In the ninth century BC, the northern
kingdom of Israel, unlike the southern kingdom of Judah, lacked Mediterranean frontage.
Israel's king, Omri, recognized the economic, military, and political benefits
that Israel could obtain if it had easy access to the Mediterranean. So he
arranged for his son, Ahab, to marry Jezebel, the daughter of a king who did control
a section of Mediterranean coast.
Ahab's father apparently failed to see the marriage's
potential and probably unintended religious consequences. Jezebel, a non-Jew,
understandably wanted to continue practicing her own religion. Thus, Ahab had
an altar to Jezebel's god, Baal, constructed. Furthermore, many worshippers of
Baal dwelled among the Israelites, giving this new altar rather broad popular
appeal. If the biblical portraits of Ahab and Jezebel are credible, both of
them relished their power as king and queen, using their positions to enrich
themselves at the expense of their people. In very many respects, the portraits
of Ahab and Jezebel seem strikingly similar to twenty-first century dictators
and corrupt politicians.
Elijah was a relative nobody. Israelites who
had heard of him probably viewed him as a religious fanatic, a dynamic
preacher, and someone who occasionally worked miracles. Outraged and offended
by Jezebel's idolatry and greed as well as Ahab's temporizing policies, Elijah
resolves to end what he perceives as an unacceptable situation by challenging
the priests of Baal to a contest. Whoever could prove their God's power by
successfully beseeching their God to consume an offering with fire would
vanquish the opposition literally and figuratively. Israel is caught in the
grips of a terrible drought; Ahab probably regarded this contest as a
convenient distraction if not a potential solution to the water shortage.
Elijah allows the priests of Baal to go
first. They build an altar, sacrifice a bull, and then for several hours
beseech Baal to send fire to consume the offering. When no fire erupts, Baal's
priests, as was their custom, show their piety by cutting themselves with
knives and lances, spilling their blood on the altar. Baal remains silent.
With the passing hours and lack of fire, the
crowd's enthusiasm wanes. Elijah now takes charge. He superintends construction
of a new altar of twelve stones, piles wood on it, slaughters a bull, orders a
trench dug around the altar, and then has everything soaked in water until the
trench overflows. Only then does he lift his voice in prayer, asking God to act
that people may know who is truly God. Fire, like a bolt of lightning, consumes
the bull, the wood, the stones, and the water in the trench leaving only dust.
Elijah's victory over the priests of Baal restores the worship of God to the
center of Israeli life and ends a drought.
Hollywood could not devise a better script
for a blockbuster movie. Regardless of its historical accuracy, this story[1] along
with the other biblical accounts of Elijah's dealings with Ahab and Jezebel has
a clear message for us: social justice, in all of its expressions, is central
to God's plan for the cosmos.
The second story in today's readings, Jesus'
healing of the centurion's slave,[2] is
equally dramatic but often misunderstood. A Roman centurion commanded 100
soldiers, a position comparable to that of an Army or Marine Corps company
commander. A centurion, however, exercised much greater authority over his
troops. The centurion featured the reading from Luke had funded construction of
the Capernaum synagogue, the ruins of which archaeological excavations have
exposed. So the centurion was probably a God-fearer, that is, a monotheist sympathetic
to Judaism. Serving in the Roman army required a loyalty oath that presumed the
emperor's divinity, an oath incompatible with his converting to Judaism as long
as the centurion remained in the army.
Slaves were chattel, property. The centurion
had no legal obligation to provide medical care for his slave. The text offers
no hint about the centurion's motive for asking Jesus to heal his slave. That
motive may have been pecuniary, friendship, or something else. Nor does the
text explain the nature of the centurion's faith. He may have turned to Jesus out
of desperation, having exhausted all the other options. Perhaps he regarded Jesus
as a Jewish prophet, someone like Elijah and or Elisha, through whom God's power
flowed in mysterious and yet powerful ways. Almost certainly, the centurion would
not have interpreted Jesus as fully human and fully God. The uncertain nature
of the centurion's faith underscores God's love for everyone. All are welcome
because God loves all.
Daniel Berrigan, a Roman Catholic priest and
member of the Society of Jesus, as is Pope Francis, died at age 94 earlier this
month. Fr. Berrigan attained prominence protesting the Vietnam War, the draft, and
nuclear weapons. As a senior naval officer who has taught and published in the
field of military ethics, I have profound agreements and disagreements with Fr.
Berrigan's views. From a Christian perspective, Fr. Berrigan, the Roman
Catholic bishops, the Methodist bishops, and many others are correct: nuclear
war, with its inherent disregard for the distinction between combatants and
non-combatants is unjust. However, I think he was wrong to advocate the US unilaterally
scrapping its nuclear arsenal during the Cold War. Doing so would have destabilized
the world and increased the odds of another global war. Fr. Berrigan rightly
described the injustice of both the Vietnam War and a draft system biased against
the poor and minorities. Instead of abolishing the draft, as Fr. Berrigan
recommended, I think that we should require two years of mandatory national service
for all.
In sum, I admire Fr. Berrigan not because I always
agreed with him, but because God's light shined so brightly and powerfully in
him. He was truly a contemporary Elijah figure, a person God used to make the
world a more just place. Similarly, Holy Nativity has room for a wide diversity
of views as we individually and collectively try to discern how to incarnate God's
love and justice in this place, in Aina Haina, in Hawaii, and throughout the
cosmos.
Fr. Berrigan also had an exceptionally deep
personal relationship with God. He was a man of great integrity, a theologian
and professor, a poet who enjoyed life with an exuberant sense of humor, and who
cherished his friends and family. Following Jesus' example, he lived a simple
life, owning a single set of clothes and so few possessions that his belongings
fit into a small backpack. When I look at Fr. Berrigan's life, I see a life
shaped by a lifetime of walking the Jesus' path, a cruciform-shaped life that for
many people was a rich channel of God's grace and love.
Incidentally, Memorial Day is not about the
justness of particular wars. Memorial Day is about honoring veterans. When I listen
to a veteran talk about his or her life, I almost invariably hear a story similar
to the centurion's, a warrior who knew a higher power, a person who sought to
serve his or her neighbors, and a person who sometimes went into harm's way trying
to defend freedom and justice.
2 comments:
Fr. George---I would appreciate your comments on the following;
“Memorial Day is often confused with Veterans Day. Why? According to the Department of Veterans Affairs:--Many people confuse Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Memorial Day is a day for remembering and honoring military personnel who died in the service of their country, particularly those who died in battle or as a result of wounds sustained in battle. While those who died are also remembered, Veterans Day is the day set aside to thank and honor ALL those who served honorably in the military — in wartime or peacetime. In fact, Veterans Day is largely intended to thank LIVING veterans for their service, to acknowledge that their contributions to our national security are appreciated, and to underscore the fact that all those who served — not only those who died — have sacrificed and done their duty.”---Thanks
Dotun, The distinction the VA notes between Veterans Day and Memorial Day is correct. However, time has blurred the distinction for many in the US. Memorial Day originated to honor WWI dead, but now all WWI vets have almost certainly died. A majority of US citizens do not know a combat veteran in spite of the US having more combat veterans than at time since WWII. Rather than emphasize the distinction between the holidays, I often find it more helpful to acknowledge the contributions and sacrifices of all vets on both days.
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