Benedict of Nursia: The Layman Who Founded a Monastic Movement

"Listen carefully, my son, to the master's instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice. The labor of obedience will bring you back to him from whom you had drifted through the sloth of disobedience. This message of mine is for you, then, if you are ready to give up your own will, once and for all, and armed with the strong and noble weapons of obedience to do battle for the true King, Christ the Lord. First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to him most earnestly to bring it to perfection...

Let us get up then, at long last, for the Scriptures rouse us when they say: 'It is high time for us to arise from sleep' (Rom 13:11). Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God, and our ears to the voice from heaven that every day calls out this charge: 'If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts' (Ps 94 [95]:8). And again, 'You that have ears to hear, listen to what the Spirit says to the churches' (Rev 2:7). And what does he say? 'Come and listen to me, sons; I will teach you the fear of the Lord' (Ps 33 [34]:12).

Run while you have the light of life, that the darkness of death may not overtake you (John 12:35). Seeking his workman in a multitude of people, the Lord calls out to him and lifts his voice again: 'Is there anyone here who yearns for life and desires to see good days?' (Ps 33 [34]:13) If you hear this and your answer is 'I do,' God then directs these words to you: 'If you desire true and eternal life, keep your tongue free from vicious talk and your lips from all deceit; turn away from evil and do good; let peace be your guest and aim (Ps 33 [34]:14-15). Once you have done this, my eyes will be upon you and my ears will listen for your prayers; and even before you ask me, I will say to you: Here I am' (Isa 58:9).

What, dear brothers, is more delightful than this voice of the Lord calling to us? See how the Lord in his love shows us the way of life. Clothed then with faith and the performance of good works, let us set out on this way, with the Gospel for our guide, that we may deserve to see him who has called us to his kingdom (1 Thess 2:12). If we wish to dwell in the tent of this kingdom, we will never arrive unless we run there by doing good deeds. But let us ask the Lord with the Prophet: 'Who will dwell in your tent, Lord; who will find rest upon your holy mountain?' (Ps 14 [15]:1) After this question, brothers, let us listen well to what the Lord says in reply, for he shows us the way to his tent. 'One who walks without blemish,' he says, 'and is just in all his dealings; who speaks the truth from his heart and has not practiced deceit with his tongue; who has not wronged a fellowman in any way, nor listened to slanders against his neighbor' (Ps 14 [15]:3). He has foiled the evil one, the devil, at every turn, flinging both him and his promptings far from the sight of his heart. While these temptations were still young, he caught hold of them and dashed them against Christ (Ps 14 [15]:4 & 136 [137]:9). These people fear the Lord, and do not become elated over their good deeds; they judge it is the Lord's power, not their own, that brings about the good in them. They praise (Ps 14 [15]:4) the Lord working in them, and say with the Prophet: 'Not to us, Lord, not to us give the glory, but to your name alone' (Ps 113 [115:1]:9)...

With this conclusion, the Lord waits for us daily to translate into action, as we should, his holy teachings. Therefore our life span has been lengthened by way of a truce, that we may amend our misdeeds. As the Apostle says: 'Do you not know that the patience of God is leading you to repent' (Rom 2:4)? And indeed the Lord assures us in his love: 'I do not wish the death of the sinner, but that he turn back to me and live' (Ezek 33:11). Brothers, now that we have asked the Lord who will dwell in his tent, we have heard the instruction for dwelling in it, but only if we fulfill the obligations of those who live there. We must, then, prepare our hearts and bodies for the battle of holy obedience to his instructions. What is not possible to us by nature, let us ask the Lord to supply by the help of his grace. If we wish to reach eternal life, even as we avoid the torments of hell, then - while there is still time, while we are in this body and have time to accomplish all these things by the light of life -we must run and do now what will profit us forever. Therefore we intend to establish a school for the Lord's service. In drawing up its regulations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love. Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in his way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. Never swerving from his instructions, then, but faithfully observing his teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom. Amen." (From the Prologue, The Rule of St. Benedict)

To celebrate Benedict's feast this morning, aside from praying the Divine Office, my son and I split an order of...what else?!..Eggs Benedict! "Ora et labora", indeed!

Some of the things I find fascinating about Benedict are that 1) he was a twin, his other "half" being his sister, Scholastica; and 2) his being a layman who gathered a group of like-minded followers of Christ and became not just monastics, but really a Western monastic movement. If you've perused any book catalogs recently, you can't help but be amazed at the tremendous interest in the Benedictine expression of spirituality. To my mind, Benedict was a genius who had an incredible personal grasp of both human nature and the essence of Jesus' Gospel teaching. His Rule, the ideas for which weren't entirely his own original creation, has withstood the test of centuries.

The ideals or vows outlined by Benedict's Rule are principles by which we can understand our commitment to God in our lives. Though there are three expressions, there's really only one vow: a basic commitment to the life of God. Esther de Waal, with whom I had the pleasure of spending a delightful afternoon many years ago, puts it this way: "Together they become one great affirmation." Benedict singles out stability, "conversatio morum", and obedience.

This three-fold vow or commitment is grounded on a truly Trinitarian theological base. They/it constitute the "Yes" to our entering into the meaning of our Baptism and into the Paschal Mystery of Christ's suffering/dying/rising. It is God as Father who speaks, asking us to hear. Obedience is built from a combination of the Latin ob + audire = "to truly or really listen", not just audibly "hear". You and I obey when we do listen, when we accept the opening word of Benedict's Prologue: "Ausculta/obsculta", very much akin to the Hebrew "Shema" of the Old Testament: "Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart." (Dt 6:4-6) Our journey in faith begins with hearing.

God as Son grounds us in stability. The Word is the Paschal energy or force who roots us in himself. Jesus, the Faithful Word, evokes from us faithfulness of heart. Thus the second step our the journey in faith: standing.

God as Spirit and Agape accompanies and guides us throughout our lives and leads us in a continual transformation, a conversio morum, an intentional and persistent changing of our selfish ways into a love and selflessness which reaches out to serve God and one another. This final step is our ongoing journey of faith itself.

Stability enables us to completely surrender ourselves to God and to live this out in a particular concrete way, whether as as a monk in a specific community and location; as a married person in a specific, life-long relationship; as a family member, in life-long relationship to these specific people who are my family, warts and all; as a parishioner, or a clergy person, or a bishop, in at least a long-term relationship with a parish, or ministry, or diocese. There is usually a covenant, faithfulness to which enables me to stop running and to truly encounter the other and Other in my life. Stability involves a curious mixture of monotony, ordinariness, desire to escape into distraction or to flee from myself; but it also involves or can involve great creativity in learning to let go.

Conversatio is an ongoing turning, from self-will to God's will. It keeps me focussed on the present, on task. Benedict suggests that you "keep death always before your eyes". He stresses the fact that today is the time to change our actions, not just our intentions. What is needed is a zeal for conversion. And in this difficult pursuit, Benedict advises us "never to despair of the mercy of God".

Obedience presupposes the recognition of some form of abbot or abbas/amma who represents Christ for us in our unique set of circumstances. In this U.S. culture, and frankly also in the Episcopal Church, which abhors any hint of being told what to do, we have to continually ask, "What is our model of authority?" Obedience implies that I willingly and joyfully commit to take on something bigger than myself, outside myself, even when I don't understand or agree. It causes me to really appreciate that my choices necessarily bring limits and rules. Obedience, if embraced in the spirit which Benedict promotes, actually pulls me along on the way to true freedom.

"...we intend to establish a school for the Lord's service. In drawing up its regulations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome...But as we progress in his way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love..."

So, have yourself some Eggs Benedict, and maybe also treat yourself to some of the delights of Benedict's Rule!

"Who does he think he is?..."

"The founders of religion inevitably met resistance, disbelief, and

persecution when they attempted to spread their message. Thus Moses
endured the murmurings of his people, Muhammad was branded a charlatan and pursued by his fellow tribesmen of the Quraysh, and Jesus was rejected and slandered by many of the Jews of his day and eventually was executed as an insurrectionist. Confucius was unsuccessful in his efforts to get his teachings accepted by the leaders of his day, and Lao Tzu describes his plight as that of a social outcast. Mahavira and even Buddha, whose ministry is glorified by later traditions, were abused and ridiculed as they wandered from town to town. Yet even more profound than the pains and travails which they suffered in the body was the inner agony of loneliness as these founders wandered about, with no one to understand them or sympathize with their minds. Their only solace was their single-minded devotion to God or their conviction about the truth which they, alone in the world, could understand." [From World Scripture: A Comparative Anthology of Sacred Texts]

I've heard it said that "it's always hard to go back...", whether that be to one's home, former workplace, church of one's youth, etc. The Gospel reading for today's liturgy [Mark 6:1-13] shows Jesus' personal experience in going back to his hometown to teach in the synagogue there. The initial reaction is astonishment: "Wow, I can't believe what I'm hearing and seeing!" Then the buzzing starts among the hearers, no doubt long-time acquaintances, perhaps friends, of Jesus and his family: "Where did he get all this? Who influenced him to say all this? Did ya hear about what he did to that sick man the other day?! And the crazy woman, how he said something and all of a sudden she changed!"

You get the impression that the locals hadn't seen Jesus in awhile. He'd been out on his preaching and teaching journeys, and his reputation as healer had begun to attract public notice, not always a good thing in a Roman-occupied country. Many of the townsfolk must've known Joseph when he was still alive and probably had remembered Jesus from the time he grew up. "He's only a carpenter, isn't he? What the heck is he doing preaching to us? We know Mary and his brothers: James, Joses, Judas and Simon, and his sisters -- we see them all the time. What's with this guy?!"

It became obvious to Jesus that there wasn't much enthusiasm or interest in the "hometown boy" here in the synagogue. Maybe they resented the fact that he'd seemed to run off abruptly from his carpentry, leaving him poor mother and his family behind to fend for themselves, and had followed some half-baked delusional dream of becoming famous. Jesus isn't at all subtle with his comments to the grumbling crowd about the situation: "Prophets aren't without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house." Might've been that the other boys, his brothers, had already vented their stored-up resentment and given him a hard time. And the reference to "prophets" must've gone down real well with both his family and the locals, given their already brewing "offense" at him.

Mark's take on it was that Jesus had hit a brick wall, to the point where the unflappable Jesus was "amazed at their unbelief". Faithless hometown folks would be bad enough, but even some of his family! It seems that only a few sick people allowed him to lay hands on them and heal them, and one might wonder what their motives were. Perhaps these were the really desperate ones who'd come to the end of their rope, but at least they gave it a try. It was clear to Jesus that he could only offer the blessing and power of God, but with their cool resistance and non-response, nothing more could be done. And so he left his hometown, perhaps without any goodbyes, and moved on to other villages where he continued his teaching.

A sad story. [The next section, vv. 7-13, about his sending the disciples out, is really a separate episode and kind of disrupts the impact of vv. 1-6.]

What is it in our lives that we continue to beat our heads on the wall to go back to?? And why?? How do we deal with people who "know" us, or think they do, and who blow us off for whatever reason?? Why is that we so often want to believe the worst in others and disbelieve their honest and pure intentions?? How are we like the locals in setting up barriers and stopping our ears when God, through the situations in our lives, tries to make Godself heard and understood??

Who do we think we are...??

Lady Liberty

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

- Emma Lazarus

I first stood in the presence of the Statue of Liberty in 1994 with my son, Andrew. He was with the Joffrey Apprentice Company then and I was visiting him in New York. It was a very moving and proud moment for me as an American citizen to stand before this symbol of an open-armed country -- my country. At 57 years of age then, I was well aware that our nation, for all its greatness, also had many "warts" and issues. I'd lived through some of the significant ones: World War II, the Korean War, the Civil Rights struggles, the Vietnam War, the radical changes from the strait-laced '50's, to the '60's of drugs and free love, to the '70's and '80's with advances in space technology, prosperity beyond people's imagining, but also a huge decline in ordinary civility and respect and love of true wisdom and the emphasis on "me", "I want", and "now".

These fifteen years later I find myself one of those "senior citizens" with whom I didn't associate much in those earlier years. I live in an era which has seen great strides in racial relations, to the point of having an African-American man as President. I'm up to my own in ears in some of the new communications technology which has mushroomed and grows exponentially in shorter and shorter periods of time. I've also lived long enough to have developed great concern and fear, not just for my country, but for all the countries and, indeed, the whole earth as we've known it, and for the generations which will follow us. The dangers signs are obvious to all but the willfully ignorant; the alarms are sounding and are increasingly deafening. My great country itself, "land of the free and home of the brave", with its "amber waves of grain" and "purple mountain majesty above the fruited plains" faces one of the, if not the, most threatening economic crashes in its history. Job loss, foreclosure on what we used to call a "man's castle" -- homes, the dumbing down of our children's education, victimization by an absolutely inadequate, unfair, and cruel healthcare system, a distaste for welcoming the very immigrants of whom Emma Lazarus spoke, the locking out of full equality of gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender sisters and brothers, a political system which has everything else, especially money and power, as a priority rather than the polis, the people who make up this nation -- all these are fairly standard realities at this moment in the United States of America.

If one pays attention enough, however, even in the midst of these consuming and colossal challenges, one can discern what I'd call an inner infrastructure of greatness which has also been an enduring hallmark of American citizens. It breaks forth and pops out here and there in amazing fits and starts. Many American people -- and we all know them and encounter them from time to time -- have the knack and talent of rising to the occasion and holding up for us all to see common human values of courage, honesty, decency, humility, spirituality and love. Watching the fireworks tonight and celebrating joyfully with family and friends is great and I wouldn't knock it in the least. But these other things are the ones we need to equally celebrate, publicize, emulate however we can, if we really appreciate our country. None of us knows for sure how this experiment in democracy which began some 233 years ago will turn out in the end. But you and I can intentionally decide to hope for its success: to work for it, encourage others, sacrifice for it, and pray for it. The Collect for today in the Book of Common Prayer asks "that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace..."

If I were honored once again to stand before Lady Liberty, that's about how I'd pray. And I might even be tempted to take the trip inside up into her crown, newly opened to visitors today after years of being closed!

The One Foundation of Apostles

Almighty God, whose blessed apostles Peter and Paul glorified you by their martyrdom: Grant that your Church, instructed by their teaching and example, and knit together in unity by your Spirit, may ever stand firm upon the one foundation, which is Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

I took these pictures of the statues of SS. Peter and Paul at the Vatican in the fall of 1998. Unfortunately, the Vatican and nearly every other major church in Rome was in the process of preparing for the Jubilee Year of 2000 and the Millenium. The scaffolding business was booming, to say the least, with the result that I got a lot of good pictures with scaffolding in the background!

Pope Pius IX (1846-1878) decided to replace older statues of SS. Peter and Paul with these current larger ones on Easter 1847. Each of the statues is 5.55m in height, on a pedestal 4.91m high. The previous pope, Gregory XVI (1831-1846) had commissioned Giuseppe De Fabris to sculpt this statue of St. Peter for St. Paul Outside-the-Walls from 1838-1840. The statue of St. Paul was sculpted in 1838 by Adamo Tadolini. He had studied in Bologna under the direction of De Maria; in 1813 he came to Rome, like De Fabris, and came to the attention of Canova, the greatest sculptor of the period, who took him into his studio.

It's not necessary to delve into all the traditions, legends and speculation about the last days of these two great men of God and their final witness of martyrdom. That has been done much more extensively and expertly by others. Suffice it for me to say that Peter and Paul are two saints whose humanness has resonated with my own. Both of them, in my view, were extremely good at heart and ultimately passionate about the One who'd call them, each in very different ways, to the ministry of proclaiming Him to the world.

I identify with Peter in his weakness of betraying Jesus out of fear and human respect, but also in his deep sorrow for that and in his uncompromising devotion to Jesus from then on. "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life! We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." Another time, at Caesarea Philippi, he'd avowed: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." I can identify with his sometimes timorous, cautious approach to the ministry of the Gospel, the waffling back and forth between service to Jews only or to Gentiles.

Paul is even more of a favorite of mine, primarily because we have his Epistles and because of that Paul seems to me to be like a better known friend. I can identify with him as Saul, the rigid, by-the-book, self-righteous zealot who knew that his view was the correct one, the only one, and that people who disagreed needed to get over it and fall in line: even if that meant sometimes doing despicable things to them. His searching mind and heart also resonates with me: how even in the midst of his experience on the road to Damascus, literally knocked off his high horse, Paul could

searchingly ask: "Who are you, Lord?" Once he'd had three days in Damascus, alone, blinded, neither eating nor drinking, Ananias had come to him, laid hands on him, and then he'd experienced the direct power of God's Spirit within. It was as if someone had flipped a unidirectional "zeal switch" on in him. He got up, was baptized, spent several days listening to the leaders and disciples of the Christian community in Damascus, then headed straight to the synagogues, which he knew like the back of his hand, only this time bearing a new, radical, highly unpopular message for Jewish ears: "[Jesus] is the Son of God." From then on there was no stopping Paul. I can identify with his one-track agenda to do what he had to do, no matter whose toes might be stepped on, Christian or otherwise. Amazingly, this highly qualified, connected, and ardent Jew became a missionary, an apostle -- one "sent" -- to people way outside the pale of either Jewish or Christian culture: to Gentiles, people of the nations, of the world. Not that he ever forgot his own people and where he had come from, by God's grace. His writings reflect the deepest respect for his tradition by birth, and probably out of deference, though Jews of his time wouldn't have seen it this way, he always made it a point to begin his sharing of the Good News in the local synagogue, no matter how many times they ran him out of there.

In our current struggles of grappling with issues about people and classes of people who are often excluded, locked out, discrimnated against, and worse, the words and lives of SS. Peter and Paul give us much to think about.

Think, for example, of Peter, as ardent a Jew as Paul was, whom God enlightened through a dream experience at Joppa that Peter "must not call profane" anything created "clean" by God, especially any human creature. Luke tells us that Peter "was greatly puzzled about what to make of the vision that he had seen". Then Cornelius, a centurion of the Italian Cohort in Caesarea, where coincidentally (?!) Peter had proclaimed Jesus "Messiah", sends messengers, under God's bidding, to Peter to come to his home and share the Good News. Peter is still all confused about all this, as his awkward words to the people assembled at Cornelius' home shows: "You know, I'm sure that this is highly irregular. Jews just don't do this -- visit and relax with people of another race. But God has just shown me that no race is better than any other. So the minute I was sent for, I came, no questions asked. But now I'd like to know why you sent for me..." [translation from The Message, by Eugene H. Peterson] Cornelius shares the vision he had received while at prayer, then, having put two-and-two together, a light bulb goes off in Peter's brain: "Peter fairly exploded with his good news: 'It's God's own truth, nothing could be plainer: God plays no favorites! It makes no difference who you are or where you're from -- if you want God and are ready to do as he says, the door is open..."

Paul spoke of inclusivity constantly throughout his Epistles. One could make that theme alone a useful study. "For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him."

(Romans 10:12) "...God has done so in order to make known the riches of his glory for the objects of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory -- including us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles..." (Romans 9:23-24) "...the Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel..." (Ephesians 3:6)

Those of us who have chosen to be partners in the cause of justice and freedom for all people can confidently "stand firm upon the one foundation" which these two great men had a hand in laying.

"...Your faith has saved you."

On the six Sundays after Trinity Sunday this year, we’re reflecting on the Gospel of Mark. If you look closely, you see how Mark depicts Jesus, the Teacher and Healer, coming on the scene with great force and command: curing illnesses and paralyzed people, casting out evil spirits, cleansing lepers, healing a demon-possessed man, calming a raging sea about to break up the disciples‘ boat. The key word for Mark in Greek is sozo = to save. Don’t ask me why, but translators of the Bible sometimes get all poetic and euphemistic, and don’t seem to give us a straightforward translation. For example, last week when Mark notes that “they were filled with great awe...” (NRSV) , the Greek text says “they were filled with great fear = phobos...” And fear -- not unbelief -- for Mark, is the opposite of faith.

Today’s Gospel reading (Mark 5:21-43) is an unusual story, in a way. After Jesus had come to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, he’d been approached by a synagogue leader, Jairus. Jairus would have been a well-respected V.I.P. in his community: the administrative head of the synagogue, lay president of the board of elders who managed the sacred place, and responsible for assigning worship duties and the proper carrying out of them. I’m guessing that Jairus might have been a man who didn’t find it easy to wait or to be patient. He tells Jesus that his little girl is so sick that it looks as though she’s going to die. Could he come quickly and lay hands on her, and not just make her well, but save her? Jesus didn’t hesitate, especially, I think, since it involved a child. “So he went with him”, Mark says.

Undoubtedly the crowd present there sensed a possible “Kodak moment”, something big about to happen, so they followed Jesus, pressing in on him. In the midst of this urgent mission, a nameless woman who’d heard about Jesus pressed in behind him, reached out and touched his cloak, muttering all the while to herself: “If I but touch his clothing, I’ll be saved (which, of course, is translated “be made well" in most versions).” “Immediately”, says Mark, “her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her plague.”

Now that might not seem like a big deal at first sight, but in that particular context it was a huge deal! The lady had been having hemorrhages, probably some sort of gynecological condition, for 12 years: as many years, coincidentally, as Jairus’ daughter had been alive. Mark is very detailed about her: “She had endured much under manyphysicians, and had spent all she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse.” Commentator Henry Brinton observes: “...she was a victim of exploitation by quack doctors..., a perennial problem for the poor in antiquity...” Sound familiar?? Doesn’t appear that the healthcare system has improved much since then, does it?

But the woman had a much greater problem than the physical one: According to the Levitical code she was to be ostracized from the community and perpetually segregated because she was considered “unclean”. According to the Law she endangered others, without knowing it, to become unclean. And, horror of horrors, for her to touch one with an already established reputation as a holy man and wonder worker simply crossed the bounds of all acceptable behavior. For 12 years, until now, this woman was invisible, a nobody.

Keep in mind, now, that at this point Jesus was hurrying to get to Jairus’ house before his daughter died. But suddenly, “aware that power had gone forth from him”, Jesus stops. “Who touched my clothes?”, he asks. Imagine the rolling eyes of the disciples, probably thinking: “Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding!”, thoughts verbalized in Mark’s account slightly differently. But Jesus turns and scans the crowd, looking for one special person who’s come to be saved.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The woman knows she’s been “had”, and now what does she have to lose anyway? She’s already gotten what she came for. Bracing herself for a good tongue-lashing or worse, “in fear and trembling” according to Mark, she falls to her knees before Jesus and pours out her whole story. As she finishes, Jesus bends down and says quietly: “Daughter...your faith has saved you...” All the major Bible translations have “Daughter, your faith has made you well...”, except for the Roman Catholic New American Bible which accurately reflects the Greek text: “Daughter, your faith has saved you...” And calling her “Daughter” wasn’t some condescending form of address, but in essence a public announcement that this woman, up until now invisible in society and so abused by the system, is in reality a true daughter of Israel, God’s people, and a beneficiary of Godself. And further Jesus says to her: “Go in peace (shalom = fullness of blessing, full harmony with God, others, and herself), and be healed of your plague.” People must have been stunned when Jesus said that her faith had saved her: not his magic cloak, not her touching him or anything that she did, nothing in or on his body -- simply her faith, her willingness to accept and believe that Jesus is the channel of God’s power and presence and love. Jesus declares this up-to-now invisible woman a triply blessed daughter of God’s people: saved, at peace, and whole.

If the crowd had momentarily been distracted by Jesus’ magnanimous care for the woman, reality now sets back in as people from Jairus’ house arrive with the news no parent ever wants to hear: “Your daughter is dead.” Jairus must’ve been devastated. None of his power, none of his wealth mattered now. In his grief even Jairus couldn’t quite connect Jesus’ saving of the woman in the crowd with the situation he was in here and now. So Jesus reminds him: “Do not fear, only believe”, just as he’d reminded his disciples in thealmost-sinking boat, and the woman just a few minutes before: “Don’t be afraid, trust”, because fear, not unbelief, is the opposite of faith.

By the time Jesus reaches Jairus’ home, he sees that pandemonium has full reign. We have to bear in mind that this wasn’t unusual. In that Middle-Eastern culture there were very specific mourning customs, all stressing the final fact of life: namely, death. The weeping and wailing indicated that death had struck. People stayed near the body seeking a response from the dead. Beating the breast and tearing the hair was standard. Even the rending of garments followed a certain protocol: it was done just before the body was hid from sight; the skin over the heart, for parents, or over the right side, for all others, was exposed, but not beyond the navel; women rent an inner garment privately, then wore it back to front, before rending the outer garment; and the garment was worn for a month. Two flute players, with their wailing sounds, were hired, no matter how poor a family was. Travel was limited; mourners couldn’t anoint themselves or wear shoes. Their reading from the Hebrew Scriptures was limited to Job, Jeremiah, and Lamentations, rather than from the Law and Prophets which was considered joyful.

Jesus assures the crowd that the child isn’t dead, “but sleeping”. Mark poignantly observes: “And they laughed at him.” But Jesus ignores the signs of death and chaos, clears the house of mourners, and takes only the parents and Peter, James, and John with him to the girl’s room. Simply, purposefully, gently Jesus takes her hand in his and says in Aramaic, “Talitha koum...Little girl, get up!” Once again using the word “immediately”, Mark relates that the girl got up. As those present, most of all the grieving parents, are being “overcome with amazement”, Jesus gives them strict instructions not to give out details about what has happened. He then does something which, every time I read this, fills me with utter delight: he tells them to feed the kid! She probably got anything she wanted at that point, thanks to Jesus. How well Jesus knows our human nature, and how much young people especially are the recipients of Jesus’ utmost attention and love!

Biblical scholar Matthew Skinner notes that ‘[Jesus] exudes salvation in this passage.” The contrast between the stories show the wide spectrum of people and situations with which Jesus dealt. Then there is a question of the interruption which Jesus experiences. We learn from the story that Jesus’ priorities aren’t always what we would choose, that his power can always bring life from death in any situation. Contrary to the one-track, inflexible way many of us tend to do ministry, Jesus sees opportunity even in being interrupted. This little story is, according to Skinner, a sort of “theology of interruptions, to understand that God is neither bound to nor limited by human allocations of value and priority. God attends to all and is committed to the salvation of the whole person...”

As you and I seek to “serve Christ in all persons, loving [our] neighbor as [ourself]...”, we need to be aware that “Grace means that God has no task more urgent [for us] than to bend to assist those who seek help” (Skinner). And for that we, like Jairus and the woman in the crowd, need faith.

Someone has defined faith as “the daring of the soul to go farther than it can see.” Soren Kirkegaard called it a “leap of faith”. One of my favorite movies, Zorba the Greek, has a magnificent scene where the young writer, Basil, and Zorba are on the beach after a night out on the town. Basil asks Zorba to teach him to dance. Zorba replies: “You’re a great man and I love you. But there’s one thing you need to cut the bonds and set you free: a touch of madness.” Faith is the “touch of madness” each of us needs to set us completely free in Christ, to be saved, to find grace, peace, and healing.

Blessed Joseph Frederick Ignatius Hunt (1920-1993)

Sirach, author of the apocryphal book of Scripture known as Ecclesiasticus, sings the praises of "famous men" (and presumably women!) in his 44th chapter. "Some of them have left behind a name, so that others declare their praise..." Words never rang more true, perhaps, than in these days following the death of the pop singer, composer, and dancer Michael Jackson. The level of requests for copies and downloads of his music, even minutes after his death was announced, is utterly phenomenal. No question that, whatever your views about the enigma that he was personally, Michael will be remembered for his artistry for decades to come.

On the other hand, Sirach also sings the praises of others, not among the "famous men" (and women) mentioned earlier: "But of others there is no [or, at least, little] memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born..." I hate to say it, but I have a feeling that most of us will end up in that company sooner or later. It's not that folks like this haven't done significant, even great things in their lives. For whatever reason, their contributions to humanity simply haven't come to public notice. It really doesn't matter. I suspect Joseph Frederick Ignatius Hunt would tend to agree.

The early Church venerated and honored, in addition to the "saints", a group of people known as "Confessors": people who'd undergone persecution and/or torture, but hadn't actually been killed. The title "Confessor" was also given after death to great Christian teachers who had lived noticeably holy lives. In the 20th century the Anglican Churches began to recognize well-known holy and worthy Christians by providing a liturgical collect and readings for their commemorations, and by allowing the option of further regional commemoration of local homegrown heroes of the faith. Joseph Frederick Ignatius Hunt is a classic example.

Joseph was born on June 27, 1920 in Spokane, Washington, the fourth child and first son of Joseph Frederick Hunt and Olga Mathilda Petersen. His father owned a title insurance company, and it was Joseph's intent to become a lawyer and to be part of the family business. During the three years he studied at Gonzaga University in Spokane, he
discerned a call to the religious life, left college, and completed his Bachelor's degree at Mount Angel Seminary, a Benedictine School. He entered the Benedictine Novitiate in 1942 , taking "Ignatius" as his religious name,and began four years of theological study. In 1946 he was ordained a Roman Catholic priest and in 1948 professed his formal vows as a Benedictine monk.

Recognizing his superior intellectual gifts, the Order sent Joseph for post-graduate work to the University of Ottawa, where he earned a doctorate in Sacred Theology and was given a place on the faculties of both Westminster Abbey and the diocesan seminary in Vancouver, British Columbia. He spent nine years there as professor of ethics, languages, and
Scripture, taking time briefly in 1955 to make a study trip to the Near East with the Pontifical Biblical Institute. In
1958 he was named Professor of Old Testament at Conception Abbey Seminary, Conception, MO. [I'm familiar with Conception Abbey and the Seminary from my visit there in early February, 1968, to confer with then-Dean, Fr. James Jones, OSB, regarding the procedure for laicization from the Catholic priesthood. Fr. James was practically the only recognized authority on the subject at that time, at least in that area if not in the country. I remember him with great admiration and gratitude for his wisdom and kindness.] In 1961 Joseph undertook advanced studies in the Old Testament and received a Bachelor in Sacred Scriptures degree and a licentiate in Sacred Scriptures from the Pontifical Biblical institute in Rome and the École Biblique in Jerusalem: no mean accomplishment! During these years he taught summer courses at St. John's University, Collegeville, MN, and did further study at the University
of Chicago and in both Rome and Nijmegen, Holland, under a Union Theological Seminary program. In 1963 he
returned for three years to his professorship at Conception Abbey and also taught at summer courses at St. Louis
University and the University of San Francisco.

The 1960's was a turbulent time in the Roman Catholic Church. Pope John XXIII opened the 2nd Vatican Council on October 11, 1962. This historic assembly of the world's Catholic bishops, the 21st Ecumenical Council, spanned a period of three years, addressing every aspect of the Church's life, and was carried out in four phases: October-December, 1962; September-December, 1963; September-November, 1964; and September-December, 1965, when Pope Paul VI closed the Council on December 8. The reverberations of the bishops' teaching throughout the Church, and, indeed, throughout the religious world, was monumental. Having lived through and been ordained during that period in a theological seminary, I experienced first-hand the on-the-ground ramifications of the Council. Contrary to what I had envisioned for my future in early life, I found myself among the first wave of those who made the choice to leave the Catholic priesthood.

In 1969, the year I was officially laicized by Paul VI, Joseph Hunt made a similar difficult decision to leave the Benedictine Order and the Roman Catholic Church. And as I was led to do later in Northern California, he also became an Episcopalian, in the Diocese of Western Missouri. The year before, he had been asked to write an article, "Excursus: Israel and her Neighbors" for Fr. Raymond Brown's prestigious Jerome Biblical Commentary. During the 1969-70 school year he served as Professor of Languages at Olympic College, Bremerton, WA. He was received as a deacon in the Episcopal Church in January, 1970, and also married Carolyn Jeanne Frey that year. In April he was received as a priest, and in the fall of 1970 was named Professor of Old Testament at Nashotah House Seminary in Wisconsin. Joseph Hunt wrote literally hundreds of reviews for various journals, and made contributions to any number of encyclopedias and collaboration volumes. He wrote two books of his own: Understanding the Bible and The World of the Patriarchs. He was also editor of Old Testament Abstracts from 1978 to 1989.

In 1988, Father Joe became the appointed Confessor for the Order of Julian of Norwich, then based at the DeKoven Center in Racine, WI, and remained in that capacity until 1992. His own monastic experience and the evident holiness of his life endeared him to the entire community.

Fr. John Julian, founder of the Order of Julian, relates the sad last days of Joseph Hunt: "On his 70th birthday in 1990, Nashotah House seminary and the scholarly community honored him by the publication of a festschrift volume: The Psalms and Other Studies on the Old Testament, edited by Jack C. Knight and Lawrence A. Sinclair. Father Joe had planned to live the rest of his life at his beloved Nashotah House seminary, where he had been given the use of a house on the seminary grounds after his retirement. However, in 1991, a brash, new, and reactionary faculty member attacked Father Joe's orthodoxy in a classroom lecture, and the gentle old man – now 71 years old and almost blind – refused on principle to confront or combat his colleague publicly. He chose rather to resign his Professorship and to leave the seminary which had been his cherished home for twenty-one years and where he had hoped and intended to die. As he prepared to leave, he said to this writer, 'For twenty years the faculty at the seminary has been like a family. We didn't always agree on everything, but the last thing in the world we would have done is to attack one another. Now that has all changed, and I can no longer be part of what is happening.'"

Joseph F. I. Hunt served as priest-in-charge of the small congregation of Trinity Church, Mineral Point, Wisconsin and remained there until his death on March 13, 1993 -- "just before the colleague who had attacked him was discharged from the seminary faculty", as Fr. John Julian notes.

A "famous man" like Michael Jackson? Probably not. But Joseph Frederick Ignatius Hunt is obviously worthy of Sirach's highest praises, and ours.

(Source: Fr. John Julian, Stars In A Dark World)

John: The Prophet of the Most High

"The time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son.

Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown

his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her..."

(Luke 1:57-80)

God has visited God's people: and we are sons and daughters, prophets.

Both Elizabeth and her husband, Zechariah, his tongue loosed from not being able to speak, assure those gathered for their new son's circumcision that his name is John, despite some of their traditionalist relatives' attempts to impose his father's name. For this child and his family, it's definitely not business as usual. As his name Yehohanan implies, "God is gracious", "God has granted favor". The time of the Promised One has begun, with the birth of his forerunner.

All the signs were there: joy, rapidly-spreading news, astonishment, a time of fruitfulness, the prophetic word being heard again, God's presence responding to every human need. In the olden days there had been great activity and the influence of mighty prophets such as Isaiah, Ezekiel, Hosea, Jeremiah, etc. Then for a long time God was silent and the prophets were mute. Israel, indeed, was a "non-prophet" organization up until John's birth!

The hope of Israel was that the Word of God would make itself heard in the Messiah's time. Luke sees John fulfilling all the preceding prophetic vocations. John is the prophet of the final age, but his birth also inaugurates a new line of prophets: those who follow Jesus and develop into the Church of Pentecost.

A prophet, therefore, is not primarily one who foretells the future, but rather is one who stands in God's place and witnesses by his/her being to the life-giving presence of God's Word in Christ by preaching, witness, and obedience to the Word uttered by the Spirit of God: the powerful and creative Word.

The vision of the prophets in the the new age lies in examining present events and lucidly grasping the relationship of love which God has always willed to have with humankind. All share in the ability to prophesy, each according to the place he or she has in the Body of Christ and how each develops one's talent. You and I, by our baptism, are called to interpret the events of our times through the eyes of faith. Authentic faith is dynamic and growing, always helping the Church act as a light to the nations, even when it prefers not to do so.

There have been many men and women through the centuries who, in the spirit of John the Baptizer, have prophesied. Unfortunately, their "batting average" of being heard seems not to be so good. Nevertheless, we move ahead in faith, hope, and love. In the Eucharist, particularly, we live out what another great prophet, Pope John XXIII, once said: "Ever ready to love people, I stand by the law of the Gospel."