Jesus and His Brothers

The story of Joseph is one of my favorites in the Bible because it is so human. I especially enjoy the scene in chapter 45 in which Joseph, after having dismissed all the Egyptians, revealed his identity to his brothers. But his brothers were too dismayed by his royal presence to comprehend it. What follows is especially tender:

And Joseph said to his brothers, "Please come near to me." So they came near. Then he said: "I am Joseph your brother, whom you sold into Egypt.” v. 4.

I once heard a commentator say that Joseph showed him the sign of his circumcision, which they would understand never to be possible for an Egyptian satrap. We don’t know what he really did but clearly they believed him.

Signs and wonders are the currency of the Lord. The Bible shows without detail that the Jews will someday rule the earth with Jesus as Lord and King. I can imagine at some future time Jesus calling them all and saying, “Please come near to me. I am Jesus your brother, whom you crucified.”

Lest anyone think I am engaging in anti-Semitic, God-killer rant, consider v.5:

"But now, do not therefore be grieved or angry with yourselves because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.”

We are all guilty of the crucifixion and death of Jesus for so we proclaim every Good Friday. The Jews were merely our proxy. What we all intended for evil, God intends for good. Jesus banishes Death and gives Life.

Jesus will make some persuasive revelation of Himself and His forgiveness to them. Signs and wonders that they will believe as they did not in the past and do not now. Then perhaps we will all see how gloriously the wall of separation between us is broken down. (Eph 2:11-14)

Happy Birthday, Blessed Mother!

Mary the Dawn, Christ the Perfect Day;
Mary the Gate, Christ the Heav’nly Way!
Mary the Root, Christ the Mystic Vine;
Mary the Grape, Christ the Sacred Wine!
Mary the Wheat-sheaf, Christ the Living Bread;
Mary the Rose-Tree, Christ the Rose Blood-red!
Mary the Font, Christ the Cleansing Flood;
Mary the Chalice, Christ the Saving Blood!
Mary the Temple, Christ the Temple’s Lord;
Mary the Shrine, Christ the God adored!
Mary the Beacon, Christ the Haven’s Rest;
Mary the Mirror, Christ the Vision Blest!
Mary the Mother, Christ the Mother’s Son.
Both ever blest while endless ages run.
Amen.

Consider the Peach and the Coconut

As they might illustrate a person, which do you suppose God wants us to be? The quick, seemingly obvious, answer would be the peach. Someone cannier, suspecting a trap (you know who you are), would say the coconut. But why? Why either one?

The peach is beautiful to look at: golden and...well, peachy. Its flesh is luscious, its nectar sweet. The coconut is coarse and shaggy. Its rocky exterior makes the flesh a pain in the neck to get at, hardly worth the effort sometimes. So the peach seems like a good choice for our metaphorical person favored by God.

But that's seeing the way humans see, superficial and carnal. The peach's flesh is soft, easily bruised, and decays quickly. It's heart is a stone that no one wants. The coconut's exterior is hard as rock but its heart is large, hollow and filled with sweet nectar. I'd say Jesus was a coconut. He took all kinds of abuse and still had room in his heart for sinners, lepers, other human wrecks, and even his abusers. And for me.

See? One of the losses of the Fall was our God-like vision. The veil of flesh falls over the luminous beings that we really are and we know to our shame that we are naked. We even become accustomed to think of this aberrant vision as the only way to see. We sometimes need to be reminded that "man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7).

It's an Old Joke...

...so I just hadda render it in verse.

Be Careful What You Pray For

A Dominican friar of holy repute
and his Franciscan brother fell into dispute
over which congregation was better.
They argued about it in city and field,
and as neither persuaded, and neither would yield,
they decided to write God a letter.

So they set forth their cases in scholarly prose
on the same sheet of parchment, and then they arose
and carried their plea to the altar.
“Heavenly Father, we know You are near.
Tonight, while we’re sleeping, please answer us here
on this sheet that we place by the Psalter.”

Next morning, they hastened to chapel, and there
in a light that made the motes spangle in air,
in a handsome round script, the answer lay.
“Remember the Gospel. It’s far more divine
to take last place than first. Boys, you’re both doing fine.”
It was signed, God Almighty, S.J.

Copyright © 2005

The Commonplaciana Manifesto

Although I have had a couple posts just to test drive this rig, I should set out what I intend by this blog. I can't say in advance everything to expect because I don't know them myself. I can be pretty certain of what I will not be doing: political commentary, Christian apologetics, or really deep thinking. There are others who do it so much better than I possibly could. I will link to them when I come across something memorable. My favorites are in the Blogroliana (I know this -iana thing can be overdone; I promise to restrain myself).

A commonplace book is a place to collect, contrary to its name, those things that are anything but commonplace. Hence, the contents of a commonplace book are commonplaciana. They are those things we encounter daily and almost as quickly forget –

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

Lest it seem a frivolous enterprise, especially in light of my invitation to explore and celebrate the “rose-moles all in stipple”, let me say I know our pilgrimage is serious business because we are making eternal choices. But having chosen the Way, the Truth and the Life, it is fitting to examine and enjoy the marvels that He has strewn along our path. After all, He Himself “shall drink of the brook by the wayside.” Why shouldn’t we?

Original Sin

Before there was a beating heart
or bone was knit to bone,
I heard I Am
the voice of God
and thought it was my own.

Copyright 2010

Hooked on a Feeling

A dear friend once told me, "I don't go on what I'm feeling, but I like to feel what I'm going on." He was an honest man. We rely on our feelings more than we realize, certainly more than us men like to admit.

Once in prayer, I complained that though I truly loved God, I didn't feel the affection I thought I should. God seldom speaks to me in words, or perhaps the words come in data bursts too fast to be decoded now but have to be stored for a slow period later. Anyway, I had complete assurance that He had spoken. Just a tiny flash, a scintilla of light in my mind, which I later synthesized as: there doesn’t have to be an affect for there to be an effect.

So nowadays, though interiorly I long for the Lord as a deer that pants for the running stream, I don’t worry about the affections. I can be confident that Jesus will put my prayer on the Altar of Incense no matter what I’m feeling.

But I still pray for greater affection. I don't go on what I'm feeling, but I like to feel what I'm going on.