A King without a Kingdom

The Messiah was to be a King--the Son of David--a monarch that would establish a royal line that would never end. The hopes of the people of the time of Yeshua of Nazareth can only be guessed at, but these guesses can be reasonably understood by anyone with a sense of the history of the Ancient Israelites and Judeans. After several hundreds of years of foreign occupation and deportation and life in diaspora, etc., what the people must have wanted most was a man who would throw out the Romans, purify the Temple, restore the Davidic monarchy, restore the Aaronic priesthood, and implement the practice of the Torah-based laws. The hopes of the people were very much tied to practical concerns...things like political and religious stability, national security, and the necessities of life. And those were the concerns of the more fortunate--the not so fortunate had more personal concerns, like health--just think of the lepers, the so-called "woman with the flow", or the man possessed by the demons. So on the national and on the personal level, everyone had their hopes high with regard to the Messiah.

And, in a way, I suspect no one but the Messiah stood a chance at uniting the various religious groups of the day--the Essenes out in their desert monasteries, the Pharisees in the synagogues, the Sadducees in the Temple, the Zealots awaiting their next chance to lash out, the Samaritans up north, and the regular folks spread all around. But what no one seemed to suspect was that the Messiah, in order to establish a kingdom that would never end, would have to be radically different than what they had imagined. Others had tried worldly means to establish the Kingdom of God and had failed. What they hadn't tried was Transcendence--that is, a complete and total orientation toward God and his will--and not in some fanatical kind of way, which is really our will projected onto God, but in a way rooted in an intense and profound prayer life. From such a life would come authority rooted in Truth, not power. Yeshua would be such a Messiah--a King without an earthly kingdom.

I write this, because as I meditate on the life of Yeshua in preparation for the Triduum, I find myself appreciating and admiring the Lord's simplicity of life, his dedication to preaching on behalf of the marginalized, his compassion for those with personal problems (like health issues), but more than all that--because of his ability to see beyond the end of his own nose, to feel beyond his own heart, to think and act beyond the needs of his own body. His life screamed: "There is something more!" In this way, I think his life still challenges us, primarily to see that the way of holiness lies in giving over our lives to the direction of God, so that we too can see, finally, that there is so much more to everything than what we seem to understand. There is something more--a "more" that breaks down walls, rather than builds them; a "more" that forgives, rather than accuses and judges; a "more" that gives to the point of death (which holds nothing back) so that death no longer has the last word.

He was in the world, but his own didn't know him. We couldn't recognize him, and still don't today, because our analysis of things is rooted in our sinful and fallen perspective, or, more kindly, in our own personal expectations. No one wants to hear that, but until we're honest about that, we cannot get beyond ourselves, and so marvel at the witness that the life of Yeshua and his mother Miryam hold out for us--that is, what humans were intended to be like all along.

Now that Lent is drawing to a close and the central mysteries of Christianity are about to be celebrated, it's a good time to ask ourselves simply: "Do I do what Yeshua did?" Namely--do I pray so as to hear God?
Br. Paul, OP~

New Orleans Service Trip: Part II: To Kill a Mockingbird

Books have a way of helping us to see the world in a particular way. They uncover our lenses, or give us new ones, so that we're aware of things, or see things we ordinary would not have seen. During my service trip to New Orleans, I continued my reading of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Like The Catcher in the Rye I just finished, I had never read Lee's classic work. From the moment I began reading it, I was drawn into the world of Scout, the novel's young female protagonist. During the course of the novel, the narrator tackles the question of relations between the races, but even beyond white and black, Jews are mentioned, and women. At the heart of the novel, I believe, is the question: Whoever gave us the right to label a whole group of people, and by labelling them "other", take away their humanity? The novel goes one step further by showing those who do such things suffer the loss of their own humanity, in a way.

One of the characters, a young boy named Dill, declares: "I don't care one speck. It ain't right, somehow it ain't right to do 'em that way. Hasn't anybody got any business talkin' like that--it just makes me sick" (199, end of chapter 19). He's referring to the way the defendant, who is an African American accused of raping a white woman, was being treated by the prosecuting attorney.

The novel made me aware of the racism, anti-semitism, and sexism of America's not-too-distant past. Because of that, when our group was touring New Orleans' Ninth Ward neighborhood and our guide pointed out to us William Frantz Elementary School (pictured above) where Ruby Bridges was the first African American to attend, thereby integrating the school, I knew I was on holy ground. Something special had taken place there, and I was able to feel the grace of that history.In the same way, when we visited the Jewish Cemetary, we did so with the same respect as the Catholic Cemetary.

America has come a long way. This was best evidenced by the fact that within our group there were men and women from many different ethnic backgrounds all working together with respect. I especially was aware of how far we had come when the group was gathered around to listen to the story of Mack, an African American gentlemen who was starting a community center for the Ninth Ward. Here, an African American man was center stage and was the wisdom figure teaching us and leading us. Likewise, no one in our group, or the groups we were working with, thought it was strange during our evening of reflection that a woman would stand up to guide and teach us. Neither acism, nor sexism, had a place with us during this trip, and I bet most of us took that for granted. I didn't. But maybe I would have had I not being reading To Kill a Mockingbird at the time.

New Orleans Service Trip: Part I: Why We Were There

Last week found me and sixteen other people from the Aquinas Newman Center in beautiful New Orleans, Louisiana. I had never been to the Big Easy, and I was immediately taken with its charm.

The idea behind the trip was to use one's Spring Break time to do corporal works of mercy, rather than recreation only. As New Orleans still suffers heavily from a lack of help in its rebuilding goals post-Hurricane Katrina, it was fitting that the Newman Center send people there. We were not alone. The Newman Center from Purdue University also sent a delegation of workers, as did Fordham University, Mt. Mary College of Milwaukee, and Marquette University, among others. With the exception of Purdue, the groups mentioned were working with a New Orleans based group called Contemplatives in Action (CIA), a group rooted in Jesuit spirituality.

Rather than work on one house, or in one area of New Orleans, Jocelyn, the CIA director we worked with, found work sites for us all around the New Orleans metro area, including the wetlands and the hard-hit St. Bernard Parish (Parish = County in Louisiana). We also worked in the Ninth Ward, a poorer area of New Orleans that suffered greatly when several hundred feet of its levee failed.

In the coming postings, I hope to talk more about my experiences from last week's trip. It was a mixture of prayer, reflection, hands-on work, and good, old-fashioned fun. The students were amazing. They truly were there to work and to help. I remember saying to one of the people on the trip: "This is America's future. It looks good." I was also seeing the future of the Church, and I can say that I have great hopes.

Too often I think we focus on the hierarchy when we think of Church. We can get disappointed, especially with all the talk about scandal. I know that I have been disillusioned lately with both the scandals in Ireland and Germany. What the heck were those priests, bishops, etc., thinking? How could they do that? I was angered and saddened by the news reports, and part of me wondered why people stay Catholic. I saw the answer to that question in the lives and work of the students from the Newman Center. The Spirit was with them, and holiness and goodness was everywhere. There was love, there was inclusion, there was compassion, there was reflection, there was patience--There was the Church, the living continuation of what Yeshua of Nazareth had lived and preached. So long as that survives, the Church survives, and Hell will not prevail against it.

2 Esdras & God's Universal Salvific Will

Recently, I've been reading many different religious texts for my own enjoyment and education. For example, I purchased the Bhagavad-Gita of the Hindu religion and the Kitab-I-Aqdas of the Baha'i religion on Tuesday. I have read the Bhagavad-Gita before, and am enjoying it again. I had no experience with the Kitab-I-Aqdas (translated, Most Holy Book) of the Baha'i. The Bhagavad-Gita is poetic, and its portrayal of Lord Krishna is very approachable and lovely. The Kitab-I-Aqdas, however, reads more like a rule book. Although God is both mentioned in the third person and in the first, I find it difficult to get a sense of the Baha'i understanding of God from the text. As with the Qur'an, the Kitab-I-Aqdas lacks narrative. I would almost rather read a text that details Baha'u'llah's [the founder of Baha'i] religious experiences.

Another of the texts that I have been reading this week was the deutero-canonical Book of 2 Esdras (form of name Ezra). 2 Edras, if I am correct, is considered canonical by the Greek Orthodox Church. The book, however, is not found in Catholic Bibles, generally, nor in Protestant Bibles. In reality, the book is several books put together. Scholars consider the three sections to be 5 Ezra (first two chapters written by a Christian), 4 Ezra (chapters 3-14, an older Jewish book), and 6 Ezra (15-16, Christian work). [The deutero-canonical book of 1 Esdras is also known as 3 Ezra. I presume the Book of Ezra is, then, 1 Ezra, and Nehemiah is 2 Ezra.--too many Ezras!]

I had read the Book of 2 Esdras (5, 4, 6 Ezra) before, and as before, found the apocalyptic imagery confusing and off-putting. One thing I did appreciate this time around was the discussion that the Prophet Ezra has with the Archangel Uriel about salvation and punishment. At one point Ezra asks, "For who among the living is there that has not sinned, or who is there among mortals that has not transgressed your covenant?" (2 Esdras 7:46) And later he laments:

"Let the human race lament,
but let the wild animals of the field be glad;
let all who have been born lament,
but let the cattle and the flocks rejoice.
It is much better with them than with us;
for they do not look for a judgement,
and they do not know of any torment
or salvation promised to them after death.
What does it profit us that we shall be preserved alive
but cruelly tormented?
For all who have been born are entangled in iniquities,
and are full of sins and burdened with transgressions.
And if after death we were not to come into judgement,
perhaps it would have been better for us."
(2 Esdras 7:65-69)

For Ezra, all the angel's talk about punishment for the wicked and reward for the just has done nothing to comfort him.--This, although Uriel has made it clear to him that he, Ezra, is counted among the Just. He has a large heart, and cannot rejoice in the punishment of the wicked, since he is, as the above verses show, too much aware of the sinfulness of all humanity. Who among even the Just is sinless? Therefore, he, like myself, wondered if we are all equally sinful, why does God then choose to save some and not all?

The archangel Uriel replies:
"For just as the farmer sows many seeds in the ground
and plants a multitude of seedlings,
and yet not all that have been sown will come up in due season,
and not all that were planted will take root;
so also those who have been sown in the world will not all be saved."
(2 Esdras 8:41)

This reply does not satisfy Ezra, because it still does not answer the question of why not all come to salvation. He replies:

"If the farmer's seed does not come up, because it has not received your rain in due season, or if it has been ruined by too much rain, it perishes. But people who have been formed by your hands and are called your own image because they are made like you, and for whose sake you have formed all things--have you also made them like the farmer's seed? Surely not, O Lord above! But spare your people and have mercy on your inheritance, for you have mercy on your own creation." (2 Esdras 8:43-45)

Ezra's reply is eloquent and beautiful--it speaks of a keen understanding of humanity's relationship to God, and God's obligation to us, since he has formed us in his own image. The idea that God just creates us and then leaves us to chance is not fitting in Ezra's view.

The angel's reply puts the responsibility for the loss of salvation squarely in the court of humanity. He says:

"Therefore, do not ask any more questions about the great number of those who perish. For when they had opportunity to choose, they despised the Most High, and were contemptuous of his law, and abandoned his ways..." (2 Esdras 8:55-56) and further: "For the Most High did not intend that anyone should be destroyed; but those who were created have themselves defiled the name of him who made them, and have been ungrateful to him who prepared life for them now..." (2 Esdras 8:59b-60)

Thus, Uriel's answer to Ezra's challenge seems to be the standard one, that, indeed, God does will all to be saved (1 Timothy 2:4), and, yet, people are free to reject God's offer of salvation. Since they have rejected God's help, they are, in Uriel's view, most worthy of punishment. Indeed, the just need not sympathize with them, as their punishment is their own work.

Still, there is Ezra's statement:

"For in truth there is no one among those who have been born who has not acted wickedly; among those who have existed there is no one who has not done wrong. For in this, O Lord, your righteousness and goodness will be declared, when you are merciful to those who have no store of good works." (2 Esdras 8:35-36)

As far as I can tell, the archangel Uriel simply disagrees with Ezra. All have sinned, yes, but some do, in fact, respond to God's offer of grace. He says:

"It shall be that all who will be saved and will be able to escape on account of their works, or on account of the faith by which they have believed, will survive the dangers that have been predicted, and will see my salvation in my land and within my borders...then those who have now abused my ways shall be amazed, and those who have rejected them with contempt shall live in torments. For as many as did not acknowledge me in their lifetime, though they received my benefits, and as many as scorned my law while they still had freedom, and did not understand but despised it while in opportunity of repentance was still open to them, these must in torment acknowledge it after death." (2 Esdras 9:7-12)

The author of 2 Esdras' answer to the question of why not all are saved if God wills all to be saved is rooted in a firm belief in the human freedom to reject God's offer of grace. This teaching is both comforting and disconcerting. Comforting, because it does present God as offering salvation to all, and all we need do, as sinners, is to accept that offer and to strive to live accordingly; disconcerting, because the book has no qualms with arguing that the majority of people on earth do not accept God's offer of salvation, and so damn themselves to eternal punishment. In this way, God's gift of eternal life is a beautiful gift, whereas eternal punishment is a well earned nightmare.

Uriel concludes the speech quoted above this way: "Therefore, do not continue to be curious about how the ungodly will be punished; but inquire how the righteous will be saved, those to whom the age belongs and for whose sake the age was made." (2 Esdras 9:13).

Part of me used to want to argue, like Ezra, that God's mercy would be best shown by his saving even the wicked who, during their lives, refused his grace most adamantly. But, then, I think the Parable of the Prodigal Son does much to help us understand salvation in this regard. God the Father is willing and ready to welcome home the wayward son, but the son has to come home on his own accord. The story would not make much sense if the ending was that the Father sent out a search party, found the son, and forced him to return home. The power of the parable lies in its focus on the interior conversion of the son and in the loveliness of the image of the waiting Father. So, God the Father does will all to come home to him, but we, like the son, must have that inner conversion. Otherwise, we would have no real place back home. We would not be happy there, nor would we really love the Father as he deserves.

So it's not as if those who are not saved are not wanted--they simply would not "make sense" in heaven, because heaven would not make sense to them...Perhaps...I'll keep thinking about this one.

For now, perhaps this line from the Bhagavad-Gita can provide some food for thought:

"I [Krishna] am impartial to all creatures,
and no one is hateful or dear to me;
but men devoted to me are in me,
and I am within them." (9:29)

The Book of Judith

The Bible study group here at Aquinas Newman Center in Albuquerque has just finished its study of the Book of Judith, one of the deutero-canonical books of the Bible. This book is found in the Bibles of Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican, and Ethiopian Christians, but not in the Protestant canon (except maybe as an appendix labelled "Apocrypha"). The book itself was probably written during the reign of the Hasmonean dynasty (the Jewish rulers of Palestine before the rise of Herod the Great in the First Century BC). So...roughly 100 to 200 years before the birth of Yeshua of Nazareth.

The star of the book is a beautiful widow named Judith [The name Judith is patriotic, as it means "Jewess"]. Judith's husband, Manasseh, died of sunstroke, leaving his wife a very substantial estate. Judith does not live the highlife, however; and we are told she sleeps in a tent erected on the roof of her large home, and she fasts every day of the year, except on the Sabbath and feast days. She is, in every way, the model of a religious woman.

It so happens that the peaceful life of the Israelites of Bethulia is about to be disturbed by the army of King Nebuchadnezzar [called king of the Assyrians in the book as a joke. He was the king of Babylon]. The king's forces are led by General Holofernes. Both Nebuchadnezzar and Holofernes are portrayed with a key vice: pride. The king is so proud, he sets himself up as the all-powerful god. From this comes the central question of the book: How many gods are there? Holofernes, as faithful servant to the king, has taken on the king's pride. He has earned his own pride, however, in the sense that he has fought and won so many battles. One can image that he believed himself to be invincible.

Holofernes' forces reach Bethulia ready to murder another village of peasants, when one of the general's men stands up and argues against a hasty attack. Achior is the man's name, and he represents the standard literary type found in Jewish literature of "the Righteous Gentile". Achior argues that to attack the Israelites would be a mistake, if the people were in the good graces of their god, since their god would protect them. This is a challenge to Holofernes' pride, of course, and he laughs at Achior's claims. His sense of humor leads him to have Achior dropped off on the outskirts of Bethulia for the Israelites to claim. (Holofernes has every hope of seeing Achior dead among the people of Bethulia after the battle.)

It is Achior's speech that introduces a key theological concept into the story. Basically, his speech recounts for the reader the whole of Jewish salvation history up to that point--from the calling of Abraham, to the going down to Egypt during the time of Joseph, to the Exodus, to the conquest of the Promised Land, and finally to the Exile of the people and the destruction of Solomon's Temple. "As long as they did not sin against their God they prospered, for the God who hates iniquity is with them. But when they departed from the way he had prescribed for them, they were utterly defeated in many battles, and were led away captive to a foreign land. The temple of their God was razed to the ground, and their towns were occupied by their enemies..." (5:17-18). This is a "quid pro quo" theology, which means that God's love and favor depends on the community's or the person's perfect obedience to God. If the people sin, they open themselves up to punishment. It's a "making-sense" out of Israelite history, which was a series of successes and failures--independence and subjugation. It is also a telling insight into the impact of the Exile on the Jewish psyche,--thus, I see the book serving as a type of preaching. The author is eager to convince his readers to be faithful to the Torah in order to prevent another Exile and destruction of the Temple. "Be faithful & God will keep guard over us" would be a summary of the author's preaching.

"Quid pro quo" theology is found in both the Hebrew and the Christian scriptures. This Sunday, for example, some Catholics will hear the story of the "Man born blind", who is cured by Jesus. The audience of the miracle interpreted the man's blindness as a punishment for sins. That is, the man's parents were sinners, and so their child was born blind. On that logic, however, one would have to believe that all their parents were saints, since the rest of them had been born with the ability to see. That, however, is hardly logical. Elsewhere, Jesus contradicts "quid pro quo" theology when he teaches that God, who is perfect, makes rain to fall on the just and the unjust, and the sun to shine on the unjust and the just...But this is a whole topic unto itself...

Judith is a woman with a mission. When the male leadership of the town fails to come up with a plan to survive the attack by General Holofernes' forces, she contrives a secret plan herself, and prays that God will help her to succeed. She is one of the most confident of the saints in the Hebrew scriptures. With this confidence, she rules over the elders of Bethulia, she intimidates the soldiers, and charms General Holofernes. Using her beauty as a shield and her religion as a sword, Judith beguiles the enemy, and finally slays him. Her success is a confirmation of the "quid pro quo" theology, as she is, as said earlier, the epitome of religious observance and faith. = She was faithful, so God blessed her plan with success. In the same way, the people of Israel did not sin against God, and so God kept them, and spared the Temple.

What this story says about women is fascinating. Women can be: faithful wives, holy religious members of the community, leaders of the community, critiquers of the leadership of men, courageous defenders of their people, prophets, and the ones through whom God wills to work his wonders. At the same time, the story reveals the vulnerability of women. Rape was alluded to with the reference to Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, in Chap. 9, and the violation of women during war time was referenced in Chap. 16. Judith was in very real danger by going into Holofernes' camp, but she was in equal danger as a woman of Bethulia. Had Bethulia been seized by Holofernes there was every likelihood that she would have been carried off as a prisoner, if not raped and killed by the soldiers--esp. since she was so beautiful. Indeed, Holofernes' whole intention of letting Judith stay in the camp was as a means of seducing her--if not raping her (12:12). Fortunately, Judith plays her cards right, and she takes the upper hand.

In this way, the book plays with two key questions: 1) What are women capable of? and 2) How often are their capabilities/is their dignity ignored by men? If Judith represents women as the Image of God; that is, women in all their proper dignity, and if Holofernes represents the enemy of that dignity--that is male chauvinism that seeks to denigrate, oppress, or victimize women--then what does the beheading of Holofernes teach us/symbolize?

So--yes, the Book of Judith is a "quid pro quo" theological moral story, & yes, it is a work of Jewish propaganda meant to rally the people during hard times, but it is also an amazing work advocating the respect of the dignity of women. Without Judith, the people would not have survived. Without women like her, the Church would not survive.

Lest we forget...the beheading of Holofernes and the defeat of the "Assyrian" army is a bold answer to the central question of the book--How many gods are there? Only one God--the God of the Jewish people.

Preaching Notes for Genesis 37:3-4, 12-13a, 17b-28a

At first glance, the story we heard about Joseph and his brothers seems to have a happy ending. After all, Joseph was in danger of being murdered by his brothers, but, instead, he ends up being sold as a slave to a band of Ishmaelites going to Egypt. Relatively speaking, it is better to be enslaved than to be killed outright.

At the heart of this change in Joseph’s fate, however, is an inconsistent morality on the part of Joseph’s brother Judah.


According to Judah’s way of thinking, it is inappropriate to kill one’s brother, but not inappropriate to sell him into slavery. This way of thinking should strike all of us as absurd, because we know that the bond of brotherhood doesn’t just mean, “do not kill your brother,” it also means “love this brother as a part of your own self.” So while, Judah has, in one way, seemingly saved Joseph, he has in no way actually shown Joseph real fraternal love.

Only Joseph’s brother Reuben seems to know what is due to Joseph as his brother. He, from the start, had the intention to rescue and restore his brother to his father, even though he may have been just as jealous of Joseph as any of the other brothers.

I think, this story challenges us to exam our conduct toward our brothers and sisters, both Christians and non-Christians. Have we, like Judah, only tried to escape our responsibility to our brothers or sisters, or have we, like Reuben, tried to help and save them--even those we may find difficult to love?

Today, let us exam our consciences with this question and ask God to give us the grace to be better brothers and sisters to one another.

"Seeing Women Through the Windows of Synagogue and Church History"

"Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-lo asani ishah." That is, "Blessed are you, Lord our God, ruler of the universe, who has not made me a woman." So goes one of the prayers included in the prayer book for Orthodox Jews. (A prayer which only the men pray, of course.) It was a prayer highlighted during the first talk of the annual Interfaith Colloquium hosted by the Jewish-Catholic Dialogue of New Mexico--as the topic of this year's colloquium was women's places in Judaism and Christianity, this prayer seemed terribly appropriate to mention. Before I go on, I will say I wasn't the only Dominican in attendance. There were several sisters there, and one Dominican laywoman. [We took a moment after lunch to pose for a picture.] It was a treat to get to sit with my Dominican family during the talks and the meals at B'nai Israel Synagogue.

The first talk, delivered by Rabbi Joseph Black, was a quick run through of traditional Jewish understanding of women and their roles within the Jewish faith through three main time frames: the Rabbinic Period (70-500 CE), the Medieval Period, and the Modern Period. As with their Christian counter-parts (the Church Fathers), the early rabbis had some pretty horrible misconceptions about women, which led them to restrict the role of women in the faith to a great degree. Principles of modesty (tzniyut), ritual purity (niddah), and family purity (taharat ha-mishpachah)enabled them to theologically rationalize these social and religious constraints.

The second-class status of women was made clear by the fact that what was binding on men (study of Torah and prayer) was not binding for women. Women would not even be included in the count for the 10 man requirement to hold a prayer service. Women were prohibited from studying Torah, leading services, and singing out loud in the presence of men. All because men were afraid of their own sexual responses to women. Of course, they projected their fears of sexual attraction all onto the women, as if it was only the fault of the women if they found themselves distracted from the "higher things".

In the Kabbalah movement--the mystical movement of Judaism--God's feminine aspects were allowed to shine forth along with the masculine. The "Shekinah" of God, for example, is the feminine conceptualization of God's immanent presence to humanity. In Christianity, this would like portraying the Holy Spirit as a woman. This has a strong scriptural basis, of course, as Proverbs, Sirach, Wisdom, and other books speak of Lady Wisdom (Sophia)--the feminine presence of God among humanity.
Eventually, with the 1960's came changes in the Reform Movement of Judaism, and women began studying to be rabbis and cantors. [In 1972, Sally Priesand was the first woman to be ordained a rabbi in the U.S.] They began wearing tallit (prayer shawl), tefillin (prayers worn on the body in little boxes and leather straps), and kippah (little caps to cover the crown of the head). Bat mitzvahs (celebrations of young women's coming of age) became normative, and, like in Christian denominations, feminist theologians and believers began to question the use of exclusively masculine language for God in worship. Despite these kinds of changes, the rabbi said, destrimination against women continues in Judaism. For example, a woman was recently arrested in Jerusalem for praying the Torah at the Western Wall.

The thing that surprised me and resonated most with me most from the rabbi's talk was the number of similarities between the plight of Jewish women in the traditional settings and the situation that my cooperator brother ancestors in the Order endured in the not-to-distant past. Prayer and Study were viewed as the most important work by the Jewish rabbis, so any other contribution to Jewish life was secondary. So, too, preaching, prayer, and study, were seen as the raison d'etre of the Dominican Order, so any other work was secondary. The people who do the secondary work, of course, are consciously or sub-consciously seen as second-class, not as important as their work was secondary. Second-class Jews, second-class Dominicans. I will write more, soon, on the question of whether or not I believe non-ordained friars in the Order are still second-class.

The second talk was given by Wardene Crowley, a Catholic scholar of Spanish mysticism. She had several things to talk about under this umbrella listing of three questions:
1) Who am I?
2) Where is God?
3) What does it matter?
To answer these questions from a Catholic mystical point of view, she incorporated readings from the works of the Church's three women doctors: The Doctor of Unity (St. Catherine of Siena), the Doctor of Prayer (St. Teresa of Avila), and the Doctor of Confidence (St. Therese of Lisieux). While she was talking about mystical teachings, I kind of had a mystical moment and understood how fitting a feminine image of God really was--in the sense of God offering herself to us, as a woman offers herself to her husband. We always think of ourselves as the "Bride", receiving the very active and in-control bride-groom (albeit, very loving); but I could see the genders being reversed and the feminine of God appealing to the masculine in humanity--our hunger for God, being like the hunger of the man who is searching for Truth, Lady Wisdom. Instead of the image of Lady Wisdom preparing her table, which is rather tame, we would have the image of God as the Bride in the bridal chamber. This came to me, I suppose, because Ms. Crowley was talking about the Song of Songs. She had a wonderful comment: "[The Song of Songs exemplifies what life] would have been like, had we not been thrown out of the garden [of Eden]."--furthermore, as a pope said to the women religious of Canada, "[our] personal journeys have to be a new edition of the Song of Songs." But this was all about humanity in a very poetic sense. I was still stunned by my "mystical" imaging of God as Bride.

The last point Ms. Crowley made that I found interesting in the pastoral sense was her interpretation of the Hannah story from First Samuel. Both Hannah's husband and the priest (Eli) misunderstood Hannah's behavior during prayer. Her methods for communicating with God were not what the men in her life recognized, and because of this, the priest chides her and her husband tries to comfort her to no avail. It was an opening up of this story that led Ms. Crowley to theorize that women pray differently--then, and now--and just as then, they are misunderstood by the men in their lives when they pray their way, and not the established way. It made me think of how easy it is for clergy and religious today, who "do religion for a living" to get too professional, too boxed-in in their understanding of worship and prayer practices, or even reasons for coming to a Church to the point that anything that isn't nice or neat or easy to deal with or that fits our liturgical norms gets suspicious looks and snide remarks. It made me wonder how much our liturgical and professional uniformity and expectations hinder us from embracing the spontaneous visitations of unrecognized saints, not to mention, the Holy Spirit.
"All religions and spiritualities attempt to include both feminine and masculine metaphors for the mystery, the all, the divine...They also have masculine and feminine icons of the Divine." So began one of the greatest of the day's talks--that given by Rev. Wallace Ford, a pastor of the Disciples of Christ Christian denomination. As Rabbi Black highlighted the sexism of rabbinic tradition, Rev. Ford highlighted the sexism of the patristic tradition of early Christianity, citing many of the Church Fathers' denigrating comments on the nature of women [generalization]. He was contrasting these comments with that astounding comment from St. Paul's letter to the Galatians where Paul declares there is neither "male nor female" in Christ Jesus. Like with the Genesis declaration that God created both male and female in the divine image, Paul's declaration seems to have had little real implication in the formation of the Church. Paul, himself, will go on to write things that seem to contradict the idea that in Christ there is neither "male nor female". Rev. Ford then cited the stories about St. Mary of Magdala from the Gnostic texts of Thomas and Mary Magdalene as examples of a Christian tradition that did seem to say, truly, in Christ, women were seen as the same as men (symbolized by equal opportunities for leadership positions). These Gnostic texts, of course, were rejected by the Church, so any insights they might have provided were lost. [Of course, these texts were rejected on several grounds--and, it is the right of the Church to reject texts it rules do not accurately preach Christ.]

Even with the loss of the icon of St. Mary of Magdala, Apostle to the Apostles, and even with the exclusively masculine imagery and language for God used in Christian worship, the feminine was still able to wrestle itself up in the Christian imagination in the person and icon of Mary, the Blessed Virgin. The veneration of Mary, Rev. Ford said, was the balancing act of the Christian faith, the compliment to its masculine Trinity. He spoke eloquently about the need that Protestant Christianity has for this balance, since it lost the icon of Mary and other female saints. The women in the Protestant communities made up for this loss in the 19th and 20th Centuries by diving into apostolic service modeled on the examples of women from the Bible, organizing/joining the Abolition Movement, the Temperance Movement, the Women's Suffrage Movement, and missionary societies. In modern day, the Protestant communities that have begun to ordain women have seen that 50% of their clergy, or more, is female. Is this changing the way these communities worship, pray, and talk about God?--you bet.

In closing, Rev. Ford talked about how the concept of the "Kingdom of God", as discussed by Jesus, has really not been understood correctly. The Hebrew phrase Jesus used actually is more an image of God's creative womb bringing forth that which is possible, rather than an image of a permanent empire or institution. In this way, our interpretation of the text is interfering with our ability to hear Jesus correctly.

I found it ironic that it took a practicing Protestant minister to talk about Mary for me to really "get" why the Blessed Virgin has been such a helpful minister of God. Before, I tended to focus on why devotees of Mary would go to her instead of directly to God. Now, based on what Rev. Ford said, I could see why God would choose to work through her, to bring across God's own motherhood through Mary's human motherhood. The Icon of Mary as Mother is a window to God who is Mother. Typical me, I want to skip the icon and just get to the Divine, but that doesn't always work with other people.
...We talked about all this before 12 noon came around! Needless to say, I had a wonderful time listening to these three speakers and chewing over what they had to say and the challenges to my own thinking that they offered. It was unfortunate that in this situation, where you have Reform (and Conservative) Jews and Roman Catholics talking about the roles of women, the later half of the day saw many women in the audience who were Catholic getting frustrated that they didn't have in their church what the Jewish women had in their synagogues [equal opportunity for leadership roles]. This frustration was voiced in many of the questions and comments during the Q&A, and while I sympathized, I could not help but feel that things were not being contextualized enough, and that God's leadership of the Church was not being recognized. I found myself wondering if social and religious androgyny really was the way to go, or if, rather, there was another answer to the frustration of women.

...Of course, I don't have the answer to that question. So, instead of an answer, I'll close by quoting Merle Feld's poem "We All Stood Together" cited during the talks...

My brother and I were at Sinai
He kept a journal
of what he saw
of what he heard
of what it all meant to him
I wish I had such a record
of what happened to me
It seems like every time I want to write
I can't
I'm always holding a baby
one of my own
or one of my friend
always holding a baby
so my hands are never free
to write things down
And then
As time passes
the particulars
the hard data
the who what when where why
slip away from me
and all I'm left with is
the feeling
But feelings are just sounds
The vowel barking of a mute
my brother is so sure of what he heard
after all he's got a record of it
consonant after consonant after consonant
If we remembered it together
we could recreate holy time
sparks flying
[Poem found at: http://www.on1foot.org/text/merle-feld-%E2%80%9Cwe-all-stood-together%E2%80%9D-spiritual-life-jewish-feminist-journey-p-205]
*Disclaimer: Remember, I always write as a way to think out issues. The above is an exercise in consideration, not a profession of absolute belief.

Parable of the Three Women: Preaching Notes for Luke 6:36-38

There once was a woman who had a sister whom she couldn’t stand. No matter what her sister did or said, the woman would get offended and upset. The woman’s only consolation was going to her best friend and telling her how horrible her sister was.

One day, the woman was walking past a charming café and to her surprise, she saw her best friend sitting down to tea with her hated sister. The two were laughing together as if they were the best of friends. The woman couldn’t believe her eyes.

Immediately, she marched over to the table, stood with her hands on her hips, and looked quickly from one to the other, her face growing redder by the minute. In truth, she didn’t know with whom to be more angry--her sister for trying to “steal” her friend away from her, or her friend for agreeing to go out with her hated sister.

Finally, she turned to her friend and demanded an explanation. Her friend calmly put down her tea cup and looked her in the eyes and said, “Surely you didn’t think that because you weren’t friends with your sister that I wouldn’t be? I like you both, and I won’t choose between you.”

The woman looked with surprise at her friend, then at her sister. Part of her wanted to storm off and never speak to either of them again--but her relationship with her friend meant too much to her to do that. Besides, if her friend saw something good in her sister, maybe--she thought--she had missed something. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a chair and sat down.

As with any parable, the characters represent real people. The main character, the woman, represents all of us. The hated sister, represents those people we tend to exclude, judge, and hate. The beloved friend represents God.

What this parable seeks to illustrate is one of the central messages of Jesus’ moral theology: that is, not one of us is in a private, exclusive relationship with God. What we do to other people, how we love or hate them, is known and felt by God. This is so, because God is in relationship with every human being. This, I think, is why Jesus stresses the importance of our behavior towards others; as with the Golden Rule: “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you,” or the two great commandments: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your might, and your neighbor as yourself.”

The moment we seek to exclude, judge, or hate someone, we open ourselves to offending God--since we have sought to exclude, judge, or hate someone that he loves very dearly. The moment, therefore, that we choose to include, forgive, and love someone, we have begun to please God and to be like God--since we have sought to do these good things to someone God, himself, loves.

The Gospel today warns us in no uncertain terms, that being judgmental, unforgiving, and hateful will only lead to our own negative judgment and exclusion. None of us can afford to keep our measure of perfection for others too high.

Therefore, let us, like the woman in the parable, learn while there is still time, and take a seat at the table of friendship with God without begrudging anyone a place with us.

Br. Paul, OP~