Using biblical motifs and themes

USING BIBLICAL MOTIFS AND THEMES

Chapter Eight

from “COMMUNICATING THE WORD OF GOD. Practical Methods of Presenting the Biblical Message” by J N M Wijngaards, Theological Publications in India, Bangalore 560 055, 1974. First published in Great Britain in 1978 by MAYHEW-McCRIMMON LTD Great Wakering, Essex, England.

The whole book can be found online here: http://www.wijngaards-clackson.com/contents-communicating-word/ .

When the UNCTAD met in New Delhi in 1974, the French delegation rejected a certain draft because it incorporated the term, “gentleman’s agreement”. The French said, “We don’t know what that means. We don’t have that word in our language”. At the time many people scoffed at the French objection which they thought absurd. But I maintain the French were right. If we don’t have a word for something in our language, that reality does not exist for us. The idea of making a “gentleman’s agreement” includes a wealth of notions that are interconnected and that make the idea work: a person’s code of honour, mutual trust, an attitude of give-and-take that is opposed to legal formality. When we translate terms like these, or transfer them to another culture, there is bound to be confusion. The result is that a term like “gentleman’s agreement” is retained in its Anglo-Saxon form even when it is used in other languages.

I began with this example because there is considerable confusion about terms regarding the topic of the present chapter. The phenomenon we will discuss may, according to standard dictionaries, be designated by the proper English terms “theme” or “motive”. But on account of the many other connotations these terms have in present-day English, I prefer to follow the example of modern English writers and employ the term “motif” (pronounced moteef; from the French), or “leitmotiv” (pronounced light moteef; from the German). As these terms originated in music and the fine arts, we had better begin with some comparative study.

MOTIFS IN WORKS OF ART

The Philistines settled on the Gaza coast around 1150 B.C. Their precise country of origin remains uncertain. What we know is that they came by sea, tried to enter Egypt but were defeated and driven out by Pharoah Ramses III. Wherever they came from then, the Philistines brought their distinctive art and culture with them. A remnant of this Philistine civilisation has been uncovered by archaeology. According to its findings the Philistines used a kind of pottery not found elsewhere in Palestine. Philistine earthenware flasks, wine containers and beer jugs have a characteristic shape of their own. The yellow-grey ground is usually covered with paintings of black and red geometrical figures, the space between the bands and spirals has often been filled with carefully painted swans. (See Figs. 23 and 24). The swans are normally depicted according to a fixed design. The swan turns its head back, apparently to smooth out its feathers. The wings are slightly lifted up, the tips pointing downwards.

Fig. 23. Philistine jug.

1. F. Albright remarks that the wing resembles nothing so much as a crumpled up bolt of lightning. The swan is sometimes varied by other figures such as a fish, but without any doubt the swan is the most frequent design. The swan occurs on the pottery of many different settlements. We find it again and again on pottery that can be dated over various centuries. Artisans must have copied its design from one generation to the next. Customers must have liked to have the design on the pottery they bought. Obviously some importance must have been attached to this particular figure. The most likely explanation is that the swan, like other animals that are related to water, was considered a symbol of fertility, wealth and prosperity. Having the swan on ajar was a mark of good luck, a blessing, a painted prayer.

The design of the swan is a “motif” of Philistine art. We may call it a “motif” because:

(1) it is a feature that frequently recurs in the work of art; and

(2) it expresses an important idea of the artist.

Fig. 24. A Philistine wine container.

Both elements are essential for the complete understanding of the term. At times one finds the term used loosely for any pattern, figure or design as in “the curtain was covered with gold embroidered animal motifs”. But this is a weakened and derived use of the word. In its original meaning “motif” is: a predominant idea of the artist which governs all the details of his work; a feature, design or figure that prevails in varying forms throughout a composition; a recurring salient thematic element or feature of a work of art.

The motif need not be a particular object or recognisably different design. It can be a picture, an element, an aspect of something else. It may be contained in the way another object or reality is expressed.

Fig. 25. Two typical Dorian sculptures from the 6th century B.C.

To illustrate this the reader should study Figures 25 and 26 which show some samples of ancient Greek sculpture of the 6th century B.C. A remarkable characteristic of this sculpture is that both human and divine persons were always protrayed with a smile. It has been called the “archaic smile” as it disappears as a feature in later classical Greek art. Portraying gods and men with a smile on their face was a very deliberate practice. The smile has been delicately carved, not only in the carving of the lips, but also in the expression of the eyes and the rest of the face. How unusual this smile is can be seen best in the statue of the Dying Soldier (Fig. 26). Although the statue is extremely realistic in all other details, in the position of a body thrown to the ground, in the tension of the muscles and so on, the face has been given the expression of a smile!

Fig. 26. The Dying Soldier (480 B.C.)

1. W. M. Verhoeven,* who has made a special study of this feature, explains it as a particular early Greek interpretation of human and divine life. The smile was purposely added, he says, to liberate the work of art from everyday life. Statues were not made to record living persons, but to bring out the greatness, the other-worldliness of extraordinary beings. The gods and goddesses are portrayed in human form, but by the smile of transcendence on their faces they are marked off as persons free from our mortal world. Statues were also made of kings and heroes but only after their death. On their faces too the smile of transcendence indicates the new status of immortality they have acquired. This explains the paradox of the Dying Soldier who smiles. The smile on his face marks him as a hero who has gained immortality.

For the ancient Greeks the smile was a self-evident symbol. For us it is not. We first need to recognise it as a motif and this we do because it occurs so often. If only one Greek statue from the earlier centuries had been discovered, we would probably not have been able to interpret the archaic smile correctly. We might have thought it no more than a realistic trait of the person portrayed. We would have ascribed the smile to happiness or kindness in the individual depicted. But once we have recognised it as a motif, our interpretation of the smile will greatly differ even when judging one particular statue.

Elusiveness is the amazing characteristic of a motif. Whenever it occurs it implies a special interpretation for a work of art, or an individual part of it, but before we can make such an interpretation we have to study the motif as it occurs throughout a culture or a whole piece of art. It slips from our grasp until we have got a firm grip on it.

MOTIFS IN SCRIPTURE

Tradition tells us that St. Luke, the author of the third Gospel, was a citizen of Antioch in Syria. He became a Christian around the year 45 A.D. A few years later he joined St. Paul at Troas to assist him in his mission among the Greeks in Macedonia. As far as we know, Luke stayed in the Greek town of Philippi for six years, helping to build up the Christian community there. St. Luke wrote his Gospel for young Greek converts, trying to show them, from authentic sources of the life of Jesus, how his message fulfilled their highest aspiration.

If we read St. Luke’s Gospel we are struck by the number of times he stresses that Jesus brings us joy. At Jesus’ birth the angel announced, “I have good news for you which will bring great joy to all the people” (2,11). A similar tiding of joy accompanies the announcement of the coming of John the Baptist (1,14). Our Lady called out “Rejoice, rejoice, my spirit, in God my Saviour” (1, 48). Such joy runs as a motif throughout the Gospel. The 72 disciples returned to Jesus in great joy (10,17). “All the people rejoiced over every wonderful thing Jesus did” (13,17). Jesus too preached about the joy of conversion when he said, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 respectable people who do not need to repent” (15,7). The Gospel ends with a remark about the joy of the apostles after Jesus’ ascension. “They went back into Jerusalem filled with great joy” (24,52).

This explicit stress on joy is a peculiar trait of Luke’s Gospel. Matthew, Mark and John speak of it too, but not to the same degree. The joy which the early Christians shared as a community in the Holy Spirit was an experience of the greatest importance to Luke. He often records in the Acts the immense joy and happiness of the communities after conversion: at Jerusalem (2,37), at Samaria (8,8) at Antioch of Pisidia (13,48.52) and elsewhere (see 8, 39). He describes the joy in the Holy Spirit resulting from receiving encouraging news (11,24: 50,3: 15,31, etc.). He mentions the paradoxical Christian joy of being thought worthy to suffer for Christ (5,31). We hear an echo of St. Paul’s injunction, “Rejoice in the Lord always, I say it again, rejoice!” (Phil 4,4). Knowing this background, the frequent mention of joy in the life and message of Jesus takes on a deeper dimension.

Joy in St. Luke’s Gospel is a motif in the full sense of the word because it is a recurring factor arising from a predominant idea of the author. The implications of this from a scriptural point of view are far-reaching. When we discover a true motif, we are certain that the author was interested in the idea it conveys, that it was part of his deliberate teaching. It is something the inspired author wanted to put across and so it is an element covered by inspiration. A true motif always contains a message worth meditating about and communicating to others.

Every author has a number of motifs that he wants to convey through the way he composes his writing. This is the reason why we have four Gospels instead of one. Each of the four evangelists presented the life and message of Jesus for a particular audience and with special aims in mind. As they could not and would not alter the substantial traditions available, the evangelists would bring out their specific interests by a process of selection, emphasis and interpretation.

To stay with St. Luke, we find this evangelist bringing out such motifs as the central role played by Jerusalem (a new thing for non-Jewish converts); the universality of Christ’s mission (to contrast Christianity with Jewish proselytism); and the distinct contribution of women (as women were more emancipated in the Greek world).

ZOOMING IN AND WEEDING OUT

How do we discover the right motifs? It is possible to make frightful mistakes. Before we may confidently regard a motif as truly biblical we should not only be able to answer the question, “Does it occur often in the text?”, but also “Does it represent an idea in the mind of the author? What was the predominant interest that gave rise to the motif?” Bible dictionaries and at times even books on so-called “Bible themes”, may misguide us. The simple repetition of a word or an idea does not make it into a motif.

The reader will pardon me for giving some examples of spurious motifs that I have actually come across. To punish mankind God sent his rain in the deluge (Gen 6-9). God rained fire and sulphur on Sodom to destroy it (Lk 17,29). So whenever God sends rain it is a sign of punishment for sin (sic!). If we read that the Father “sent his rain on the honest and dishonest alike” (Mt 5,45) we should understand it as meaning that all alike suffer under his punishments. The rain that shakes the house upon the rock and brings down the house built on sand (Mt 7,24-27) is God’s punishment that strikes all alike. The particular preachers in question, who belonged to an ultra-conservative evangelical group, even added that the increase of rain in the past years manifestly expressed God’s anger about the spread of sin in modern society.

Less disastrous, but still questionable from a scriptural point of view, is a sermon based on all the occasions when Jesus said, “O woman”. “Great is thy faith” (Mt 15,28); “O woman, you are free from your sickness” (Lk 13,12); “O woman, what is there between you and me?” I Jn 2,4); “O woman, this is your son!” (Jn 19,26) and “O woman, why do you weep?” (Jn 20.13). At first sight the attempt seems intriguing but then we realise that “O woman” is not a true motif. It was simply the ordinary way in which one would address a lady respectfully. Seeing a profound significance (a part of the inspired message?) in its repeated use is as out of place as discovering a sinister undertone in a person’s daily “Good morning” at breakfast.

Another danger besetting us when we want to communicate a motif is the temptation to adduce too many instances in which the motif is found. Some motifs are so strong in the Bible that we can be almost overwhelmed by them.

Take, for instance, the motif “God’s word”. It comes back hundreds of times throughout the Old and New Testaments. We find it at Creation, throughout the history of salvation, through the Prophets, in the Wisdom books, the Gospels, the letters of St. Paul, Acts and Revelation! Trying to do justice to such a motif requires a course of thirty lectures or a book of 200 pages. Attempting to present this motif in its entirety in a conference or sermon (as I have experienced from one speaker) is as futile as trying to pour the ocean into the proverbial hole on the beach.

The only way of dealing satisfactorily with such a motif is to be extremely selective in the material and to present the few passages chosen in a very thorough manner.

We could, for instance, take the Old Testament notion that God rules history by his word. There is a constant motif, that occurs more than twenty times in the historical books, “All this happened according to the Word that Yahweh had spoken”. From among these texts I could choose three important ones, such as Joshua’s evaluation after the conquest: “You know that not one thing has failed of all the good things which the Lord your God promised concerning you” (Jos 23,14-15); Solomon’s prayer at the con secration of the temple, “Not one word has failed of all the good promises which God uttered by Moses his Servant” (1 Kings 8,56). I would join to this the passage from 1 Corinthians where Paul says that God keeps his promise and will not allow us to be tempted beyond our power (10,13). If we work out at some length what the first two passages mean, how the Jews experienced God’s presence during the conquest and the attainment of prosperity culminating in the building of the temple, how they experienced God’s fidelity to his promise through these events, we will understand better why St. Paul can appeal to God’s fidelity.

Not every motif, however authentic, lends itself equally well to effective communication. Some motifs are rather abstruse or general or abstract. They are usually expressed in polysyllabic, heavy, ponderous words of Romanic origin. I think of words like gratitude, providence, humility and others. Some preachers seem to have a predilection for this type of motif, forgetting that their audience is badly in need of something more definite, something tangible and visual to fix its mind on. Motifs that are expressed in objects or things that can be seen, touched or smelled in one’s imagination, are much to be preferred. They capture the mind more easily, and, surprisingly enough, are not less profound in thought.

Consider the virtue of humility. The term means something all right, yet it is vague and abstract. When we study Jesus’ teaching on humility, we find that he employed expressive examples. One example that kept recurring as a true motif in Jesus’ life and teaching was “taking the lower place”. Jesus spoke of this when Peter and James wanted to have the best places in his Kingdom (Mt 20,20-28), when he rejected the pride of the Pharisees (Mt 23,5-12), and when he addressed the guests at the dinner party (Lk 14,7-11). Jesus himself took the “lower place” when he was born in a stable (Lk 2,7), when he wanted to be baptised by John (Mt 3,13), when he washed his disciples’ feet (Jn 13,3-17) and so on. Instead of speaking about “humility” as the connecting thread in our exposition we would do well, therefore, to take this motif from Jesus’ life. With a little explanation of the Jewish preoccupation with precedence in the synagogue, at banquets and in public meetings, and some reflections on what “taking a lower seat” would mean for us today, it would probably come across as a very inspiring and thought provoking message on humility!

We may summarise this section by noting the following practical guidelines. We should check our motifs for their biblical validity. From among the many passages in which the motif occurs we should select a few representative ones and present these well. We should give preference to the kind of motif that is visual and expressive. This will involve a good deal of weeding out of irrelevant material and zooming in on a limited, but attractive motif that will capture the imagination.

MOTIF-INSPIRED EXPOSITION OF A TEXT

Although the direct exposition of a motif may often prove quite satisfactory, experimenting with a variety of methods and techniques has convinced me that one particular way of presenting usually proves the most satisfying from many points of view. I call this mode of presentation “the motif-inspired exposition of a text”. I will try to explain how it is built up and why this approach has certain advantages.

It is a well-known rule in communication that we should not present our hearers with an amorphous mass of information. For the sake of simplicity and to aid concentration, we need to give our audience a foothold, a fixed point in our discussion on which they can focus their minds.

Rembrandt knew this well. In all his later paintings we find a patch of light on the main subject of his picture. The surrounding figures and the background will be purposely left in a less well-lit area, or even in a shade. On account of this so-called “chiaroscuro” effect, Rembrandt makes it very easy for the observer to grasp the painting in one glance.

In oral communication too, there is a need for such a unifying factor. Instead of speaking about a motif in general and moving from one text to another, it seems much better to focus attention on one particular Bible text (which contains the motif) and then deepen its meaning by reference to other passages where the motif occurs.

Another advantage deriving from this manner of presentation in sermons is that it fits in better with our present arrangement of the liturgy. Following ancient tradition we have three readings in the Sunday liturgy, the first from the Old Testament, the second from St. Paul’s letters and the third from the Gospels. Preachers rightly prefer to stay close to the subject matter referred to in these readings, particularly to what was said in the Gospel passage. Now we know that in our up-dated lectionary the first reading of every Sunday has been chosen to fit the Gospel message of that Sunday. From a liturgical point of view therefore, it would be handy if we could focus attention on a phrase found in the Gospel text of that day and explain this phrase with reference to the first reading and other Bible texts. In other words, if we find a motif in our Sunday Gospel text, the motif- inspired exposition fits in beautifully with the structure of our liturgical readings.

How exactly do we set about composing a sermon of this kind? On the sixteenth Sunday of the year (cycle 3) the first reading from Genesis 18 records how Abraham gave hospitality to God. The Gospel text contains the episode of Mary and Martha (Lk 10,38-42). We scan the Gospel passage carefully and meet a genuine Lucan motif in the very first line: “A woman named Martha welcomed Jesus into her house”. We remember how throughout Luke’s Gospel importance is attached to this act of welcoming Jesus into one’s home. It is the turning point in the life of Levi (5, 29-32). Jesus states that the sinful woman who wept over his feet gave him a greater welcome than his host (7, 44-47). Zacchaeus is converted by receiving Jesus into his home (19,1-10). The disciples of Emmaus are rewarded with the eucharistic bread when they invite Jesus: “Stay with us” (24,29). We could therefore select “making Jesus welcome in our home” as a good motif to guide our sermon. Reading the Gospel text once more, and especially our Sunday reading of Mary and Martha, we ask ourselves: “What message does this have for my congregation?” It may well be that in our Christian homes, in spite of much goodwill and many laudable customs, there is too little time given to prayer, meditation and spiritual reading, too little “sitting at Jesus’ feet”, with too much stress on external things. We then have the material for our sermon.

A motif-inspired exposition of the text will then follow this sequence of presentation:

We begin by drawing attention to the central passage we have chosen. In this case we refer to the phrase in the Gospel: “A woman called Martha welcomed Jesus into her house”.

We give a visual description of the motif from general background knowledge.

We describe how Jesus travelled from village to village and so was dependent on the hospitality of people. After a long day’s journey along the hot and dusty roads of Palestine a hearty welcome given in a particular home would be greatly appreciated. For Jews, as still with the Bedouin in the desert today, inviting a person into one’s home and eating and drinking with him was the highest expression of friendship.

We now elaborate on the motif with other texts of scripture.

We recount how Jesus sought intimacy and closeness when allowing himself to be someone’s guest. We illustrate this with reference to some Gospel passages that we must elaborate on sufficiently for people to appreciate the motif; perhaps Jesus’ words on hospitality (7,44-47), his reception in Zacchaeus’ home (19,1-10) and his revelation to the disciples of Emmaus (24).

We reflect on the meaning of the motif for us.

Here we discuss how Jesus could be made welcome in our Christian homes. We give some practical advice. We adduce examples from everyday life.

We close by referring again to our central text.

In this particular case I would conclude the sermon by a summing up of what the whole passage of Mary and Martha signifies. Martha wanted Jesus to feel at home in her house, but she missed the point when she thought that food and drink were the most important gifts she had to offer. Although Jesus appreciated Martha’s care and concern, Mary had chosen the better part because she gave time to prayer and reflection.

On the same Sunday, the 16th of the year, (cycle 2), the Gospel reading mentions that Jesus “had pity on the crowds because they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mk 6,34). The first reading is from Jeremiah and contains the promise that God himself will raise shepherds to look after his flock (23,1-6). Basing ourselves on the motif of the shepherd (Ps 23; Ex 34; Jn 10) we could make this our starting point for a good sermon on the need for fostering vocations to the priesthood.

The motif inspired explanation of the text also lends itself to conferences or religious talks on occasions outside church. A meditation on our Christian duty to help the poor in underdeveloped countries could well be centred on the biblical motif of “growing fat”. Our focal text could be “Woe to you who have your fill now” (Lk 6,25). We can elaborate the motif by the parable of how Israel, the adopted son, became disloyal to God when it had grown fat on all God’s gifts (Dt. 32-7-15); with the story of how the sons of Eli fattened themselves at the expense of God’s honour and the good of the people (1 Sam 3, 12-13) or with the description of evil-doers as those who fatten themselves while the poor go hungry (Ps 73,1-12). Each of these three Old Testament texts add a different dimension to the motif of “growing fat”. The motif might have a special meaning in the context of advocating the family fast day.

AND WHAT ABOUT BIBLICAL THEMES?

The word “theme” is quite misleading in English. Although dictionaries assure me that it can have the same meaning as that which I have constantly referred to as “motif”, the fact remains that in everyday parlance a “theme” stands for any subject of discussion, any topic. There is a world of difference between a motif and a topic. A motif is a pattern, an emphasis, that frequently recurs in a work of art because the artist wanted it to be so. A genuine motif reveals a predominant idea in the artist’s mind. A “topic”, however, is any subject that I myself may choose to speak or write about.

Fig. 27. Gargoyle on the tower of the Notre Dame at Paris.

The presence of gargoyles on the outside of Gothic cathedrals is a genuine motif. But general sub- jects, such as “Gothic architecture”, “Gothic cathedrals”, “Gothic architects”, or “Gothic gutters”, or anything like it, are topics. They are generalisations chosen by myself and reveal my way of interpreting reality, not the original artist’s way.

We should be aware of this when talking about “biblical themes”. It is useful, and even necessary for reasons of study, to consider general topics regarding the Bible. Whole books may be devoted to subjects like “Old Testament Morality”, “Sacrifice in the Temple of Jerusalem”, “Prophetism in Israel”, and so on. These are “themes” in the strict sense of the word. By carefully collating all the available information from scripture and from extra-biblical sources, we obtain a clearer picture of the reality discussed. But we should always remember that it is our way, our twentieth-century way of synthesising and interpreting that information. By presenting such a theme we are presenting our own interpetation and so we are hardly justified in calling it a “biblical” theme.

There are good reasons why we should take this word of caution seriously. We are the first-fruits of a new biblical movement in the Church. Essential to this movement is the recognition that there is nothing that should stand between ourselves and the Word of God. During the past centuries one obstacle between many Christians and the Bible was precisely thematic theological synthesis which was considered superior to the Bible text. The Bible was not studied in itself but only as an auxiliary branch of dogmatic theology. Whole generations of priests and religious went to their graves without ever having read the whole Bible. Children at school learned an outline of the Bible in “Bible history class” without direct reference to the scriptural text. The intention was good, but the effect disastrous. The living biblical text can never and should never be substituted by abstraction and generalisation. We are justified in demanding a high standard of “biblical” themes. To be biblical they should speak for the Bible itself.

Speaking on “themes” also requires examination from the point of view of our role in communication. Scriptural themes or topics are, properly speaking, the preserve of the scripture class, the academic lecture. The thematic approach is therefore legitimate whenever we instruct students on the science of Scripture. But whenever we communicate Scripture in a pastoral context, whether it be a sermon, a spiritual talk, a retreat conference, or a catechism class, we are engaged in a different kind of work. Here it is not information about the topic, but the Word of God itself and its message that should come first. There is a big difference between talking about the Temple of Jerusalem as a topic, and pointing to the motif of the Temple in John’s Gospel: how Jesus foresees that his own body will be the Temple (2,19-21), how he announces the Temple of the heart (4,20- 24).

SERIALISED EXPOSITION OF A MOTIF

Some valuable and important Bible motifs are so rich that they cannot be sufficiently covered in a short homily or in one conference. If we have the opportunity of addressing an audience regularly, we could well spread the motif over a number of separate occasions. I call this a serialised exposition of a motif, because we deliberately plan the whole presentation as a series of separate talks.

A good illustration of what the finished product should look like is the “Dance of Death” produced by Hans Holbein the Younger in 1538. Holbein was court painter to Henry VIII but this book was published by him at Lyons in a French edition. The structure of the book is simple. Holbein selected 41 scripture passages speaking about death. He applied each particular text to a different category of person: kings, priests, monks, nuns, astrologers, physicians, etc. to cover all ranks and classes in society. He illustrated each Bible passage with a small woodcut and a four-line verse, both applied to the Scripture text and the category in question. See the text and illustration regarding the the Miser (Fig. 28) and Old Woman (Fig. 29).

Figs. 28 & 29. From Holbein’s “Death of Death”.

The Miser (Fig. 29)

Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided? (Luke vii,20)

This very night shalt thou know Death! To-morrow be encoffined fast!

Then tell me, fool! while thou hast breath, Who’ll have the gold thou hast amassed?

THE OLD WOMAN

(Fig. 28)

Death is better than a bitter life or continued sickness. Ecclesiasticus xxx, 17.

The love of life has ceased in thee,

Who long hast known this suffering strife;

Then come along to rest with me,

For Death is better now than life.

Holbein’s interpretation of some scripture passages is questionable. His application of these passages to specific categories of persons is arbitrary. Yet the overall outcome is a very convincing and true picture of the biblical message. He achieves this by doing two things at the same time: by taking care to make each unit an interesting section that could stand on its own, and by achieving a closely knit unity between all the sections. He makes his work all of a piece by the systematic enumeration of forty categories of persons (thus underlining that all men must die) and by repeating in each woodcut the figure of death. In fact, reading the booklet one sees how death dances its way through the world, sparing no single human being.

A serialised exposition of a motif should have the same qualities. There should be something new, something interesting in itself in every talk, while preserving the effect of overall unity within the whole series.

This may not be as difficult and complicated as it looks at first. Suppose you are celebrating the Eucharist for a small congregation on weekdays. You have six short homilies to prepare, each lasting approximately three minutes. Why not take as the overall motif “the gift of the promised land”, as we find it in the book of Deuteronomy? For us the promised land is the Kingdom of Fleaven, our spiritual life, our communion with Christ and his followers. A serialised exposition on this motif could be broken up as follows:

Monday: The land God promises is a good land (main text Dt 8,7-9).

Tuesday: The land is not acquired by our own strength but as a gift (main text Dt 6,10-12).

Wednesday: The land God gives is a holy land which we may only inhabit if we are worthy of it (main text Dt. 1,34-36).

Thursday: Enjoying the fruits of the land is a measure of God’s blessing (main text Dt. 7,13).

Friday: God’s holy land had to be kept undefiled (main text Dt. 21,22-23). This is, incidentally, the reason why Christ’s body had to be removed from the Cross before the Sabbath day. Jesus thus became a ‘curse’ for our sakes (Gal. 3,13).

Saturday: Even though Moses could not enter the land himself, he was granted a vision of the Holy Land (Dt 34,1-5). The full realisation of God’s Kingdom will only come in heaven.

St. Matthew highlights important moments in the life of Jesus by associating them with the tops of mountains. Through this motif he seeks to underline new beginnings, turning points that mark off Christianity from the Old Testament religion. A series of five conferences on the newness of Christian life could follow this motif.

Mt 5-7: Sermon on the Mount. The Christian’s code of sanctity contrasted with the decalogue proclaimed on Mount Sinai.

Mt 17,1-8: Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain. In Jesus God is continually present among us. Our Christian life should be transformed by the experience of his presence.

Mt 21,1-9: Jesus’ triumphal entry from the Mount of Olives. Jesus accepts his salvific mission through suffering and crucifixion, thereby setting a norm for our understanding of life. The function of suffering and death.

Mt 25,31-46: Verdict of the last judgement (presumed to be on a mountain as it mentions God’s throne). The supremacy of fraternal charity is proclaimed. God is loved in our neighbour.

Mt 28,16-20: Ascension scene on the Galilean mountain. As Moses saw the promised land from the Nebo so Jesus sees the world Church that is to begin.

Such conferences would obviously need to be worked out very well to justify such an extensive treatment, but if handled properly they could give an interesting panorama of Christian life in some of its more distinct aspects. At the same time this approach would correspond closely to what Matthew had in mind when he placed these scenes on mountain tops.

A SERMON ON EATING AND DRINKING WITH GOD

This sermon, addressed to a Teachers’ Guild on a recollection day in Lent, illustrates the technique of a “direct exposition of a motif”.

Easter is approaching. The austere Lenten Liturgy dominates our ceremonies: the violet vestments, the absence of flowers, the thoughtful tone of our hymns, the insistence on penance in prayers and sermons – all these remind us of death and sinfulness. With the Church we feel the need for conversion and redemption. We want to prepare ourselves, through reflection and self denial. We want to feel happy and free from sin when the Church in a few weeks’ time will burst out with joy in the Paschal Celebration!

What will Easter mean for me, and for those whom I must lead and guide in this preparation? Will Easter be merely a series of external festivities? Or, will it mean a joyful reaffirmation of our Faith, a renewed change of heart, a more intimate union with God through Holy Eucharist? How should we prepare for that great moment of the Easter communion? It is no waste of effort to reflect on the meaning of Easter. We must take time to absorb and understand its message, so as to live it and spread it around us. What benefit would we and our students or families derive from wearing new clothes or eating Easter eggs if the deep significance of Easter escaped us?

Most of our feasts such as Easter are marked by festive meals, by a lot of “eating and drinking”. It may be helpful to remember that Easter means our privilege of being allowed to “eat and drink” with God. I will trace this motif through some of the most important parts of Scripture.

At the Last Supper, Jesus told his disciples that he would not eat and drink with them again until the Kingdom of God were set up (Lk 22,16-18). In other words, the next time he would eat and drink with them was to be at Easter, when the Kingdom of God had been inaugurated! This gives a good starting-point to our reflection:

Jesus at Easter.

To the Jews, “eating and drinking with someone” meant being someone’s intimate friend. One ate only with close relatives and near friends. No, it meant more: in the time of the Patriarchs, eating and drinking with another implied that one ratified a pact of friendship. Isaac and Abimelech concluded their covenant of brotherhood by “eating and drinking together” (Gen 26/30). Jacob and Laban similarly celebrated a lasting agreement with such a meal taken in common (Gen 31,45-54). According to Sacred Scripture, the sharing of food and drink expresses a mutual bond of friendship and brotherhood, a very intimate relationship. We read how God sent a lion to kill a negligent prophet, because he “ate and drank” with the sinful people of Bethel! (3 Kings 13,1-32).

In Paradise Adam and Eve were God’s Guests. In this garden of delight God had planted many trees “pleasant to the sight and good for food” (Gen 2,8-17). What does Scripture indicate with these words? It implies that Adam and Eve were allowed to eat God’s own food and drink from his river. It wants us to understand that God made men his intimate friends, that he accepted them as his own children, giving them his own life (sanctifying grace).

We all know how sadly mankind disappointed God, symbolized in the sin of our first parents. They disobeyed their father and master by transgressing his command. They greatly offended their generous host by eating of the forbidden fruit. God had to punish them by sending them out of Paradise, away from the tree of life. No longer were they allowed to eat and drink at God’s table; in the sweat of their brow they were to work for their own bread (Gen 3,17-24).

Mankind was in sin. Man was separated from God. But in his infinite goodness Almighty God was already planning salvation. He wished to bring men back into his household and make them his own children again. He would send his own Son to bring about this reconciliation. To prepare the way for this Redeemer, he chose the Jewish people and revealed his purpose to them.

God’s gesture of friendship took the form of a Covenant with the Jewish people. This pact of alliance was concluded with a sacrificial meal. Moses and Aaron together with seventy elders from among the people were allowed to share in this banquet on Sinai: “They ate and drank” in the presence of Almighty God (Ex 24,9-11). Year after year this Sacrifice of the Covenant was repeated and celebrated on various occasions. At the pasch each Jewish family would offer a lamb in sacrifice and then join in a holy meal, to partake of the offering (Dt 16,1-7). In such ways God began to realise his desire to call men and invite them back home. The new friendship he opened to them was still very imperfect. It was more like a picnic in God’s presence than a real sharing of food with him! But it prepared the way.

God eventually did send his Son to redeem us. As Jesus Christ, he became one of us. Adam and Eve had sinned by wanting their own food and spurning God’s will. Jesus Christ, the representative of all mankind, made it his food “to do the Will of the Father” (Jn 4,31-34) and, at the hour of trial expressed his determination to “drink the chalice” of painful obedience (cf. Jn 18,11). Where men had sinned through disobedience, Jesus in their name offered the sacrifice of supreme obedience. The highest expression of that total obedience and that deepest worship was his death on Calvary. The triumphant sign that God had accepted this sacrifice, was the Resurrection of Jesus Christ at Easter!

The significance of Easter is the success, the victory of Jesus’ sacrifice. Through this sacrifice we are all entitled again to be God’s children and to sit at his Table as his intimate friends. Can we be surprised, then, that Jesus chose a sacrificial meal as the way of celebrating victory? At the Last Supper he instituted the most wonderful banquet the world has ever witnessed! Under the species of bread and wine his sacrificial Body and Blood were to be made present. By attending this consecration and giving their assent to its meaning, his followers for ever after would join themselves to his supreme sacrifice. And – more wonderful still – through the eating and drinking of his Body and Blood they were to share his own inner life, his own Love of the Father manifested in his sacrifice. Could Jesus have realised the “eating and drinking with God” in a more profound way than this?

“Take and eat. This is my Body that will be handed over for your sake”.

“Drink of this, everyone of you; for this is my Covenant-Blood that will be shed for the sake of many with a view to forgiveness of sins” (Mt 26,26-28; Lk 22,19-20).

At Easter we joyfully celebrate the victory of Jesus’ sacrifice over death and sin. Through him we are invited to sit at God’s table. As God’s intimate friends, as his own children, we can eat and drink with him. We know that in the same way as Jesus Christ has risen and is now gloriously present at God’s right hand, so we too shall one day rise with our bodies and be eternally happy in God’s presence. Our “eating and drinking with God” will not end here on earth: for all eternity we shall share in God’s love and happiness. During the Paschal celebration the Church exults with joy over those consoling truths.

In preparation for this feast the Church urges on us the practice of fasting. She wants us to fast not only from material food, but from our attachment to self, to pleasure, to material goods. The Church expects us to make our own the sentiments of Christ, to join him in his rejection of sin, in his love of God and self-sacrifice. This is why the Church desires that we solemnly re affirm the obligations we took on ourselves at Baptism. During the Easter night she makes us repeat those promises of friendship with God, first uttered when God gave us his life through the flow of water.

But, most of all, the Church wants us at Easter to partake of the Eucharist in a very special way. As a good mother who urges even her reluctant children to take what is good for them, she enjoins on us the Easter communion as a grave obligation. But whoever has grasped the meaning of Easter will not see this as an “obligation” but as a “need”; if at any time of the year, then certainly at Easter each believer has to share fully in the sacrifice of Jesus by “eating and drinking” of his Meal!

Yes, the unspeakable privilege of “eating and drinking with God” at the sacrificial table of the Eucharist urges us to go every Sunday and share in this celebration. This is the deepest reason of our Sunday obligation as well as of the “Easter communion”. If we understand what Easter means, every Sunday will be appreciated as a small Easter of its own.

MEDITATION ON FRIENDSHIP AND RECONCILIATION

A prayer service for high school students has been dedicated to the theme of friendship. After a reading from the Gospel (Jn 15,11-17) and the singing of an appropriate hymn, the following text is given as a “meditation”. The text is to be followed by shared, spontaneous prayer.

It is an ordinary Sabbath day in the month of Tammuz of the year 160 B.C. We are visiting Jerusalem and have heard about the great teacher Jesus ben Sirach. We have attended the Sabbath service in a nearby synagogue and are just entering the living room of Sirach’s house.

There he sits on a low couch, his yellow talith over his shoulders, a black skullcap on his head, and a long flowing white beard covering his chest. Keen students have already taken their places on the mat in front of the teacher. The room is low and dark. The light from a small window in the wall is strengthened by the shine of some flickering oil lamps placed here and there in the apartment. Those who have come to listen to the master greet him and speak with one another in low murmurs.

Jesus ben Sirach is not an ordinary teacher. He has great experience. He has tasted the realities of life. For some time he has worked in a government office. He has helped his brother run a prosperous business. He has fought in a war and has seen famine and destruction. He has travelled to many countries and knows people from all ranks of society. Yes, Jesus ben Sirach is a knower of men. He knows their weaknesses, their ambitions and their struggles. He realises that it is his duty to explain God’s law in such a way that people can put it into practice in their everyday lives. Today we will listen to his instruction.

Sirach fixes his eyes on the eager faces around him and begins to speak: “My dear children, today I would like to speak to you about friendship. All of us need friends. Whether you live by the work of your hands, whether you are a governor ruling the people, whether you are a priest employed in the temple or a scribe studying the law, you will need some good friends to help you stay on the right path.

A faithful friend is a sure shelter, whoever finds one has found a rare treasure.

A faithful friend is something beyond price, there is no measuring his worth.

A faithful friend is the assurance of life, and those who fear the Lord will find one.

Whoever fears the Lord makes true friends, for as a man is so are all his friends.

(Sir 6,14-17).

Of course, everybody likes to have friends. We like to have people with us who are kind to us and help us. But many people lose their friends after some time because they do not trust them. It may be a friend is doing something we had not expected. It may be that someone else reports on his actions to us. I once knew a merchant who cut off a good friendship because he thought, without sufficient reason, that his friend had cheated him in a business deal. When his friend tried to explain the real facts the merchant did not even want to listen to him.

Do not find fault before making thorough inquiry.

First reflect, then give a reprimand.

Listen before you answer,

And do not interrupt a speech in the middle.

(Sir 11,7-8).

Some people can be so angry about the faults of their friends that they turn their feelings into resentment and hatred. Two friends I knew became deadly enemies in this fashion. Although they brought sacrifices to the Lord at the same altar, they would not even speak to one another. I cannot understand how such people can pray to God with a clear conscience. God disapproves of such disposition of mind. We should be ready to forgive our friend whatever he may have done against us.

Forgive your neighbour the hurt he does you, and when you pray, your sins will be forgiven.

If a man nurses anger against another,

can he then demand compassion from the Lord?

Showing no pity for a man like himself, can he then plead for his own sins?

Mere creature of flesh, he cherishes resentment; who will forgive him his sins?

Sirach sighs and continues his instruction:

(Sir 28.2-5).

Now suppose you have reason to think that your friend has done something against you. It may look as if he has betrayed one of your secrets. He may have spoken evil of you. He may have broken an agreement. He may have acted in a way that seems contrary to your interest. What should we do in such a case? Many people simply keep silence. They bury it in their heart. They act externally as if everything is all right, but in their heart they harbour a suspicion. This is not wise, my children. No friendship can last in that way. The best thing to do is to speak about it directly. Ask your friend, and usually you will see that your reason for suspicion was unfounded.

Question your friend, he may have done nothing at all, and if he has done anything, he will not do it again.

Question your neighbour, he may have said nothing at all, and if he has said anything, he will not say it again.

Question your friend, for slander is very common, do not believe all you hear.

A man may sometimes make a slip, without meaning what he says,

And which of us has never sinned by speech?

(Sir 19,13-17).

When I was a boy, two of my aunts started to quarrel with one another. I remember it all very well. It began with some minor misunderstanding about who was to be allowed to go to the market place to do the necessary shopping. In the end the quarrel became so serious that they came to blows and my father had to separate them by force. How silly people can be. Even if there has been a misunderstanding, it can be solved so easily by reconciliation. Anybody will be ready to forgive if you honestly say, “I am sorry I have offended you”. The only thing that ruins friendship forever is pride and unwillingness to humiliate ourselves.

If you have drawn your sword on a friend, do not despair: there is a way back.

If you have opened your mouth against your friend, do not worry: there is scope for reconciliation.

But insult, arrogance, betrayal of secrets, and the stab in the back –

in these cases any friend will run away.

(Sir 22,21-22).

It is a wise man who can keep his friends. But what a blessing if we do so. There is nothing so consoling in life as friendship of many years standing. It is something we should treasure and try to preserve at all costs. It will be one of the reasons for our joy in old age. It will give us hope in times of despair and courage when we feel depressed.

Do not desert an old friend:

the new one will not be his match.

New friend, new wine:

when it grows old, you drink it with pleasure.

(Sir 9,10).

Footnotes * De Archaische Glimlach, C.W.M.Verhoeven, (pp. 129-54)