NOT KING DAVID?

On many occasions in the Gospels, we are told that Yeshua travelled the length and breadth of the country preaching the eu-angelion, which in Greek means “the good message” but which, as Joseph Ratzinger has reminded us, can also mean something like “the authoritative message”, being used for messages from the king. I wonder how often we stop to consider what the content of that message might have been. 

   For later writers, the authors of the Gospels and the Pauline epistles, the answer seems obvious: the evangelium is Christ Himself. But what, at the time, was the content of His preaching? A hint – a very large hint – is given in what we call the Sermon on the Mount, which may in fact be the conflation of several preachings. It has to do with His relation to the Old Testament commandments, which are not to be abandoned but ‘fulfilled’: internalized, as the Ten Commandments are fulfilled/internalized in the Two. 

   This ‘matter’ of the Sermon is profound and of the greatest possible importance; but is it ‘good news’? I can imagine hearers going home having heard it, in a reflective frame of mind as they apply what they have heard to what they had been taught and then to their own lives; but do they go home rejoicing or, as the modern French Psalm translation puts it ‘quivering with joy’?

   I was led to this meditation by reading all the Old Testament, and particularly the Psalms’, mentions of ‘rejoicing’, ‘shouting and dancing for joy’, and comparing them to the behavior of most believing Christians I know, who tend to live their faith with a profound happiness perhaps but on a daily basis tend to be sober, slightly austere, somewhat worried, and more apt to say ‘Lord, I believe: help thou mine unbelief’ than to quiver with joy.

   Yeshua, of course, wrought miracles of healing almost constantly; yet it often strikes me that he doesn’t seem to consider it central to what his does. He frequently tells those he has healed to keep quiet about it, which in anyone but him would seem disingenuous but which in him seems sincere; on several occasions he forgives the patient his sins and only when challenged about that does he heal him, as an outward and visible sign comprehensible even to the dolts who disputed him.  When Yochanan the Baptist sends to know if he is really the Meshiach, he lists the miracles as evidence – again, not as the core of meaning but as outward and visible signs comprehensible to anyone. 

   So if the healing is the outward and visible sign, what is the inward and spiritual grace? It can only, I think, be the message that the long-awaited Meshiach, the Anointed – both king and priest – has now come; that He is here, in the here and now; that the anxious, hopeful but occasionally almost despairing, waiting is over.

   This must itself have caused a great deal of confusion as well as joy. After all, the general view of the Meshiach was that he would be a new King David, a great political and military leader who would liberate Israel from Roman rule; and here was an itinerant preacher with a small band of disciples, who heals the blind and the lame and comes from Dogpatch, claiming to be Him! Where are his divisions? Where are his battalions? Yet that seems to have been the reaction mainly of the Establishment: the crowds that followed him around the Sea of Galilee appear to have taken this redefinition of Messiahship in their stride. We know that part of his teaching – as in the Nazareth synagogue – was an explanation of his actions in terms of the Book of the prophet Isaiah, which would have at least in part made clear to his hearers that this new and real Meshiach was a king of humility, come to serve rather than be served, and who would not confine liberation to freeing Israel from the Romans but extend it outward to include all nations and deepen it to free people not from political oppressors but from the tyranny of sin.

   Once that sinks in, we can see the healing for what it was: a by-product and an outward and visible sign. What matters is that the Meshiach, who is the new Torah, is here, and that anyone who believes and trusts in him is, as Henry Lyte’s hymn wonderfully puts it, ‘ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven’. That is a matter for quivering with joy – almost unimaginable for reasonable and worldly adults living in a world that oscillates between catastrophe and cynicism. That is what we should meditate upon and ponder. It is eu-angelion: good news from an authoritative source. The ultimate good news from the ultimately authoritative source. Blow your mind.

early image of Christ from the Nunziatella Catacomb, Rome

(?3rd century AD)

FOR PRESIDENTS AND SMALLER FRY

 

At the inauguration of President Macron of France, it seems appropriate to think briefly of those who labour and travail in what we call "politics". Somebody asked Macron how he could hope to run a country if, as he had admitted at one point, he doesn't love himself. An idiot question, to which, as is his wont, he gave an intelligent and perceptive answer. One shouldn't confuse, he said, self-love and self-esteem. Without self-esteem, self-respect, one can do no great thing. Self-love, though, is a form of narcissism and -- I forget his exact words, but his point was that it prevents one from serving.  

Clearly he is not a devout man: his answer, which is a very good one, ignores the love for oneself which the Christian receives through, and because of, being loved by God. Who am I to refuse to love the one whom God loves and for whom his son died? And how can I love my neighbour as myself unless I love myself?

 On the other hand, seeing the inauguration reminded me of the burden that political service, and political authority in whatever degree, place upon those who undertake them. And as such, they need our prayers. At the time of the French election, the admirable little daily prayer-book Prions en Eglise printed a prayer for politicians, composed by Fr Laurent Stalla-Bourdillon, the chaplain to the members of the French parliament (he cannot, of course, in France, be Chaplain to the Parliament because the Republic is secular). I found it interesting, and translate it here. 

 "I thank thee, O Lord, for all them that labour in politics. Through the intercession of Saint Thomas More, I commend to thee most especially our leaders, their families and those who work with them. Deliver them from the daily pressures of media and lobbies, of money and public opinion. May they do thy will with the help of thy Holy Spirit, in their function, their decisions and their commitments, doubting neither themselves nor the gifts thou hast given them. May they attend to the care of all thy Creation, conducting affairs with discernment of truth and justice, respecting all persons as well as the common good. May thy love allow them to love others as themselves; and lastly, may they know thee at their side, and with thee go forward in faith and in courage. Amen."  

 Such a prayer, were we to incorporate it in our regular prayers, may help to defend us from cynicism, bitterness and hardness of heart when it comes to those we elect and appoint to manage our affairs.

A CONDITION OF COMPLETE SIMPLICITY

. . . costing not less than everything, wrote T.S. Eliot. And here is a moving illustration, by Francesco at his best. Seventeen minutes very much worth listening to. (I tried to embed it properly, but Blogger wouldn't let me. Do follow the link: you won't, I think, regret it.)

           

AND THEN . . .

In his brilliant essay “The Simple Art of Murder” Raymond Chandler, the great 1930s detective novelist, recounted his early days when writing stories for periodicals under considerable stress because of deadlines. Obviously, when thinking up plot developments, you would get stuck from time to time. But, he said, he and other hacks worked out a solution for this: “When in doubt have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand.”

I was thinking of this the other day as I was meditating after my morning prayers, and something occurred to me. When you are contemplating a human situation, whether private or public, whether social or political, try mentally adding the line “And then Christ walked in.” The result is quite fascinating. It is, of course, related to the old “WWJD” (What Would Jesus Do?) that some people tattoo on their fingers; but it has the merit of looking at a scene as a scene, i.e. dramatically, like a story or a play or film, and drawing you into the role of a screenwriter challenged to continue the plot from this new happening.

Example 1: “The Senate confirmation hearing for the putative new Attorney General was proceeding on the whole peacefully, though not without a few difficult moments. And then Christ walked in. . . . . . . . . . . .”

Example 2: “We were being extremely tactful in our conversation at Thanksgiving dinner, until Uncle Gavin started bringing up politics. ‘No, please, Gavin,’ Jane pleaded, ‘not this year!’  And then Christ walked in. . . . . . . . . . . “

Example 3: “In a French bistro frequented by North African construction workers, a couple of cheerfully-dressed women came and sat down. Some unfortunate remarks were made. And then Christ walked in. . . . . . . . . . . .”

Example 4: “ My friend Jill was teaching a sophomore class on Shakespeare, and a discussion developed on the question whether a queer production of Hamlet would be accurate, provocative or both.  And then Christ walked in. . . . . . . . . . .”

Example 5: “Pope Francis was with his advisory group of cardinals, pondering what if anything to do about the Middle East. And then Christ walked in. . . . . . . . . . . “

I’m sure you can think of more interesting situations, whether applied to yourself or involving parts of the world you’re interested in. You could even make it a (serious) game with a few friends . . . . . . . . . 

TEMPEST IN A CHALICE?

François Fillon

             France is a curious country. The French themselves often talk about “l’exception française”, and a foreigner is from time to time brought up short by actions or reactions that seem entirely peculiar. A recent example followed the guest appearance on the TV evening news of François Fillon, the presidential candidate who was the big winner of the conservative primary. Fillon wants to reform the French economy in ways that recent governments (in one of which, Sarkozy’s, he was Prime Minister) have not been able to do because of massive resistance, mainly by the trade unions. He is an impeccably-dressed gentleman who enjoys racing vintage cars, and he would like to be the French counterpart of Gerhard Schroeder, the social democrat who reformed the German economy in 2002-5. Fillon is bright, writes well, and has a sense of humour. And when asked about his intended, and controversial, reform of the social-security and medicare systems, he pointed out that while the cost of these systems, and the national debt-level, made reform absolutely necessary, that he would see that it did not hurt the vulnerable. “I’m a Gaullist, and what’s more, a Christian,” he said, “so obviously I will not initiate any policies that are harmful to human dignity.”

            I was watching the interview, and found this remark understandable and unexceptionable. Imagine my surprise when, in the five days following, I saw it provoke a storm of media scandal. Many Frenchmen seemed outraged that a candidate for the Presidency should say out loud that he is a Christian. Shameful! Scandalous! To a foreigner, the reaction was incomprehensible. Until I heard it discussed by a radio columnist this morning, a woman who on Saturday mornings spends 5 minutes explaining religions to the atheists and agnostics who make up most of that station’s audience. She pointed out once again “l’exception française”. Angela Merkel, she said, had maintained that her policy of welcoming refugees was solidly connected with her Christian faith (she is the daughter of a Lutheran pastor); and in Germany, she said, that didn’t raise an eyebrow. But in France, she insisted, it simply could not have been uttered. Why? Because of the tradition, dating from the Revolution and reinforced in the late 19^th century, of laïcité or secularism. This insists that religion is strictly a private affair and must never be allowed into any public political discourse; and as the columnist said, you have to remember that this tradition of secularism in France was created, maintained and extended in a battle against the Catholic Church.

            Well, I understood the storm a little better, but I found it a saddening experience. Fillon was perfectly sincere, perfectly well-meaning, and for him respect for human dignity is the natural and proper outcome of a Christian faith. To be reviled for this day in, day out, by otherwise intelligent and not dishonest politicians is a spectacle that does France no credit.  

A TRUMP VOTER, A COLLEGE PROFESSOR, AND THE MAYOR OF PARIS WALK INTO A BAR . . .

  

Three events.

One: A recent New York Times column by Thomas Edsall who attempted, with the help of some current social psychologists, to make sense of the mentalité of those who enthusiastically support Donald Trump’s election campaign. Much of the general resentment felt by the typical Trump voter, Edsall claims, is the resentment felt by those who feel their freedom, their small liberties of thought and action, being taken away, or at least impugned and contemned, by those who claim to be more intelligent, better educated, more moral and more concerned with the General Good. The freedoms concerned are not necessarily either good or nice; the consciousness of this only adds to the felt resentment when they are taken away. The villain doing the taking-away is named, for want of a better term, Political Correctness; and the vague guilt mixed in only fuels the anger.

Two: On the other side of the coin – perhaps: perhaps just an adjacent side of a polygon – is a recent column by the very humanitarian Nicholas Kristof, on “Liberal Intolerance,” in which he chided American academia for its intolerance toward conservatives, particularly evangelical Christians, and for which he got a flood of furious comments from liberals who felt that “idiots” have no place in their institutions.

Three: On this morning’s French radio news, an announcement by the Socialist mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, that as of July 1 all cars older than 1997 will be banned from the city of Paris between 8 AM and 8 PM. A laudable anti-pollution measure, to some; for others, a hindrance for the poor who cannot afford newer cars to get to their few and hard-won jobs. Never mind, says the mayor: we will give them free passes on public transit. But that would also force them to trade the small space of comfort and privacy that is a car (even an old banger in a traffic jam) for standing-room-only sardine-space in commuter trains (which also, in France, go on strike regularly).

All this made me – one of the Politically Correct: educated, reasonably moral, reasonably well off – very thoughtful, as I said. If we consider we are objectively right, we have an instant and pressing duty of charity toward those who, we think, are wrong. And the very first part of that pressing duty is to call into question our own opinions and attitudes. Opinions, because it is possible that those we disagree with may not be entirely wrong, and their opinions may at the least be understandable; attitudes, because it is our duty, even in simple human kindness, to approach the bloke or the woman next door, beside us in the waiting-room, or holding forth in a bar, to quote the saying, “as someone fighting a desperate battle you know nothing about.”

What are the consequences for a Christian? At many moments, one could see this as merely the world, shouting. In so far as it is media-speak and does not touch our own lives, we should be right to tune it out. On the other hand, it may impinge, in a waiting-room, in a bar, or during a dinner with friends. And then our hand will show. Have we, in quieter moments, thought about such things? Have we, at times, called our instinctive and even our considered opinions into question? Are we prepared to distinguish between our beliefs and our human understanding and loving-kindness? Do we ask ourselves how our socially responsible opinions and attitudes hold up under the Cross? These are not rhetorical questions. They may hold up; we may distinguish, and love. But what the Cross does is ask the question, and make us ask it also.

As the Carthusians say, Stat Crux, dum volvitur orbis. The world turns: the Cross stands.

A EUROPEAN CALL TO ARMS

The following appeared in today's issue of the French daily 'La Croix'. It is a cry of alarm, and a call to action, from a MEP (Member of the European Parliament) who is also a lifelong activist, from his wilder days in the Sixties to his refusal to knuckle under to the supposedly inevitable even today: Daniel Cohn-Bendit. 

Americans tend either to believe that Europe is finished anyway, or that a United States of Europe is so obvious and simple that they can't see why Europeans don't just go and do it; but that is to reckon without 27 different languages and cultures. Imagine uniting in one political federal nation with Canada, Mexico, and Brazil . . . Anyway, this piece by Dany Cohn-Bendit (a deeply likeable and intelligent politician) struck me as worth translating and presenting here. 


‘THE SITUATION IS APPALLING BUT NOT IRREVERSIBLE’

We need Europe. And don’t think that this is simply a credo. For the first time in their history, the nation-states no longer have the capacity to resist the assaults of the economic sphere. They don’t admit it, but their leaders are no longer capable of keeping their promises. Common sense is enough to let us understand that individually they cannot manage to regulate the markets, control the financial sector, come to grips with climate worsening, or solve the social and economic crises.
Obviously, we didn’t get to this point by an act of God. The collective responsibility of the political leaders is well and truly involved. If only because they have not been able to gauge the degree to which globalization would destabilize things.  Occupied entirely by their ‘internal affairs’, they have not wanted to see the opportunity offered by the European dimension to enlarge their political sphere of action. The situation is appalling but not irreversible. As long as everyone begins by understanding that globalization forces us into a change of scale.
Thirty years from now, no state of the European Union will be part of the G8. The influence of France will be no greater than that of Luxemburg. From now on, if we want to conserve our civilization’s heritage, have our democracies progress, defend the ideas of social justice and protection, prevent our culture from being swept away by globalization, we will need to fight the battle at the European level. And a battle is exactly what it is. 
The accusations currently levelled at Europe are justified. Economic belt-tightening is no response to the recession: true. The criticism of the European Union’s faults and failures is right. But for heaven’s sake, let’s open our eyes! Believing in a national response is senseless. It’s only by way of Europe that we can remain in control of our lives. 
If, in France or elsewhere, a government follows a bad policy, the normal response is that either the policy must change or the government must. This is equally true for Europe. It’s not Europe that we should dump, but those who are making it. Don’t be fooled: it’s not re-nationing the European continent that will get us out of the mess. Don’t give up. That would guarantee our inability to act positively in the world. Europe has brought about an incredible progress of civilization. In this space which has produced atrocious wars and totalitarianisms, the very possibility of a war has been removed from the political imagination. That is an extraordinary achievement, but it is no longer enough.
  Open your eyes! Refuse a Europe of states left to a new war of economic powers. But for heaven’s sake don’t be trapped in the illusion of redemption by the Nation. 
See the battle for what it is: a struggle to the death between visions of Europe linked to diverging models of society and opposing conceptions of politics. 
It is evident that the European model of a Cameron is not that of a united Europe that bases its legitimacy upon a democratization of globalization, but rather that of a subversion of the European Union – and of the States – by the markets. His model of Europe is based on a conception of politics reduced to its simplest expression: to insure his re-election and to defend the interests of his City [of London]. Let’s not mistake the adversary: it is the failure of political will, alias the inaction of public power, that acts against the Europeans. 
We are in an unstable situation with an uncertain outcome. But we need to take it in hand because it will not ‘naturally’ move in the direction of a Europe set up for the 21st century and structured according to our common interest. Get rid of ‘there is no alternative’ [NB: in English]. Let us have the courage of a European federalism. We must create the United States of Europe, demand a serious European budget that allows us to intervene in the recession, to guarantee unemployment insurance for the young and a health-care system worthy of the name. Such a goal may seem unattainable. But take France. It looks back to the Revolution as its founding moment. And yet it took more than 150 years to give women the vote and to become a genuinely democratic republic. 
A political Europe that acts in the common interest in matters of economics, ecology, social development and education: there’s a utopia for this century. Get on with it, dissident Europe!