Roger Karban's Commentaries

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September 6
September 13
Monday, September 14
September 20
September 27
October 4
October 11
October 11

09/06/2020

SEPTEMBER 6TH, 2020: TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Ezekiel 33:7-9; Romans 13:8-10; Matthew 18:15-20

Years ago, in a radio interview, the late actor Dennis Weaver mentioned why Gunsmoke's Mr. Dillon had a sidekick like Chester. “All radio and TV western heroes needed someone to be with them, otherwise the show and movies would be terribly boring; the audience would never know what the heroes were thinking. The Lone Ranger talks to Tonto; Gene Autry confides in Smiley Burnette. Without their sidekicks, the heroes wouldn't have been heroes.”

In some sense, the same thing applies to our faith. Unless we somehow associate with others, our faith — no matter how deep — could quickly become meaningless.

Biblical faith is never to be lived on a mountain top. Only when it's experienced in the midst of a community does it make sense. Unless we're relating with others, the examples of living given us by Yahweh and the risen Jesus are useless. It's easy to “imagine” we're believers. Actually giving ourselves for others proves it. As M*A*S*H.'s Fr. Mulcahy once observed, “No matter how good you are at bluffing in poker, eventually you've got to show your cards.” Only then does the rubber hit the road.

Paul reflects on our unique situation in today's second reading: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another . . . .” Biblical faith only comes alive when we share our love with others. Since nothing should stand in the way of that love, the Apostle reminds those early Jewish/Christians in the Roman church whose lives once revolved around obeying the 613 Laws of Moses, “Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.”

Yet, as we know, there's no one action that to everyone always shows love. Our acts of love differ because the needs of those we love differ. As a prophet, for instance, Ezekiel shows love by being the community's “watchman.” It's his responsibility to let them know what Yahweh wants them to do. In 6th century BCE Israel, the normal way the Chosen People surface God's will is by first surfacing the community's prophets, then carrying out what they tell them to do. If any prophet refuses to follow through on his/her ministry, they'll suffer the same punishment as those who refuse to listen to Yahweh.

Because the first followers of Jesus were convinced they shared in Jesus' prophetic ministry, Matthew's Jesus stresses their responsibility to confront others in the community when those others refuse to show love to those around them.

Though overlooked by many, in today's gospel pericope the whole community receives the same power to bind and loose that Peter personally received back in chapter 16; a built–in tension which Matthew is convinced is necessary in any loving Christian community. In other words, there're no simple answers to complicated questions. Not only that, but Jesus takes his disciples' prerogatives one step further. “. . . If two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father.”

Of course, all this community stuff must be seen against the background of love. We're not just people who accidently find ourselves in the same stadium crowd. We're actually the loving body of Christ. As Matthew's community quickly found out, it's in the acts of love we share that we discover the risen Jesus in our midst. “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

The people we encounter during our lives aren't just sidekicks who help us reveal ourselves to others. More than anything else, they help us reveal ourselves to ourselves. Only when we show them love do we surface the hero in ourselves.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

09/13/2020

SEPTEMBER 13, 2020: TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Sirach 27:30-28:9; Romans 14:7-9; Matthew 18:21-35

There's a frequently overlooked line in Genesis 39 that conveys an essential biblical belief.

When the wife of Joseph's Egyptian master demands he “lie” with her, he refuses, reminding her initially of the loyalty he owes her husband. But then he says something unique: “How could I commit so great a wrong and thus stand condemned before God?” Though the sacred author doesn't give the rejected woman's response, I presume it would have been something like, “What are you talking about? The gods don't give a darn about what we do on earth.”

Most people in the ancient world believed their only obligation to the gods was to keep them satisfied with the proper ritual sacrifices they expected several times a year. Once they did so, they were free to do whatever they wished. They had responsibilities to one another, but not to the gods.

But, flying in the face of this “laissez faire” theology, the God of the Israelites so identifies with people that what one does to those around him or her is looked upon as being done to Yahweh. Quite a novel belief. Yet it's the linchpin of our moral theology.

That's why the author of Sirach can ask the biting question found in today's first reading: “Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from Yahweh?” When we're relating with others, we're also relating with God. Even more, God's forgiveness of us is dependent on our forgiveness of others. “Forgive your neighbor's injustice,” Sirach writes, “then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.” Nothing could be clearer.

As a good Jew, Matthew's Jesus is also convinced of that process. His well-known story about the king's two indebted servants hits home. If God's already forgiven each of us an astronomical debt, how can we still demand repayment of the minuscule debt others owe us? (By the way, getting back to Genesis again, Jesus' “seventy-seven” instances of forgiveness is simply a reversal of Lamech's chapter 4 boast of being avenged “seventy-sevenfold.”) Jesus' God can always be counted on to forgive those who forgive.

But probably the most important reading today is Paul's Romans pericope.

Normally the older we get, the more we realize the implications of our actions. It's one thing for a three-year-old child to tell its mother, “I hate you!” It's another thing for a thirty-year-old to say those same words. The latter sees implications the former has yet to learn.

As we get older in our faith, we also discover more implications of our actions; we more deeply understand Paul's insight that “none of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself.” Whatever we do somehow affects others. More than anything, it affects our relationship with the risen Jesus among us.

We can never forget that the basic message of the historical Jesus revolved around God's kingdom being at hand. He went town to town, synagogue to synagogue pointing out that Yahweh is already among us, working effectively in our lives.

There's just one “kicker.” To surface God's presence we must “repent:” turn our value system upside down. What we once thought important, we now regard as insignificant, and vice versa. The needs of others, not our own needs, are now at the center of our lives, the focus of our actions. That value switch is the death all other Christs are expected to experience.

No one expresses that experience better than Paul. “If we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's.” More people than the Egyptian's wife would be befuddled by such a unique theology.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

09/14/2020

SEPTEMBER 14, 2020: EXALTATION OF THE CROSS

Numbers 21:4b-9; Philippians 2:6-11; John 3:13-17

Early Christians wouldn't have understood our practice of displaying crucifixes depicting a suffering Jesus. It wasn't that they didn't believe Jesus suffered and died for us. But, when they wanted to create a symbol which conveyed the meaning of that unique event, putting a suffering Jesus on a cross didn't really do it. During the first four or five centuries of Christianity, a “crux gemmata,” not a suffering Jesus cross, was the norm; they couldn't come up with a better way to express their belief in Jesus' death and resurrection. One need only Google the 5th and 6th century churches of Ravenna Italy to find multiple examples of this kind of crucifix.

In its most common form, a crux gemmata has the shape of the traditional cross, but instead of a suffering Jesus, the cross is covered with jewels. The cross is an obvious symbol of Jesus' suffering and death; the jewels convey our faith in his resurrection. The perfect Christian symbol, a crux gemmata is an outward sign of our belief that by dying with Jesus, we rise with Jesus. Years ago, when I showed some grade school students an example of a crux gemmata, a little girl raised her hand and spontaneously blurted out, “That's a happy cross!” It's against this background that we must hear today's three readings.

The irony of Yahweh's command to Moses in today's first reading to “make a seraph and mount it on a pole,” and have the stricken people “look at it,” revolves around the fact that such seraph snakes are actually killing the Chosen People. Contrary to popular wisdom, in this situation focusing on the instrument of death brings life, not death.

The first followers of Jesus could certainly testify to this reality. The very thing which brought death to Jesus also brought him life. John's Jesus, in instructing Nicodemus on what it means to be “reborn,” refers back to this Numbers pericope. And he employs one of his double and triple meaning phrases — “lifted up” - to convey his meaning. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” Lifted up can easily have three meanings: simply to be raised up above others, to be exalted above others, or in an ancient middle-East context, a colloquial way of referring to crucifixion: he or she was lifted up on a cross. Which meaning does John expect us to take away? All of them! When Jesus is lifted up on Golgotha on Good Friday, he's literally put above others, and action which will cause his death. But it's also an action which brings about his exalted new life, the life he now shares with all his imitators.

The essential question for those who carry on Jesus' ministry is how are we to carry on his dying and rising? Only the most radical would encourage someone to actually be physically crucified.

As frequently happens, Paul supplies the answer. But he reverses John's lifted up image. For the Apostle, Jesus' road to divinity revolved around “going down,” not going up. “He emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.” He became one with those whom people in his day and age regarded as expendable. A real death even in our own day and age.

Women can testify how difficult it is to identify with men; men with women. Straights can find it rough to put themselves in the place of gays: gays have the same problem putting themselves in the place of straights. In the midst of this, it's essential to know that one way Jesus found life was to become one with all of us. GWMaybe it would help if we lobbied for more crux gemmatas in our churches.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

09/20/2020

SEPTEMBER 20TH, 2020: TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Isaiah 55:6-9; Philippians 1:20c-24, 27a; Matthew 20:1-16a

Those who choose to live lives of faith, choose to live with tension. That's certainly clear from today's three readings. Instead of dealing with either/ors, they're constantly forced to cope with both/ands.

Nowhere in Scripture is this stated more emphatically than in our Deutero-Isaiah passage. “Seek Yahweh while he may be found, call him while he is near. . . . As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.” Scholars refer to this phenomenon as God's simultaneous “imminence and transcendence.” In other words, God's as close to us as our breath; yet as far from us as night is from day. No matter which presence we experience today, only God knows which one we'll experience tomorrow.

Today's pericope from Matthew has bothered me since, as a child, I heard it proclaimed every year in church. It's totally unfair! How can anyone justify paying someone who works one hour the same amount of money another person earns for working a full day? (My father, a strong union man, would, from personal experience, always remind us kids, “That's why you need to unionize. If you don't have a union, you'll always get jerked around like that.)

As “unfair” as the landowner's actions are, one must appreciate the tension which prompted this unique story, a tension deeply felt by Jewish Christians.

These faithful Israelites had followed the 613 Mosaic laws their whole lives, looked forward to the arrival of a Messiah, and were among the small minority of their people who recognized Jesus of Nazareth as being that promised savior. Now, after Jesus' death and resurrection, they were receiving the “rewards” to which their years of faithfulness entitled them.

There was just one problem: non-Jews were now being accepted into the Christian community on the same level as they had been accepted. These Gentile-Christians didn't even know the difference between a lox and a bagel. Yet they were regarded as full-fledged disciples of Jesus. (Reminds me of patiently waiting three years to finally play ping-pong in the seminary's senior rec hall, only to discover on the first day of school that the administration had transformed those glorious precincts into the junior/senior rec hall!)

Matthew's Jesus simply reminds the gospel readers that at the same time God treats people fairly, God's also tremendously generous. Those who freely give themselves over to God must learn to live in that biting tension. We follow a God who, though he/she loves us, doesn't always treat us fairly, especially when we discover how God treats others. That's just part of the price we pay for being people of faith.

But, as Paul reminds the Philippians, he lives in the midst of an even deeper tension. “I long to depart this life and be with Christ,” he writes, “for that is far better. Yet that I remain in the flesh is more necessary for your benefit.” Do I pray for God to do what's good for me, or for what's good for those around me? Just how much of myself does God expect me to sacrifice for others?

At this point of his life, the Apostle simply wants to be completely one with the risen Jesus, the oneness that only comes from his physical death. He certainly doesn't regard that death as an evil. Yet, for the good of others, he's still here on earth, experiencing all the painful daily deaths a generous Christian life entails. As with all other tensions, there's no one perfect answer.

None of us can avoid tension in our lives. We just pray that, as Christians, we have the “right” tensions, not a bunch of “wrong” ones.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

09/27/2020

SEPTEMBER 27TH, 2020: TWENTY-SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Ezekiel 18:25-28; Philippians 2:1-11; Matthew 21:28-32

A friend once mentioned, based on the gospel Jesus' comment in Mark 2 that he came not to call the just but sinners, that only sinners can be Christians. Jesus didn't come to save anyone who presumed she or he was already saved. No doubt that's why conversion is brought up so frequently in the Christian Scriptures. For Jesus' followers, there's always a need and a chance to “repent,” to turn our value systems upside down. We never reach a point in our faith when we can start to coast, content just to be on an even keel. Faith implies we're committing ourselves to a constant struggle.

The God whom Jesus of Nazareth preached isn't a God who just carries snapshots of us in his/her billfold, glancing at them whenever we seek some divine help. “Primitive” people who won't let tourists take their picture because they believe the process will kill them are correct. Photographs do kill us. They stop our lives at a specific time and place in history. Unless we're masters of photo retouching, we'll always be the same person we were the instant the camera snapped us. We can't grow or change.

Thankfully God doesn't have photos of us. God actually carries us, the living, evolving individuals he/she created. As long as we live, we can always repent; we can see people and things from a perspective we never before noticed and develop a new way of judging them.

Obviously that belief prompts Matthew's Jesus to tell the two son's story which triggers today's gospel pericope about prostitutes and tax collectors “entering the kingdom of God” before the “righteous” even know such a kingdom exists. No matter what someone once decided to do, say or be, that person isn't bound to defend that choice for the rest of his or her life. It's embarrassing for the good folk to be told that society's outcasts and sinners are better at repenting than they are.

More than 500 years before Jesus' birth, Ezekiel proclaims a similar message. But the prophet emphases it's a two-way street. Just as someone can turn from evil and embrace good, so someone can reject good and start down a path of evil. Value systems can always be switched — in either direction.

Paul's Philippians passage seems to fit perfectly into today's conversion theme. The Apostle begins by encouraging his readers to change the way they regard one another, urging them to be “. . . of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing,” eventually reaching a point in which they cease looking out for their own interests and begin to be concerned for the interests of others. But, for me, the interesting part of these verses comes when he uses Jesus as an example of such an “emptying” of self. Did this Galilean carpenter actually go through a conversion at some point of his earthly existence?

Most of us who buy into John the Evangelist's theology that the historical Jesus was God from all eternity find this somewhat disturbing. We each have a holy card photo of a divine Jesus. But as we know from Romans 1, Paul seems to believe Jesus wasn't God until God raised him from the dead. He was “a man like all of us except in sin.” Jesus also needed to experience a conversion. Some scholars contend his baptism by John in Mark 1 was actually triggered by that change in his value system.

We shouldn't be discouraged when we find it difficult to change our life's perspective. It might have taken Jesus of Nazareth about 30 years to change his! Certainly explains the length of his “hidden life” better than any other interpretation I've heard.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

10/04/2020

OCTOBER 4TH, 2020: TWENTY-SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Isaiah 5:1-7; Philippians 4:6-9; Matthew 21:33-43

Today's first reading shows us that the image of Israel as Yahweh's vineyard goes back at least 2,700 years, to the ministry of First-Isaiah. Yet it also shows us that Yahweh's problem with the lack of produce from that vineyard also goes back at least that far. “(Yahweh) looked for the crop of grapes, but what it yielded was wild grapes. . . . He looked for judgment, but see, bloodshed! For justice, but hark, the outcry!” Why go to all the trouble to plant and cultivate a vineyard when it produces nothing but frustration?

Matthew's Jesus blames the problem on those who are “sharecropping” the vineyard, an obvious reference to the community's leaders. They've basically stolen God's property, refusing not only to turn over the produce, but even killing those who demanded an accounting of it.

Our gospel pericope is obviously an early Christian allegory. Though its roots most probably go back to the historical Jesus' ministry, some of the “slots” have been filled in (for instance, the murder of the owner's son) by the reflections of second and third generation Christians. But it's important to see that the gospel Jesus isn't rejecting Judaism in favor of Christianity, he's simply saying the Jewish followers of his reform would make better leaders of God's community. Or better, they should make better leaders.

As we'll see later in this particular gospel, Matthew's Jesus only criticizes Jewish leaders because the evangelist sees the same behavior in leaders of Christian communities. It's a gentler way of confronting them than by attacking them head on. Matthew wants his readers to ask, “We'd never do that . . . would we?” Of course, the answer is, “Yes! You're already starting to do it.”

Leadership in Christian communities has always been a problem. It contains the same pitfalls all leadership faces, especially the temptation for the leader to become more important than those he or she leads. But as Mark's Jesus reminds — and warns - his followers in chapter 10, “That shall never happen among you.” Flying in the face of popular culture, among other things Christian leaders are not to be served; they're to serve. Very difficult to pull this off when people are constantly fawning over you. Maybe one way to avoid such a pitfall is to give up your plush medieval palace apartment and actually rent two small rooms in a Vatican City guesthouse. Or . . . . every morning you can read and think about Paul's advice to the Philippians which we find in today's second reading.

“Keep on doing,” Paul insists, “what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me.”

The Apostle is obviously much more concerned with passing on an example than with passing on a collection of dogmas. He expects his communities to imitate him, not just listen to him. If he can't demonstrate how this new-fangled faith makes a difference in how he lives his life, then it's not going to make a difference in their lives either. That's why in his letters he so often tells people to live the way he's living.

I've been disturbed by recent articles probing into the dilemma Pope Francis faces in choosing new bishops. It seems he has no problem finding priests who are dogmatically “safe;” they're all over the place. But he frequently can't surface priests who are committed to imitating both his servant, biblical approach to leadership and his simple lifestyle. Such characteristics seem to be rare commodities among the present younger clergy.

Perhaps Matthew should have been more direct in condemning bad Christian leadership. His gentler, indirect approach doesn't seem to have worked. I presume Pope Francis would agree.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

10/11/2020

OCTOBER 11TH, 2020: TWENTY-EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Isaiah 25:6-10a; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; Matthew 22:1-14

Meals obviously play a big role in both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. They appear in all three of today's readings. But our sacred authors look at them from three different perspectives.

Though our first reading is often proclaimed at funerals, Isaiah isn't talking about heaven. The concept of an eternal reward awaiting us after our physical death wouldn't enter mainstream Jewish thought until about 600 years after his prophetic ministry. He's simply looking forward to an ideal age when there would be no death, when that “veil” which entraps all people will finally be destroyed. When that day arrives, everyone will gather on Mt. Zion — the mount on which Jerusalem's temple is built — for the most terrific banquet anyone could ever imagine. Yet I presume Isaiah knew such a day would never arrive during his lifetime. It was just his “when-my-ship-comes-in” dream, an expression of his faith in Yahweh's eventual care, no matter when and how it would appear.

Still, meals — and especially banquet type meals — were significant events in the biblical world. That seems to be why the gospel Jesus uses the metaphor of a big feast when he's trying to explain his insight into the “kingdom of heaven.”

Before this story appeared in Matthew and Luke's gospels, scholars believe it was originally included in a now-lost collection of Jesus' sayings which they refer to as the “Q.” Both evangelists changed it around a little to fit their unique theologies. Luke, for instance, who seems to have had problems with “Mrs. Luke,” leaves out the meal's wedding aspect, and also adds another excuse for not attending: “I've just married a wife, and therefore . . . .” But in either case, gospel readers are reminded that lots of people miss the boat when it comes to recognizing God working effectively in their lives.

By the way, don't worry about the poor guy who was just walking down the main street, suddenly pulled into a wedding banquet, and then thrown out into the “darkness outside” because he's not wearing the proper clothes. Matthew has obviously meshed two separate stories into one, simply because they had something to do with wedding celebrations. The second story has nothing to do with the first.

Ignoring the second story, Jesus' message is clear: “Many are invited, but few are chosen.” Matthew's readers can prove the point by just looking around. Few people are willing to die enough to themselves to actually experience God in their everyday lives. Though they're probably longing for such a heavenly encounter, they easily can find excuses for not following through on such a demanding invitation.

On the other hand, Paul of Tarsus is one of the few who has actually accepted the invitation. He's stepped into a life he could only have dreamt about before he came face to face with the risen Jesus on the Damascus road. By forming the giving relationship with others which that invitation requires, he discovers his value system has drastically been transformed — even about such basics as food. As he tells the Philippians, “I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need.” He has a new focus in life, a focus which actually brings life, no matter the circumstances he experiences.

Obviously Paul's disciples in Philippi have the same focus, else they wouldn't be sharing what they have with him.

It's more than interesting what people are able to do when they start to experience the risen Jesus among them, especially in the needy people among them. “I can do all things in him who strengthens me,” Paul proclaims. But he would have accomplished nothing had he found an excuse to ignore God's invitation.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

10/18/2020

OCTOBER 18TH, 2020: TWENTY-NINTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

Isaiah 45:1, 4-6; I Thessalonians 1:1-5b; Matthew 22:15-21

It might be best to start this commentary by looking at today's oft-misunderstood gospel pericope.

This passage is frequently employed by those who wish to divide the world between God and “Caesar,” church and state. They frequently use it to defend their conviction that the church and its ministers should stick to “churchy” things, and leave matters of state to those who have a special expertise in such matters.

The main problem with such reasoning is that a church/state configuration of the world was unheard of at the time Matthew penned these lines. His Jesus is simply getting out of a trap set by his enemies, stating something obvious to everyone.

His enemies are convinced they have him cornered. If he says, “Yes, pay the tax!” the Pharisees would sneer and say, “You've just lost all credibility with the people. You're nothing but a lackey of our Roman occupiers.”

Should he say, “No, don't pay the tax!” the Herodians would yell, “Traitor! Roman soldiers will be coming around later tonight to arrest you for treason to the Empire.”

But by asking his enemies to produce the Roman coin used to pay the tax, then inquiring whose image and name are on the coin, he's saying, “If you've got something in your pocket that belongs to someone else — proven by the name and image — and that person wants it back, then you'd best give what's Caesar's back to Caesar.”

The kicker, in this verbal confrontation is what comes next: “And repay God what belongs to God.” In other words, “Why are you more interested in what Caesar owns than in what God owns?” The gospel Jesus obviously presumes the coin, the person who has it, and even Caesar belong to God, something his enemies have yet to learn.

Our sacred authors constantly try to get that point across. No one does it better than Deutero-Isaiah. He does it so well in today's first reading that some scholars believe these words actually were one of the reasons he was martyred.

Centuries before this unnamed prophet began his ministry, the Chosen People were convinced Yahweh would eventually send a special person to deliver them from all their troubles. They often referred to this unique savior as “Yahweh's Anointed.” We're familiar with the Hebrew and Greek words for anointed: “Messiah and Christ.” Deutero-Isaiah is daring to call the Persian emperor Cyrus - an uncircumcised, Gentile leader - Yahweh's Messiah (or in Greek, “Cyrus Christ!”) For most exiled Israelites to whom the prophet was speaking, that was taking prophecy one step too far. In their minds, if Yahweh was going to save them, Yahweh would send a good Jewish boy — like Moses — to accomplish the task.

Yet, like Jesus, Deutero-Isaiah is convinced that everything and everyone belongs to God. He/she can work through anyone, even non-believers. It's up to us believers to discover God actually doing this.

Though after the prophet's death, Cyrus eventually freed the Israelites, the lesson of God's “broad behavior” was still hard to learn. Six centuries later, for instance, Paul runs into opposition from main-stream Jewish/Christians because he baptizes Gentiles without demanding they first convert to Judaism. Today's passage from I Thessalonians — our earliest Christian writing — shows how pleased he is that these non-Jewish converts are, without knowing anything about the 613 Mosaic Laws, performing “works of faith and labors of love.” They're part of God's “Chosen” People even though they're not Jews.

As we know from Galatians 3, Paul is convinced that the risen Jesus is unlimited; neither Jew nor Gentile, slave or free, man or woman. Today we could add gay or straight, Democrat or Republican.

Only God knows what people we'll be expected to add to that list tomorrow.

This essay comes to you from FOSIL, The Faithful of Southern Illinois, http://www.fosilonline.com.
Email: info@fosilonline.com, or write FOSIL, P.O. Box 31, Belleville, IL, 62222

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