In 2005, a quasi-remake of the famous 1967 movie
“Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner” was released.
Entitled “Guess Who?” it starred Bernie Mac as an African-American
father who struggled to deal with his daughter’s Caucasian fiancé (played by
Ashton Kutcher). Much of the (sometimes rude) comedy of
the film revolved around the clash of cultures at the dinner table. Usually we only share meals with people like
us: family members or friends from our own “circle.” When someone from “outside” comes in, it
upsets the balance.
If anything, Jews of Jesus day were even more
careful than contemporary Americans about who they invited around their table. The Readings for this Lord’s Day are going to
conclude with Jesus calling his followers to invite people from “outside”—the
poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind—to dine with us. This takes humility, for it requires us to
recognize we are not “too good” to share as equals with those people overlooked
by the rest of society. Thus, we also
observe a strong theme of humility running through the Readings.
My child, conduct your affairs with humility,
and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.
Humble yourself the more, the greater you are,
and you will find favor with God.
What is too sublime for you, seek not,
into things beyond your strength search not.
The mind of a sage appreciates proverbs,
and an attentive ear is the joy of the wise.
Water quenches a flaming fire,
and alms atone for sins.
and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.
Humble yourself the more, the greater you are,
and you will find favor with God.
What is too sublime for you, seek not,
into things beyond your strength search not.
The mind of a sage appreciates proverbs,
and an attentive ear is the joy of the wise.
Water quenches a flaming fire,
and alms atone for sins.
Sirach is the last of the wisdom books in the
Catholic order of the canon, and may be regarded as a massive summation of the
Israelite wisdom tradition composed c. 200 BC.
In fact, Sirach is truly a meditation on the entire body of Israel’s
Scriptures from the perspective of wisdom,
that is, the practical knowledge of successful living. Because Sirach provides such a useful digest
of the moral message of the Old Testament Scriptures, the early Church used it
heavily in catechesis, earning it the name “Ecclesiasticus,” that is, “the little
book of the Church.”
Sirach is known by many names. The full title of the book in antiquity, in
Greek and probably Hebrew as well, was “The Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach”
(cf. Sir 50:27). A plethora of shortened
titles in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin can be found in the Fathers and the rabbis
of antiquity, including “Wisdom,” “Wisdom of Jesus,” “Book of Wisdom,” “Wisdom
of Sirach,” “Proverbs of Jesus of Sirach,” and others. The brief title ben Sira (“son of Sirach”) eventually prevailed in the Jewish
tradition, and this name is often used in scholarly writing today, for the book
and for its author. As mentioned, the
Latin tradition eventually bestowed on it the name “Ecclesiasticus,” although
St. Jerome’s title in the Vulgate was Liber
Iesu Filii Sirach, “The Book of Jesus son of Sirach.” Since any title including “Wisdom” is easily
confused with the Wisdom of Solomon, and “Ecclesiasticus” with Ecclesiastes,
the name “Sirach” has now become common in modern Catholic discourse, and this
is the title we will use below.
Sirach was highly respected among the rabbis of
antiquity, and citations can be found in rabbinical literature where it is
quoted as Scripture. Greek-speaking Jews
in diaspora throughout the Roman Empire also received it as inspired. Despite the fact that it was originally
written in Hebrew, however, it was rejected from the rabbinic Jewish canon of
Scripture, perhaps because it was considered to have been written too late,
after the age of prophetic inspiration.
Nonetheless, within the Church, Sirach was received as canonical and was
commonly quoted as Scripture by many of the Fathers, even if it was omitted from
some early lists of the canon.
Sirach is a self-consciously literary work, one that intentionally
employs a wide variety of rhetorical and literary devices. The author was a
professional scribe, a literary expert of his day. As in earlier Wisdom literature, especially
Proverbs, the two-line bicola prevails. But Jesus ben Sira also employs a wide
variety of other literary forms, including hymns, acrostic poems, encomia, and at least one todah psalm.
The Book of Proverbs was the literary model for
Jesus ben Sira, and like Proverbs, Sirach mixes long poems in praise of Wisdom
(e.g. Prov. 1:20-33; ch. 8; ch. 9; 31:10-31) with loosely-organized collections
of proverbs. Unlike Proverbs, however,
Sirach shows greater thematic unity, and an effort to group proverbs by topic.
The modern Lectionary is generous in its use of
readings from Sirach, employing a wide variety of readings from all sections of
the book for different occasions. In
general, we may observe that frequently Jesus ben Sirach’s ethical teaching is
formulated in a way very similar to that of Our Lord. Taking advantage of this fact, the Lectionary
in Ordinary Time often associates Gospel readings recounting Jesus’ ethical
teaching with similar passages from Sirach.
In this way, the Lectionary teaches the children of the Church that
Jesus’ moral doctrine was not entirely a novum
or innovation; rather, it had strong precedent already in Judaism and
canonical Scripture before his coming.
So we see the truth of what Jesus himself taught about his continuity
with the sacred tradition of Israel: “Think not that I have come to abolish the
law and the prophets; I have not come to abolish them, but to fulfill them”
(Matt 5:17). Although Jesus does
introduce new teaching, the true novelty of the Gospel concerns more his person than his ethics.
Jesus ben Sirach, like the Jesus of Nazareth to
come, highly prizes humility, and in today’s passage stresses this virtue as
one key to entering into God’s favor. In
his exhortation “Humble yourself, the greater you are,” we hear a “pre-echo” of
Jesus’ words: “Whoever would become great in God’s kingdom must become the
servant of all,” and “let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and
the leader as the one who serves” (Luke 22:27).
Jesus Christ is the culmination of a profound tradition of moral reflection
of God’s revelation within Israel.
R. (cf. 11b) God,
in your goodness, you have made a home for the poor.
The just rejoice and exult before God;
they are glad and rejoice.
Sing to God, chant praise to his name;
whose name is the LORD.
R. God, in your goodness, you have made a home for the poor.
The father of orphans and the defender of widows
is God in his holy dwelling.
God gives a home to the forsaken;
he leads forth prisoners to prosperity.
R. God, in your goodness, you have made a home for the poor.
A bountiful rain you showered down, O God, upon your inheritance;
you restored the land when it languished;
your flock settled in it;
in your goodness, O God, you provided it for the needy.
R. God, in your goodness, you have made a home for the poor.
The First Reading—not accidentally!—ended with a
call for the practice of almsgiving,
that is, material help offered to the poor.
The Psalm picks up on the theme of kindness to the poor. The Psalm asserts that God himself is the
primary benefactor of the orphan, the widow, and other disadvantaged persons. Therefore, when we show kindness to the poor,
it is an imitatio Dei, an act that
makes us resemble God!
What is the connection between humility and
almsgiving? It lies in seeing the poor
person as like ourselves, as sharing
in our humanity, as being our brother or sister. Pride involves placing ourselves above the
level of other human beings, so that their needs have no claim on us. But through almsgiving we recognize the poor
as our family, as fellow children of God who have a claim on our love.
Brothers and sisters:
You have not approached that which could be touched
and a blazing fire and gloomy darkness
and storm and a trumpet blast
and a voice speaking words such that those who heard
begged that no message be further addressed to them.
No, you have approached Mount Zion
and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem,
and countless angels in festal gathering,
and the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in heaven,
and God the judge of all,
and the spirits of the just made perfect,
and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant,
and the sprinkled blood that speaks more eloquently than that of Abel.
You have not approached that which could be touched
and a blazing fire and gloomy darkness
and storm and a trumpet blast
and a voice speaking words such that those who heard
begged that no message be further addressed to them.
No, you have approached Mount Zion
and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem,
and countless angels in festal gathering,
and the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in heaven,
and God the judge of all,
and the spirits of the just made perfect,
and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant,
and the sprinkled blood that speaks more eloquently than that of Abel.
The author of Hebrews is drawing a distinction
here between two covenants: the covenant with Israel through Moses on Mt.
Sinai, and the covenant with David established at Mt. Zion. These two different mountains symbolize two
different covenants. The sacred author
states: “You have not approached that which could be touched and a blazing fire
and gloomy darkness …”: this is a description of Mt. Sinai (see Exodus
19:16-19) and is symbolic of the Old (Mosaic) Covenant. This means: “You have not entered into a
covenant like the Old Covenant, characterized by fear of God and threatening
fearsome curses (e.g. Deut 27-32). The
covenant you have entered is not like this Old Covenant (see Jer 31:31-34).”
Instead, the sacred author says, No, you have
approached Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem …”
Mt. Zion is the site on which the Covenant with David was established, so
through this imagery the author of Hebrews identifies the New Covenant as the
fulfillment of the Davidic. He is also
identifying the Church as the true “Mt. Zion” and “heavenly Jerusalem.”
The Davidic and Mosaic covenants were very
different from one another, and the Church is based on the Davidic, not the
Mosaic:
Contrast Between the Mosaic and Davidic Covenants
|
||
|
Mosaic
|
Davidic
|
Location
|
Mt. Sinai
|
Mt. Zion
|
Sanctuary
|
Temporary Tabernacle
|
Permanent Temple
|
Form of Instruction
|
Law
|
Wisdom
|
Polity
|
National Government
|
International Empire
|
Style of Liturgy
|
Silent, Somber
|
Joyful, Musical (the
Psalms)
|
Preferred Sacrifice
|
The Whole Burnt Offering
|
The Todah or “Thanksgiving” Sacrifice
|
The author describes the community of the
“Heavenly Jerusalem” as including “countless angels in festal gathering,” that is, gathered for a feast. What is this feast at
which the angels and saints gather at “Mt. Zion”? It is the Eucharist, where they consume the
“sprinkled blood” of Jesus which “speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” (Abel’s blood cried out for justice; Jesus’
blood cries out for mercy.) The Eucharist is the banquet at which God invites
the poor, the blind, the lame, etc.—in other words, invites us.
On a sabbath Jesus went to dine
at the home of one of the leading Pharisees,
and the people there were observing him carefully.
He told a parable to those who had been invited,
noticing how they were choosing the places of honor at the table.
“When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet,
do not recline at table in the place of honor.
A more distinguished guest than you may have been invited by him,
and the host who invited both of you may approach you and say,
‘Give your place to this man,’
and then you would proceed with embarrassment
to take the lowest place.
Rather, when you are invited,
go and take the lowest place
so that when the host comes to you he may say,
‘My friend, move up to a higher position.’
Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table.
at the home of one of the leading Pharisees,
and the people there were observing him carefully.
He told a parable to those who had been invited,
noticing how they were choosing the places of honor at the table.
“When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet,
do not recline at table in the place of honor.
A more distinguished guest than you may have been invited by him,
and the host who invited both of you may approach you and say,
‘Give your place to this man,’
and then you would proceed with embarrassment
to take the lowest place.
Rather, when you are invited,
go and take the lowest place
so that when the host comes to you he may say,
‘My friend, move up to a higher position.’
Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table.
These words of Jesus operate at two different
levels. On the basic level, it’s just
sound advice about social etiquette.
Everyone dislikes a person that is always putting themselves forward,
the kind the comedian Brian Regan describes as “me-monsters.” So don’t put yourself forward in social
situations. Give way to others. Ironically, in the long run this attitude
wins friends, and eventually others will come and invite you “forward.”
On
the other hand, this banquet table may be seen as a symbol of the Church, which
is gathered around the Eucharistic table of the Lord. In that case, are Lord is condemning an
attitude of “climbing the ecclesiastical ladder,” that is, seeking to acquire
honor and authority within the Church, perhaps by obtaining “cherry” positions
within her hierarchical structure or institutions (schools, hospitals,
etc.). Our Lord has no use for “social
climbers” or “political animals” around his table. Pope Francis has emphasized this in his
pontificate, saying how much he esteems bishops who are “wed to one
church”—that is, who are committed to their own diocese rather than wishing to get
a more prestigious one. But even lay
people can fall into the temptation to try to acquire prestige in the local
parish, the diocese, or even the national or international Church. “If this is your attitude,” our Lord is
saying, “you joined the wrong religion!”
For every one who exalts himself will be humbled,
but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Then he said to the host who invited him,
“When you hold a lunch or a dinner,
do not invite your friends or your brothers
or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors,
in case they may invite you back and you have repayment.
Rather, when you hold a banquet,
invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind;
blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you.
For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Likewise, this next section of the Gospel reading
operates at two levels. On the basic
level, it is a call to practice a form of almsgiving: inviting the poor to
share your food. Those who show love to
the outcasts and disadvantaged in this life may be assured that God will be “in
their debt,” and will repay that debt in the next. When we show love by meeting the material
needs of the truly poor, we are “doing God’s work for him,” because as the
Psalm taught us, kindness to the poor is the kind of thing God does.
Concerning
this Gospel, we should also recall that the crippled, lame, and blind were
often considered ritually unclean, and certainly were not permitted to worship
in the Temple courts in Jesus’ day (Lev 21:18).
Inviting them into your home meant risking ritual defilement. Yet Jesus is teaching that the charitable
laws of the Old Testament take precedence over the laws of ritual
cleanliness. Jesus is definitely calling
on his contemporaries to get outside their comfort zones in their effort to
show the love of God, and the same is true for us: too many of us live in a
virtual “Catholic ghetto,” without meaningful contact with non-Catholics in our
community or even in our own neighborhood.
How can we be content with this situation?
By
inviting the poor, lame, and crippled to our table, we are actually carrying on
a Davidic tradition. In 2 Samuel 9, we
see that David, upon becoming King of Israel, sought out his father-in-law and
predecessor Saul’s last remaining heir, Mephibosheth (or Mephiba’al), who was
crippled in his feet due to a childhood accident. David invited Mephibosheth to dine at the royal
table “like one of the king’s sons” for the rest of his life. This is a type of David’s greater son, Jesus,
who invites us—spiritually lame though we are—to dine at the royal table “like
one of the king’s sons” (i.e. enjoying a filial relationship with God) at the
Eucharist. The Church carries on the
traditions of David, because as we saw in the Second Reading, the Church is the fulfillment of the Kingdom of
David.
This leads us to see the evangelistic thrust of
this Gospel. If the banquet table represents
the Eucharistic fellowship of the Church, the “poor, crippled, blind, and lame”
are those broken with sins committed against them and sins they have committed
themselves, people who need the Good News.
Jesus is calling us to go out and invite those outside the Church to
come to his Banquet. While I’m on this
subject, let me put in a plug for the work of the St. Paul Street
Evangelization apostolate: www.streetevangelization.com
They are actually going out to invite the poor
(in whatever sense) to come to the Church.
This evangelistic effort should be motivated by
humility, realizing that we ourselves are “poor, crippled, blind, and lame” in
God’s eyes (see Rev. 3:17), at least until he brought us into his banqueting hall. When we engage in sharing the Good News of
God’s banquet, the “repayment” that we will receive in the life to come will
be, perhaps, to share the joy of the heavenly banquet with the very people we
invited during our earthly life.
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