Limina: A Journal of Theology - Spring 2014

Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

Limina A Journal of Theology

THE BIBLE ISSUE SPRING 2014

Strange Bedfellows?

Historical Criticism and Catholic Faith

by Pamela Hedrick

The "Messianic secret" as Pedagogical Entryway into the Gospel of Mark.

by Giovanna Czander

New Testament Perspectives, Old Testament Roots

by Mark Russoniello

A Quest for a First Century Belief in the Real Presence 278 Whites Bridge Road Standish, Maine 04062

www.sjcme.edu

by Fawn R. Waranauskas

Sacred Geology: The Bedrocks of our Faith

by Steven L. Bridge

Musings on the Practical, or Practical Musing?

by John Munroe

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

ABOUT MASTHEAD Editor: Patricia S. Ireland, Ph.D. Contributing Editors for Volume 1 Pamela Hedrick, Ph.D. and Mark Russoniello

Limina A Journal of Theology Limina, meaning “thresholds,” features scholarly articles that are accessible to a wide audience and includes essays on pastoral practice. The journal offers Catholic and thoughtful perspectives on a variety of theological topics that are of interest to readers of all faiths and is a publication of Saint Joseph’s College, 278 Whites Bridge Road, Standish, Maine 04062.

Rooted in and professing fidelity to the teachings of Jesus Christ and the doctrines and heritage of the Roman Catholic Church.... As a Catholic liberal arts college, we seek to combine faith with reason in the pursuit of academic excellence.

Excerpt from the Saint Joseph’s College Mission Statement

CONTACT Dr. Patricia S. Ireland, Editor pireland@sjcme.edu Check out our theology blog: http://sjcmetheology.wordpress.com/ For more information on Saint Joseph’s College: www.sjcme.edu or www.online.sjcme.edu

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

Statue of Venerable Catherine McAuley at the entrance to Xavier Hall, Saint Joseph’s College campus, Standish, Maine, Sculptor: Sister Marie Henderson, RSM

If the love of God really reigns in your heart, it will quickly show itself in the exterior.

Venerable Catherine McAuley, Retreat Instructions

This inaugural issue of Limina: A Journal of Theology is dedicated to the Sisters of Mercy, who have tirelessly devoted themselves to Catholic education for over 170 years.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

Strange Bedfellows? Historical Criticism and Catholic Faith Pamela Hedrick Miserando atque Eligendo “By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him” In choosing that motto, Pope Francis focuses himself, and us, on relationship. Three aspects are necessary for proper relationship: relationship with God, with neighbor, and with oneself, and all three facets must be integrated to live a truly spiritual life. Where do we find the models for those relationships? As important as dogmas are in defining our understanding, I believe that most of us turn first to the Bible to find information regarding who God is and what our relationship needs to be with God, neighbor, and self. Moreover, those relationships provide the foundation for dogma, since we can only know God as God in relation to us, what God has revealed.

How, then, do we gain access to what the Bible offers about those relationships? The long history of Christianity offers us a variety of excellent methods. One can focus prayer on a particular verse, or even a few words, until it becomes like one’s breath. The best-known example of that method is the Jesus Prayer, “Christ have mercy on me, a sinner.” John Cassian offered Psalm 69.2, “God come to my assistance, Lord make haste to help me,” for the same purpose.1 Lectio divina is another valuable method to help us engage all of our senses in the contemplation of Scripture’s meaning for our own lives.

1

John Cassian, Conferences, ed. and trans. Colm Luibheid (New York: Paulist, 1985), 10.10.

The Return of the Prodigal Son, by Pompeo Batoni

Another approach is more recent, but not thereby less valuable: the methods known collectively as “historical criticism.” The first goal of historical criticism is to uncover, as far as possible, the ancient meaning of the text; that is, how did the context of the speaker/writer give meaning to the passage? How would the first listeners have understood this or that passage in their own social and historical context? For biblical scholars who are practicing Christians, there is a further relevant question: What does what it meant then have to do with what it means now? Are the two identical? If not, how can we understand the meaning of the passage in our own cultural context?

How does modern historical criticism help us appropriate the ancient meaning in a way that will help with our current relationships with God, neighbor, and self?

Rather than being something to fear as a challenge to tradition, historical criticism is merely a tool to help us see the ancient meaning more clearly. That fresh vision can open up horizons of

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 questions and windows of understanding that help us add complexity, nuance, and depth to our relationships, horizons, and windows that we would not necessarily come to on our own. In this article, we will consider some roots of the fear of historical criticism, discuss what historical criticism is and what it can offer, and consider how this method can reveal the potential for fresh understandings of the Word of God that we seek to incarnate in our own lives.

This appreciation of historical criticism was elevated in the Vatican II dogmatic constitution Dei Verbum (1965): To determine the intention of the sacred writers, one must attend to such thing as “literary forms.”

For truth is differently presented and expressed in various types of historical writings, in prophetic or poetic texts, or in other modes of speech.

Furthermore, the interpreter must search for what meaning the sacred writer, in his own historical situation and in accordance with the condition of his time and culture, intended to express and did in fact express with the help of literary forms that were in use during that time.4

Historical Criticism: Fears and Realities “The use of historical criticism in the interpretation of the Bible is not a fad, because it has been advocated by the highest authority in the Church.”2 First addressed by Pope Leo XIII in Providentissimus Deus (1893), its place in Church teaching was secured in the 1943 papal encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu, issued by Pius XII. In fact, the words of support in various Church documents serve also to provide a clear definition of historical criticism, as in this brief passage from Divino: What is the “literal” sense of a passage is not always as obvious in the speeches and writings of the ancient authors of the East as it is in the works of our own time…the interpreter must, as it were, go back wholly in spirit to those remote centuries of the East and with the aid of history, archaeology, ethnology, and other sciences accurately determine what modes of writings, so to speak, the authors of that ancient period would be likely to use, and in fact did use.3

Affirmation has continued at the highest levels of the church. The 1993 “Document on the Interpretation of the Bible in the Church” by the Pontifical Biblical Commission, issued with commendation by John Paul II, says that “Holy Scripture, inasmuch as it is the ‘Word of God in human language,’ has been composed by human authors…because of this, its proper understanding not only admits the use of this method but actually requires it.”5 Pope Benedict has insisted: The historical-critical method— specifically because of the intrinsic nature of theology and faith—is and remains an indispensable dimension of exegetical work. For it is of the very essence of biblical faith to be about real historical events.6

2

Joseph Fitzmyer, S.J., “Historical Criticism: Its Role in Biblical Interpretation and Church Life,” Theological Studies 50 (1989: 244-289.

3 Pius XII, Divino Afflante Spiritu (1943), 20. Papal documents (except Evangelii Gaudium) in this article are taken from The Scripture Documents: An Anthology of Official Catholic Teachings, ed. and trans. Dean P. Bechard (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002).

4

Dei Verbum (1965), 12.

Bechard, 249.

6 Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration, trans.

Arian J. Walker (San Francisco: San Francisco: Ignatius, 2007) xv.

5

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Most recently, Pope Francis reminded us that “the biblical text which we study is two or three thousand years old; its language is very different from that which we speak today. Even if we think we understand the words translated into our own language, this does not mean that we correctly understand what the sacred author wished to say.”7 Despite this consistent confirmation, many Catholics continue to ignore, fear, or even oppose modern biblical criticism. Why? After thinking about this problem for over twenty years, it seems to me that three common misconceptions dominate popular thinking about Catholic biblical scholars who employ historical criticism as part of their vocation: (1) that they are not interested in the life of the Church; (2) that they do not believe the Bible is actually the Word of God, and (3) worst of all, that they are intentionally trying to upset people’s faith. And yet, while one cannot rule out the existence of a particular person as described above in such a large group of people, I personally have not met any Catholic biblical scholars who meet any of those criteria.

From where, then, does this fearful stereotype spring? The confusion, I think, results from two primary mistakes. First, there are people who attempt to paint all biblical scholars with the same brush. You can indeed find some examples of all three categories among biblical scholars. There are, for example, biblical scholars who are not Christian, who are not religious at all; their interests are purely historical and literary. There are people studying the Bible professionally who have lost their faith for some reason and have no particular interest in helping anyone else maintain theirs.

There are scholars, as Pope Benedict has pointed out, who have concluded that the Jesus of history has little connection to the Christ of faith, a conclusion that makes little historical sense of how the Christ of faith arose from the Jesus of history.8 The mainstream media, however, who too often 7

Francis I, Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium, 2013 (The Vatican, Web, 20 Jan. 2014) 147.

8 See Ratzinger, xii.

prefer sensationalism to balance and seem to go out of their way to find a shocking headline around Easter, tend to highlight the most potentially shocking suggestions, taken out of the context of a person’s entire body of work.

It is not necessarily worrisome, moreover, that there are scholars who do not share our interest in faith. Why? Because all are seeking a type of truth, and as Catholics we believe that truth ultimately is one. It is an important goal of biblical scholarship to study historical and literary detail, but scholars do it for the sake of the big picture, even if they themselves do not try to piece together the big picture as part of their own calling. The community of scholars, when working properly, is just that: a community of people with different roles. A scholar who has no particular interest in the life of the Church still contributes to understanding of historical truth, and the Christian biblical scholar can still use that research to understand the Word of God more completely. That suggestion brings us to the next charge, that of intentionally upsetting the faith of Catholics. To understand the nuances of this claim, we must properly understand what we mean by “upset.” In the sense of “damage,” very rarely is that the intent; only prudence keeps me from saying that is “never” the intent. Helping others to deepen their faith, however, often involves some upset because it requires that they loosen their grips on a previously safe place to move to a place of more challenge and more wisdom.

Some of these misleading impressions came from the time when there was much excitement about the newness of the methods, and those methods seemed to be followed without enough theological or spiritual interest. In truth, good things take time. We have to understand how well a method works, what exactly can be gleaned using it, and what cannot, and only then can we carefully investigate how it enriches theological and spiritual understanding. As Joseph Fitzmyer, Jesuit and historical critic extraordinaire, so clearly describes:

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Herein lies the plus or the presupposition with which a modern Catholic interpreter of the Bible employs the philological tools and techniques characteristic of the historical-critical method. For the plus consists of elements of faith: that the book being critically interpreted contains God's Word set forth in human words of long ago; that it has been composed under the guidance of the Spirit and has authority for the people of the Jewish-Christian heritage; collection of sacred, authoritative writings (part of a canon); that it has been given by God to His people for their edification and salvation; and that it is properly expounded only in relation to the Tradition that has grown out of it within the communal faith-life of that people. Because the historical-critical method is per se neutral, it can be used with such faith presuppositions. Indeed, by reason of them it becomes a properlyoriented method of biblical interpretation, for none of the elements of the method is pursued in and for itself. They are used only to achieve the main goal of discerning what the biblical message was that the sacred writer sought to convey— what the medieval termed the "spiritual" sense.9

happened exactly as described in the Bible, it must not be “true” at all, and if not “true,” then not meaningful. So when you read a biblical scholar saying, for example, that some writers in the Old Testament did not record history as it actually happened, as it is recorded in other sources or even in other parts of the Bible, that is not a statement intended to affect anyone’s faith; rather, it is simply a statement of that scholar, and probably the majority of scholars’, historical judgment. That judgment simply clears the field for the next relevant question: If a literal description of the historical event was not the primary goal of the biblical writer, what was the goal? How can I best understand what the biblical writer wanted to communicate? Historical criticism then is a tool to a greater goal, not the “be all and end all” of biblical interpretation. Ideally, the methods of historical criticism open new horizons and make clear the dialog between revelatory text and reader. In other words, those methods give God more ways, not fewer, to speak to us in our given time and place. In being open in this way, we are following the path of the apostles, of whom Dei Verbum says: …For, after the ascension of the Lord, the apostles handed on to their hearers what Jesus had said and done, and they did this with that fuller understanding they now enjoyed, having been instructed by the glorious events of Christ and taught by the light of the Spirit of truth. In composing the four Gospels, the sacred writers selected certain of the many traditions that had been handed on either orally or already in written form; others they summarized or explicated with an eye to the situation of the churches.10

The second primary cause of confusion is our modern bias toward the idea that truth is expressed only by literal event (as if filmed with a TV camera, for example), primarily because of the modern emphasis on scientific method of repeated experimentation to verify event, as well as our technological sophistication that we tend to think reproduces literal “truth.” Ancients, without all of that, sought culturally to communicate the meaning of events, because that was what was stored in the cultural memory. Our bias can lead us, moreover, to assume there is always one correct answer without nuance. Modern people are inclined to think, for example, that if the exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt cannot be shown reasonably to have 9

Fitzmyer, 255.

10

Dei Verbum, 19.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Where the Rubber Hits the Road I would like to offer a brief example of how the fruits of biblical criticism can enrich rather than threaten our understanding and appropriation of the Gospel, an illustration that considers the social context of first century Palestine and engages in literary criticism of an extended passage. Everyone has had the experience of hearing a parable, and then learning something about the social context of first century Palestine or how the parable fits in the structure of the gospel. Suddenly, one’s eyes are opened by a previously unknown detail, and the parable then delivers additional meaning. Most of that detail comes from historical criticism, because much of the wealth that has been gained by modern biblical criticism is in the realm of the first century social context and an appreciation for the New Testament as literature, which are contexts important for understanding, not only for the life of Jesus, but also for the composition of the books of the New Testament. Quite simply, the more we understand about day-to-day life in Palestine and the Roman Empire, the more we reasonably can hope to understand about the messages Jesus and the evangelists were trying to communicate. As Pope Francis recently pointed out in the context of homiletics: The central message is what the author primarily wanted to communicate; this calls for recognizing not only the author’s ideas but the effect which he wanted to produce. If a text was written to console, it should not be used to correct errors; if it was written as an exhortation, it should not be employed to teach doctrine; if it was written to teach something about God, it should not be used to expound various theological opinions; if it was written as a summons to praise or missionary outreach, let us not use it to talk about the latest news.11

11

Evangelii Gaudium, 94.

We must to try to recover those ancient understandings as much as possible to ensure that when we transpose that first century meaning to 21st century cultures, we are consistent with the original meaning. As Fitzmyer counsels, “a ‘meaning’ that goes ‘beyond’ that of the historical biblical author can never be understood as losing all homogeneity with the meaning of the original author.”12 Our example is the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15, a parable that unfortunately often is separated from its context in the gospel and read exclusively through the lens of modern family relationships. When trying to hear the parable through first century ears, however, we are fortunate that the gospel writers gave us clues in the larger literary setting that point us toward the meaning they hoped to communicate. In this case, the clues are in the first two verses of the chapter: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them’” (Lk. 15.12). In other instances in the gospel to this point, there has been a clear distinction set up between those who welcome what Jesus is doing and saying about the nature of the reign of God, and those who are critical.13 This chapter provides the most extended counter to those criticisms in Luke’s gospel. With careful reading, especially in Greek, two words jump out of the introduction: “welcomes” and “sinners.” The Greek word for “welcomes” or “receives” (prosdechomai) may imply that Jesus actually hosts the sinners, which in Mediterranean cultures governed by strict rules of hospitality would be an even worse social outrage than simply eating with them.14 When the cultural norms of table fellowship were broken by breaking the boundaries that defined with whom one should eat and with whom one should not, social shame 12

Fitzmyer, 258.

See Luke 5, among others.

14 Charles Talbert, Reading Luke: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Third Gospel (Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2002) 178.

13

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 was the result, and most people seemed to follow the rules with the attitude to which we still, sadly, too easily retreat: “It’s just the way things are.”

The Return of the Prodigal Son Jan Steen, 17th century

The term “sinners” needs some consideration as well. In our culture, “sinners” almost always brings to mind individuals who have failed morally. While the term includes that denotation in the first century (people who have committed crimes such as theft, for example), the overall meaning is much broader.15 One could be labeled a sinner by being associated with an egregious sinner (by marriage, for example), or by the occupation one had, usually out of financial desperation (tax collector, prostitute, servant, fruitsellers), or by not following religious norms closely enough. “All categories of sinners were in one way or another marginal people who were badly paid

15

Talbert, 177-78.

and often abused.”16 “Outcasts” or, in more modern terms, the “marginalized,” the “last” in society, would best describe to modern ears the people with whom Jesus insists on associating.

In response, Luke describes Jesus telling three parables of the lost and found: a lost and found sheep, a coin, and a son. The focus, the primary thread one should follow through these stories, is on the shepherd’s actions, the woman’s actions, and the father’s actions in response to the losing and to the finding. The shepherd in Luke 15.3-7 has one hundred sheep, but when “from those, one” (implying “only one”) is lost to the herd, he leaves the ninety-nine “in the wilderness” or “open space” (a risk) to search. Moreover, he puts the perhaps unwilling sheep on his shoulder and carries it back, then rejoices with friends and family. Who would not do the same, Jesus asks?

Well, a listener might reflect, “I’m not sure I would risk ninety-nine sheep for one.” We are told little about the shepherd. Are all the sheep his own, which would make him more prosperous than many people? Or, do they belong to the extended family?

The parable does not tell us because we are to focus on the seeking of one who has left the herd, has been sought, has been found, and has been brought back to the group, and that is cause for a party, indicated by the phrase “rejoice with me.”17 While the audience might, however, have a lingering doubt about his sense of judgment, it is a happy story about taking a risk and that risk working out.

Just so, a woman loses only one coin out of ten coins (Lk. 15.8-10). The stakes are a bit higher now. The loss is one out of ten rather than one out of one hundred, and the coin comes to approximately a day’s wages for a poor person.

Again, we are told little about her. Is she alone in her own household? Is she, typically in the first 16

Elisabeth Schussler-Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins, Tenth Anniversary Edition with a New Introduction (New York: Crossroad, 1994) 128.

17 Robert C. Tannehill, Luke, Abingdon New Testament Commentaries (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1996) 238.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 century, in charge of keeping the money for the entire household and is risking shame upon losing some of it?18 Much is left to the imagination. The focus of the parable is that it is valuable enough to her that she goes far out of her way to find it, and she assumes that the natural reaction of all friends and neighbors is to rejoice. Again, a party is implied, which would perhaps in itself cost a day’s wage.

The stakes again go up with what I will call the Parable of the Lost Sons (Luke 15.11-32). Why “sons” in the plural? First, notice that the story begins, “A certain man had two sons.” Amy Jill Levine has pointed out that for a Jewish listener, that line immediately places the story in a context of other biblical brothers: Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob, Manasseh and Ephraim.

Every listener knows from these past examples to choose the younger son!19 But the story throws a twist in that expectation because there is nothing to endear the younger son to the audience. In first century Mediterranean culture, it is difficult to overestimate the responsibility owed by the children to the paterfamilias. The son starts out poorly with the audience because in a culture in which one owes the father every ounce of loyalty, the son treats his father as if he is already dead, not only by requesting his inheritance, but especially by spending it, an action not allowed until the actual death.20 Worse comes to worst as the son foolishly squanders the money and ends up in one of those disreputable occupations, tending swine.

Hope arrives when the son “came to himself” (Lk. 15.17). That phrase could mean many things, just as it does in English, so we have to look to the context to see exactly what “coming to himself” entailed for him. Again, the story is 18

Carol Schersten LaHurd, “Re-viewing Luke 15 with Arab Christian Women,” ed. Michael D. Coogan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010) 252.

19 Emily Perper, “Levine: ‘Prodigal Son’ Forces Reassessment of Bible’s Other Brother Pair,” The Chautauquan Daily (Web, 18 Aug 2011).

20 Talbert, 179.

ambiguous. The son decides what he will say to his father so that he can be treated as a hired servant; that way, at least he could eat. Is he really repentant at this point, sorry about how he treated his father, or is it a ploy? Or, is the answer somewhere in between, that a desperation for the necessities of life leads him at least to enough humility to plead for some place in the extended household? The story leaves us room to think.

Far more shocking is the father’s behavior, the potential degradation of his honor, as he sees the son at a distance and is “moved with compassion” (the same Greek verb is used of Jesus in 7.13 and the Good Samaritan in 10.33).21 He runs out to meet this son without possibly being able to know whether the son has repented or just wants more money. As in the previous parable, the finder assumes that the natural reaction of everyone would be rejoicing, but in the audience we can imagine that the reaction to his behavior was probably mixed. Sons in any culture are, of course, more valuable, even merely economically, than sheep and coins. But, is the son worth such actions immediately? Shouldn’t the son at least have a trial period? He didn’t even finish his prepared statement, after all!

The story does not end here, however, because we still have the matter of the older son who also brings shame upon the father by refusing to appear at the party and lowering himself to invent, apparently, the story of the younger son with harlots. Now the positions of the sons are reversed: The older son has placed himself on the outside, and he is also “lost.” The father treats this son in the same way as he treated the younger one, addressing him more by ancient standards in terms of friendship: “What’s mine is yours.” Why do we not hear how the son responds? Because he represents those, like the complainers whose grumbles introduce the parables, who think they have “inside” status but, in Jesus’ depictions of God’s 21

Luke Timothy Johnson, The Gospel of Mark, Sacra Pagina Series Volume 3, ed. Daniel J. Harrington, S.J. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1991) 237.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 reign, have actually placed themselves on the outside of God’s household by their lack of rejoicing, their lack of mercy. The third story, thus, remains open.22 I have not used the term “The Prodigal Son” for the parable because it tends to enshrine one particular reading of the parable, which limits other potential implications in several ways. The first problem is that few people even know what “prodigal” means now: recklessly extravagant to the point of being wasteful. Who in the parable would the listeners describe as wasteful, the younger son, or the father? More importantly, the “prodigal son” reception has colored the parable’s reception by shifting the attention to the younger son’s excess rather than on the excess of the father. The parable is not, in its original context, primarily about how we feel about God loving us, or about how to treat our children or even about repentance (neither a sheep nor a coin can repent, and the younger son’s repentance is ambiguous at best). The focus is God, a God who loves, welcomes, risks without counting the costs to bring home those people we tend not to welcome in our homes, our churches, our restaurants, or sometimes even in our country. Of course, we do not have to eject all of our previous readings of the parable because parables are rich and can bear the weight of more than one meaning.

Indeed, we will never fully plumb the depths of the God’s word. Surely, however, we should include the original intent in our self-examination and in our prayer.

To return to the beginning of our discussion: If we are to hear it in its original social context, we should perhaps replace the word “sinner” with a term like “marginalized.” God’s actions, symbolized by the shepherd, the woman, and the father, are clear, and so proper relationship with God, with neighbor, and with oneself are clearly defined. But Jesus asks, can you, rejoice at the inclusion, the “finding,” of these, as God does?

Can you drop the social rules and guidelines, and

send someone out as Pope Francis recently did, to bring people in from the streets to worship with you? To eat with you? Can you be the one who brings them back into the family of humanity in which they belong?

Are we uncomfortable yet?

22

23

Talbert, 181.

Conclusion Since to be Catholic is to embrace not the “either/or” but the “both/and,” no method of studying God’s word need be approached with fear.

Whether in terms of the challenge, “Be not afraid!” that John Paul II often quoted from scripture, or of the unity of faith and reason that Pope Benedict clearly exhorted, we do better to embrace with a sense of adventure a variety of methods that holds the potential for improving our grasp of God’s revelation. What we do need is the humility to be willing to learn, as John Cassian wisely counsels: If you wish to achieve true knowledge of Scripture you must hurry to achieve unshakably humility of heart.

This is what will lead you not to the knowledge which puffs a man up but to the lore which illuminates through the achievement of love.23 Without multiple methods, the problem is not that we will miss the one correct interpretation; the problem is that we will miss possibilities of understanding and appropriation, possibilities that can only come through the eyes of our ancestors in faith.

People in parishes have often asked me: How do we evaluate all this? We don’t know Hebrew or Greek, and we don’t have time to read multiple commentaries to check all possible interpretations. How do we know if an interpretation really works?” Easy, I say. Kick the tires. Does it seem reasonable? If so, take it for a Conferences, 14.10, emphasis added.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 test drive. Today, try to look at a person who has been marginalized the way God does. Does this understanding open up new horizons? Raise questions about yourself? Deepen a relationship?

Reveal to you a part of yourself that you would rather not have seen? If so, then run with it – there is a result of historical criticism that you can use. If it does nothing, just assume that this insight, while it may be one accurate to the first century context, just does not bear fruit for you. That is okay; the Church would be terribly boring if we were all the same. “The point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.”24

Pamela Hedrick, Ph.D., teaches biblical and spirituality courses at Saint Joseph’s College Online. She recently published “Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian, and Dialectic” in Lonergan Review Vol. 4 (2012). Dr. Hedrick currently is working on a manuscript on faith and reason in the first century. She and her husband, Dr. David Hammond, also a member of the theology faculty, make their home in North Carolina.

The "Messianic secret" as Pedagogical Entryway into the Gospel of Mark.

Giovanna Czander With the publication of Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien in 1901, William Wrede brought to the fore the existence of a secrecy motif in the Gospel of Mark. The whole Gospel of Mark, pointed out Wrede, is built around the attempt to conceal and then progressively reveal Jesus’ identity. Only after Jesus’ death and resurrection did the disciples understand who Jesus was, his true identity. Wrede’s position has met with much criticism almost since the beginning25. Current scholarship tends to downplay the relevance of the so-called “Messianic secret” which for Wrede was the main principle underlying the Marcan narrative, and to mention it only as a marginal motif within the Gospel. In this article, I argue that the “messianic secret,” understood as a literary tool and read from a reader-response perspective, can be used as a pedagogically effective entryway into the gospel of Mark. I have used it in this way both in undergraduate and graduate teaching and always found it quite effective.

Approach Wrede’s approach to the messianic secret was primarily literary but also historical-critical.

His questions were mainly centered around understanding whether this motif could shed light on the historical Jesus and on the communities of his early followers. His attempt has been proven to be inconclusive but had the merit of bringing to the fore the secrecy motif in the gospel of Mark.

What is the messianic secret? The messianic secret is a narrative device used for theological purposes.26 It is the attempt, throughout the gospel stories, to conceal Jesus’ identity from the twelve who are in his closest circle, from the followers in his outer circle, and from the 25

24

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, trans.

Stephen Mitchell (New York: Vintage, 1984) 34.

David E. Aune, “The Problem of the Messianic Secret” in Novum Testamentum, Vol. 11, ½ (Jan-Apr 1969) 26 W.R. Telford, The Theology of the Gospel of Mark, Cambridge University Press, 1999.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 adversaries and the world at large. The messianic secret has a prominent role in the gospel of Mark but is present, though not as prominently, also in other synoptic gospels.

From a reader-response perspective, the effect of this literary device is to involve the reader in discovering the true identity of Jesus and the meaning of authentic discipleship.27 Who was Jesus? This is not a question that people had only back then during Jesus’ ministry and shortly after his death. It is a question that has relevance also for those who never met the historical Jesus or his witnesses, including readers today. It is never a merely historical question, but an existential question. Who is Jesus for those who encounter him? Do we really know who Jesus is? Who is Jesus for those who come after his death and resurrection? Why can’t everyone realize who Jesus truly is? Who is a true follower of Jesus? In this sense, the messianic secret can offer an engaging entryway into the gospel of Mark.

The development of the secrecy motif in the gospel of Mark Mark’s gospel begins with a tension between those who know Jesus’ identity and Jesus’ open attempts at concealing his own identity. Who knows Jesus’ identity?

1.

Apparently, the evil spirits are well aware of Jesus’ identity and attempt to make it known.

Jesus tries to prevent them from doing so. The unclean spirits are a good example of knowing Jesus’ identity without accepting a relationship with him. Knowing who Jesus is, is not enough to become his follower.

2. Jesus seems to be aware of his own identity, especially after his baptism in the Jordan, where he is the only one to hear the voice saying, “You are my son the beloved, with you I am well pleased.” At the baptism, nobody else hears what the voice from heaven says.

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A similar conclusion, via linguistic analysis, is reached

by John G. Cook, The Structure and Persuasive Power of Mark: A Linguistic Approach, Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995.

The Baptism of Christ, 12th century mosaic, Palermo, Italy

3. God knows, as the heavens open twice in the gospel, first at the baptism, as we just saw, and then again at the transfiguration where the voice from heaven this time tells three witnesses, Peter, James and John, “This is my son, the beloved, listen to him!” (A third time takes place at the crucifixion, which is the culminating moment in which the messianic secret is finally revealed).

4. The disciples, to a certain point, seem aware of Jesus’ identity, especially Peter. Mark 8:27-33 is actually a turning point in the development of the messianic secret motif from the viewpoint of the disciples. The disciples are given a sort of “multiple choice test” to see if they understand who Jesus is. After all, they had followed him and had seen his miracles, and heard his parables. So who do people say that I am? asks Jesus. The disciples indicate the possible choices: a) John the Baptist, b) Elijah, c) one of the prophets. As in every good multiple choice test, Jesus gives also another option: d) other. “Who do you say that I am?” asks Jesus. It is easy to imagine the disciples trying to avoid eye contact to avoid having to answer. Finally, Peter chooses option d) other, and offers to fill the blank, “You are the messiah (the Christ.)” However, it is clear that

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 while Peter got the right answer, he does not fully understand what his own answer means.

His idea of what a messiah should be seems to be quite different from the idea Jesus describes shortly after (the idea of a “suffering messiah,” Mk 8:31). Throughout Mark’s gospel, the disciples appear to be frustratingly obtuse and unable to understand who Jesus is, what he does, and even what he says. In spite of getting some insider explanations of the parables, for example, the disciples still do not understand Jesus’ message.

5. Interestingly, right before this episode in Caesarea Philippi, Jesus performs a very strange miracle, the healing of a blind man (Mk 8:22-26). This miracle is unique because Jesus doesn’t seem to get it right the first time! At the first attempt to heal the blind man, Jesus restores his vision only partially. “Do you see anything?” Jesus asks the man. “I see men; but they look like trees, walking.” replies the man.

So Jesus tries again. “Then again Jesus laid his hands upon his eyes; and he looked intently and was restored, and saw everything clearly.”

Strange, right? Why would the blind man acquire his eyesight in stages? If we look at where this miracle is placed within the gospel, we notice that it comes right before Caesarea Philippi, when Peter gets the correct answer, albeit without fully understanding what he is saying. The healing of the blind man then can be interpreted as a hint that explains why the disciples do not “get” who Jesus is right away but only in stages. In fact, the disciples in Mark’s gospel, let’s face it, sound rather obtuse.

Mosaic 12th century, Sicily

6. Furthermore, in light of our previous observation that the readers are told about Jesus’ identity, this parable can be understood also from their perspective. Even the readers may need different stages before they understand who Jesus is. They may have been told who Jesus is since the beginning, but understanding what that means is a different thing.

7. Who else knows who Jesus is? In the end, at the crucifixion, it is a Roman centurion who gives a concluding twist to the messianic secret. After witnessing Jesus’ death on the cross, the centurion declares, “Truly this man was a son of God!” This is also the third time the heavens open, with a strange phenomenon: “... Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” (Mk 15:3738) What is the meaning of this tearing of the temple’s curtain? This was the veil separating the holy of holies, which separated the place of God’s most intense presence from the rest of the temple (2 Chron 3:14). This detail shows that God symbolically “rips” God’s “clothing” – the veil of the Temple – as a sign of mourning for the death of God’s son. In several Jewish traditions, even today, a sign of mourning the loss of someone dear is to rip one’s shirt to mean that the loss created a tear in

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 the person’s life, and that the survivor’s life will never be the same because of the loss experienced).28 It is noteworthy that the centurion represents a non-Jew, a Gentile, thus his statement expresses the universality of Jesus’ life and message.

St. Longinus, detail from crucifixion mosaic, 11th century

8. There is another group of people who are aware of Jesus’ identity. From the very start of the gospel, Mk 1:1 (“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God”), it seems clear that 28

The statement by the centurion is something that is probably more meaningful to the readers of Mark’s gospel than to the character of the centurion himself. As a Roman, the title “son of a God” was mostly used for the emperor, so it is quite unusual that a Roman officer would apply it to a man dying as a convicted criminal on the cross. However, while the centurion’s statement does not necessarily mean what today’s Christians understand to be the second Person of the Trinity, it does ascribe to Jesus a divine status. The centurion paves the way for a recognition of Jesus’ identity by the Gentiles.

the readers are told of Jesus’ identity before anyone else. As in many masterful movies, the audience receives more information than the characters, hence, the frustration readers frequently experience when reading Mark’s gospel cover to cover. The most frustrating characters are, of course, Jesus’ disciples, who seem so clueless in spite of being eyewitness to so many miracles, parables, and of sharing daily life with the very person of Jesus. The most puzzling reaction is described in the shorter ending of the gospel (ending at verse 16:8). There is no conclusive way to determine whether the original gospel of Mark ended; in either way, though, there seems to be slightly more evidence toward the shorter ending, as attested in the most ancient manuscripts. So, let us entertain for a moment the more difficult of the two possibilities, that is, that Mark ended at 16:8. Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome go to Jesus’ tomb and find it empty except for a young man in a white robe (probably an angel). The women are told to spread the news of Jesus’ resurrection and to give a message to his disciples.

Instead, the gospel remarks, they don’t tell anyone because they are afraid. So, who is left to tell the news? Who will spread the message? If the women will not do it, only the readers are left. If this ending was meant to be like this, as many scholars maintain, the readers who understand who Jesus is, now have a responsibility, a mission. They have to go and proclaim the resurrection and the newly discovered identity of the suffering messiah.

So what does it take to understand who Jesus is?

It seems that the only way to find out who Jesus is, is through understanding the crucifixion and resurrection. Everything Jesus did and said during his ministry was a preparation for his suffering and death. His crucifixion established Jesus as the messiah who saw defeat and suffering to the point of death as integral part of his identity, role, and mission. For the disciples and for the readers, understanding who Jesus is requires accepting Jesus’ suffering and joining him in experiencing it even in one’s own life. No one can be a true disciple without embracing Jesus on the cross and then accepting the mission of spreading the message of his resurrection. Understanding, however, happens in stages, as it did for the disciples, or it may never happen. The messianic

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 secret can thus become a source of deep compassion toward all those who struggle with understanding their own path in life, because it shows that Jesus’ identity can be indeed hidden even from the first friends and followers who knew him in the flesh.

New Testament Perspectives, Old Testament Roots Mark Russoniello

In conclusion, while the messianic secret read from a literary and a reader-response perspective is certainly not the only way to read the gospel of Mark, it can offer a unique interpretive key to this gospel, drawing readers in both as potential disciples and as empathetic respecters of their own and others’ spiritual journeys.

I have used it in this way both in undergraduate and graduate teaching and always found it quite effective.

Giovanna Czander, Ph.D., teaches theology at Dominican College, Orangeburg, New York. She published “Of Donkeys and Witnesses: Interpolation or Interpretation? The Laws in Exod 23:1-9” in A Land Like Your Own and has lectured and taught extensively both in the US and overseas.

Her research focuses on the theology of biblical law, prophetic literature, and pedagogy related to teaching theology.

Augustin Braun - Title Page for a Bible - Drawing - Julius S. Held Collection - 1985.1.22.

The Church teaches that the mystery of our salvation is revealed in all the Scriptures, for Christ himself is present in the eternal Word.29 We see the roots of this teaching clearly in Scripture itself; for example, in John’s Gospel, the Prologue links the Jesus event to God’s pre-existent Word--the same Word by which God communicated with His people through the ages, “and the Word was God” (John 1:1).30 This article will examine how some New Testament writers used Jewish models and

29

See The General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM) (Washington, D.C.: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2012, Kindle Edition) 55.

30 All biblical quotations are taken from the New Revised Standard Version.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 theology, drawn from their Scriptures, to explain the Jesus event to first century listeners.

Jesus’ first disciples did not possess written Gospels. Instead, they shared stories of personal experiences living with Jesus, hearing his teaching, and seeing his works. Influenced by the cultural and religious origins of different groups, there was considerable diversity in interpreting the meaning of the Jesus event, with belief in Jesus being their locus of unity.31 This simultaneous unity and plurality impacted the development of early Christian theology and made the place of Scripture in that development pivotal. Further, as Jesus’ first disciples were Jews, their worldview was formed through the prism of the history and faith of their people. To make sense of what they had seen, heard, and come to believe about Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, they looked to the Jewish Scriptures; thus they saw continuity and fulfillment of their sacred texts in the person of Jesus. In the words of Dei Verbum, the early faithful understood that the “primary objective of the plan and layout of the Old Testament was that it should prepare for and declare in prophecy the coming of Christ, universal redeemer, and of the messianic kingdom.”

The Name of God The disciples’ growing understanding of Jesus as Messiah set them at odds with their Jewish contemporaries, who had hoped for an idealized messiah with “superhuman” powers--but human nonetheless; a divine messiah was not expected.

The singular way in which the disciples identified Jesus as Son of God and perceived this identity inherent in the sacred texts transforms the way the Scriptures are understood and effectively unifies Scripture from “old” to “new.”32 A significant way the early Christian storytellers effected this transformation was by appropriating the Name of God to Jesus. The Gospels liberally apply the language of the Old Testament to the person and mission of Jesus. In 31

Raymond Brown, et al., “Early Church,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, Ed. Raymond Brown et al.

(Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1990) 1341-1343.

32 John L. McKenzie, “Aspects of Old Testament Thought,” Ed. Raymond Brown, et al., The New Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1990) 1284-1315.

the Mark and Luke narratives of Jesus Passion, the phrase “I AM” is used to send a strong message that Jesus is the One who was promised. In Mark 14:62, Jesus gives an emphatic “I AM” when questioned on his messianic identity, assuming both the Divine Name and its authority – the authority of God--the same God who revealed his name to Moses: “I AM” (Ex. 3:13-14).

The Name of God does more than identify Jesus; it reveals his divine power. While the Synoptic Gospels reveal Jesus as God only after the crucifixion and resurrection, John’s Gospel speaks the divine name during Jesus lifetime through phrases such as “I AM the bread of life”; “I AM the true vine”; I AM the good shepherd”; “I AM the light of the world.” With his final “I AM in John 18:15, Jesus connects himself not only with the long story of God’s covenant relationship with Israel in the Old Testament, but critically, with God Himself. The once unspeakable name of God is hidden in Jesus’ own name, which means “God saves.” Benedict XVI writes: “The ‘incomplete’ name from Sinai is finally spoken. The God who is, is the saving God, now present. The revelation of God’s name, which began in the burning bush, comes to completion in Jesus.”33 Deuteronomy 6 and Numbers 15 established Israel’s fundamental profession of faith: Shema Yisrael, Adonai Elohenu, Adonai echad (Hear Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one).

Israel’s belief in one all-powerful God at the heart of post-Exilic Israelite identity was unique to the religious life of the ancient Near East. To Jesus’ disciples, the claim of unity between Adonai Elohenu and Jesus is not a rejection of this foundational belief, although they admitted the difficulties it presented: “This saying is hard: Who can accept it?” (John 6:60). Indeed, the crucifixion attests to the fact that many disciples did abandon Jesus because in the end they could not accept it.

Benedict XVI writes: “When [God] says ‘I am,’ he is presenting himself as the one who is, in his utter oneness…When Jesus says ‘I am he, he is taking up this story and referring it to himself. He is indicating his oneness. In him, the mystery of the 33

Ratzinger, Joseph, Jesus of Nazareth: the Infancy Narratives (New York: Doubleday, 2007), Kindle Edition 409-411. See also Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997) 356, n. 57.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 one God is personally present… At issue is the inseparability of Father and Son.”34 Some of “the Jews” were understandably shaken at Jesus’ perceived blasphemy and sought his demise: “For this reason, the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him because he was not only breaking the Sabbath, but he also was calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God” (John 5:18). The Synoptics record this same notion of oneness in the account of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan: “You are my Son” (Mt. 3:17; Mk. 1:11; Lk. 3:22). As the Son of God, then, Benedict XVI points out that Jesus “has every right to utter with his own lips the Father’s self-designation. And conversely: Because this is truly so, Jesus is entitled to speak the words of the Father’s selfrevelation in his own name as Son”35 The Gospels establish Jesus’ connection to the Old Testament salvation history by claiming unity with the Father and by demonstrating the fulfillment of God’s plan in Jesus. Matthew’s Gospel makes direct use of Israel’s exodus experience by presenting Jesus as the new Moses, the one sent to communicate all God’s commands (Deut. 18:15-19). A deeper connection is made between the cross on Calvary and the burning bush of Sinai, with Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection the final episodes in the long history of God’s personal relationship with his chosen people.36 Whereas in the Old Testament, God reveals himself and his special care for the people of Israel through intermediaries, such as the patriarchs and prophets, now in the New Testament, Jesus preaches on his own authority. Jesus confirms this pre-figurement in the Sermon on the Mount when--in his own words--he declares he has come for the express purpose of fulfilling the covenantal promises. Six times Jesus calls attention to things his listeners “have heard that it was said” in the Law and interpreted over time by Torah scholars. Each time he offers his own distinct interpretation of the ancient teachings: “but I say to you…” (Mt. 5:2148). In the Gospels Jesus possesses something the Hebrew prophets and patriarchs did not – closeness with God that enables him to communicate the fullness of the Divine will. Moses gave what he received; Jesus reveals what he knows intimately

and personally: the deepest meaning. The people who heard Jesus “were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority” (Mt. 7:28; Mk. 1:22; Lk. 4:32).

In the episode from John’s Gospel involving the man born blind, the Jewish leaders “know that God has spoken to Moses” (Jn 9:29).

They refuse to recognize, as the once-blind man does, that Jesus is so obviously different from Moses. Like the early Christian community to which John was writing, this man has come to “see” that Jesus accomplished something that no one had ever done before, even Moses. This Jesus must be from God, he says, and so he ultimately professes a personal faith in Jesus, who asks him directly, “‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answers, ‘And who is he sir? Tell me so that I may believe in him’” (John 9:35-36, emphasis added). For the early Church, the Old Testament contained hints of what was to come, but it is Jesus who weaves these pieces together into the fullness of truth.37 Old and New: A Single Story from a Unique Witness Benedict XVI states: “Paul traces the history of salvation from Adam, to the Law, and from the latter to Christ.”38 In Romans, Paul proclaims that God intended the ancient Scriptures to be a source of preparation and inspiration for the coming of Christ: “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of scriptures we might have hope” (Rom. 15:4).39 Perhaps to counter early skepticism about his conversion (Acts 9:23-26), Paul chose to frame his argument in a manner demonstrating that his preaching both was consistent with Jewish custom and an opening to belief for non-Jews.40 Throughout Romans, Paul makes explicit reference to the Hebrew patriarchs and prophets and quotes from their writings, citing Abraham, Jacob, Moses, David, Isaiah, Elijah, Job, and Hosea to communicate his message about God’s fairness and justice, which he establishes earlier in Romans: “God shows no partiality” (Rom. 2:11).

37

34

Ratzinger, 348, emphasis added.

35 Ibid.

36 Ibid, 349.

Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament, 329.

Benedict XVI, General Audience (8 December 2008).

39 See also Rom. 1:1-4.

40 Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament, 329.

38

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Paul also serves as a bridge between the earliest Christianity founded upon those born Jewish and a new breed of non-Jewish converts who benefitted from the faith heritage of the Jews.

The Jews may have the advantage of the covenant relationship established through the patriarchs, but by itself, the Law does not secure right relationship with God or salvation for the Jews. “Is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one; and he will justify the circumcised on the ground of faith and the uncircumcised through that same faith” (Rom. 3:29-30). Paul looks to Abraham, who is a model because he had a singular trust God would accomplish all he promised and not simply because he was circumcised or obedient to the Law. Rather, Abraham’s faith was a gratuitous gift from God, offered to all. Those who accept this gift share its benefits and become children of many nations God promised Abraham would be a father in faith.41 Paul makes a leap from the faith of Abraham to faith in God through Jesus, “who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification” (Rom. 4:25). In making the argument that faith is the first principle of right relationship with God, Paul expands the definition of what it means to be the people of God. Once, God had given the Torah to the children of Israel as a symbol of his covenant with them. Now, the death and resurrection of Jesus become the seminal gift which excludes none, because Jesus’ faith was greater than Abraham’s. Luke Timothy Johnson writes, “Certainly, for Paul, Jesus faith is causative in a way that Abraham’s was not… because Jesus was not just another human person but was God’s Son, and the new Adam [who] opened up a possibility for all humans to respond in the way he did”42 This new humanity, established through the obedient faith of Jesus and forged from the conversion of Jew and Gentile alike to that same faithfulness was, for Paul, the realization of the New Israel promised by God through his prophets.

“For I tell you that Christ has become the servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises of the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God in his mercy” (Rom. 15:8-90).

41 42

See Rom. 4:21; 4:13; 4:16.

Johnson, 64.

Conclusion In Romans, Paul places Jesus’ life and message in the context of the Jewish tradition, thus linking the Jesus event with God’s involvement in human history as presented in the Hebrew Scriptures. Paul’s voice was one of several pivotal voices who made extraordinary use of the “Old” Testament texts to give authority to their new profession of faith in Christ. They interpreted all they had been taught in the Scriptures in the light of Christ crucified and risen and transcribed their understanding in a “New” Testament—not discarding the old, but making both Testaments one, as God himself is one. They proclaimed that God had, indeed, fulfilled his promise to Israel in the person of Jesus, not to the Jews alone, but for all, “so that all the peoples of the earth may know your Name and fear you, as do your own people Israel” (1 Kings 8:43).

Mark Russoniello is a student at Saint Joseph’s College in the Master of Arts in Pastoral Theology Program. He serves as Pastoral Associate at the Church of Saint Leo the Great in Lincroft, New Jersey.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

A Quest for a First Century Belief in the Real Presence Fawn R. Waranauskas Do you believe that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist? Do you know that the bread and wine received at Communion truly are the body and blood of Jesus Christ? If you answered “yes” to both those questions, you are among 46% of adult American Catholics who do. This means that over half do not, which is a staggering statistic considering the Church is firm on her teaching with regard to the Eucharist. While there are many questions to be answered as to the reason for this figure, that is not the aim here. Rather, this article will begin to address the reasons why Catholics should believe in the real presence by examining Sacred Scripture to understand the relationship that Jesus created with his followers.

A Survey of American Catholics D'Antonio, Dillon, and Gautier have completed five studies of American Catholics since 1987. In their most recent 2011 survey, they asked adult American Catholics what they believe and what they know about the real presence in the Eucharist. The belief question asked, “Do you believe that at the Consecration during a Catholic Mass, the bread and wine really become the body and blood of Jesus Christ?”1 The knowledge question provided two choices to the query, “Which of the following statements best describes the Catholic teaching about the bread and wine used for Communion?: 1) The bread and wine really become the body and blood of Jesus Christ or 2) The bread and wine are only symbols of the body and blood of Jesus Christ.”1 D’Antonio and his colleagues found a gap between what Catholics believe and what they know in regards to the real presence. The following chart summarizes the survey findings:

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

The responses to the knowledge question found that half of Catholics knew Church teaching about the real presence and half did not.

Nevertheless, the belief question found 63% of adult American Catholics believe that the bread and wine really become the body and blood of Christ. However, the survey showed 17% of adult Catholics said they believe in the real presence but also answered that the bread and wine were only symbols of the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Does that 17% really believe in the real presence? Only 46% of adult Catholics understand the Church’s teaching on the real presence and believe it.43 The 2011 survey indicates that there is a gap between knowledge and understanding. Believing in the real presence involves not only knowing Church teaching but also understanding the inherent abiding relationship with Christ that is the cornerstone of Catholic Eucharistic beliefs. Is there evidence of Christian belief in the real presence from the beginning of Christianity? To answer this question, first it is important to understand the Church’s teaching regarding the real presence.

Church Teaching The risen Jesus Christ is present to His believers in many ways, including: when the Church prays; “where two or three are gathered” in His name (Mt 18.20); when the Church performs works of mercy; in the sick, poor and imprisoned; and in the sacraments. Within the context of the Mass, Christ is present in the body of the faithful, in the Word, in the priest, and “most especially in the Eucharistic species.”44 The Catechism of the Catholic Church, quoting directly from the Council of Trent states: In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist “the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, 43

D’Antonio, 115.

Catechism of the Catholic Church (Washington, D.C.: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2000) 1374. See also Paul VI, Mysterium Fidei, 3 Sept. 1965 (The Vatican, Web, 29 Nov. 2013) 35.

44

the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained.”45 The Catholic Church calls the way in which the risen Christ is present in the Eucharist under the form of bread and wine real because his body and blood, soul and divinity, are wholly and entirely present “par excellence” “in the fullest sense,” that is, “in a substantial presence.”46 The Church teaches that the bread and wine become the resurrected Christ through a change by the power of the Holy Spirit called transubstantiation, a dogma first defined by the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 and reaffirmed by the Council of Trent in 1551. Through the act of consecration, the entire substance of the bread and wine become the substance of the body and blood of Christ, though the appearances of bread and wine remain. Christ, as God’s saving will, is made “present and effective in and through the consecrated bread and wine” but not in a static way.47 Christ is present in the Eucharist to unite with Himself those who receive him and thus effect a transformation in them to become part of God’s saving truth. The Council of Trent specified that Christ is present in the Eucharist by a manner of existence “which, though we can scarcely express in words, yet with understanding illuminated by faith, we can conceive and ought most firmly to believe is possible to God.”48 The Eucharist is the heart of this reciprocal abiding relationship. Why, then, did it take until 1551 at the Council of Trent for the Church to define dogmatically the real presence?

45

Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1374.

Mysterium Fidei, 39.

47 John D. Laurance, The Sacrament of the Eucharist (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2012) 164.

48 “Decree Concerning the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist,” The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. H. J. Schroeder (Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2011) 1.

46

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Developmental Theology The doctrines and dogmatic formulations of the Church did not develop overnight. While God provided Christ’s Revelation once and for all, the understanding of Christian Revelation continually unfolds through study, meditation, preaching, and praying.49 Early Christians within their diverse communities and amid the chaos of the times, struggled to understand Christ’s message, first orally handed down, and then through the Gospels and early letters. Over time, the Church created doctrinal statements from the Tradition, the living transmission of the Gospel message passed on through apostolic succession and Sacred Scripture. “Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture together make up a single sacred deposit of the Word of God.”50 By the time the Church formally stated the doctrine of the real presence in 1551, there was a need because of the Protestant Reformation’s challenges and refutations, to put into writing that which “the Catholic Church, instructed by Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and His Apostles…has held.”51 Early Christian Communities To understand what the early Christians may have believed regarding Christ’s presence, it is important to look at what is known today about those earliest communities. Christian faith, worship, and liturgical practices developed in a complex cultural world inspiring “a variety of approaches to Christian faith and to liturgical practice as well.”52 During its first three hundred years of existence, Christianity grew and spread throughout the Mediterranean World and beyond

49

Catechism of the Catholic Church, 94.

Second Vatican Council, Dei Verbum, 18 Nov. 1965, ed. Austin Flannery (Northport, NY: Costello, 1996) 10.

51 “Decree Concerning the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist,” Introduction.

52 John F. Baldovin, “Christian Worship to the Eve of the Reformation,” The Making of Jewish and Christian Worship, ed. Paul Bradshaw and Lawrence Hoffman (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991) 24.

50

Stained glass, Saint Joseph’s College

the Roman Empire. These early Christians were mainly urban centered, meeting in private homes or dedicated houses belonging to the community, with worship that reflected the diversity of cultures in which they existed.

Scholars believe that though there were differences in the earliest Christian worship rituals, each community gathered to share in a communal meal to remember Jesus Christ. This communal meal, or agape, was synonymous at the time with the term Eucharist, which means thanksgiving. The practice of using bread and wine was already common in the Greek world for sacrifices to the gods. In addition, during Jewish solemn meals, a blessing was given over the bread and wine at the beginning and the end of the meal. The various Christian communities gradually transitioned from the Christian communal “full meal” to a “symbolic rite” before the middle of the second century in some communities and after the middle of the third century in others.53 The Eucharistic meal shifted from house to temple, from table to altar, from evening to morning, from bread to host, and from communion to adoration. Liturgical and doctrinal development occurred over time.54 53

Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson, The Eucharistic Liturgies: Their Evolution and Interpretation (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2012) 58. See also Ibid., 24, 156-58.

54 Philippe Rouillard, “From Human Meal to Christian Eucharist,” Living Bread, Saving Cup, ed.

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 First Century Quest Given that the term Eucharist does not appear in the New Testament, where do Catholics derive the understanding that Jesus is present in the Eucharist? A place to start would be from the Bible and what is known as the institution narratives – Jesus’ words and gestures over the bread and wine at the Last Supper.

Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians (11.23-26), Mark (14.22-25), Matthew (26.2629), and Luke (22.17-20) each contains an institution narrative, though the specifics of each of these narratives differ somewhat (e.g., what words were spoken and the order of those words). Paul wrote his First Letter to the Corinthians circa 56 CE prior to any of the Gospel accounts, and it is important as the earliest account of the institution narrative in the New Testament.

For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes (1 Cor 11.23-26).

Paul here is talking of a communal meal that includes an imitation and repetition of the Lord’s Supper, though the Corinthians were mistaken on the true intent of that celebration. Earlier in the letter, Paul asks, “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing (koinonia) in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing (koinonia) in the body of Christ?

Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body for we partake of the one bread” (1 Cor 10.16-17). The Greek word koinonia means R. Kevin Seasoltz (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1987) 146-153.

communion, a joint participation.55 Paul conveys that Christ, through the Eucharist, unites his followers to himself and to each other.56 Paul’s Letter to the First Corinthians may not provide definitive proof of an early belief in the real presence, but it does provide an understanding of the relational aspect, that is, a participation in Christ.

The Gospel of John (written circa 90 CE) does not contain an institution narrative per se, as the Last Supper narrative in John does not take place on the Passover and does not parallel the synoptic gospels. However, we find Eucharistic language in John’s Gospel as well as a strong image of the relationship Jesus desires to create with his followers. “Jesus’ life is based on his having kept the commandments of God, having done the will of the Father, evident in his ongoing abiding love of the Father (menō).”57 Jesus’ relationship with his disciples is a reciprocal relationship in which Jesus abides (from the Greek menein to abide or to remain) in his disciples and calls them to abide in Him as He abides in the Father. Menō is translated as abide, but sometimes we give the word “abide” a static meaning of “to remain” or “to stay.” For instance, in John 1.38-39, the disciples ask Jesus, “Where are you staying?” and Jesus replies, “Come and see.” The disciples then “remained” with him. Here it is easy to think of the meaning of “staying” and “remained” as the physical act, but rooted in the Greek menō, the verses take on a completely new dimension.

Jesus is calling the disciples to a deep relationship with him as they struggle to understand and emulate that relationship in return. Menō denotes an unchanging relationship 55

Laurance, 170.

Paul Bradshaw makes a case, admitting though on limited evidence, that the New Testament texts did not “dominate what was thought and said by Christians about the institution of the Eucharist” until at least the third century. See Paul Bradshaw, “Did Jesus Institute the Eucharist at the Last Supper?”

Issues in Eucharistic Praying in East and West: Essays in Liturgical and Theological Analysis, ed.

Maxwell E. Johnson (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2010) 9.

57 Francis J. Moloney. The Gospel of John, Sacra Pagina Series, Vol. 4, ed. Daniel J. Harrington (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998) 422.

56

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 of steadfastness, stableness, and perseverance, that is, a reciprocal abiding relationship of love.

By understanding the richness of the term menō, a clearer image emerges of the depth of the relationship with Jesus Christ that John is trying to convey.

The discourse that follows the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves in John, chapter 6, uses strong Eucharistic terminology.

Jesus states, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (6.51).

Those hearing these words are confused, misunderstanding Jesus’ meaning (Jn 6.52). The confusion helps John dive deeper into the actual implication as Jesus explains further, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.

Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.

Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever” (Jn 6.5358).

Jesus is the bread from heaven that replaces the bread, or manna, of the Law. With Jesus, believers have eternal life. How did the Johannine community, and how do disciples today, encounter God’s revelation that to have eternal life one has to abide (menō) in the sacrificed flesh and blood of the Son of Man? John’s “insinuation of Eucharistic language” means that “one encounters the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ in the Eucharistic celebration.”58 Jesus says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” and John 58

Moloney 223.

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pronounces, “These are written so that you may continue to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (Jn 20.29,31). The believers’ lives in Jesus are a reciprocal menō relationship that the Eucharist brings to reality.

“Menō” implies an image of not only a steadfast love, but also a relationship that is in constant movement calling for a communion of love with God and others.

Conclusion Whether or not the institution of the Eucharist narratives had a significant influence on the first century Christians, at least Paul and John taught their communities about the importance of an authentic personal relationship with Jesus. The early Christians enhanced that relationship within the context of the shared communal meal where they tried to understand Christ’s message and the mutual abiding relationship into which He called them. Whether or not the early Christians defined their relationship with Christ in the Eucharist in the terms the Council of Trent used, they appear to have understood the underlying significance: an authentic abiding relationship of love and participation. The power of the mystery—then and now – comes from believers’ participation in Christ’s relationship with the Father, through participation in the Eucharist with Christ. In the Eucharist, Christ communicates with those who believe in him personally and asks for a reciprocal response. Christ’s presence in the Eucharist continually feeds and strengthens the Church and her understanding of this great mystery.

Fawn R. Waranauskas is completing her Master of Arts in Theology, Sacred Theology Specialization, at Saint Joseph’s College. She and her husband live in Montana, where Fawn is a teacher at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic School, Great Falls.

Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014

Sacred Geology: The Bedrocks of our Faith Steven L. Bridge When it comes to Theology, there are certain interdisciplinary pairings that come readily to mind. Theology tends to overlap easily with history, philosophy, and literature. Its practical aspects blend well with psychology, sociology, and social work. Of course, many theology majors choose to teach, and therefore pursue education.

Some prefer the professions, like business, communications, or nursing. But one discipline rarely associated with theology is geology.

Theology (so it is widely presumed) is heavenlyoriented and spiritually-based. Geology is principally a subterranean study of elemental materials. Could any two subjects be any less alike?

Saint Joseph’s College has been hosting the Maine Mineralogical and Geological Society’s Annual Gem and Mineral Show. It is the biggest venue of its type in the state. Some 2,000 people descend upon our campus to browse and purchase fossil and mineral specimens, fluorescent rocks, meteorites, precious and semi-precious gemstones, and gold and silver jewelry. However, this event is not chaired by a geologist, nor any other natural scientist.

Paradoxically, it is chaired by a theologian.

Over the past decade, my interest in geology has grown rapidly. Shortly after moving to Maine, I discovered Oxford County. Just north of Saint Joseph’s campus, Oxford County is one of the most mineralogically rich and diverse regions in the United States. (In fact, it has been estimated that some thirty percent of all known mineral species are represented there.) The old pegmatite mine dumps and tailing piles can still be great places to collect specimens. I have spent many an afternoon scouring such locales with my three daughters. And as our collection has grown, I have learned to facet the dirty, rough material into dazzling, breathtaking gemstones.

I have found that my geological interests cannot help but be influenced by my theological perspective and Christian values. The wonder evoked by a well-preserved fossil, the sheer aesthetic beauty of a well-formed crystal, or the otherworldly colors of a fluorescent mineral

specimen always leaves me with a sense of supernatural awe. Likewise, in conjunction with the College’s International Service Trip to Haiti, I brought along my rock-cutting equipment. There, I taught Haitians how to cut and polish discarded glass and presently am helping them establish a sustainable, cottage-based industry so that they might become more economically self-sufficient.

But the trend goes both ways. I find that my theological perspective is mutually shaped by my ever-expanding geological awareness. I’ve seen this phenomenon played out in a variety of ways.

For instance, scriptures that mention specific types of stones—those I once skimmed over—now catch my attention. The Bible is literally full of them, from the first chapters of Genesis (2:12, where the location of Eden is associated with the land of Havilah, a land renowned for its gold and lapis lazuli), to the last chapters of Revelation (21:9-21, where all manner of precious and semi-precious stones adorn the New Jerusalem). However, my particular favorite is the description of the high priest’s breastplate (Exod 28:6-28). The Bible’s instructions call for the arrangement of twelve stones, each inscribed with a corresponding Israelite tribe, to be mounted in gold filigree. (I must confess, I am half-tempted to try reconstructing it!)

Beyond such literal referents, geological allusions permeate the biblical literature as well.

Did you know, for instance, that the Old Testament uses the word “rock” at least thirty-three times to emphasize God’s steadfast support and defense of his people? So prevalent is this metaphor that “Rock” occasionally functions as a proper name for God: “The Rock—how faultless are his deed, how right all his ways! A faithful God, without deceit, how just and upright is he!” (Deut 32:4). “You were unmindful of the Rock that begot you, you forgot the God who gave you birth” (Deut 32:18).

“Do not raise your horns against heaven! Do not speak arrogantly against the Rock!” (Ps 75:6).

For this reason, when the Old Testament warns against false gods, it explicitly cautions believers against perceiving them as “rocks”: “For who is God except the Lord? Who is a rock save our God?” (2 Sam 22:32); “Indeed, their ‘rock’ is not like our Rock….” (Deut 32:31).

Given its Old Testament prevalence, we would expect to find this metaphor continued

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 throughout the New Testament. But this is not the case. There are a few references to Jesus as the rejected “cornerstone” (Matt 21:42; Mark 12:10; Luke 20:17; Acts 4:11; 1 Pet 2:7) or the “stumbling block” (Rom 9:32-33; 1 Pet 2:8). But neither these terms, nor their meanings, are quite the same.

Perhaps our closest parallel can be found in Matthew’s gospel, where Jesus calls Peter “the Rock” and vows to build his church upon him (Matt 16:18-19).

In light of its Old Testament background, this title is high praise indeed!

For me, perhaps the most remarkable intersections of Geology and Theology took place during my recent field studies throughout the biblical Holy Lands. My travels transpired over three consecutive summers from 2010-2012, and included Israel, Turkey, Greece, Malta, and Italy. I endeavored to retrace the footsteps of the Apostle Paul in order to better grasp the context of his life and letters. Along the way, I encountered a variety of geological features that pertain not only to Paul, but to the broader scope of biblical history. Some witnessed that history; others were an instrumental part of it. Either way, my encounters with them always were profound. I have catalogued over three dozen instances of such “Sacred Geology.”

My Top Ten are as follows:

The Western Wall is nearly all that remains of the Jerusalem Temple following its destruction in 70 CE. It was part of the massive retaining structure that Herod the Great commissioned to enlarge the Temple Mount. Built to withstand immense pressure, the walls are, on average, 15 feet thick. They rest upon bedrock, so they descend much deeper (up to 14 stories) below the promenade’s surface than they appear. Some of the stones within them are astounding in size. The biggest is larger than a school bus—44 feet long, 10 feet high, and 15 feet wide. It is estimated to weigh 570 tons. (The largest stone in the Great Pyramids of Egypt weighs less than 80 tons.) Imagine how, using nothing more than first century technology, they quarried, transported, and set that behemoth precisely into place. And I mean precisely. The stones are so expertly cut that no mortar was needed between them.

2. The Dome of the Rock (Jerusalem)

1. The Western Wall (Jerusalem)

The Temple Mount itself is expansive— roughly 37 acres in all. Its main attraction, however, is the exquisitely beautiful Dome of the Rock. This octagonal structure derives its name from the venerable outcrop housed within it.

Jewish tradition refers to this ledge as the Foundation Stone, the rock from which God created the world. It is believed to be the place where Heaven and Earth intersect—the holiest spot on the planet. It is also associated with the ridge of Mount Moriah. As such, many Jews believe this stone is the same altar upon which Abraham almost sacrificed his son, Isaac, and where, nearly a thousand years later, the Ark of the Covenant rested

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 within Solomon’s Temple. Islamic tradition also links this stone to Abraham, but to the nearsacrifice of his son Ishmael. Muslims additionally connect it with “the farthest mosque”—the location to which the prophet Mohammad was brought on his famous Night Journey. Here, Mohammad ascended into Heaven (leaving behind his footprints in the rock as he went) and successfully negotiated down the number of daily prayers required of him and his followers from 50 to 5.

discovered in the tunnel itself, resides at the national museum in Istanbul.) Today, Hezekiah’s tunnel can be traversed—but it is not for the claustrophobic! Knee-deep water flows through the pitch-black, narrow passage. On the plus side, it is impossible to get lost. Neither work crew waivered from their intended course—a testament to the royal engineers. The tunnel ends at the Pool of Siloam, the place where Jesus sent the blind man to be healed (John 9:7).

3. The Church (Jerusalem)

5. The Caves of Qumran (Dead Sea Region)

of

the

Holy

Sepulcher

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is Christianity’s holiest site. A section of the Church itself is built over Golgotha, the rocky outcrop on which Jesus was crucified. Portions of the ledge can still be seen behind Plexiglas windows. An altar marks the traditional site of Jesus’ cross, and a hole in the floor directly beneath it allows visitors to touch the sacred ground. (A nearly identical setup is found at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem over the supposed site of Jesus’ birth.)

Of course, the Church’s real draw is the Holy Sepulcher—the tomb in which Jesus was buried and risen. Originally a cave, the roof and walls were cleared away over time. Today, a Gothic-looking enclosure houses it. The enclosure is comprised of two chambers. The antechamber contains the stone (what’s left of it, anyway) that was rolled before the tomb. The inner chamber features the rock-cut bench upon which Jesus’ corpse was interred.

(Today, it is covered by a marble slab for protection).

4. Hezekiah’s Tunnel (Jerusalem) 2 Chronicles 32 describes how Hezekiah, the king of Judah, took measures to frustrate Sennacherib and his Assyrian army as they threatened to invade Jerusalem during the 8th century BC. Hezekiah shut off the upper outlet of the Gihon Spring and redirected its course into Jerusalem, so that its inhabitants would continue to have fresh water in the event of a siege. To do this, it was necessary to tunnel through solid bedrock for a quarter mile. Two teams of workers started at opposite ends and eventually met in the middle. (A stone inscription commemorating this event,

During the 1st century CE, an Essene community—John the Baptist may have been associated with them—took up residence along the shores of the Dead Sea. There they sought to live a more dedicated religious existence. When the political situation between the Romans and Jews deteriorated, they hid their sacred writings in the caves that dotted the cliffs nearby. There they remained until 1946, when a Bedouin shepherd accidently stumbled upon them while searching for strays. The terrain is strenuous and requires climbing equipment, but these caves can still be visited and explored. Out of them come our earliest versions of the Old Testament, predating our previous manuscripts by nearly 1,000 years!

6. The Cave Church of Antioch (Turkey) According to Acts 11:26, the term “Christian” was first applied to the disciples in Antioch. Members of the believing community had fled there following persecutions in Jerusalem. The Church of Antioch was, technically, the first

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 Christian Church. Both Peter and Paul spent considerable time there. Given its historical import, one might expect a magnificent cathedral. But the Church is nothing more than a cave (now with a bricked-up façade). On the floor to the right of the altar is a natural depression that collects water from a small spring—presumably the place where early baptisms took place. On the left side of the altar is the entrance of a tunnel that bores through to the back side of the mountain. Its purpose was to provide early Christians an escape route for when they were attacked by their enemies.

Athenians that they were unknowingly worshipping the Christian God. His speech received mixed reviews, but it did lead to some notable converts.

9. Via Appia (Italy)

7. The Ephesus Amphitheater (Turkey) When Paul visited Ephesus, the success of his evangelization threatened local idol makers, whose livelihood depended upon devotion to Artemis. The craftsmen gathered a mob and filled the city’s amphitheater, where they angrily protested for over two hours. Paul offered to address them, but was prevented from doing so for fear of his safety. Fortunately, cooler heads eventually prevailed (Acts 19:21-41). Creating the stadium required sixty years of excavation into the mountainside. It has three tiers of seating, with marble-backed VIP seats in front and center. It accommodates 25,000 spectators and is used for performances and cultural events to this day.

8. The Aeropagus (Greece)

After being arrested, Paul appealed his case to Caesar and was sent off to Rome. Shipwrecked en route, Paul eventually made it to Puteoli. From there, he followed the Via Appia into Rome. Built

by Appius Claudius in 312 BC for military purposes, this remarkable road was engineered with a layer of tight-fitting, interlocking stones cemented together over a layer of gravel. Crowned to facilitate water runoff, it featured drainage ditches on either side, retaining walls where needed, and dirt pathways for sidewalks. It was so well-built that sections of it continue to remain in use. As I traveled this road, I encountered an additional surprise. Archaeologists were excavating a newly discovered mosaic floor—most likely a vestige of the Three Tavern site where some of the Roman Christians came out to meet Paul (Acts 28:15).

10. St. Peter’s catacombs (Vatican City)

In the shadow of the Athens Acropolis is a stony outcrop known as the Aeropagus (literally, “Mars’ Hill”). It is on this site that Paul delivered his famous speech, “To an Unknown God” (Acts 17:22-34). In it, Paul sought to convince the

According to tradition, both Paul and Peter were martyred in Rome. Paul was beheaded at a site known as the Three Fountains. His stone sarcophagus, bearing the inscription, “PAULO APOSTOLOMART” is fixed under the altar at Saint Paul’s Outside the Walls. Peter was crucified (upside down) near Saint Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City. Far below the main altar, pagan catacombs— a tomb complex hewn from rock—marks Peter’s burial spot. Ancient graffiti (“Peter is here”) inscribed on a red wall helped identify the precise location. Archaeologists excavated this area in the

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 1960’s, and a forensic examination of nine bone fragments established them as the remains of a sixty-one year old male from the first century. Pope Francis recently unveiled these relics to the public for the first time.

In conclusion, it remains to be seen how many theologians will come to appreciate geology.

But one thing is certain. These “Bedrocks of our Faith” serve a rare function. They provide us immediate, tangible links with the sacred, distant past. For that, we should neither take them, nor this discipline, for granted.

Steven L. Bridge, Ph.D., is Professor of Theology at Saint Joseph’s College, where he has led the annual International Service Trips to Haiti and Guatemala for the past ten years. Dr. Bridge is the author of Getting the Gospels and Getting the Old Testament (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson). He resides in Maine.

Musings on the Practical, or Practical Musings?

John Munroe

The Magdalene Reading, van der Weyden

On numerous occasions over the years I have been asked to “make a presentation on Scripture.” The settings have been quite varied: a series on the Gospels or a particular Gospel; a talk to a group sponsored by a parish education program; a study group meeting at the homes of parish members; an RCIA program; members of men and women religious, and the like. One common denominator among all is a lack of knowledge on the part of many of the teachings from Vatican II, especially those contained in Dei Verbum.

Without trying to assess the reasons for this vacuum, I believe some suggestions for increasing the knowledge of the faithful regarding Scripture might be in order. One way to approach the problem is to develop an understanding of the various “criticisms” that Scripture scholars have put forth. For the audience intended this does not have

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Limina Volume 1 Spring 2014 to be full of technical jargon, but as the title of this article suggests, it must be practical.

José A. Pagola, a Spanish Scripture theologian whose numerous books have guided me in this quest of the “practical,” offers the following response to the question: What are the Gospels attempting to do?

For followers of Jesus, the four gospels are a unique and irreplaceable resource. They are not textbooks, expounding an academic doctrine of Jesus. They are not detailed biographies, tracing his life in history. These stories bring us close to Jesus as the first generations of Christians remembered him, with faith and love. On the one hand, they show us the great impact Jesus caused in the people who first were attracted to him and followed him. On the other, they were written to inspire new disciples to do the same.* Pagola is in no way denigrating the academic study of the Gospels, for he is a scholar. Rather, he is finding a way to “translate” our studies in such a way that the widest audience possible will understand and be inspired.

How do we approach the “practical”; that is, how do we make the concepts real and compelling in the lives of those whom we teach, preach, and offer pastoral care and support? Three words come quickly to mind: gently, firmly, and spiritually.

Gently: It is imperative that we approach our faithful people knowing they are, in the words of Pagola above, disciples who must be inspired to follow in the footsteps of the original disciples.

Thus we are to take the approach of Jesus, who ministered to those he described “as sheep without a shepherd.” Doing this will require our own studies to lead us to bring the “good news” in a manner that will not frighten away these “yearning disciples.”

Our learning and intimacy with Jesus will provide

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the means to “break open the Word” to our audience. Our prayer to Jesus should be, “Help me, Lord, to tend to your most precious flock whoever they may be and at whatever stage of learning we find them.

Firmly: In this context, firmly is not to emit a negative or frightening connotation. When we bring the word of Jesus to any audience, we must search for an understanding of just “where” the audience is. If they are novices in the study of the Gospels, we must “feed them with the milk of Jesus’ nourishment.” If they are more learned, we can guide them to and through the many techniques with which they can continue to grow in the knowledge of Jesus’ message.

Spiritually: We can intertwine the message of the Gospels with the continual understanding that Jesus’ teachings are designed to lead us to the Father. In this regard, our objective becomes to strengthen each person’s relationship with the Lord.

As Lectio Divina teaches, we can read, meditate, pray, and contemplate. Perhaps no greater good can come from guiding our audiences to grow in following in the footsteps of Jesus and to teach them to be more than readers and studiers of the Word, but as the wise saying emphasizes “to be doers.” Jesus came, Jesus taught by word and example, Jesus reconciled us to the Father. What a splendid way he has given us to lead others to his Father.

*

José A. Pagola, The Way Opened Up by Jesus (A

Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew) (Miami: Convivium Press, 2012) 24.

1 José A. Pagola,

John S. Munroe , Ph.D., has been teaching Catholic theology and biblical studies at Saint Joseph’s College for over twenty years. His pastoral approach to teaching comes from his many years as a parish Pastoral Associate and Religious Education Director. John and his wife life in Maine, where they enjoy spending time with their children and grandchildren.

Limina Volume 1 March 2014