David’s Forty Year Reign

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“David rested with his ancestors and was buried in the City of David.
The length of David’s reign over Israel was forty years:
he reigned seven years in Hebron
and thirty-three years in Jerusalem.”  ( 1 Kings 2:12) (Thursday)

The Jewish scriptures we read this week in our lectionary describe the period of David’s life after his adultery and his murder of Uriah till his death and the succession of Solomon, his son. They recall the tragic death of his son, Absalom, (Tuesday), and his fear he has overstepped the will of God by calling for a census of his people.(Wednesday) The king faces the consequences of his sin and the pride that led to his fall. 

The reading for Friday from the Book of Sirach is a final appraisal of David, full of praise for him, dwelling on his achievements, not his failures. As a youth he felled Goliath , as a warrior he won battles and the praise of women who “praised him when they praised the Lord.”

He raised the standard of religious life in his kingdom: ” He set singers before the altar and by their voices  he made sweet melodies, He added beauty to the feasts and solemnized the seasons of each year.”

He passed on his wisdom to his son and urged him to serve God. 

The scriptures see mostly the triumph of God’s grace in David and not his sins. Only one line in its praise does the reading from Sirach mention his sin:

“The Lord forgave him his sins
            and exalted his strength forever;
He conferred on him the rights of royalty
            and established his throne in Israel.” (Sirach 47:11)

The Jewish scriptures have a wonderful way of telling the story and letting you see on your own what it means – and question what you read. A secular appraisal of David today, delving into his mind and the events of his life, would make the story of the murder and adultery the main focus for viewing him. Not so the scriptures.

The Garments of Christ: Mark 5, 21-43

Our readings this week from chapters 5 and 6 of Mark’s gospel begin: “They came to the other side of the sea, to the territory of the Gerasenes.” That’s pagan territory. Chapter 6 of Mark’s gospel begins: ”He departed from there and came to his native place, accompanied by his disciples.”

Two important destinations for us, as well. Our native place, where we usually live,  and the world beyond. The readings this week show two worlds.

The two miracles of Jesus in Mark’s gospel for Tuesday take place “in his native place.” Jesus brings a little girl who died back to life. A dramatic story. The other miracle isn’t so dramatic. As Jesus goes to the little girl’s house, a woman comes up behind him. She’s been hemorrhaging blood for twelve years. She touches his garment and she’s cured.

No one in the crowd seems aware of what happened, except Jesus, who commends the woman for her faith. Power went out from him and cured her.

A miracle, yes, but not one you’d compare to what happened to the little  girl who was raised from the dead.   

Yet, the two stories are linked together in Mark’s Gospel. Why?  

Years ago I visited the catacombs in Rome where early Christians buried their dead. Over one of the graves in the 4th century Catacombs of Marcellinus and Peter was a simple picture of a woman touching the garments of Jesus, the story from our gospel. Why was it there, I wondered?

Other pictures in the catacombs were clearly messages about death. Jonah is saved from the belly of the whale,  the three children in Babylon are saved from the fiery furnace,  Lazarus comes out of the tomb. How does the picture of woman belong with them?

Is she saying to those resting here that you don’t have to see Jesus face to face to be saved by his power? She simply touched his garments. The Christians resting there never saw his face either, but they listened to his word; they knew him in sacraments–they touched his garments. They knew Jesus in signs and were saved by his power.

The Christians buried there were baptized in Christ with water; they received his body and blood in signs of bread and wine, they heard his word. Like the woman they touched his garments and the power of Jesus went out to them.

The Gospel of Mark was written in Rome around the year 70, many scholars say. By then most people who knew Jesus physically had passed on. Now I’m not a scholar by any means, but I wonder did Mark keep these two stories together to affirm what Christians of Rome believed. Jesus brought life to the little girl; he also brought life to the woman who touched his garments, and to all who touch his garments.

In preparing the Catechism of the Catholic Church for publication after the Second Vatican Council the authors of the catechism told publishers to put that picture from the catacombs of the woman touching the garments of Jesus at the beginning of its section on the sacraments.

The woman’s an image of a church that knows Jesus through signs, through sacraments. She’s an example of faith that believes Jesus really comes to us through signs.  They’re like the garments of Jesus the woman touched, which brought her life before she saw him face to face.  They also bring us life and the promise of seeing God face to face.

Presentation of Jesus in the Temple: February 2

Model of Jerusalem Temple, Israel Museum

We celebrate the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple February 2nd, 40 days after his birth. St. Luke describes it in his gospel. (Luke 1-2) Our Christmas decorations may be down, but this event for Luke is a highlight of his Christmas story. The temple in Jerusalem is more important for him than the stable in Bethlehem. 

Archeologists have reconstructed a model of the temple then (Above) that may help us see why. The temple dominated the city Jerusalem . God was present here, “my Father’s house” Jesus called it when visiting as a young boy, listening to its teachers and asking them questions. (Luke 2: 25-41) In Luke’s Gospel the angel announces John’s birth to the priest Zachariah there. ( Luke 1: 5–25) Jesus is presented as an infant there. ( Luke 2: 25-38) For Luke the temple has a central role in the mission of Jesus.

At the outset of his ministry in Galilee, Jesus said that his “exodus”– his death and resurrection, must take place in Jerusalem. He died and rose again as the Passover was celebrated in the temple. (Luke 22:1) His followers prayed there as they waited to be “clothed with power from on high. “ ( Luke 24: 49) After his ascension into heaven, they “ then returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple praising God. (Luke 24, 52-52) Their first vibrant proclamation of the gospel takes place there after receiving the Holy Spirit.

Luke’s account of Jesus’ Presentation in the Temple initiates this relationship. Luke doesn’t dwell on the ritual when Mary and Joseph present the Child. He doesn’t give us the name of the priest or describe what Mary and Joseph do. At the heart of his story, God reveals himself through the Infant to two elderly Jews, Simeon and Anna, who wait patiently for the Messiah.

They’ve waited for years, but long waiting has not dulled their eyes. Waiting has made them sharper; they see salvation in this little infant, ” a light of revelation to the gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”

True, though, waiting can dull our eyes? Year by year can diminish what we expect and hope for. Day after day, faith can get tired. Prayers can become rote, sacraments routine. A holy place just another place.

Not so for these two elderly Jews. Their steady presence in the temple made them sharper, quicker to recognize the light that came to that place. Hopefully, it will be the same for us.

We bless candles today, praying that our churches and homes may be places to see the light of Christ and recognize his will for us and our world. May the temple of God we are also never grow dark, but a place for God to dwell.

Simeon holds the Child in his arms; Anna proclaims him to all. Mary, his mother, hears the prophecy that a sword will pierce her heart as she shares the life, death and resurrection of this Child. A beautiful example for us.

Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, Rembrandt

This feast is an ancient feast celebrated by Christian Churches of the east and west. It calls for a procession after blessing candles. Early in the 5th century, Christians in Jerusalem went in procession this day from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, symbolically accompanying the Child, Mary and Joseph to the Temple of God, carrying candles to light their way. 

When the feast was celebrated in Rome, the procession took place from the church of St. Simeon in the Roman forum to the church of St. Mary Major on the Esquiline Hill, the church where many early feasts of Mary found a home. 

Forgetful Listeners

One thing that happens to us all–more so as we get older–is we forget. We forget where we put things, what we’re supposed to do –even what day it is. We are forgetful people.

There are many degrees of forgetfulness. There’s a natural forgetfulness, but also there’s a spiritual forgetfulness.

They tell a story about one of the early desert saints– John the Short. John had a good spiritual guide to whom he went for advice; he listened carefully to everything he was told, but then as soon as he went out the front door he forgot everything that was said. It happened again and again. Finally, John gave up and stopped going.

One day his spiritual guide met him and asked where he’d been. John said it’s no use. “I don’t remember what you tell me.”

His guide told him to come into his house and he took him into the room where they prayed. There was one candle lit in the room, but all around were other candles unlit. “Take the light from the one candle and light all the others,” he tells John. Soon the room was filled with light. “Now take a look at the candle that lit all the rest; is it’s light in any way diminished because it keeps giving its light away?”

“No, it isn’t, and neither am I by giving light to you again and again. That’s what we all have to do here in the desert: to remind each other, because we forget.

That’s what God does for all of us. He reminds us, again and again. “Remember the deeds of the Lord,” the psalms say. How often we hear that word “remember.” How many times does God repeat. “Throw your cares on the Lord, and he will support you.” How many times do we hear words like that. How many times does Jesus take a child and put him in our midst and remind us to be children? How many times does he say “Do this in memory of me.”

Some people say prayers are only routine. They’re not. We say them because we forget. We’re “forgetful listeners.”

4th Sunday a: Sermon on the Mount

For this week’s homily please watch the video below.

St. John Bosco, January 31


St. John Bosco, (1815-1888) was born in northern Italy, then experiencing the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution. His father died when he was two and he was brought up by his mother who struggled financially raising him, yet took care he had a good religious and humanistic education.

At twenty, John entered the seminary and once ordained a priest he devoted himself to helping young men living in a society moving from farms to factories, from an apprentice-based economy to one based on machines. He provided for their education and spirituality. He was joined by Mother Mary Dominic Mazzarello who took on the education of young women.

As young Italians began to immigrate to other countries in search of work, John Bosco and his companions accompanied them to North and South America. The Salesian community he founded spread throughout the world as educators and missionaries.

The opening prayer for his feast calls John Bosco “a teacher and father of the young.” He believed firmly that young people needed a good educational formation, but he also believed they needed teachers who took a fatherly interest in them, as God is Father of us all.

“The young should know that they are loved,” he said. As a boy he himself knew what the loss of father meant. As a young man he enjoyed circus entertainers, so he knew we need entertainment. But he also said, “ I do not recommend penance, but work, work, work.”

“Let us regard those boys over whom we have some authority as our own sons. Let us place ourselves in their service. Let us be ashamed to assume an attitude of superiority. Let us not rule over them except for the purpose of serving them better.

This was the method that Jesus used with the apostles. He put up with their ignorance and roughness and even their infidelity. He treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalised, and still others to hope for God’s mercy. And so he bade us to be gentle and humble of heart.” (Letter, John Bosco)

The church must always look at the “signs of the times in the light of faith.” We pray for people like John Bosco to meet the needs of the young today.

Be Merciful, O Lord, For We Have Sinned

David penitent


Because Jesus is often called “Son of David” in the New Testament and so many of the psalms are attributed to David, we may tend to idealize the great king. David united the tribes of Israel and established a nation with its capitol in Jerusalem. Jesus himself appealed to David’s example when his enemies accused his hungry disciples of eating grain on the Sabbath.

Yet, the long narrative we read in the Book of Samuel today and tomorrow at Mass offers a darker picture of the famous king– he was a murderer and an adulterer. David had Urriah the Hittite, a faithful soldier in his army, killed so that he could have Bathsheba, his wife. (2 Samuel 11, 1-17)

Psalm 51 is the response we make at Mass after listening to the king’s sordid deed. Tradition says it’s David’s own response after he realized what he had done. The Book of Psalms calls Psalm 51: “A psalm of David when Nathan the prophet came to him after he had gone in to Bathsheba.”

“Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness;
in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense.
Thoroughly wash me from my guilt
And of my sin cleanse me.”

The psalm, the first of the Seven Penitential Psalms, asks God to take away both the personal and social effects of our sin, for our sins do indeed have emotional, physical and social consequences. Only God can “wash away” our guilt and cleanse our heart. Only God can “rebuild” the walls that our sins have torn down and the lives they have harmed. Only God can restore joy to our spirits and help us “teach the wicked your ways, that sinners may return to you.” Only God can bring us back to his friendship.

In the scriptures, David is a complex figure– a saint and a sinner. He’s also a reflection of us all. That’s why our response in the psalm at Mass today takes the form that it does –

“Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.”

Scripture and Tradition

Here’s Pope Leo latest reflection of the documents of the Second Vatican Council at his Wednesday audience yesterday, on the important subject of scripture and tradition:

“Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

Continuing our reading of the Conciliar Constitution Dei Verbum on Divine Revelation, today we will reflect on the relationship between Sacred Scripture and Tradition. We can take two Gospel scenes as a backdrop. In the first, which takes place in the Upper Room, Jesus, in his great discourse-testament addressed to the disciples, affirms: “These things I have spoken to you, while I am still with you. But the Counsellor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. … When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth” (Jn 14:25-26; 16:13).

The second scene takes us instead to the hills of Galilee. The risen Jesus shows himself to the disciples, who are surprised and doubtful, and he advises them: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations … teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Mt 28:19-20). In both of these scenes, the intimate connection between the words uttered by Christ and their dissemination throughout the centuries is evident.

It is what the Second Vatican Council affirms, using an evocative image: “There exists a close connection and communication between sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture. For both of them, flowing from the same divine wellspring, in a certain way merge into a unity and tend toward the same end” (Dei Verbum, 9). Ecclesial Tradition branches out throughout history through the Church, which preserves, interprets and embodies the Word of God. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (cf. no. 113) refers, in this regard, to a motto of the Church Fathers: “Sacred Scripture is written principally in the Church’s heart rather than in documents and records”, that is, in the sacred text.

In the light of Christ’s words, quoted above, the Council affirms that “this tradition which comes from the Apostles develops in the Church with the help of the Holy Spirit” (Dei Verbum, 8). This occurs with full comprehension through “contemplation and study made by believers”, through “a penetrating understanding of the spiritual realities which they experience” and, above all, with the preaching of the successors of the apostles who have received “the sure gift of truth”. In short, “the Church, in her teaching, life and worship, perpetuates and hands on to all generations all that she herself is, all that she believes” (ibid.).

In this regard, the expression of Saint Gregory the Great is famous: “The Sacred Scriptures grow with the one who reads them”. [1] And Saint Augustine had already remarked that “there is only one word of God that unfolds through Scripture, and there is only one Word that sounds on the lips of many saints”. [2] The Word of God, then, is not fossilized, but rather it is a living and organic reality that develops and grows in Tradition. Thanks to the Holy Spirit, Tradition understands it in the richness of its truth and embodies it in the shifting coordinates of history.

In this regard, the proposal of the holy Doctor of the Church John Henry Newman in his work entitled The Development of Christian Doctrine is striking. He affirmed that Christianity, both as a communal experience and as a doctrine, is a dynamic reality, in the manner indicated by Jesus himself in the parables of the seed (cf. Mk 4:26-29): a living reality that develops thanks to an inner vital force. [3]

The apostle Paul repeatedly exhorts his disciple and collaborator Timothy: “O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you” (1 Tim 6:20; cf. 2 Tim 1:12-14). The Dogmatic Constitution Dei Verbum echoes this Pauline text when it says: “Sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture form one sacred deposit of the word of God, committed to the Church”, interpreted by the “living teaching office of the Church, whose authority is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ” (no. 10). “Deposit” is a term that, in its original meaning, is juridical in nature and imposes on the depositary the duty to preserve the content, which in this case is the faith, and to transmit it intact.

The “deposit” of the Word of God is still in the hands of the Church today, and all of us, in our various ecclesial ministries, must continue to preserve it in its integrity, as a lodestar for our journey through the complexity of history and existence.

In conclusion, dear friends, let us listen once more to Dei Verbum, which exalts the interweaving of Sacred Scripture and Tradition: it affirms that they “are so linked and joined together that they cannot stand independently, and together, each in their own way, under the action of the one Holy Spirit, they contribute effectively to the salvation of souls” (cf. no. 10).”

_______________________________

[1] Homiliae in Ezechielem I, VII, 8:  PL 76, 843D.

[2]  Enarrationes in Psalmos 103, IV, 1

[3] Cf. J.H. Newman,  An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, Milan 2003, p. 104.

The Numbers are Down:Mark 4:24-34

The Sower. Jame Tissot

Numbers seem to indicate power and popularity. We think that way; Jesus’ disciples must have thought that way too. In Mark’s gospel Jesus begins his ministry in Capernaum before an enthusiastic crowd. At the end of his first day, the whole town gathers at the door of Peter’s house and word reaches out to other towns and places that a prophet has come. The numbers go up. (Mark 1, 21-34)

But then enthusiasm dies down as Jesus’ authority is questioned. Religious leaders from Jerusalem and the followers of Herod Antipas cast doubts about him. His own hometown, Nazareth, takes a dim view of him.. Gradually, Capernaum and the other towns that welcomed Jesus enthusiastically turn against him. His numbers go down.

Why are the number going down, his disciples must have wondered? It didn’t make sense. Jesus’ answer comes in Mark’s gospel today. God’s kingdom is coming; God is at work in the world, but human beings are mostly unaware of it:


“This is how it is with the Kingdom of God;
it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land
and would sleep and rise night and day
and the seed would sprout and grow,
he knows not how.
Of its own accord the land yields fruit,
first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear.
And when the grain is ripe, he wields the sickle at once,
for the harvest has come.” (Mark 4, 28-34)

Great power is at work in the scattered seed, but we know little how it grows. The seed takes time, with its own law of growth; a great harvest will come, but still there’s mystery we don’t see. We sleep.

Meanwhile, we worry about numbers. Why are growing numbers giving up going to church or synagogue? Why are there so few vocations to our religious communities? So many of the good things in this world seem to be diminishing.

What can we do? Look into the signs of the time. Treasure the seed we have. Scatter it as we can. Be patient as we sleep. The Kingdom of God comes.

Putting in the Seed: Mark 4:1-20

J.Tissot, The Sower, Brooklyn Museum

In one of his poems, “Putting in the Seed,” Robert Frost describes a farmer’s love affair with the earth. It’s getting dark and someone from the house tries fetching him to come in. Supper’s on the table, yet he’s a

“Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.”

Can’t you see that farmer zestfully casting seed on the waiting earth, eagerly watching it to grow? Jesus sees the Sower as an image of God, casting saving grace onto the world in season and out, because he loves it so much.

 If you have ever been to Galilee and seen the lake and the surrounding lands abundant with crops, you know this is a blessed place. It was in Jesus’ time too. Here, the sower scatters his seed with abandon, hardly caring where it goes: on rocky ground, or amid thorns, or on the soil that gives a good return.

God the Sower sows blessed seed, no matter how badly our human world appears, or how badly it receives. In his parables Jesus acknowledges rejection as well as acceptance, but the sower still sows. Grace is never withheld, and that makes us hope.

And is it just the  human world God loves? Doesn’t his love extend to all the earth God calls “good” in the Book of Genesis? We worry about our planet earth, and with reason.  How fragile it has become, what damage we careless humans do! We are concerned rightly for its future.

The nature parables we are reading in Mark’s gospel tell us to hope for our earth too. Though it is not immune from the threat of destruction and degradation, God loves it still. He’s a Sower at work. Blessed be the Lord God of all creation, may you sow your blessings on all.