5th Sunday in Ordinary Time - 6 February 2011

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time [Cycle A] - Click here for the Readings

“You are the salt of the earth” - Jesus f. Eminem, Rihanna

Imagine translating Eminem and Rihanna’s song, “Love the way you lie” into a rural Chinese dialect and asking a schoolteacher to read the (translated) lyrics to a group of high school students. Even if the translation were painstakingly undertaken by an experienced interpreter, it would be difficult (probably impossible) for the high school students to get a good feel for the original song. For one thing, the title of the song itself includes a wordplay, a pun— “lie” as it is used here could mean either “to (tell a) lie,” as in, to speak an untruth, or similarly could indicate, “to lie (down)” as in to “lie on the bed.” If you are the Chinese translator, and there two very different verbs you could use, which would you pick? Would you translate the song, “I love the way you tell lies” or “I love the way you lie down?”

Even words like, “love” and “way” would be difficult to translate. As is well known, most other languages like Spanish or Greek have multiple words that English translates as, “love.” In Spanish, it would be amar, querer, or even, encantarse. And Spanish, at least, is a language with Latin roots and a Western alphabet—imagine the challenge of finding the right Chinese character for these complicated and abstract concepts! The word “translate” comes to us from the Latin translatio, which means literally, “to carry across.” Like trying to carry a package of supplies from one side of a river to another, trying to carry a particular concept across the language river almost always results in some loss of the original content. (Think of the way you’d lose part of your supplies every time you forded a river in Oregon Trail.)

Beyond the meaning of the words themselves, there are the other elements of the original song—the rhyming of syllables, the emotion of Eminem’s voice, and the cadence of the beat. Those same words would sound very different if read by William Shatner while a soft piano accompaniment provided the acoustic backdrop, and that’s just if it were read in English. Wordplay is a central component of lyrical art, be it poetry, prose, or music. It is inextricably interwoven in the fabric of the text itself and cannot be separated from the piece without sacrificing some of the integrity of the original content. Several reviews of the music video for “Love the way you lie,” intentionally refer to it as, the “hit video” for “Love the way you lie” because, like the song lyrics, the video visually addresses the topic of domestic violence. (How would one translate that phrase— “hit song” —into another language? Imagine if Derek Jeter put out a pop duo with Lady Gaga. Just think… in the same week, he could have both a “hit single,” and go down in the boxscore as having gone 1 for 3 at the plate with a “hit… single.”)

The challenge of translating “Love the way you lie” for rural Chinese high school students can lend us some insight into the difficulties posed by Biblical translation, which come into play with today’s Gospel passage. We are taking words first spoken as part of a sermon in Aramaic (a regional dialect of ancient Hebrew), but recorded in written form by Matthew in Greek (which uses a different alphabet and has different tenses, moods, etc. from Hebrew) and then translated by modern scholars into contemporary American English. We not only lack a grasp of the original syntactic structure of Aramaic—we do not have possess a complete cultural understanding of the particular paradigm in which the language evolved and through which the first hearers of Jesus’ words would have interpreted their meaning. The only way we can hope to gain a better sense of what Jesus was really getting at is to study the world in which the words were uttered and try to trans-late that meaning to our own time.

There exist many theories of translation, but the two major modes are metaphrasis, also known in linguistic theory as “formal equivalence,” and paraphrasis, or “dynamic equivalence.” Metaphrasis indicates an attempt to translate a passage literally, word for word, whereas paraphrasis (which should look familiar to us English speakers as “paraphrase”) focuses on getting the original point across as effectively as possible in the language of the hearer, even if that means sacrificing some of the literal-ness of the translation. In the Gospel passage above, the translators have gone the latter root, attempting to render the saying of Jesus in terms that will make the most sense to the modern American. In doing so, however, they may have altered the meaning of Jesus’ words.

The original sentence is better translated as, “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?” By choosing to translate saltiness, that is, “that which makes it salt,” into “flavor,” or “taste,” the editor is focusing on salt as an item that we use to add flavor to food. Which, of course, is how most Americans think of salt. But it’s not how most ancient Mediterraneans viewed salt. They would have heard something different.

Like the word, “lie” in English, the original Aramaic word translated as “earth” here has multiple possible meanings. One is ground or earth. But the other is “earthen oven.” Ancient Palestinian ovens were not built out of brick or metal; they were small, hollowed out hillsides dug out of the earth. Furthermore, these ovens were not fueled by wood—wood is scarce in the Holy Land, and because it is so valuable, it is only used for things like constructing fishing boats. They could not afford to burn it—it was far too precious. So, like the Native Americans who burnt buffalo chips on the Great Plains, these Mediterraneans would have used animal dung to fuel their ovens. But in order to burn the dung, it was necessary to put bricks of salt in the base of the oven to serve as a catalyst.

Thus, a better translation of Jesus’ words might read, “You are the (catalyst) of the (oven). But if you lose (your ability to stoke the fire), what good are you?” This interpretation would seem to fit much better with Jesus’ other sayings, for instance, “I have come to set the earth (oven) on fire—how I wish it were already blazing!” (Luke 12:49) Plus, it makes far more sense that Jesus would move from talking about salt as a catalyst for the fire, to then telling the disciples that they are the fire of a lamp, and that they are to be “the light of the world.” (see today’s Gospel).

So, one interpretation of today’s Gospel is that Jesus is telling his disciples—”You are the catalyst for the oven! I am the initial spark that lights the fire, but you all are what is going to keep it burning. Long after the initial lighting of the fire (i.e. Jesus’ life on earth), there will have to be blocks of salt (you, disciples) to keep that fire burning.” His words did not just apply to the first disciples—they’re aimed at all of us as followers of Christ. Twenty centuries later, it is up to us to be the salt (the catalyst) that keeps the fire burning.

Reflection Questions

1. How might you be called to be a catalyst in the world around you? In science, catalysts are agents of change—they are substances that cause reactions in their surrounding environment without being destroyed in the process. How might you—a young adult of faith—be called to be an agent of change in the world around you, whether on campus at the University of Michigan, or in the larger American society?

2. Jesus warns that, once the salt has “lost its saltiness,” it is no longer good for anything. How might you serve as a catalyst for the fire without yourself getting “burnt out?” Once you’re burnt out, you will no longer be able to effect that change around you, so how might you care for yourself, to “preserve what makes you effective?”

** For further reading on cultural tools to translate the Scriptures, I highly recommend John Pilch's book, The Cultural Dictionary of the Bible. I am heavily indebted to Professor Pilch (and his colleagues Jerome Neyrey and Bruce Malina) for these weekly reflections. Check out his take on Salt of the Earth here!

4th Sunday in Ordinary Time - 30 January 2011

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time [Cycle A] - Readings

"Blest are they..."

Like many languages, Greek does not have one “past” tense but two—the aorist and the imperfect. Analogous to the preterite in Spanish, the aorist indicates a one-time action with a definite conclusion. The imperfect, by contrast, has the connotation of an activity that an individual was in the habit of doing regularly over a period of time. For example: “On the evening of the Michigan State hockey game, I walked past Yost Arena and saw all sorts of people pouring through the streets.” (That would be in the aorist—it refers to a particular instance.) Versus, “When I was a senior in college living on South State Street, I walked past Yost to get to class in the morning.” (The tense is the same, “I walked,” but the imperfect form indicates that the action took place repeatedly in the past.) So the opening sentence might bet- ter be translated into English, “When Jesus would see a large crowd gathered to listen to him, he would go up the mountain, and he was in the habit of teaching them the following things.”

Thus, the way to read these sayings, commonly known as “The Beautitudes,” is to understand that, over the course of his many public lectures, Jesus repeatedly articulated these core teachings. Matthew sets the sermon, “on the Mount” (whereas in Luke it is “on a plain”) because Matthew is writing for a predominantly Jewish audience, for whom he is attempting to craft the narrative that Jesus is a modern-day successor to Moses. God called Moses up the mountain, and Moses returned to the people bearing the Law that would form the basis of God’s unique covenant with the people Israel. The analogy is unambiguous: Moses, prophet of God, ascends a mountain and comes down with a set of instructions for how the people ought to behave in relationship to God and one another; Jesus, prophet of God, goes up onto a moun- tain and likewise lays down a set of instructions. So what is the nature of Jesus’ list, and how does it relate to the laws of the Old Testament?

The Law (“Torah”) given to Moses is a code of social conduct meant to help the people Israel live together in harmony and stability. The ancient Israelites existed in a world marked by tribal conflict, scarce resources, and perpetual uncertainty. Water was the most valuable commodity around, so if a neighboring clan found out that your tribe had access to a stable water supply (and thus could not only provide water for hydration, but also to irrigate fields and nourish livestock) you were likely to be under a constant threat of attack. Therefore, each tribe was only as strong as the number of sword-wielding young men it could produce. Essential to the survival of any tribe was social cohesion, so any type of activity that might tear families asun- der or threaten the long-term survival of the tribe was prohibited.

The laws contained in Leviticus and Deuteronomy thus reflect the basic social norms necessary to prevent the whole tribe from devolving into internal conflict and dissension. The familiar phrasing, “You shall not,” could have been conjoined with the suffix, “or else...” (the whole society could collapse). For instance, “You shall not commit adultery,” or else the guy whose wife you slept with, as well as the (now-dishonored) woman’s brothers, are going to come after you and try to kill you, which your own sons and brothers aren’t going to allow, so next thing you know, the whole tribe is preparing for an all-out brawl a la a modern gang war.

Jesus’ set of instructions differ dramatically. Cast in the affirmative, they describe a totally different way of being in the world. If Leviticus and Deuteronomy are concerned with basic survival, the Beautitudes elucidate how to achieve human flourishing. The construction, “Blessed are” indicates that those whose behavior conforms to the following way-of-being-in- the-world (poor in spirit, clean of heart, making peace, et al) lead lives of authentic human happiness. Jesus announces just several lines later in the Sermon on the Mount, “I came not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it.” The Law is still operant, because it continues to help people live together in a community. But merely following the Law does not lead to a maximally fulfilling human life. When asked about the joys of his marriage, no loving husband would think it adequate to respond, “Well I’ve never committed adultery.” Likewise, if you were to go home over Thanksgiving break your freshman year of college, and your family were to ask, “Have you formed a community in your dorm?” and you were to respond, “Well I haven’t committed arson or stolen anyone’s ipod,” they undoubtedly would look at you quizzically. Simply not breaking the law does not constitute the fullness of flourishing. Being part of a fulfilling community of friends is an affirmative way of being in the world (e.g making cookies together before Christmas and going out for movie nights on the weekend).

Jesus, too, recognizes that a truly human life is not constituted by merely obeying rules, but by living affirmatively. Flourishing in relationship to one’s neighbors doesn’t simply entail not murdering them—it calls us to construct a culture of peace. The Greek word for peace in this instance connotes not just the absence of outward violence, but a robust collaboration and friendship. Thus, there are laws and rules that serve as the minimalistic framework to safeguard everyone’s basic rights, but on top of that there is a set of things that cultivate community and lead to greater happiness. If it were translated to the modern era, the Mosaic Law would be things like, “Don’t eat food from the community fridge that’s not yours,” and “Don’t blast your music at 3 am during exam week.” The Beatitudes, on the other hand, might be some- thing to the effect of, “Happiest are the hallways (or houses) where, when one person is having a lousy week, the others take her out to dinner,” or, “Most successful are the offices where co-workers communicate their frustrations directly to one another and work together to find mutually beneficial solutions.”

With the Beatitudes, then, Jesus is setting forth a set of guiding principles by which the happi- est, most fulfilled people live their lives. If you met a personal trainer who was in fantastic shape, and you asked him, “How do I get into that kind of shape?” and all he responded was, “Stay away from fast food; don’t drink too much; and try to avoid long periods on the couch,” you’d come away feeling like that wasn’t enough. Those “You shall not” type instructions might ward off BAD health, but they wouldn’t necessarily lead you to the sort of peak physical fitness you’re after. Rather, he would have to add, “Try to get in 45 minutes of cardio every day, followed by a rotation of yoga, free weights, and balance exercises. Also, integrate more leafy green vegetables into your diet and take a daily multivitamin.” The Beatitudes are akin to the latter—guides to help us get into the best possible “human” shape, and they take work.

Reflection Questions

1. What might “being a peacemaker” look like in your personal day-to-day life? How could you promote a culture (within your family, among your friends, at your work) of coopera- tion and lack of conflict?

2. Being “clean of heart,” meant to have pure, unadulteratedly good intentions. (For instance, in offering to walk a friend home from a party, you are not operating out of some ulterior motive; or in signing up to do service over spring break, you intend to offer your time and talent to those in need, and not because you wish to feel superior to “self-centered” peers who are spending the week drunk on a beach.) Are there areas in your life that your inten- tions could be more pure?

3. If Jesus were here today, talking to an audience of you and your peers, what do you think some modern-day Beatitudes might look like?

3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time - 23 January 2010 [Cycle A]

Third Sunday of Ordinary Time [Cycle A] - Readings

"Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men"

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” is one of the best-known and most pithy statements attributed to Jesus. Elegant in its syntactic simplicity and potent in its metaphorical meaning, the dictum demands a deeper analysis than mere cleverness with language. Biblical commentators agree that Jesus’ sayings are often fraught with multiple layers of meaning, and he made frequent use of the subtexts and tacit connotations of words in order to convey incredibly complicated concepts in remarkably accessible terms.

Jesus’ audience was composed primarily of peasants—farmers and fishermen, most of whom probably unable to read, and few of whom would have boasted anything beyond superficial understanding of Jewish law. These were not individuals who had the time to spend poring over the Scriptures, engaging in the type of conversation that might take place in a Jerusalem synagogue between educated elites. Rather, they were poor laborers whose entire daily existence was devoted to scraping sufficient fruit from the soil or wrestling enough fish out of the sea to maintain their meager existence.

Therefore, in attempting to communicate the truths of the Kingdom to his listeners on a hillside in Capernum along the Sea of Galilee, it would have profited Jesus very little to employ the sort of formal language more appropriate to conversation with a learned audience, such as the Scribes. Instead, Jesus told stories. He was a master storyteller, integrating imagery from the surrounding culture and utilizing it to explain immensely complex ideas like Divine justice and eternal life. Jesus’ singular gift was his ability to conscript familiar experiences—a vineyard that has been overrun by weeds or a shepherd who has lost his sheep—and to bring the Good News of God to the people in the world in which they actually lived. Each story sought to communicate a set of insights, and likewise, the story of the call of the first disciples can be read as parable in its own right.
A bit of unpacking might help us understand what, exactly, the story might be telling us about what it is to be called to be a disciple of Jesus.

The first item worth noting is that Jesus calls the disciples, which is a bit unusual. Ancient teachers often developed followings, but most often it was the disciples who sought out the teacher, much the way that college students interested in graduate study might seek out a particular professor at another university, hoping to apprentice themselves to that individual and learn from her/him. How odd would it be if the Distinguished Chair of International Law at Columbia or a Professor of Particle Physics at Cal Tech showed up at the dorm room of a 19 year old sophomore and said, “Come follow me, and I will teach you what I know.” It would have struck the initial audience as equally fascinating that Jesus sought out these disciples, rather than the other way around. Clearly, there is a notion with respect to vocation that God calls us—whether we’re looking to be called or not!

The next facet of the story worth highlighting is the type of person Jesus calls to his ministry. Fishermen could run the gamut from hired hands whose payment depended primarily on the largesse of the boat’s owner—and who consequently often existed at the limits of starvation for their efforts—to larger co-ops of families that owned several boats and made a decent living off of the sea. Either way, the life of a fisherman was a decidedly unglamorous one. One we might today consider “blue collar” or “working class.” Jesus did not recruit the upper echelon, the rich or well-educated, to form his circle. Rather, he sought out a group whose apt description might be: staggeringly ordinary. It would be as though he went to U-M, and rather than recruiting the Dean of the Law School and the Chair of the Cardiology Department, he asked the Administrative Assistant in the Office of Student Affairs and the night-time janitor at Mott’s to join him. It should be apparent that being called to discipleship of Jesus is in no way correlative to one’s social status or the rank to which one has risen in the estimation of the “secular” culture.

Finally, what about being a fisherman made these individuals uniquely suited to join Jesus in his ministry? As noted previously, the story of the call of these disciples can be read as a parable itself, and each element of a parable is carefully constructed to convey an important insight. The theologian William Barclay offers a trenchant observation on the particular qualities of fishermen that correlate to the experience of “fishing” [for] “men,” among them: Patience—fishing requires immense patience for the moment when the fish will bite; sharing in Jesus’ ministry to the wider world likewise requires this trait, as anyone who has engaged in preaching or service or ministry can attest. Oftentimes, the fruits of these labors are not immediate, but take weeks, months, even years to manifest the results.

Related to patience is the need for persistence—fishermen may spend many days in a row without a single bite, and it can wear on the spirit. Moments of hopelessness and despair are common among those commissioned to carry out Jesus’ work—so having the perseverance to push through these exhausting and seemingly unproductive periods is essential. Beyond these, a fisherman must possess courage—as evidenced both in the Gospel story of the storm on the Sea of Galilee and the contemporary television shows chronicling modern day fishermen, crabbers, and the like, the sea can be a violent, dangerous place. Likewise, the life of a Christian can be a tumultuous one, as witness to the Gospel often elicits the ire of those around us. Those who have sought to speak truth to friends, family, and larger society frequently find themselves on the receiving end of unpleasant reactions, so courage to continue in this undertaking is crucial.

Moreover, the fisherman must understand that timing is key—there are times in the natural cycle of their target population that the fish simply won’t bite. Knowing that it would be fruitless to attempt to fish at these times, the fisherman learns to undertake his efforts at the times that might yield the best results. Likewise, there are times when it would be imprudent to attempt to have a conversation on faith with a co-worker or to talk to a loved one about a concern. The “truth” of one’s message notwithstanding, the importance of timing with respect to the efficacy of the conversation cannot be overstated. Finally, the fisherman understands that different types of fish require different lures, different nets, different strategies. One wouldn’t use the same line and bait for an ocean tuna as a freshwater trout, nor would it make any sense for us to use the exact same “strategy” with respect to everyone we are trying to engage. The success of evangelization often comes down to the ability of the minister to tailor his or her message and tactics to the particular person or audience s/he is hoping to reach.

Thus, from a sentence as simple as, “Come follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” we are able to extract an enormous amount of insight into discipleship. We are informed that Jesus calls not the powerful or elite of society, but ordinary persons. Moreover, he goes out to meet them where they are at, instead of requiring them to come searching for him. Jesus calls us—whether we are looking to be called or not. And, finally, we gain some sense of what sorts of traits will be necessary for success in our ministry—patience, perseverance, courage, and an ability to tailor our undertaking to the proper time, using the right tactics, for each distinctive population we encounter. Jesus does not simply call 1st century Jews around a lake in Galilee. He calls each of us, today, in our present lives, to some unique form of discipleship—even if we’re not looking to be called.

Reflection Questions

1. Do you feel like God has ever called you to something? What was your experience of this call? What were you asked to do?

2. How would you define being a “follower of Christ?” to someone who asked? What does a (general) call to follow Christ look like? And what does the particular call for YOU (specifically) look like?

3. What sorts of traits do you think would be helpful for spreading the Gospel in your own life? What traits do you already have God might want to use? Which ones might he want you to cultivate more?

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - 16 January 2011 [Cycle A]

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time [Cycle A] - Readings

God's call... and our response

Humans have always had a robust sense of destiny. The notion that individuals are born to fulfill a particular purpose in the order of the universe and to carry out a unique mission in the course of human history. The ancient Greeks described mythic heroes like Perseus, Hercules, and Achilles as having been born to lead their fellow mortals in clashes with the gods or to liberate their people from the oppression of a tyrant ruler.
The ancient Israelites, too, shared this notion, plainly on display in the Hebrew Scriptures as figures like Moses, Sampson, and David, were specifically chosen by God to carry out super-human feats. In our own day, we continue to construct stories about individuals who are pre-destined to fulfill some great cosmic task, whether it be the modern day mythology of a Harry Potter or Superman, or the real-world story of a Mahatma Gandhi or Martin Luther King.

In the vocabulary of Christian experience, we do not usually talk about pre-destination as such, but this notion of vocation, or missioning. And the two major components of vocation, as is the case with all of these figures throughout history, be it Perseus, King David, or Gandhi, are the call and the response. Each of these individuals, at some point in his or her life, felt called to some unique mission, and upon recognizing what that mission would be, had to make a decision about whether or not to accept it. The call is only one piece of the vocation—nothing is guaranteed. The individual still has the choice to accept or decline the task set before him/her.

Furthermore, acceptance of the task, more often than not, entails great personal sacrifice, sometimes even physical danger. Those who end up becoming recounted as heroes, whether in folklore or high school history textbooks, are they who, knowing what the mission will demand of them, nevertheless take up the challenge and use their unique gifts to carry it out to the best of their ability.

Today’s Scripture passages are focused on this notion of vocation, and, more specifically, the dual components of call and response. The prophet Isaiah speaks of being “formed in the womb” to carry out a particular mission to the people Israel; that before he even was born, Isaiah was called to fulfill a unique role on earth. The Psalmist enthusiastically proclaims, “Here I am Lord—I come to do your will!” S/he too recognizes that the Lord has a specific design for his/her life, and that his/her greatest fulfillment will be found in carrying out the Lord’s will.

Paul, likewise, describes himself as being “called to be an apostle,” and throughout his letters, we constantly are reminded that his conversion was not happenstance, nor his activities arbitrary. His call was specific—carry the Gospel to all the nations—and personal—given to him by Christ Jesus Himself. Paul’s was not some vague sense that he was destined for great things, or that he ought to use his talents to help the world around him. Instead, his was an intimate encounter with Jesus that led to a mission tailored to his unique skills and energy.

Finally, in the Gospel, we see two instances of vocation—one of John the Baptist, who quite clearly understood that his role was to “Prepare the way of the Lord,” and Jesus, whose mission to bring the Good News was just beginning. But for each of the above— and for all figures in the Scripture and saints throughout history—there has been not only God’s call, but the individual’s response. Mary had to say, “Yes,” to the angel Gabriel, and Joseph similarly had to agree to it. Moreover, the response is not a one-time event. To sign one’s name and be done with it. Rather, response is a daily activity that requires ongoing investment and trust.

Much the same way that a marriage is not simply the saying of the vows, “I do,” but the re-commitment every single day for the rest of the partners’ lives to live out those vows, so, too, response to vocation is an all-consuming, every day activity.

Being a lawyer does not simply mean passing the bar; it entails waking up every morning and deciding anew to practice the law, much the same way that being a Christian does not merely entail being Baptized, but demands that we intentionally carry out our daily activities—every single day—in a manner that might be characterizable as “being Christ to those around us.”

Paul and Mary were lucky. Paul got knocked off his horse and had Jesus tell him explicitly what He wanted Paul to do. Likewise, Mary received a direct explanation from the angel Gabriel what her vocation would entail. Their vocation, their call, was straight- forward and clearly articulated. The same with King David or St. Peter. Few of us can claim that God spoke directly to us, in plain English, and detailed His design for our lives. Instead, part of our challenge is the process of discernment... of being attentive to the way God communicates His plan for us using the experiences of our every day lives.

If you are intellectually excited by the study of anatomy, perhaps God is hinting that He could use your talents as a physician or nurse. If you are brought great joy by one on one counseling your friends during a particularly rough week of their lives, maybe God would like to use you as a counselor, social worker, or minister of some sort. Many Christians would claim that God plants desires deep within our soul—to have children, to study at college, to work in a particular profession—precisely because He has a plan for our lives, and His plan is made manifest to us through our deepest desires. Truth be told, most of us will not have vocations that land us in history textbooks or see us depicted by Hollywood—most vocations are far more “ordinary,” though no less important, and fre- quently no less challenging. The key for us is to be attentive to where God is calling us— and then to give our response, a response that will require us to work every day for the rest of our lives to carry out that unique mission God has designed for our lives.

Reflection Questions

1) How would you define the notion of vocation to a non-Christian friend?

2) Do you feel a sense of vocation in your own life? If so, to what?

3) St. Paul and Mary both had explicit revelations to describe their vocations, but most of us have to do a bit more work to discern God’s will. How do you try to be attentive to God’s plan for your life?

4) Do you ever struggle with this sense of being called? In what way?