Dear brothers and sisters, good morning and welcome!

The Conciliar Constitution Dei Verbum, on which we are reflecting during these weeks, indicates in the Sacred Scripture, read in the living Tradition of the Church, a privileged space for encounter where God continues to speak to the men and women of every time, so that, by listening, they can know him and love him. The biblical texts, however, were not written in a heavenly or superhuman language. Indeed, as daily life teaches us, two people who speak different languages cannot understand each other, cannot enter into dialogue, and are unable to establish a relationship. In some cases, making oneself understood to others is a first act of love. This is why God chooses to speak using human languages and thus, various authors, inspired by the Holy Spirit, have written the texts of Sacred Scripture. As the Conciliar document reminds us, “the words of God, expressed in human language, have been made like human discourse, just as the word of the eternal Father, when He took to Himself the flesh of human weakness, was in every way made like men” (DV, 13). Therefore, not only in its content, but also in its language, the Scripture reveals God’s merciful condescension towards men, and his desire to be close to them.

Throughout the course of Church history, the relationship between the divine Author and the human authors of the sacred texts has been studied. For several centuries, many theologians were concerned to defend the divine inspiration of the Sacred Scripture, almost considering the human authors merely as passive tools of the Holy Spirit. In more recent times, reflection has re-evaluated the contribution of hagiographers in the writing of sacred texts, to the point that the Conciliar document speaks of God as the principal “author” of Sacred Scripture, but also calls hagiographers “true authors” of the sacred books (cf.  DV, 11). As a keen exegete of the last century observed, “to reduce human activity to that of a mere amanuensis is not to glorify divine activity”. [1] God never mortifies human beings and their potential!

If, therefore, the Scripture is the word of God in human words, any approach to it that neglects or denies one of these two dimensions proves to be partial. It follows that a correct interpretation of the sacred texts can dispense with the historic environment in which they developed and the literary forms that were used; on the contrary, to renounce the study of the human words that God used risks leading to fundamentalist or spiritualist readings of the Scripture, which betray its meaning. This principle also applies to the proclamation of the Word of God: if it loses touch with reality, with human hopes and sufferings, if an incomprehensible language is used, uncommunicative or anachronistic, it is ineffective. In every age, the Church is called to re-propose the Word of God in a language capable of being embodied in history and reaching hearts. As  Pope Francis reminds us, “Whenever we make the effort to return to the source and to recover the original freshness of the Gospel, new avenues arise, new paths of creativity open up, with different forms of expression, more eloquent signs and words with new meaning for today’s world”.  [2]

Equally reductive, on the other hand, is a reading of Scripture that neglects its divine origin and ends up understanding it as a mere human teaching, as something to be studied simply from a technical point of view or as a text “only of the past”. [3] Rather, especially when proclaimed in the context of the liturgy, Scripture is intended to speak to today’s believers, to touch their present lives with their problems, to enlighten the steps to be taken and the decisions to be made. This becomes possible only when believers read and interpret the sacred texts under the guidance of the same Spirit who inspired them (cf.  DV, 12).

In this regard, the Scripture serves to nurture the life and charity of believers, as Saint Augustine recalls: “Whoever … thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures … but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up this twofold love of God and our neighbour, does not yet understand them as he ought”.  [4] The divine origin of the Scripture also recalls that the Gospel, entrusted to the witness of the baptized, despite embracing all the dimensions of life and reality, transcends them: it cannot be reduced to a mere philanthropic or social message, but is the joyful proclamation of the full and eternal life that God has given to us in Jesus.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us thank the Lord because, in his goodness, he ensures our lives do not lack the essential nourishment of his Word, and let us pray that our words, and even more so our lives, do not obscure the love of God that is narrated in them.

____________________________________________________________________

[1] L. Alonso Schökel,  La parola ispirata. La Bibbia alla luce della scienza del linguaggio ( The Inspired Word. The Scripture in the Light of Language and Literature), Brescia 1987, 70.

[2] Francis, Apostolic Exhortation  Evangelii gaudium (24 November 2013), 11.

[3] Benedict XVI, Post-synodal Apostolic Exhortation  Verbum Domini (30 September 2010), 35.

[4] St. Augustine,  De doctrina christiana I, 36, 40.

Rejected at Nazareth, Jesus “ went around to the villages in the vicinity teaching.” The Sower doesn’t cease to sow, even when the seed falls on hard ground. Neither should we.

Not only does Jesus continue his ministry after Nazareth, but he renews his call to others to join him, our reading today says. (Mark 6, 7-12)

“He summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two.” We shouldn’t think he only spoke to a few choice companions.  Mark includes all his followers with the Twelve; Jesus’ simple summary of instructions is meant for us too. 

Jesus sends the Twelve out “two by two.” How go out “two by two?” We’re meant to have companions in life, in faith and in ministry. As Jesus began his ministry he looked for companions – Peter and Andrew, James and John. (Mark 1: 16-20) and sent them out together. We’re not to be Lone Rangers.

Some say Jesus was like the cynic philosophers of his day, a strong individual holding his own, challenging the norms of his time. Many admire that type today.

But Jesus was not like that, nor does he teach his followers to be like that. 

Like him, they’re to be involved in the world they live in. They’re to come together as a church, a community. 

Like him, his followers are meant to drive out the world’s demons and cure its illnesses. God is their guide and gives food for their journey. God shows the way, providing food, money, the resources they need.

Like Jesus, his followers know the rejection of Nazareth, but “shake the dust from your feet” – they’re meant for other towns.

That’s what Jesus did. That’s what we’re to do. 

February 5, 1597, near Nagasaki, Japan, 26 Christians suffered martyrdom: 6 Franciscan foreigners, 3 Japanese Jesuit catechists (Paul Miki was one of them), and 17 Japanese lay catechists. They were tied and chained to crosses and lanced by a sword.

An eyewitness wrote of Paul Miki: “Our brother Paul Miki as if standing on the noblest pulpit he had ever preached from, began by proclaiming he was a Japanese and a Jesuit and he was dying for the gospel he preached. He gave thanks to God for this wonderful blessing and ended his sermon with these words, ‘As I come to the end of my life you can’t suppose I want to deceive you. And so I tell you plainly there is no other way to be saved except the Christian way. I pardon my enemies and all who offend me, as my faith instructs me. I gladly pardon the Emperor and all who sought my death. I beg them to be baptized and become Christians themselves.’”

Christianity first came to Japan through the efforts of St. Francis Xavier who arrived there in 1549 and left in 1551, after bringing the faith to some 1,000 Japanese. The numbers grew, but Japanese political dissension brought strong opposition to Christianity. In 1587 foreign missionaries were forbidden to enter the country. The martyrdom of the 26 Christians in 1597 was the beginning of a series of persecutions in which thousands of Japanese Christians were cruelly put to death.

The Japanese novelist Shusaku Endo tells the chilling story of one of those persecutions in his novel, Silence (Penguin 1988). The American movie director, Martin Scorsese made a film version of the novel in 2015. The church in Japan has a interesting history.

In the prayer for their Mass, we ask for the courage and faith of the Japanese martyrs:

O God, strength of all the saints,
who through the Cross
were pleased to call the martyrs St. Paul Miki and companions to life,
grant we pray, that by their intercession
we may hold with courage even till death to the faith we profess,
Through our Lord Jesus Christ…

Our church calendar before the Second Vatican Council was heavily weighted with early Roman martyrs and saints from Italy, France and Spain, influential nations in the Roman Catholic Church until recent times.. After the Second Vatican Council our calendar was revised to include saints from other times and other nations, like Japan, in recognition that holiness in the church is universal.

As we celebrate these saints, we’re not only called to remember the deeds of their martyrs, but also to recognize the church they represent. They fulfill Jesus’ command to teach all nations. At the same time, as we look at a church like that in Japan, we recognize the mystery of the work of the Holy Spirit and the complexity of the command to bring the gospel to the ends of the earth.

“Is he not the carpenter, Mary’s son? Where did he get all this?

Mark 6:1-6

Pope John Paul — now St. John Paul — recommended we pray the Rosary as a “School of Mary,” because the rosary Mary teaches us the mysteries of Jesus, her Son. The pope recommended other mysteries besides the oyful, Sorrowful and Glorious Mysteries, namely,  the Luminous Mysteries describing Jesus’ ministry––  the baptism of Jesus, the marriage feast of Cana, the transfiguration of Jesus, his preaching, the Last Supper. Mary helps us understand what these mysteries mean.

Let’s not forget Nazareth which we recall today. Mark and the evangelists Matthew and Luke say that Jesus after his baptism in the Jordan went back to Nazareth and was rejected by those who knew him from childhood. 

“Is he not the carpenter, Mary’s son?  Where did he get all this?”  Over and over the gospels tell us something we wouldn’t expect: that Jesus was rejected in places where he did so much good. The religious leaders reject him almost immediately as he begins his ministry in the towns along the Sea of Galilee. The towns themselves where he healed and taught reject him after he did so much for them. 

Mark’s gospel describes Jesus’ return to Nazareth after he raised a little girl from the dead in Capernaum.The girl’s father, Jairus, was an official in the synagogue at Capernaum, a significant witness to what had happened.

“He’s the carpenter. We know Mary his mother”, they say In Nazareth. Jesus is rejected in his hometown, a rejection he must have felt deeply. 

What about the rejection of Mary, his mother? In our recent feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the temple, the old man Simeon, who took the infant Jesus into his arms, turns to Mary, his mother, and tells her a sword will pierce her heart. 

We think of the sword that pierced her heart as she stood at the cross of her Son, but let’s not forget the sword that pierced Mary’s heart at Nazareth, the sword she felt when her neighbors, the people all around her, her own family, rejected her Son. Mary spent the days of her Son’s ministry in Galilee here where he was not welcome. 

Some women followed Jesus during his ministry, the gospels say, but Mary wasn’t among them. She only saw one miracle of Jesus, at Cana in Galilee, his “time had not come.”he told her. She  never saw him work the miracles he worked in the towns along the Sea of Galilee. She never heard him teach when his time came. She was never in the crowds that flocked around him. She was in Nazareth where they didn’t think much of him. 

Only when he went up to Jerusalem did Mary join the women of Galilee who accompanied him. Then, she took part in his last days when he was arrested and condemned and crucified. She stood beneath his cross. The sword of sorrow pierced her heart. 

I suppose we can say Nazareth. like Calvary, was Mary’s school of faith. Like Calvary, she learned in Nazareth to believe and not see. Nazareth and Calvary were schools of faith for her. “Blessed are they who have not seen, but believe.” 

I think one of Mary’s tasks in our church –– a task more important than ever now–– is to help us to believe even when we do not see, because our world today is like Nazareth, a world believing less and less. 

In the great apparitions of Mary at Lourdes and Fatima, for example, she came to help people, like Bernadette and the little children of Portugal, whose faith was shaken by the unbelief of their time, to believe.  

This is why we honor Mary each Saturday, the day following Friday, the day we honor the Passion of her Son. She helps us to believe.

 “O Lady Mary, thy bright crown is no mere crown of majesty, for with the reflex of his own resplendent thorns, Christ circled thee.”  ( Francis Thompson)

The evangelists Matthew, Mark and Luke all say that Jesus after beginning his ministry went back to Nazareth where he was rejected by those who knew him from childhood. Yet, the evangelists describe the visit taking place at different times.  Mark’s gospel says he returned to Nazareth after he raised a little girl from the dead. A miracle like that would be widely known. The girl’s father, Jairus, was a synagogue official.

Mark also says that before Jesus returned to Nazareth, others were already questioning the marvelous things he did. Scribes from Jerusalem, the religious experts of the time, were warning to keep away from him. So when Jesus visited Nazareth there were suspicions, warnings about him. Still, after raising a little girl to life, you would think he would be well received atNazareth. He wasn’t. 

Over and over Mark’s Gospel tells us what we wouldn’t expect: that Jesus was rejected in places where he went. In Capernaum, he drove out an unclean spirit, cured Peter’s mother-in-law and, at the end of the day, the whole town was at his door. {Mark 1, 16-34) Their enthusiasm doesn’t last, however. Capernaum and other towns in Galilee first receive him, then reject him. (Matthew 11,23)

In pagan territory, on the east bank of the Sea of Galilee, he also meets rejection. He cast out the unclean spirit there, as he did at Capernaum, but when the pigs stampede down into the sea the townspeople ask him to leave. He’s endangering their economy, they say. (Mark 5, 1-20)

Jesus did not have a continual path of success in his ministry, Even his own hometown, his family, don’t receive him well. Final rejection takes place on Calvary in his passion and death, but rejection and misunderstanding meet him all through his public life.

Nazareth had a prominent place in the story of Jesus’ rejection. Later apocryphal gospels dating from the 2nd century relate miraculous deeds Jesus did as a child, but they lack credibility. Jesus did nothing remarkable in his hidden years. He was just “the carpenter’s son”,  the child of Mary and Joseph, hardly noticed, “

Nazareth never seems to have accepted God’s Son. Historians say early Jewish-Christians after his resurrection were expelled from the town. The Christian presence in Nazareth has always been small, even today. Nazareth is part of the scandal of the Incarnation.

Recent commentaries on the Passion of Jesus say we should recognize that mystery of Jesus all through his life, not only as he enters the Garden of Gethsemane, We limit our understanding of Jesus if we see him only as a powerful teacher, a merciful worker of cures, one who commands the wind and the sea. The evangelists remind us that Jesus, “though he was in the form of God “humbled himself.” He carried a silent cross. a cross unseen, before the cross of wood.

February is Black History Month in the USA, a month to remember the accomplishments of  black men and women and the challenge of racism in our society.

Pierre Toussaint, a Haitian who came to New York City in the 18th century is someone who deserves to be known. As a black man and a slave, he was part of New York City’s population that for years went unnoticed and unrecognized. As a Catholic, he belonged to a church that was a suspect minority in New York City after the American Revolution.

Women belonging to New York City’s Protestant establishment were the first to bring Toussaint’s simple, delicate goodness to public attention. They noticed holiness in the hairdresser who had become a vital part of their lives and suggested to his church that there was a saint in their midst.

Toussaint’s remains lie today in the crypt under the main altar of New York City’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral, an honored member of his church. It usually takes time before someone is canonized by the Catholic Church, but one requirement is that people be inspired by the witness of his or her holiness and drawn to become holy themselves.

Some years ago Bishop Norbert Dorsey, CP, who died in 2013, wrote his doctoral thesis on Pierre Toussaint. His work is available here, thanks principally to Lynn Ballas, who so competently and generously edited and formatted the bishop’s work.

You can read Bishop Dorsey’s book about Pierre Toussaint by clicking the link below. May his holy life inspire you and draw you to God who blessed this faithful man.

Pierre Toussaint

Here’s a short video recently done:

“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.

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.