Acts 14:21-27
Ps 145
Rev 21:1-5a
Jn 13:31a, 34-35
The first reading from Acts gives us history anchored in a specific time and place. Among other things it suggests that Paul and
Barnabas could have benefited from GPS or at least a good travel agent. They certainly covered a lot of ground in the
first missionary efforts of the Church.
At times Acts is a combination travelogue and introductory course in
missiology. It describes the difficult work of spreading the message of Jesus
crucified and risen from the dead, to the world well-beyond Jerusalem. Acts describes the challenge of sharing the
Good News with those who would not have heard it otherwise.
Much was happening as the community came together, growing
in leaps and bounds. It developed a
unique identity such that in the reading on Tuesday we heard “For a whole year they met with the Church and taught a
large number of people,
and it was in Antioch that the disciples were
first called Christians.”
"and it was in Antioch that the disciples were
first called Christians."
As Paul, Barnabas and the others spread out in their
missionary efforts what came to be known as the Church was gaining a foothold,
and the believers were given a name. That name would serve as a concise
description of these people. It was a name that would accrue more and more
associations—both positive and negative—over the ensuing millennia.
Associations to the word Christian emerged, and continue to
emerge, from observations of how Christians conducted-- and continue to
conduct--themselves in the public arena,
even when 'being a good Christian' permits advancing an immoral agenda. There
is nothing Christian about the intentional taking of human life at any point
from conception to natural death in old age.
That religious belief has a profound effect on behavior was
well illustrated in Rodney Stark's book: The
Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History. The book considers the period covered by Acts and into the
first two or three centuries of the Church, a rather narrow span of time given
the two millennia of Church history.
Stark described behaviors in the early Church that he
contends drew many to embrace Christianity.
One of the most fascinating was the Christian community's response to
plague. From the very beginning
Christians acted on the mandate to care for the sick.
Stark suggests that caring for the afflicted diminished the community's
incidence of plague as a result of immunity developed from low-level exposure
to the infectious agents; a primitive form of vaccination if you will. In addition; the nascent Christian Church
held, even then, absolute prohibitions against the taking of child-brides and
against abortion. Both of these
prohibitions increased the life-expectancy of women who were Christian.
If the first reading from Acts gives us a history anchored
in time and place, Revelation indicates
a point well-beyond the horizon anchored neither in time nor in geography. It hints at what is to come in veiled
language. The images are strange, but
strange is the only way to describe that which we cannot know in this life. The reading does not tell us the how or the
when. But it assures us that we WILL be transformed in that instant when vital
functions cease and everything changes. We
are reminded of this in a preface for the funeral Mass:
“Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended.
. . . It is a great comfort knowing “there shall be no more death or mourning,
wailing or pain for the old order has passed away.” Pain.
Suffering. Sorrow. Those
experiences that mark our lives on earth will come to an end in that final
moment.
The Gospel brings us back to the meaning of Christian and the
associations people make upon hearing the word Christian. Our identity as Catholics, is anchored in
Jesus’ mandate. “I give you a new
commandment: love one another. As I have
loved you, so you also should love one another.” Christian identity should be apparent in
those who follow Jesus’ command. But,
because we are sinners, that identity is not always visible.
Back in the seventies, a time during which some truly awful
church songs were foisted upon us, and which, alas, remain firmly implanted in
cheap, ugly, disposable "worship aids" and loose-leaf lectionaries,
one of the most annoying and wrongheaded featured a thumping marching chorus
and the stunningly narcissistic self-aggrandizing lyric:
“They will know we are Christians by our love, by our love.
They will knoow woooo
we are Christians by our love.”
That last know-wo sometimes sounded like the communal passing of a kidney stone.
Musical value: close
to zero
Theology: little to
none.
Narcissistic index:
like American Express, priceless
Perhaps if the verse read, 'they SHOULD know we are
Christians by how we show our love,' the words would be less grating, the
sentiment less condescending, and more descriptive of a goal which we should
seek. There is nothing wrong with the conditional sense. Rather than assuming that we manifest our love so perfectly that others will
immediately see us as different is more realistic—and humble—to admit that we
have to work at it. Just because we proclaim ourselves Christians it doesn’t
mean that the love part derives automatically, without effort, prayer, and
self-examination.
“The Lord is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and of great kindness.
The Lord is good to all
and compassionate toward all his works.”
That is a
great consolation even when we act in a way that prompted Dr. Rieux,
in Camus' The Plague to observe: "as you
know Christians sometimes say that sort of thing without really thinking it.
They're better than they seem."
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The photos are from Sun Moon Lake, one of the more beautiful places I've ever been.
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The view from Ci-en Pagoda. It was quite a walk to get up there. I could not do it today.
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Bikes at the hotel in which we stayed.
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The gate and the small shaft of light refelcted on the pavement drew me to this shot.
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A lower level of Ci-en |
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Fr. Ignatius Hung, SJ in profile. |
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Fr. Jack, SJ, MD