Are We Afraid of Socialism or Just Afraid of Sharing?

It's been interesting observing the whole healthcare debate over the past year in the U.S. and what lines of defense and arguments people have been hanging their hat on. At the same time we all know that we collectively depend on government in specific areas of our lives to make our country run effectively, (whether we like it or not) to provide a strong military, welfare to the poor, some kind of educational standards, and laws that try to reflect our morality.

Amidst this debate, however, fear seems to always be the trump card that is played to try and convince people that government intervention is bad. I'm not siding with one point of view or another, but just observing that in America we seem to be acting like immature adolescents in the public forum more often than not because none of us seems to have the stomachs or attention spans for an informed debate with some give and take.

Our collective psyche seems to be bent on the dualism of labeling someone's approach or ideas as "wrong," rather than figuring out how to solve real problems with real solutions. I would go so far as to say that because of this dualistic debate and the related partisanship, that our leaders are no longer focused on solving problems for Americans at large, but on winning arguments and fighting for self-preservation (aka re-election).

So what's the solution? I say it's humility and charity - - practices that cause each of us (especially our leaders) to be vulnerable and die to themselves - - and think of the other guy, not just their own necks. Because we are not more humble and charitable as a country, I think THAT is why we are creating more government-funded (aka socialist) policies. "I'm not willing to directly help my neighbor who's lost their job, but I'll begrudgingly allow the government take something out of my paycheck to help them."

Humility and charity come from love, generosity, and a sense that life is not just about ME. Socialism comes from abdicating responsibility for those in need to government. Socialism is growing out of an individualistic culture in America that is more focused on it's own welfare than the welfare of others. So we triangulate the care we give our neighbor via the government rather than helping them directly ourselves. To be blunt, our country is too selfish and individualistic to help our neighbor, so we outsource that help to the government. That is what socialism really is in my opinion.

As Jesus showed us, the feeding of the 5,000 only occurred because a few gave what little they had (fishes and loaves) so the Lord could bless it and create abundance. If we don't participate in service to others through humility and charity, God can't bless our work and create abundance from it. So I think the only way to stop socialistic changes in society is to create more REAL Christians, Christians who will love, feed, and clothe thy neighbor, not just go to Church on Sunday. Can we do that? I'm not sure.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus say, "The poor you will always have with you but I will only be with you a short time." In meditating on this scripture I've come to realize that our heart for loving the poor and those in need will never be as big as the heart of Jesus, so yes, we WILL always have the poor with us.

Finally, I would offer that capitalism isn't necessarily better than the renewed socialist direction our country is taking. The previous administration in Washington had no interest in addressing the healthcare debate so instead the current administration did. A market-based economy is great for creating jobs and wealth, but in a capitalistic society there will always be, as Jesus said, those who do not have jobs and wealth. So what's our long-term strategy to help them? Humility and charity. Only our hearts can fix these societal ills, not our wallets, not a government program - - and that's what Jesus wants from us.

I was at a church meeting six months ago where a wealthy man in the audience was upset by the idea that the government was going to increase his tax rate to help fund programs for the poor (aka socialism), and it was interesting to observe his anger. He said, "I should be able to decide what charities my money goes to, not the government." I think his heart was in the right place, but it seemed like his pride was getting in the way too. At the same time, however, I think he was trying to say, as a Christian, that I'd rather be charitable to my neighbor rather than the government telling me how charitable I should be (via government programs and increased taxes).

At the end of the day, I think the only solution is to realize that in all of our actions we are working to build the Kingdom of God, not our own individual kingdoms. It's all God's money to begin with, we're just stewards of it for a short time here on earth. So as long as we're humble and charitable with our gifts, God will take care of the rest and make sure those in need are taken care of, in the same way that Jesus fed the 5,000. So the answer isn't socialism or capitalism, the answer is humility and charity.

Making the Gospel Stories Our Own

As an adult Christian I am learning to get to know Jesus both as a man, as a historical figure, and as the risen Christ, and each of these ways of knowing him has its own layers to it. Jesus was a man who had a mother and father like I do, he enjoyed table fellowship like I do, and he enjoyed time in prayer like I do. As a historical figure living 2000 years ago, Jesus lived in a culture, geography, and political climate different than I live in now, but I can try to study those times and extrapolate his experience to my experience (e.g. customs, dress, rituals). And finally, the deepest layer I’ve come to know Jesus as is the risen Christ - - as a person, as a voice, as a Spirit who speaks to me in my daily life, through the scriptures, in my relationships, and in the Mass.

Having been introduced to the practice of Ignatian prayer several years ago, I have had moving experiences of meeting Jesus on the Road to Emmaus, meeting him on the road with Bartemeus, meeting him among the tombs in Genesaret, and on the road back home from a foreign land with the Prodigal Son. By sitting with these scriptures for a period of time, meditating on them, and putting myself in the scene, Jesus has revealed himself to me through the characters in these stories. As such, it’s been not so much a process of me making these Gospel stories my own, but of the scriptures revealing the risen Christ to me in them.

Without a deeper way of knowing the scriptures, and Christ through them, the scripture stories remain just stories, as John Shea notes. It’s difficult to hear a story over and over again and have it be fresh exciting, and generative (Shea, p. 51). As Shea suggests, I’ve had to learn to get out of the way of the story and find a new way of seeing.

For me, when I am able to meet Christ in scripture, he meets me in my wounded places, seeing wounds I may not have revealed to anyone else, but he seems to know intrinsically they are there. I’ve been the fearful, possessed man dwelling among the tombs in shackles and chains in Gerasenes (Mark 5:1), I’ve been the lonely, Prodigal starving in a foreign land, longing to eat the husks of corn the pigs were fed (Luke 15:11), I’ve been the hard-hearted apostle unable to see Christ walking with them on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13), and I’ve been the persistent Bartimaeus who comes face-to-face with the Jesus who asks him, “What do you want me to do for you? (Mark 10:46).”

In getting to know Jesus Christ, I’ve always been intrigued by what John the Baptist says to his follows when Jesus first arrives on the scene, “I must decrease so that he can increase.” For me, this scripture describes the self-emptying journey that John Shea is talking about in Gospel Light. It’s about being present in mind, body, and Spirit, but letting the Spirit of the risen Christ speak through my life, rather than letting the mind or body being in control and running the show. As Shea says, “We participate in the Divine Being at every moment (Shea, p.40).” When I’m living a life attuned to the Spirit, I move beyond the dualism of compartmentalizing my prayer time and work time, joys and suffering, and good times and bad. As Richard Rohr says, I come to know that “everything belongs.” Every aspect of my life becomes fertilizer for Christ to plant his seed and grow something. So even when I don’t see the flowers blooming, I know that the eternal gardener is at work, creating something new.

As an adult Christian, I know that the Gospel stories are speaking to me when a word in the scriptures jumps out at me or moves me to tears. This has the impact of either surprising me when a word jumps out at me - - or humbling me when I’m moved to tears. Lately it’s been tears that have ruled the day; convicting my heart that there is an unmet need in me that only Christ can fill. The tears also tell me that beyond the specific scripture passage I may have read or heard, Christ now has direct access to my heart. His heart is becoming my heart. His joys are my joys, and his sorrows are my sorrows, and he is conforming my heart to his will.

John Shea calls this way of connecting to the scriptures “apprenticing ourselves to the story” (Shea, p.56), such that the spirit of the text has awakens our spirit, stirs our minds to see and understand, and see with the eye of the soul (Shea, p. 60). In doing so war are now considering a common human condition, rather than a specific instance of characters in a scripture story.

As I am called to work in Ministry and continue to learn how to make Christ’s story my own, I see that this transformation to having the heart of Christ is vital. If I can see with the eyes of Christ and feel with his heart, I can be his hands and feet and accept the trials that go along with it. His yoke will be easy and his burden will be light, and I can share the realization of St. Paul when he said, “It is not I who live but Christ who lives within me (Galatians 2:20).” If I am not transformed and don’t accept the heart of Christ in my ministry, I am just a body who is listening to his own mind/ego and is not connected to his eternal purpose. I don’t see Christ in the person I am serving, and my ministry becomes just a job.

In summary, from my experience, becoming a Christian is about making the Gospel stories my own, but, like grace, it’s not something I actually DO. I am just called to show up and be “present to the presence” as Brother Lawrence says. If I am able to be present and empty myself of inordinate attachments within and without, the Gospel stories can speak to me and Christ’s story becomes my story. His tears at Lazarus’ tomb become my tears, his righteous anger at the temple becomes my anger, his death on the cross becomes my death, and his rising to new life becomes my own.

This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased ...

“This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.” These are the words we hear every year right before the first Sunday of Lent after Jesus is baptized by John the Baptist. And I think the season of Lent and the paschal mystery itself is about dying to ourselves and realizing how much Jesus loves us, how Beloved we are.‘I love you so much that I’m willing to be falsely accused for you. I love you so much I’m willing to be scourged for you. I love you so much I’m willing to be ridiculed and spit on for you. And I love you so much that I’m willing to die for you.’ I don’t know about you, but this is a kind of love I have trouble getting my arms around and truly believing and accepting with both my head and my heart.

This Sunday we heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son, a parable many of us have heard before. In the parable, the young Son asks for and squanders his inheritance, but upon his return home is freely received by the loving arms of his father, while the older son is jealous and hard-hearted and refuses to enter his father’s house after this outrageous demonstration of love and mercy toward his younger brother.

We can all identify with the older son I think, who jealousy says, “How dare my father say to my younger brother, ‘this is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.’ He doesn’t deserve it.” And we can all identify with the younger son too I think, who upon his return, prepares to tell his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you, I no longer deserve to be called your son.”

In the end, they’re both right. The Prodigal doesn’t deserve his father’s love and mercy, but it’s given to him anyway. And I think that’s the whole point of this story, our true inheritance is being God’s Beloved, it’s not about the property, the cattle, or the number of servants we have. As you’ll remember at the beginning of the story, the father gives freely the financial inheritance requested by his son without an argument, question, or challenge - - even though culturally at the time it would have been and still is today a tremendous insult for a young man to ask his father to cash-in his inheritance while the father is still alive.

But our TRUE inheritance as believers is that we are, as St. Paul says, “baptized into the blood of Jesus Christ.” His baptism is our baptism, the voice that calls him Beloved calls us Beloved, and the death that he died was for OUR sins, not his own. How outrageous is that? We certainly don’t deserve that kind of inheritance - - but it’s given to us anyway. It’s given to us freely with open arms from the Father who is waiting for us to return home this Lent amidst the sounds of music and dancing.

Whether we’re a son or daughter who has squandered our gifts on a selfish lifestyle like the younger son, or a codependent performance-oriented lifestyle like the older son, we BOTH are granted the same Beloved inheritance by Almighty God. God doesn’t grade on a scale. If we come home to him in a Spirit of love and repentance, we all get “A’s.” Truly, no child is left behind. How radical is that? But we’ve got to come home to him first and show up every day for school. That is what Lent is about. He wants to school us in what our inheritance as his Beloved is about. It’s not about performing outwardly for him during Lent - - giving up this or doing that - - it’s about letting God perform inwardly in our hearts. And he is waiting for us, as in the Parable says, to give him permission to do it.

“This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.”

The reason many of us are passionate about doing social justice work I think is that we have a genuine desire to serve those less fortunate than ourselves and share our gifts and blessings. Sounds like a nice thing to do, right? Our society is good with that. Giving something back, making tax-deductible donations, and looking out for those in need. But where does that desire come from?

Whether we realize it or not, I’d offer that we’re being called to share with others the outrageous love of the Father demonstrated in the Parable of the Prodigal Son: Welcome home with loving arms those who have hurt us. Give our love to those who have squandered their inheritance. Kill the fatted calf and celebrate with the sounds of music and dancing. It’s nice to say, but can really do this? Do we set our sights high enough?

During my recent trip to Israel, I had the realization during a reflection at the banks of the river Jordan, that I was a Beloved son of God, and I shed a few tears as I received that. Fr. Michael who was leading our pilgrimage helped me make a connection between Jesus’ baptism, the devil’s temptation in the desert, and our own lives as the Beloved of God. After his baptism by John, the Lord says to Jesus, “This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.” Then the Holy Spirit leads Jesus into the desert where the devil tempts him by saying, “If you are the Son of God … then do this,” and if you are the Son of God … do that.” So the devil is simply trying to get Jesus to doubt the truth of his gift of being the Beloved Son of God, doubt the power and integrity of the giver of the gift, God himself, and doubt his need for dependence on God for daily nourishment and subsistence.

As scripture tells us, Jesus passes these three tests from the devil with flying colors to go on to do amazing things with his ministry to the Jews and Gentiles, but how do these tests and temptations stop us from doing amazing things in our work and ministry?

• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God to stretch ourselves like Jesus did, or do we do play it safe, and play it small?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God when we face potential roadblocks and/or suffering, or do we persevere?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God or do we let our own vision get in the way of what God has planned sometimes?
• Do we trust in our inheritance as the Beloved of God when we are successful, and give gratitude to God for the way he has blessed our work, or do we take the credit?

I’ve learned that if I truly believe I am a Beloved child of God and live into it this blessing every day, the devil and his doubts and temptations can’t touch me. I am a Beloved Son of God and unless I doubt or surrender the integrity of this gift to the devil or someone else, he and his lies can’t touch me. That is why; I believe Lent always begins from the baptism of Jesus, because we always need to be reminded before we go into this time in the desert that we are Beloved sons and daughters of God. Can we conceive it? Do we believe it? Do we receive it? If we do, we can do amazing, unstoppable things.

What St. Paul's Letter to the Romans Has to Teach Us Today

St. Paul’s theology, as demonstrated in the book of Romans, is just as important today as it was at the time he wrote it because we, in the post-modern world, encounter just as many divisions and disagreements within the Christian Church today as Paul did in his time. I believe this has happened because, psychologically, by human nature, all Christians want to know they are “saved” and are going to heaven. As a result, we all naturally become focused on the rules and guidelines of our faith (the Law), and how to get to heaven, rather than living the Spirit of the Law, as Paul describes in Romans.

As we all know and Sigmund Freud would tell you, it’s human nature to try and act obediently in order to avoid punishment (Pregeant, page 259). Paul says in contrast that we are justified by faith in Jesus Christ through God’s grace, and this grace is a gift given freely by God. It cannot be earned by our prescriptive, “good” behaviors as a Christian who is intent on fulfilling the law. In my opinion, the misguided focus of Christians bent on fulfilling the Law to earn salvation today has created, and continues to create divisions and disagreements in the Church about who is doing the faith correctly or incorrectly and, subsequently, who has earned a place in heaven and who has not. Like Paul’s letter to the Romans, today we encounter disagreements in the Church about similar issues:

• Faith vs. works (e.g. Are we saved by faith or by works?)
• Law vs. the Spirit (e.g. Who’s following the right Christian rules and who’s not?)
• The Role of Women in the Church (e.g. Why can’t women become priests?)
• Homosexual Relationships (e.g. Can someone practice a gay lifestyle and still be considered a Christian? Can/should a gay man or woman be allowed to become a minister?)
• Slavery (e.g. Why is there still abuses related to human trafficking and illegal immigrants?)


In this reflection I will address the first two bullet points on this list.

Yesterday I received an e-mail from my Aunt who was feeling out of sorts because she shared with a friend that she was converting to the Catholic faith from her Episcopal roots. The friend proceeded to beg her to change her mind for fear that she would end up going to hell. Unfortunately, I have other Catholic friends who struggle with the same objections from their evangelical friends during discussions about their Christian faith practices. In Romans, however, Paul tells the Church community that, despite their judgments to the contrary, all people are held under the “power of sin” - - whether Gentile, Jew, or pagan - - yet we are all justified by our faith in Jesus Christ and his promise of salvation (Pregeant, p. 245, 248, 250), just as Abraham was (Ludwig, p.7). God’s righteous action restores our relationship with him through Christ, and we cannot perform specific acts or say specific prayers to earn his grace. Paul goes on to say that righteousness is based on faith, not the Law, and subsequently obedience to the law is a dead end (Pregeant, p. 247, 249).

Paul’s writings on this issue are obviously applicable to today, but I would point out that, in my experience, someone cannot be argued out of their allegiance to specific faith practices (e.g. Law). That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in. The Spirit and God’s grace purifies the hearts of Christians over time through the practice of prayer so they come to know the truth of faith in their hearts, not just in their heads.

Based on my earlier example and experience, it’s interesting to compare how typical evangelicals and Catholics interact in today’s society, similar to how the Jewish and Gentile Christians addressed in Romans must have interacted in Paul’s time. Like the Jewish Pharisees, most evangelicals today know and can quote scripture better than any Catholic can. As such, like the Jews of Paul’s time, this knowledge of scripture for evangelicals is an advantage but can also be a stumbling block. If you have the mindset that the written Word of God is the Word of God (aka the Bible), and if something is not written in the Bible then it obviously can’t be true, I think this mindset can create blinders that crowd out God’s ability to get one’s attention and teach you anything through the Holy Spirit. Just look at Paul’s own experience. He was so militantly obedient to the Jewish Law that God had to knock him over and blind him for three penitential days before scales fell from his eyes and he “saw the light” of his calling to become an apostle of Jesus Christ. So Paul’s letter to the Romans reinforces for us today that faith has to always be a heart thing and not just a head thing. It’s not about the rules, but the grace, and God is the one who gives the grace. We can only ask for it and receive it in God’s time and measure.

Being a Christian is also not about who’s in the “salvation club” and who’s not. It’s a recognition that we’re all in the “sinner club”, and we can only be a part of the “salvation club” if we nurture a committed relationship with Jesus Christ in both faith and works. According to Paul, Christ provides what the law could not, freedom from sin and death (Pregeant, p. 249). Once we let go of worrying about who’s in or out of the “salvation club,” and focus on living in the Spirit of our faith, Christ (and Paul’s) message of loving our neighbor as ourselves can come into sharper focus. The net benefit of this is that we all end up trying to lift up each other’s boats through our love, rather than being isolated and just working on our own personal relationship with Jesus. As Paul describes, the life of a believer is a life of love that is worked out in our daily walk as Christians (Pregeant, p. 258). Some days we do it well, and other days we do it poorly. It’s a journey, but our Christian faith calls us to live and love in humility, charity, community, and a cheerful hope to persevere in our trials (Ludwig, 9).


Two-thousand years later, it’s apparent we still have much to learn from Paul’s letter the Romans. We Christians are still debating what it means to be a good Christian, we’re still sinning, and we’re trying to learn how live in God’s good graces. So if Paul’s letter was re-sent to us as a text message titles, “A letter to the Chicagoans,” it would be just as relevant to our lives as it was to the Romans in their time.

By His Wounds We Are Healed

At face value, Jesus’ teachings in the gospels are just that: teachings - - words to live by, moral guidelines, affirmations of what it means to be holy, and instruction on how to be a good and faithful servant. Yet there’s more, much more: a flourish of parable, paradox, allegory and metaphor. However you sift these teachings for meaning, the grandest parable Jesus told is the one he spoke with his own flesh and blood, the parable of his death and the resurrection.

The Pharisees of Jesus’ time often used allegorical stories to teach the Jews about the Torah and how to live the covenant life Moses established with Yahweh. During his three years of ministry, Jesus challenged the Pharisees and their instruction to Jews on the Law because, (1), the Pharisees had become blind to the original Spirit of the Law, and (2), the Pharisees hypocritically preached obedience to the Law bit didn’t practice it themselves.

In contrast to the Pharisees’ use of allegories, the heart of Jesus’ teaching was delivered via parables. He told parables about The Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the Sower, and so on. Unfortunately, Jesus’ disciples often had difficulty understanding these parables and Jesus had to explain the parables to them, including his final parable, the parable of his death and resurrection, which he explained, for instance, to Cleopas on the Road to Emmaus, and Thomas and the twelve in the Upper Room.

Most of Jesus’ parables became allegories or example stories upon their re-telling and recording by the apostles over time (Ludwig, 1). This is of key importance and distinction because an allegory points symbolically to realities of which the listener is familiar, while a parable suggests metaphorical meaning and demands creative interpretation by the audience (Pregeant, 345). In telling parables, and in ultimately demonstrating his own death and resurrection, Jesus was not interested in giving us simple pointers for daily living but in challenging us to a radical new way of living that requires the use of our imagination to understand. I think it is appropriate to say that Jesus was both a parable and a paradox in how he taught and lived. His vision of the Kingdom, for instance, was contradictory to what his followers expected, but in reinterpreting what the Kingdom meant, he revealed an even deeper truth.

How did Jesus’ death and resurrection become a parable? Reading the scriptures, the parable seems to unfold as part of Jesus’ teachings and is then later explained by Jesus himself after demonstrating the parable of his resurrection. In this way he seems to give the standard Dale Carnegie business presentation to the apostles: I’m going to tell you what I’m going to tell you, tell you, and recap by telling you what I told you. While Jesus is alive, for example, he says to his apostles:

• "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." (John 2:19)
• “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)
• "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)
• “From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” (Matthew 16:21)
• “For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.” (John 6:55)

After delivering some of these parabolic phrases, Jesus attempts to explain them to the apostles at various times and they clearly have difficulty understanding him:
• After relaying the Parable of the Sower: “He said to them, "Do you not understand this parable? How will you understand all the parables?” (Matthew 4:13)
• After describing the type of death he would die, Jesus says to Peter: “Get behind me Satan!” (Matthew 16:23)

In the midst of his passion, Jesus even attempts to explain the parable of his life and death to Pilate in John 18:33-38:

Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” “Is that your own idea,” Jesus asked, “or did others talk to you about me?” “Am I a Jew?” Pilate replied. “It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?” Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.” “You are a king, then!” said Pilate.
Jesus answered, “You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

Pilate, like the apostles has two feet firmly planted in the physical world, and has trouble grasping the paradox and parable of what Jesus is actually talking about. Who is this guy? Is he a king? If so, where is his Kingdom? What is truth? Why doesn’t he just come out with it instead of speaking in parables? Doesn’t he know I have the power to release him or crucify him?

Ultimately, by seeing Jesus die on the cross, rise from the dead, and leave nothing but an empty tomb and a pile of burial dressings as evidence, the apostles begin to ‘believe but don’t understand.’ They garner the faith that the parable of Jesus’ death and resurrection is true, and not just a clever allegorical story or a tale of dynamic rhetoric.

• At the empty tomb, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James remembered his words, “The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.” (Luke 24:7)
• On the Road to Emmaus, Jesus says to Cleopas, “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.” (Luke 25:27)

When Jesus’ Palm Sunday did not lead to Messianic Monday, the apostles’ hopes were dashed, and like Cleopas, they tried to move on and get on with their lives, despite their disappointment. They didn’t get the parable! Their imagination could not conceive that Jesus could still ‘win’ after ‘losing’ on the cross. They knew Jesus’ teachings but the teachings still only had metaphorical or allegorical meaning to them:

• “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
• “But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.” (Matthew 19:30)
• “And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me." (Luke 22:19)

After Jesus’ many post-resurrection appearances, the apostles did, however; finally ‘get’ the parable and this parable now blew their minds and captured their imagination. If God can raise a man from the dead, what else can he do? The apostles dejection and depression now became boundless hope (Ludwig, 11), and Jesus’ resurrection became more than the bodily return of their friend and teacher, but a redemptive event (Pregeant, 91). The parable predicted by Isaiah and the prophets before him was now a reality, “Son of man, I send you to the children of Israel, to nations that are rebellious, which have rebelled against me,” (Ezekiel 2:3) and “by his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).

Jesus: The Main Event

Jesus is both a person and an event in history. He happened at a certain time, at a certain place in Galilee of the late 20s, yet he is still happening today. You might ask, how is that possible?

Jesus’ Kingdom is already but not yet. By being the Kingdom of God in the way he walked, talked, healed, and prayed in Galilee in the 20s, he created the Kingdom everywhere he went. When he walked among his apostles, followers, and objectors he breathed the disruption of the Kingdom of God into the lives of everyone he touched. Most everyone was intrigued, but generally, those with power and status feared and challenged him while those without power and status listened, followed, and rejoiced in the Good News he preached.

In practical terms, while the man of Jesus began teaching his difficult message of the Kingdom to the enslaved Jews in the 20s, Herod Antipas and other Roman leaders couldn’t have known or cared less about him. They just wanted to continue a peaceful rule, complete their grand construction projects, and have their taxes paid to fund the projects. Crossan calls this situation “urbanization for commercialization.” Meanwhile, in Galilee, however, the farmers, peasants, and fisherman bore the brunt of this Roman commercial vision and were painfully moving from being poor to destitute. Jesus the man offered a socio-economic alternative: “Come follow me” - - an invitation to hear him, share fellowship, and embrace hope in the Kingdom event he spoke of happening in their daily lives right now! (It was a message of hope and light in the vein of what later became called, Liberation Theology, centuries later, as African Americans and the Salvadorans in the 1980-1990s came to know it.) In concrete terms, Jesus’ most receptive audience in the 20s was the poor. The poor really “heard” the gospel (e.g. “Those with ears to hear, should hear”). Those with a radical need, the begging & prayerful, connected with the radical message of Jesus and the Kingdom more easily because they had less to lose and everything to gain.

So how could Jesus be both a man and an event, or a man and a Kingdom? To borrow a phrase from Clayton Christensen, Jesus was/is a “disruptive technology.” As Jesus’ contemporaries discovered, yes, Jesus was a man. Yes, he was a Jew. Yes, he was the son to a man named Joseph and a woman named Mary - - yet he was also a radical and a revolutionary to some - - while being a troublemaker and blasphemer to others. As defined, disruptive technologies are innovations that improve a product or service in ways that the market does not expect (Wikipedia). They are particularly threatening to the leaders of an existing market, because they create competition coming from an unexpected direction (Wikipedia). This is exactly the effect that Jesus had on the places he lived and preached in Galilee in the 20s. He was unexpected, threatening, and created competition for the Jews and Romans in power at the time. Who was this “disruptive technology” called Jesus? No one seemed to know for sure at the time:

- Who did the people of his hometown say he was? “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, 'I came down from heaven (John 6:42)?” Where did this man get all this (Mark 6:1)?”

- Who did the people in other towns and villages say he was? “John the Baptist; and others say, Eli'jah; and others one of the prophets.” (Mark 8:27)

- Even John the Baptist himself asks who he is, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?" (Matthew 11:3)

- Finally, Jesus poses the question to his disciples, and asks, “Who do you say I am?” (Matthew 16:15), and Peter responds by saying, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 16:16-17)

So, Jesus and his message of the Kingdom is the “disruptive technology” of his time and, as a result, people across the board want to know who he is and why he is. To the poor, oppressed and outcast Jews under the Roman rule of Herod Antipas, his disruption is welcomed (e.g. show us the way and save us from our oppression and poverty), while those Jews and Romans in positions of power and status question and reject him (e.g. thanks, but no thanks Jesus, we like things the way they are). Finally, in speaking to the apostle Peter in the quotation above, Jesus acknowledges the “assist” that the Holy Spirit is giving Peter to help him “make the leap” in knowing who he is and what he is about. This is a leap that others, “without ears to hear,” have trouble making.

Jesus is both a person and an event because he disrupts the societal norms of the time with his message of the Kingdom, which is often told through parables. He disrupts the status quo by healing the sick, eating with sinners, and telling radical parables that flip the expected storyline on its head to challenge the listener to look at and live in the world in a completely different way. His parables startle and jolt the listener into thinking differently, challenging them to take an imaginative leap into the metaphorical while they might otherwise be more comfortable resting in the safety of the literal. It’s not a comfortable message, yet it isn’t meant to be. It’s not a cosmic message that is meant to happen somewhere “out there,” it’s a personal message that’s meant to happen “in here.”

Listening to and truly hearing Jesus’ parables demands a change of heart, a change of mind, and a changed action. Parables like the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan shake our personal foundations if we let them (Ludwig, page 12). These parables portray the undoing of a myth, and, if taken seriously, can undo our reality (e.g. “Really, the Samaritan is the hero, and the Prodigal is received by the father with open arms? Why? That’s not the way things work in our world. Why would God think and act differently? That can’t be!). As such, the parables are more than the moral lesson or example story they appear to be on the surface, they point to the painful proposition that if we (and Jesus’ contemporaries) are to become the person of Jesus today and bring the event of Jesus’ Kingdom to our daily lives, we need to humbly adopt a change of heart, mind, and action. We “get ahead” in this world by “getting behind” the man of Jesus and his ridiculous, challenging parables, and by doing so we can participate in the event of Jesus - - the Kingdom of God - - in our daily lives.

The First Shall Be Last and the Last Shall Be First

The central focus of Jesus’ ministry is to preach, teach, and demonstrate God’s radical grace, and, by doing so, stir up the surrounding socio-political environment. It is a continual call to action. Jesus does this from the beginning of his ministry when he declares, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand,” and he continues it to the end when he dies on the cross - - dying as a criminal, rather than a king.

Jesus is a radical teacher, preacher, and healer. He heals the sick, casts off demons, and calms the seas. He goes toe to toe with the Pharisees in interpreting and explaining the scriptures. But his overall message, the message that permeates all his ministry is of God’s radical grace and love - - a love that does not conform to social norms or expectations. It is a love that delights, surprises, puzzles, and annoys. These are teachings that were hard for first century Christians, and they continue to be hard teachings for Christians today.

The radical grace and love Jesus speaks of is illustrated throughout the parables. For instance, in parable of the Pearl in Matthew 13:44-45, the gift of grace calls the individual toward a response that is radical and risky - - selling everything and buy a field of buried treasure. Other parables put at odds the rich and poor, the accepted and the rejected, those with status against those without status, and ultimately Caesar’s reign against the reign of God.

Jesus confronts Pharisaic legalism in the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32), challenging the view that, through the eyes of the older brother, human beings can somehow merit divine favor through their own actions, separate from God’s grace. In doing so, Jesus also confronts the attitude of resentment that some, like the older brother would have, when God’s grace seems to fall on those who don’t deserve it, like the younger son.

Jesus takes on Jewish dietary regulations in Mark 7:15, saying, “There is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” This teaching must have perplexed the Pharisees who were focused on obediently serving Yahweh by observing 600-plus purity laws. They must have thought, “He must be joking. If we abandon these purity laws, how will we be able to tell who’s a sinner and who’s not. We’ll lose our status and power.” This theme carries over in the parable of the Great Supper (Luke 14:16-24), when Jesus shows that those that are concerned about their social standing are really unimportant in the big scheme of things. The affluent refuse the banquet invitation, while the socially outcast sit and dine at table. The blindness that occurs due to the affluent’s social status, robs them from the surprising, gracious gift of God’s love in the banquet.

Jesus shatters conventional wisdom about love of neighbor in the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37). To the listener’s surprise, the hated Samaritan becomes the hero. The story demands the overthrow of prior values, closed options, set judgments, and established conclusions (Pregeant, page 67). In the parable, Jesus shows that the love of God, like the Samaritan, looks radically beyond the constraints and prejudices of society to act and do what its right whatever someone’s race, religion, or ethnicity may be. This theme is picked up again Matthew 5:39-46, when Jesus challenges his audience to turn the other cheek and love their enemies.

The role of women in society is questioned and challenged by Jesus in the parable of the Unjust Judge (Luke 18:1-8). In the parable, Jesus, speaks of a woman who, by challenging a judge, proceeds to cross social barriers and boundaries because she refuses to accept the judge’s denial of her plea for justice. Women in the first century Middle East were marginalized, but Jesus never seemed to care about what other’s thought of him being in the company of women, whether he was speaking to Mary Magdalene or the Samaritan woman at the well.

Jesus challenges the belief that financial success was a sign of God’s favor in Mark 10:25, when he tells the apostles, “It is easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for the rich to enter the Kingdom of God.” Jesus goes one step further in Mark 12:16 when he says about the payment of taxes, “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” In these teachings Jesus seems to be saying that both individual wealth and the wealth and power of governments is nothing compared to the wealth of riches to be gained through the Kingdom of God.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus is a radical lover and teacher who challenges social and political norms. He hangs out with the wrong crowd, he breaks societal norms, and he has no status, yet he teaches with authority. In all of his parables and teachings, Jesus seems to be saying, “Listen to me - - my Father’s love is bigger than all of your daily concerns and worries to pay taxes, follow rules, work for prosperity, and fight for status. All I want you to do is love me and love your neighbor and if you take the radical leap and do that, the rest will take care of itself. Other people may not like you or agree with you if you do this, but if you do it, you will be blessed and will share in my Kingdom.”