13th Sunday in OT 2019

This week’s Sunday’s readings begin by recounting Elisha’s reaction to the call to follow Elijah; and in the gospel Jesus gives more information about how we are to answer His invitation to discipleship. Elisha models for us the ideal response … tidy up loose ends, celebrate the call with loved ones, say farewell, and leave your old way of life behind. In fact, the Paulist Biblical Commentary refers to this passage in 1 Kings as a ‘vocation story.’ 

We know the word vocation to refer to a call, profession, mission or ministry; many of us have discerned our vocation. Such experiences of a call from the Lord typically seem to be a specific invitation issued once, with a few clarifying communiques in the course of a life-time.

But the words vocal and voice also share the same Proto-Indo-European root as the word vocation. The shared root means to speak. We may wonder, then, not only the content, the what that the Lord is calling us to do, but about the nature of our Speaker’s Voice.

Before Elijah throws his coat over Elisha, he and the Lord had a fairly extensive tete’-a-tete’ … the Lord prepared Elijah for His presence by stating He would be present but not in the wind or fire or a storm. Although the Lord was often present to the Israelites through these natural phenomenon, He suggests to Elijah, this time He would be present in yet another, additional way, in the no-sound.

Similarly, we too hear the Lord’s voice in storms, the no-sound and the wind. In the New Testament, The Holy Spirit is often compared to wind. 

Wind never really stops. Some days it’s very noticeable, but it is just ‘the flow of gases,’ and truthfully, on planet Earth, gases are always flowing, hence there is air to breathe and carbon-based life-forms survive. But we carbon-based life forms don’t tend to notice the flow of gases.

Jesus says to our three unidentified would-be disciples, in turn, the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head, let the dead bury the dead and whoever puts his hand to the plow but looks to what’s left behind is not fit for the Kingdom. These seem to me to be nuanced and various ways of reminding us time will not stand still, the Kingdom of the Shepherd is here and now, and His voice, His call, His Music, like the Wind, never cease. 

 

Journal Reflection Questions

    1. Where am I in the discernment process of my ‘call?’ Am I listening for a new to-do list, or have I noticed His voice, His call just never ceases to be?
    2. What changes could I make so I am able to hear His voice or notice His Presence more often? What changes could I make so I am able to just sit with Him and enjoy His Presence more frequently?
    3. What might change in my life, if I did so? 

 

© 2019 Marilyn MacArthur, all rights reserved

Fourth Sunday in Lent 2019

Three stand-alone explorations sprung forth from the parable of the prodigal son and on notions of home

 

Thought 1: The Prodigals

The Prodigal Son is referred to as such because, as the first definition of the word prodigal indicates, he has recklessly and wastefully squandered his share of the inheritance. He returns home, but we do not call him the Homecoming Son. He confesses to his father, “I have sinned against Heaven and against you,” but we do not call him the Repentant Son.

He remains to us as the static Prodigal Son. We do not know if the repentance-inspired transformation is permanent, or if it fades as his belly fills. This detail is not overly important.

But this parable contains a Prodigal Father, as well, which is noteworthy.  

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the second definition of the word means having or giving something on a lavish scale. Our Prodigal Father offers grand-scale forgiveness, a lavish banquet, an over-the-top welcome home, while the Prodigal Son personifies gluttony, greed, and selfishness. 

So today, will I be the Prodigal Son or the Prodigal Father?

Reflection Questions for Journaling

      1. When I am prodigal, as in wastefully extravagant, what do I over-do? Because prodigal also means to have or give lavishly, I also ask, what is it I do and/or give lavishly?
      2. The prodigal son came home because he was hungry, but this parable is also the story of our spiritual home-coming. So, I might ask myself, what do I hunger for?

 

Thought 2: What Comes First

The Prodigal Son’s home-coming reminded me, early people had no homes. In modern-day Turkey, there is a pre-pottery Neolithic site, Gobekli-Tepe, 11,000 years old, at which there is archeological evidence of religious belief. The site was inhabited before the domestication of plants and animals, before people ever established homes. “It may be that because so many people were gathered at this site— creating stone rings, carving the standing stones, and so on— that greater supplies of food were needed” (Archaeology, National Geographic & Great Courses, 2016). This lead to the domestication of plants and animals, which lead to the establishment of fixed abodes. 

While we do not know what beliefs they were seeking to express, we know their desire and need to express them was their number one priority, superseding other concerns (such as the available food supply).

Could it be that expression of religious belief is so innate, instinctual, primary, and fundamental to our existence that it must come before we address our other needs? How does this play out, here and now, for you and I?

Reflection Questions for Journaling

      1. Putting aside my actual religious beliefs, for a moment, how does the need to express them impact, guide or shape my life? 
      2. What have been some of the results or consequences of my expressions of religious belief? 

 

Thought 3: A Little Story of Sisterhood

I’d never been on the floor before; it was my first day of a new job. I stepped off the elevator and onto the memory care unit. A woman ran up to me, huge grin on her face, beaming, “How have you been! I’ve been waiting for you; it’s been an age!” Before I could say anything in reply, she told all those around us, “This is my sister! Oh, it’s wonderful to see you!”

There’s a saying, a stranger is a friend not yet met. Therefore, if I follow Christ, a stranger is simply a sister or brother I’ve not met yet. The Lord’s home is Heaven, which makes it our home too, so should I not greet everyone as if I were welcoming my brother or sister, friend or stranger, home and into Heaven? It’s something to strive for, certainly. 

Reflection Questions for Journaling

        • Do I greet others as if I am welcoming home a long-lost friend or relative? 

 

© 2019 Marilyn MacArthur, all rights reserved

In the Fullness of Time

Might an idea contain and carry power so profound and strong it can shove the ground upon which the state of being anchors itself forward or upward a few inches? 

I don’t mean the general endorphin induced euphoric slip which occurs ephemerally, after a really clever thought dances through the cortex. No, life returns to what it was, as these sorts of feelings fade like morning fog in fall.

Don’t get me wrong, such experiences, while spanning only a second or two, are lovely. 

I’m talking about a concept, perhaps it will become a concrete cornerstone, which shifts the internal landscape of the faculties 4 or 5 degrees north, or maybe east, so that all which is surveyed and perceived from then forth will never be again what it would have been or tended to be previously.

The realization regards zoning laws and property lines of the spiritual universe, for in it was constructed untried infrastructure, a contemporary byway and a new but narrow gate into an old abode, a mansion which had stood before the beginning of the creation of day and night. But it had laid empty. 

In the fullness of time, a heartbeat thumps. The moment is no more dramatic for its cruel disregard of the divine dignity of human life than the flash of millennium before it. But a new dawn arrives! The trumpet’s clarion call announces the dismissal of His long lament. “I visit my Kingdom, but my people know me not. They seem so far from me; this not what I want. On top of the basement, on top of Sheol, has always existed the mighty and extensive palace where I dwell. From whence-forth, they will have admittance into Our castle and they may remain with Us for Eternity. We have missed the joyous clamor of the children playing in the garden, dancing through the rooms and hallways.”

How has such a truth escaped me? 

The manor house has always been, I knew that, but I did not understand the path to its door had not already been cut. Indeed, the tree had to be chopped, and the Son split open upon it, for the entrance to be made visual and the traverse to the steps be possible. 

I do not ken how such an old teaching from timeless tutors had slipped by me. I know it now, or maybe again, but will it creep away as the morning fog in fall, or will it remain behind and beckon me forward?

 

© 2019 Marilyn MacArthur, all rights reserved

Third Sunday, Lent 2019

Exodus 3:1-15

To notice the bush is not burning normally, Moses needs to understand general laws of nature, and to observe how the bush in question is behaving differently. And because it must have taken Moses some time to figure it out, the Lord bides His time, patiently waiting to reveal Himself in the not-burning bush.

Robert Alter in the notes included in his translation, “The Five Books of Moses,” explains that because ancient Hebrew’s grammar is constructed differently than modern English, there are often a variety of translations which are accurate and reasonable. While we typically translate God’s name for Himself as I Am Who Am, the following would also be correct: I Will Be Who I Will Be, I Am That I Am, I Am He Who Endures, He Who Brings Things Into Being, and, I Will Be. (Reference #14)

Furthermore, in a similar discussion, the Paulist Biblical Commentary suggests the name the Lord offers as His own is an early form of the Hebrew verb, to be. The commentator writes, “The phrase ‘I Am’ or ‘I Will Be Who I am’ places the focus of God’s name on actions for Israel, and not God’s independent being or essence” (Reference #15). Before offering His name, however, which He does only after Moses demands it, the Lord says, “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry of complaint against their slave drivers, so I know well what they are suffering. Therefore I have come down to rescue them.”

In other words, the Lord self-identifies with the actions He performs on Israel’s behalf, actions intended to save His beloved people. This rescuing continues down through the ages. Jesus’ name, Yeshua, in fact, translates as rescuer, savior.

Until Jesus’ Passion, Resurrection and Ascension, Sheol is it, as far as potential abodes for those who have died; He changes the landscape of the afterlife. The inhabitants of Sheol are not able to gaze upon the Lord’s face, they are not with Him. They did not fail to gain entry into Heaven, because they are somehow lacking or sinful or unrepentant. Not the case. 

The doorway to Eternal Life did not yet exist. Jesus saves us from the otherwise unavoidable situation of separation from Him, from Sheol by providing Himself as the Gateway to a new abode. His self-identifying phrase clearly states the fact of the matter, I Am the Narrow Gate.

It is a small irony then that while Jesus gained for us ‘an afterlife’ where we can dwell with Him, where we need never be without Him, we fail to realize we are already with Him in the here and now. Are we, am I, waiting for Eternal Life to notice the Lord? Could I be failing to notice a not-burning bush at my feet?

 

Reflection Questions for Journaling

      • Am I waiting for Eternal Life to notice the Lord’s presence? 
      • Could I be failing to notice a not-burning bush at my feet? Is the Lord patiently waiting for me to do so? 
      • Referring to Paragraph 2, how do each of the varied translations of God’s name for Himself resonate with me? Do any cause me discomfort? Why?

 

© 2019 Marilyn MacArthur, all rights reserved

Transfiguration 2019

Luke 9:28-36

Hebrew tradition holds that Elijah will appear before the coming of the Messiah and Scripture tells us he was one of only two people who did not die but was taken by God. On the other hand, Moses did die and was buried, as detailed in Deuteronomy, chapter 33. At the time of the Transfiguration, Jesus has not yet died, descended into ‘hell’ and brought those there up to Heaven with Him, therefore, Moses too would have been waiting for the Messiah. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 632-635). So, how does Moses journey from Sheol to the mountaintop; Jesus’ time to release these prisoners has not yet come.

When reading this gospel, we tend to regard Elijah as ‘The Prophet’ and Moses as ‘The Law-giver,’ each representing a vital aspect of Jewish tradition. I would certainly not argue against this, but Moses is also considered a prophet. If I consider his identity as such, I wonder, Why does Jesus appear with a prophet from the dead and a prophet who did not die?

According to Luke, in this mountain-top moment, Elijah, Moses and Jesus are discussing His exodus in Jerusalem. Moses’ presence implies the prisoners in Sheol will also experience an Exodus; Sheol is best understood not as hell or damnation, but rather, ‘an abode of the dead.’ Perhaps, metaphorically, we each have a Sheol within ourselves. 

The Catechism also states, “Those who are there are deprived of the vision of God.” Moses’ presence on the mountain-top says to me, “The time of waiting is soon to be over, you will see Him ablaze with glory! His light will awaken whatever in you sleeps and breathe into you new life.”

 

Reflection Questions for Journaling

    1. Recall three different experiences you had with regard to waiting and then obtaining that which you were ‘waiting for.’ 
    2. After rereading these three experiences, explore the threads and repetitions between them. 

 

© 2019 Marilyn MacArthur, all rights reserved