Yesterday's
posting elicited an interesting, lengthy comment that
I'm going to try to tackle in a couple weeks; right now, I'm lining things up
on the front burner for next week.
There is the possibility that this might be another spam
(I'm up to 4,077 incoming spams since I got rolling here less than a year ago).
But I dug around a bit, and it seems this fellow does exist, and had lifted at
least a goodly-sized junk of the text from his own blog… which I'll link in
here once I've got his permission. I did send him a note back (subject-line
"Five Golden Ringers"), in response
to his comment (and masked his email address so he doesn't get spam-slammed):
Good morning, DoubtingThomas:
Thank you for your comments; these are common
modern-day criticisms, and I'd like to address them in a more public forum than
just via email between you and me. Would you be okay with it if I post your
comments, and my responses, on my blog? I won't post your email address unless
you request it, and will keep you anonymous. This will keep the spammers away
from you, and also any more fundamentalist, rather rigid folks from trying to
excoriate you.
I do have a bit of a docket built up for now,
though, so this will have to wait at least a couple weeks: I'll be examining
some more specific issues of Jesus' birth/life circumstances (as I outlined
briefly yesterday) through January 6. On Wednesday I'm going to begin the first
of two weekly features, this being a spotlight on a friend's television
scripts. Thursday or Friday I'll begin the other, which is a how-to on building
a really cool blues guitar, courtesy of another friend. I also intend to take
at least a day or two in January and try tackling the lightning-rod issue of
abortion, from the standpoint of a liberal, feminist Catholic man who is
nonetheless obedient to the Church. [And before January is out, I'm also going to clean off His
Holiness, Pope Pius XII.]
Again, what you've had to say is deserving of
good, point-by-point attention, and I want to be sure it gets some serious,
public focus, even if just so my other two readers, who likely share at least
some of your viewpoints, might have (I hope) their own confusion to some degree
ameliorated.
Regards,
AgingChild
No word back yet. Even if the comment's from a bogus sort (and some
of my spam-laden "comments" have featured stolen text), the points
he's trying – rather weakly and superficially, I think – to make are in need of
reasoned, educated answer… or at least the best I myself can offer. Later,
friend.
Anyway, back to humility.
Today, the first Sunday after Christmas, the Church marks as the
Feast of the Holy Family (i.e., Jesus, His mother Mary, and His foster-father –
Mary's husband – Joseph). St. Joseph I want to write on specifically; this,
too, will be later, most likely in mid-March.
But it must be pointed out here that Jesus' prime role models in
life were these, his earthly parents. I said a
couple days ago that Joseph was more than just a carpenter, that he would
best be referred to as a construction worker. The Greek word that has been
translated as "carpenter" from the oldest extant texts of the Gospels
is τεκτον (tekton), which refers to a
worker in stone as well as in wood. Though the Bible doesn't mention it (and
shouldn't need to), he and Joseph and their work-crew probably assisted in
constructions ongoing in the town of Sepphoris, just a few miles
up the road from their Nazareth home.
That Jesus was familiar with at least some practices of stone- and
woodworking is evident in several places, such as Matthew 21:42, Luke 14:28 and 6:41-2, and so on. (He also
showed genuine familiarity with animal- and plant-husbandry; my own little
theory is that He spent quite a few of his first thirty years working in a
number of very different professions.)
Not having done a whole lot of it myself, I do recognize that hard
work does often foster humility in people. Joseph also showed his own humility
(and trust) in immediately and unquestioningly heeding divine promptings (in
the form of angels who commanded him in dreams), most particularly in doing an about-face when he was ready to
divorce Mary when she turned out to be pregnant: instead he married her, and
raised the child as his – their – own, doing his utmost to protect these two particular
loved ones when their lives were threatened.
Joseph can be called "the silent saint", since nowhere in
the Bible are his words recorded. So he speaks most loudly in his actions: his
love for and devotion to Mary; his determination to be the best of fathers to
Jesus; his deep and living faith; his trust in and obedience of the divine; and
so on. We could all do far, far worse than emulate him.
Mary – sinless and saintly – lived a sweet humility, too. She was
innocent and trusting. When Gabriel informed Zechariah (married to a cousin of
Mary) that he was to become a father in his old age – and that this child would
serve to prepare the people for the coming of the Messiah – Zechariah's fear
turned to something almost derisive, and he responded with, essentially,
"You don't know what you're talking about." That was also the last
thing he said in nearly a year.
Mary's own response six months later, when Gabriel told her God
wished her to carry the child who would be the Messiah, was simply to ask the
angel to explain this further. Which he did, and so she – totally trusting – did. Think about it:
absolute trust requires genuine humility; otherwise, we'd stand up and say,
"Wrong; I know better." This was Zechariah's
mistake… from which he certainly learned
the hard way. Mary never failed in her own trust in God, and in her son – His
Son – and His mission of salvation to Judaism and beyond.
(I need to cut this short, though – brother Sarge just called, and
over the phone twisted my arm to join him in a two-mile run through
Pennsylvania Dutch Country. I can handle that; I'd been planning on a midnight run
through the neighborhood anyway. But it's going to be cold (~thirties); I'll
let you know how it turns out.)
Humility is not weakness, however. Besides her agony of not
flinching at having to helplessly watch her son's torture and execution, she showed
her mettle as well – like any good Jewish mother – in even giving Jesus, the
very Son of God, a good hard push.
This was at His first recorded miracle, at a wedding in a small
town called Cana (probably modern-day Kafr Kanna), not far from Nazareth. (Mary, Jesus, and his newly-gathered
disciples were among the invited guests.) You probably know the story: when the
wine unexpectedly ran out – interestingly, only after the disciples arrived! – ,
Mary turned to her son, trusting fully that he could save the festive occasion
from becoming a big social disaster.
Their exchange
bears deeper study and treatment than I can give it here just now. I don't yet
grasp the full spiritual dynamics behind all this, but I'd really like to read
up on it more. In any case, Jesus seems to decline her request – and Mary does
seem in turn to ignore her son's answer, and tells the master of ceremonies to
follow Jesus' instructions. Essentially this appears to put her son on the
spot, and he readily accedes to His mother's request in stunning abundance: by
turning quite a big load of water into some 500 to 700 gallons of wine.
This must have been quite some wedding – especially afterward!!
But do you see the humility? Mary trusts her son… and also refuses
to take a seeming "No" for an answer. (And they wonder why we
Catholics like to run our prayers through her sometimes!) Jesus, in turn, honoring
his mother (Fourth or Fifth Commandment), quite thoroughly takes care of the
matter – showing us in the process the great yield provided to those who do
indeed trust. As Psalm 23
says, my cup is overflowing!
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