Christmas Day has made us escape the darkness of unknowing. Why? The second reading from the letter to the Hebrews tells us: “This Son is the reflection of the Father’s glory, the exact representation of the Father’s being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word” (Heb 1:3). We need the Child born on Christmas like we need day to see ourselves in the mirror. For he himself mirrors God to us and us to ourselves. He reflects the Father perfectly. But because he has now become a human being like you and me, he also reflects who we are perfectly.
I was watching a baby last night being led on the dance floor by the mother. I noticed how frail and innocent he was, with bright eyes looking up to me as I teased him. I said to myself, “Didn’t that Child on the manger have the same look of innocence and frailness?” Oh yes he did. But John the evangelist disabuses us about this Child. This Child is “the light” to whom John the Baptist testified “for he himself (John) was not the light. The real light which gives light to every man was coming into the world” (Jn 1:8-9).
I didn’t meet my grandfathers. I just had one living grandparent that I could remember, my Lola Paela. I am eternally grateful to my father and mother who kind of introduced my grandfathers to me through stories and accounts of varying kinds. If this is how I feel about my parents, how can I fail to be affected by this Child who is born on Christmas? John the evangelist says it all: “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, ever at the Father’s side, who has revealed him” (Jn 1:18).
All of this is staggering.
But it is even more staggering to know that this Child who is the Light will tell us as he gets older that we ourselves are made like him by association. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden…In the same way your light must shine before others…” (Mt 5:14, 16). To make it even clearer, nay, to leave no doubt, he says before he ascends to the Father: “Go and make disciples of all the nations…Teach them everything I have commanded you. And, lo, I am with you always until the end of time” (Mt 28:19-20).
This are all why we, the Church, are a Community-in-Mission. As PCP II puts it: “The community of disciples does not exist only for itself for its members. It exists for the world. It is sent on mission to proclaim the good news of Christ and to be the instrument of his grace. It exists in order to evangelize, i.e., to proclaim the Good News, to build up the Church, and serve the Kingdom by permeating the world with gospel values so that finally all creation may be united in Christ as head” (PCP II 104).
This means two things. One, we must be aware of, and commit ourselves to, our “missionary vocation” (PCP II 106). The words of the late and now Blessed John Paul II on February 1981 to the Asian Bishops should wake us up from self-absorption: “There is no doubt about it; the Philippines has a special missionary vocation to proclaim the Good News, to carry the light of Christ to the nations”. This is the reason why the Fil-Mission Society and the Philippine Lay Mission Society have come to birth. Even our OFWs have gathered plenty of attention regarding their potential to become lay missionaries to the lands their work would take them.
Two, we must be able to dialogue with the rich religions and cultures of Asia. With Buddhists, Taoists and Cofucianists we must be in dialogue because of their presence among some of our local Chinese and other ethnic Filipinos. With Muslims, a dialogue is even more necessary because history has brought us into conflict with them on account of various factors and because Islam is a dominant religion in Asia (PCP II 111).
Dialogue doesn’t mean giving up on evangelization. On contrary, when we dialogue with peoples of other world religions, we come firmly believing “that: (1) salvation in Jesus Christ is offered to all; (2) God ‘makes himself present in many ways…to entire peoples through their spiritual riches’; (3) ‘the Church is the ordinary means of salvation’ and that she alone possesses the fullness of the means of salvation’”(PCP II 112).
I know that the earth is round and that it revolves around the sun. If certain powerful, knowledgeable and influential people were to come to me to tell me that it is flat and that, contrarily, it is the sun that revolves around the earth, that doesn’t mean I would not talk to them anymore. But I would need plenty of patience, intelligence, wit and compassion. In the end because the truth is the truth, I wouldn’t have much of a problem. Similarly, our dialogue with people of different religious suasions must go on only if and because we have a personal knowledge of him who is “the Way, the Truth and the Life” (Jn 14:6).
And the Truth will, indeed, set us free.
* Rev. Eutiquio B. Belizar, Jr., SThD