Category: Harmonizing our lives with our maker’s designs

Iranian Messiah

The Jewish Scriptures tell of many Jewish heroes — and heroines — who did great things, inspired and empowered by the grace of God. The conclusion of II Chronicles (and the beginning of Ezra) startlingly speaks of a non-Jewish hero, Cyrus the Great, Emperor of Persia (modern Iran), and his great deed for the Jewish exiles in Babylon (modern Iraq):

In the first year of Cyrus, king of Persia, in order to fulfill the word of the LORD spoken by Jeremiah, the LORD inspired King Cyrus of Persia to issue this proclamation throughout his kingdom, both by word of mouth and in writing: “Thus says Cyrus, king of Persia: ‘All the kingdoms of the earth the LORD, the God of heaven, has given to me, and he has also charged me to build him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whoever, therefore, among you belongs to any part of his people, let him go up, and may his God be with him!’ God be with him!’”

In the British Museum, there is an ancient artifact known as the Cyrus Cylinder. A replica of it is in the United Nations headquarters. It is a declaration of the Emperor Cyrus, written on a clay cylinder after his conquest of Babylon in 539 B.C., that resonates with the biblical account:

I returned the images of the gods [whose sanctuaries had been abandoned for a long time] to their places and I let them dwell in eternal abodes. I gathered all their inhabitants and returned them to their dwellings.

Cyrus’s declaration is sometimes called the first charter of human rights, since it liberates conquered and deported peoples and gives them freedom of worship.

If this seems an extravagant description of Cyrus’s policy, it is modest indeed compared to the view of the prophet Isaiah:

Thus says the LORD to his anointed, Cyrus, whose right hand I grasp, subduing nations before him, and making kings run in his service, opening doors before him and leaving the gates unbarred: I will go before you and level the mountains; bronze doors I will shatter, and iron bars I will snap. I will give you treasures out of the darkness, and riches that have been hidden away, that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. For the sake of Jacob, my servant, of Israel my chosen one, I have called you by your name, giving you a title, though you knew me not.

Isaiah uses the title “the Lord’s Anointed” for Cyrus — the title of the Jewish kings — the title that expressed the great hope of the ancient Jewish people — the title we are used to in its Hebrew form, “Messiah” and its Greek translation, “Christ.”
The mind-boggling teaching of the prophet Isaiah is that the one God uses whomever he wills to achieve his purposes — no matter what that person’s nationality, politics, ethnicity, religion or beliefs.
A good lesson to keep in mind.
Thanks be to God for Cyrus the Great and for this precious legacy of ancient Iran to the entire world. May it be enshrined not only in the UN, but in all the world’s laws and in all people’s hearts.


(Published in
one, 34:5, September 2008)

Violence Betrays Religion

During Pope Benedict XVI’s lecture at the University of Regensburg on 12 September, he quoted the views of a late 14th-century Byzantine emperor concerning the unreasonableness of spreading faith through violence.
Emperor Michael II Paleologus presided over a drastically reduced empire. For 700 years, first militant Arabs then Turks had been steadily pushing its frontiers back to the point where it was scarcely more than a city-state.
Christianity was the state religion of the empire. Its opponents, Arabs and Turks, were Muslim. History describes the conflict simply in terms of Muslim versus Christian, omitting the social, economic, and political motives involved, not to mention greed and the hunger for power.
Alas, the followers of each of the three great monotheistic religions from time to time have had recourse to violence in the name of God.
Both ancient and modern Israel were born out of struggle and violence — for example, Joshua tells a tale of merciless bloodshed in the conquest of Canaan.
Christians cannot throw stones with impunity — remember Byzantine Christian armies fighting Persia, Catholic Spaniards conquering pagan Mexico, and Inquisitors judging fellow Christians accused of heresy.
In ancient times, Muslim warriors spread their faith across North Africa and the Middle East to the Pyrenees and the gates of Vienna. Today sectarian violence within the world of Islam is still pitting Shiite against Sunni.
Unfortunately, the holy scriptures of Jews, Christians, and Muslims are sometimes used to justify violence. It is possible to find verses supporting violence in the Torah, the Gospels, and the Qur’an.

What is the main thrust of each of these three great religions? Is it violence? Each has a bewildering array of texts and traditions: Torah, Mishna, Talmud — Gospels, creeds, catechisms, canonical codes — Qur’an, Hadith, Sharia.
The heart of the matter for Jews is the text of Deuteronomy that is enshrined on the lintel of every doorway and wrapped on the arm and brow at prayer: Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone! Therefore, you shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength . . .
Christians look to the Last Supper discourse in John’s Gospel where Jesus says: I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
A Muslim never tires of reciting the phrase that is, in effect, the central confession of faith of Islam: There is no god but God, and Muhammad is his messenger.
Violence is in contradiction to what each faith is supposed to preach. Regrettably, rather than see the other as a fellow believer and child of God, we make easy recourse to labels — goy, heretic, infidel, kafr — and easily oversimplify complex modern conflicts as struggles, e.g., between Christianity and Islam, Jew and Muslim
Is there still a lot of violence in the name of religion? Sadly, yes, we know it daily. But, who dare stand before the throne of the one God with brother’s blood on his hands and expect to be rewarded.


(Published as “Religious Violence” in
one, 32:6, November 2006)

Dead Ends

Every journey involves choices. Every time we come to a fork in the road — and this occurs again and again — we choose one way over another.
Every choice involves a gain and a loss. We get to experience all that is good and wonderful about the way chosen; we lose the opportunity to taste and enjoy the way not taken.
What about dead ends?
In English, the expression used to describe a chosen path that ultimately leads nowhere is a “dead end.” In Spanish, it’s usually described as a “callejón sin salida.”
The difference in emphasis is interesting. The English expression stresses that there’s no way to move forward, that all our hopes for the journey are dashed. The Spanish phrase says it’s a street with no way out — there’s no exit.
Both ways of looking at the same disappointing situation are correct — and both could benefit from a little optimism.
When you get to a dead end, you’re frustrated because it’s unexpected — it impedes you from going the way you wanted, it devalues the choice you made when you took the fork in the first place.
But . . . if you’re willing to cut your losses, bite the bullet, and admit you made a mistake, you can always turn around, retrace the steps you took till you get back to that fork in the road — and then make a new and hopefully better choice.
In fact, if you really want to go somewhere, there’s no alternative — you have to back up, choose a new direction and once again go full-speed ahead.
A popular device used in psychological experiments is the maze, “a confusing, intricate network of winding pathways . . . a network with one or more blind alleys,” says my dictionary.

The pessimist sees only the frustration of plans while painfully negotiating the way; the optimist emerges from the labyrinth and says, “Amazing!”
Of course, I’m not talking merely about physical journeys from place to place but the journey as a metaphor for the many “journeys” we make during the course of our lives — and for the journey of life itself.
How painful it is, for example, when we invest an enormous amount of feeling, time, and energy in developing a relationship with someone and arrive at a dead end, at a dashing of hopes and plans for the future.
“If you don’t succeed, try, try again.” (That’s the eternal optimist talking.)
How painful it is, for example, when we pour so much of our lives into a quest for justice and peace, in the generous desire to make this world a better place, and we arrive at a dead end.
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” (That’s the realist talking.)
How painful it is, for example, when we indefatigably commit ourselves to the cause of ecumenism, of the unity of the church, and find that all our strategies and tactics have led us to a dead end.
“God writes straight with crooked lines.” (That’s the Holy Spirit blocking our path, when we’re going the wrong way.)
The worst-case scenario is when you seem to have tried every way and taken every fork and you still are in the maze — when you can’t find any exit.
That’s when merely human realism kicks out and real hope — the gift of God — kicks in!


(Published in
one, 32:4. July 2006)

Yester-me, Yester-you

It rained yesterday. Even though the sun is shining today, I know it is going to rain. Why am I so sure? — because, since it rained yesterday, today must turn out the same.
What an illogical statement! Of course yesterday’s weather is no sure guide to today’s. The weather changes all the time. Yet, when it comes to people, this is the kind of illogic we frequently use.
If Saint Peter were campaigning for the position of prince of the Apostles today, I can just imagine the propaganda of his opposition:
– Don’t vote for Simon. How can you trust him? When the going gets tough, he gets going. Remember Golgotha? Where was he when the Lord was being crucified? John was at the foot of the cross — where was Simon hiding? Do you want to be led by a coward?
– Simon is an out-and-out liar. He publicly swore before witnesses that he wasn’t from Galilee, wasn’t a disciple, and didn’t know Jesus. Can you imagine a man like that with leadership responsibility in the Church?
– Simon doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The Lord spent weeks trying to get the disciples to understand he was to suffer as Messiah — all Simon could do was to voice feeble assurances that everything was fine, that there was no need for worry. Remember, Jesus himself had to put him in his place.
– Simon failed as a fisherman; he often caught nothing. He abandoned a responsible fishing business without a thought for the future. He ran all over the countryside instead of caring for his wife and home. How can you count on him?

Even so, Jesus picked this very fearful, blundering, blustering, impulsive follower to strengthen his fellows and shepherd the Church.
The frightened fisherman who fled from Calvary became the fearless father of the flock. The denier of the suffering Messiah in Jerusalem bravely faced a death similar to his in Rome.
The Simon Peter of yesterday is not the Simon Peter of today or tomorrow.
People repent and change. Daily, new experiences prompt us to new understandings and decisions. We grow day by day, discovering new strength and wisdom. The grace of God is powerfully operative in each of our lives.
How can we be so illogical regarding other persons? Or, perhaps, the question is: How can we be so merciless and unforgiving regarding other persons? How can I be so sure that today’s you is exactly the same as yesterday’s you?
Naturally, we use this peculiar illogic only with others. When it comes to ourselves, we know full well that we change and grow. Oh, the so many deeds of the past that we repent of and wish undone. But, with the help of God, we do not necessarily repeat yesterday’s mistakes and failures today and tomorrow.
Lord, help me to use the right logic with every other person — for it is the logic of compassion and love that you use with me.


(Published in
one, 30:6, November 2004)

Bound by God

The biggest religious holiday for Muslims is Eid al-Adha, the Feast of the Sacrifice. All over the world, devout Muslims recall the sacrifice of Abraham — his willingness to offer the life of his dearly hoped for and dearly loved son in total obedience and submission to the will of God.
Christians and Jews also commemorate and celebrate the submission, faith and sacrifice of Abraham, although not in total agreement with Muslims about all the details of the story.
For Muslims, Abraham is willing to offer up his first-born son, Ismail (Ishmael), child of the slave Hagar whom Abraham took to wife in response to the pleading of the barren Sarah. This is important to Muslims, for Ishmael is considered the great forefather of the Arabs.
For Christians and Jews, Abraham is willing to sacrifice his second-born son, Isaac, the miraculous son of Sarah, the heir of the promise. The symbolism is important to Jews, for Isaac and his son Jacob (Israel) are the forefathers of the Jewish people.
Christians don’t appeal to an ethnic relationship with Abraham but extol him, in the words of the Roman Liturgy, as “our father in faith.”
Later Jewish tradition speaks of the sacrifice not so much as that of Abraham as of Isaac. This faith event is called the Binding of Isaac.
It is the boy, filled with faith like his father, who submits to the supreme will of God and willingly offers his own life in sacrifice. No wonder, then, that Christian tradition sees in Isaac a figure of Jesus, who freely offered his life in sacrifice in obedience to the will of the Father.

When we look at the sacrifice from the point of view of the son, its great lesson is that he suffered himself to be bound. The son freely and willingly surrendered all that he was and had to the will of God. He freely chose to be bound by God’s higher authority. He accepted ultimate restraint upon his freedom and autonomy.
Would that all those who proudly affirm “we are children of Abraham,” whether by human descent or by faith, be his children in deed — and suffer themselves to be bound by the demands of the will, the justice, and the love of God.
Individual persons, families, clans, tribes, ethnic groups, nations, governments — we are all reluctant to be bound by anything or anybody. Our supreme value is to be free.
What binds the descendants of Ishmael and the descendants of Isaac? Do religious traditions bind the behavior of nation states? Do treaties, conventions, and the resolutions of the United Nations limit the options of governments?
How about all those other, spiritual children of Abraham, peoples rooted in revealed truths and the divine will? What binds people outside the Middle East when it comes to their personal liberties or the actions of their leaders?
Hopefully Muslims, Christians and Jews who recall the same sacrifice also share the same insight of faith — when we allow the Lord to bind us, we become truly free.


(Published as “Isaac Unbound” in
CNEWA World, 29:3, May 2003)

. . . on the Orient Express

One of Agatha Christie’s famous detective stories, later made into a popular motion picture, is Murder on the Orient Express.
In the heyday of train travel, the Orient Express was a special, luxurious train that ran from Europe all across Asia to the Far East.
The first part of its name, “Orient,” comes from the Latin word for “rising,” referring to the sun. The train was eastbound, heading toward the rising sun.
“Express,” of course, means that the train was traveling at high speed and making very few stops en route.
The detective story was about a crime committed on the train during the journey and the search to find out who was responsible. While the train sped through the night, a deadly drama was being played out, its players almost oblivious to the fact that everything was taking place on a moving train.
The drama of each of our lives is also being played out on an orient express.
We’re prone to be so absorbed by the cares and concerns, the preoccupations and pleasures, the responsibilities and sufferings of our daily lives that we’re almost oblivious to the fact that we’re living our lives en route to a final destination.
Our train has its track. There’s a path we’re following, all set out before us — although at any given moment we can see only a limited distance ahead, along a way we’ve never traveled before.
At times we’re so caught up in trying to control our lives that we forget completely that there’s a conductor and engineer ensuring the safety of our journey and our safe arrival at its end.

In New York City, where I live, some homeless people ride the trains endlessly, without a destination. They’re not traveling anywhere. They don’t want to get off the train because they don’t have anywhere to go.
As we ride our orient express, the greatest danger of all is that we become so accustomed to life on the train that we forget we have a destination.
How strange! As the train slows down to a complete stop at the final station, some people don’t want to get off. It’s as though they think they should live on the train forever, as though the final stop were an unavoidable interruption of a never-ending journey.
When we bought our tickets, reserved our seats, and took the train in the first place, it was because we wanted to get someplace. In fact, when the ride is long and weighs heavy upon us, we start to become impatient, counting the days and hours till arrival time.
But, until it comes, we still must live out the drama of our journeying lives as best we can — but never forgetting that we’re en route.
We’re speeding through the darkness and long night of this world and this life toward the dawn.
We’re eagerly looking forward to arriving in the land of the source of light, to living in the warmth of the Risen Son.
We’re on our way home.


(Published in
CNEWA World, 28:2, March 2002)

This Little Light of Mine

It was a very discouraging time. The armies of the superpower of the Middle East, Assyria, were on the march. They swept through the kingdoms of Syria and Israel, killing or deporting the leaders of the people and settling foreigners in their places.
The relentless progress of the Assyrians — Gilead, Galilee, Megiddo, Samaria — brought them through the kingdom of Judah to the very gates of Jerusalem itself. That incorrigibly optimistic Jerusalemite, the “impossible dreamer,” the prophet Isaiah, refused to be overwhelmed by fear and discouragement.
He boldly counseled King Ahaz against seeking Egyptian alliances and clever political solutions to prevent the fall of the city. His unflinching advice was to trust in the power of God — only in the power of God.
Isaiah foresaw not only the salvation of Jerusalem but the redemption of all the afflicted and suffering people of the conquered lands:

Anguish has taken wing, dispelled is darkness: for there is no gloom where but now there was distress.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone

Nowadays, our temptation is similar to that of the besieged Jerusalemites thousands of years ago — the world is becoming a terrible place, all is lost, there’s little or no hope for the future.

The night he was betrayed, the day before he was executed as a seditionist, the one who was hailed by old Simeon as “a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel” said something bolder than Isaiah:

In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world.

During Holy Week, after the blessing of the new fire, the Easter candle is lit, symbol of the light of Christ. Then every believer present lights a candle from the Christ candle and, lo, the church is bright.
At baptism there is a similar ceremony. A candle is lighted from the same Christ candle for the newly baptized person as a sign that he or she shares in the light of Christ, the invincible conqueror of sin and death.
“You are the light of the world,” Jesus told us. We’re the fighters against darkness and gloom. We’re the ones whose indomitable optimism, courageous lives, and confident goodness will help redeem the suffering of our day.
The poet William Blake wrote of “Tiger, tiger, burning bright in the forests of the night.’’
Go, tiger, go! Lo, the world is bright.


(Published in
CNEWA World, 28:1, January 2002)

Virtual Reality and Worms

Some recent American movies treat the theme of virtual reality. This is a phrase that is becoming more popular as a result of ever more sophisticated computer simulations of reality, whether for training purposes or for games.
In two of these movies, The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor, the protagonist discovers the world he lives in isn’t real at all, but a computer simulation. In the latter movie, the main character discovers even he himself isn’t “real,” but an ultra-sophisticated computer program.
Of course, all of creation is a kind of program of the divine programmer, so in one sense these fantasies aren’t so absurd as they may first seem.
When it comes to computers and computer programs, from time to time there is something close to world-wide panic when some clever and malicious computer programmer devises and releases a “virus” or a “worm.”
Computer viruses are subtle programs that infiltrate the operating system of a computer or a computer network and alter, wipe out, or destroy valuable and perhaps irreplaceable records.
The expression “worm” is sometimes used to describe an even worse type of destructive program that modifies and adjusts itself to new situations as it pursues its destructive path.
In the modern world, it seems that we have begun to live in a kind of virtual reality, a fantasy universe. That is to say, all over the world, people are becoming used to operating their lives with systems that seem to have departed completely from the designs of the divine programmer.

For example, the sweeping movements of this past century from communism to consumerism all seem to be based on the wrong notion that the most important thing in life is material goods and free access to them.
Every so often we begin to hear about a new kind of “right”. but most of these have little at all to do with those inalienable rights that are part of God’s very design for human nature.
Waves of violence crash through societies all over the world. Thousands of people are killed, maimed or injured in the name of national or ethnic superiority, although we were all created equal in dignity by the one Creator.
We don’t seem to be living in the real world anymore. Real values are being overridden by unreal ones, logic is being replaced by illogic. Even our information about the world around us and the people in it is being systematically distorted by much of the mass media.
How did these “viruses” make their way into God’s program for human existence?
Where did the “worm” come from that seems to be replicating itself in new and subtle ways in its course of evil and destruction?
Beneath the apparently simple and figurative story that opens the Bible is the profound answer — so familiar that we hardly pay credence to it anymore.
Meanwhile, the worm turns!


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 25:4, July 1999)

The Hand of God

In Psalm 31 the Psalmist cries: “Into your hands I commend my spirit; you will redeem me, O Lord, O faithful God . . . But my trust is in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’ In your hands is my destiny; rescue me from the clutches of my enemies and my persecutors.”

In hand: 1. In one’s immediate grasp or possession. 2. Under control. 3. In process of execution.

In the press of our daily personal concerns, in seeking solutions to the weighty problems of human society, in our anxiety to achieve justice in the midst of oppression, in the quest for peace, we sometimes forget to leave things in the hands of God and to trust that “he has the whole wide world in his hands.”

Evenhanded: Treating all alike; impartial.

A famous Crusader slogan was “Deus lo vult,” God wills it. Whether with the same or similar words, explicitly or implicitly, Christians and Jews, Muslims and Hindus — all believers — have at times invoked God on their side in the midst of human struggles and rivalries. Why should the one Father of us all favor any of his children over the others?

To keep one’s hand in: To continue an activity or interest so as not to lose skill or knowledge.

How long did it take God to create the world? Often amid the different points of view there is an underlying presumption that the Lord made the world and then flung it out to spin like a top on its merry way.

We may well be living our lives in that spirit as well. We need to remember that he still has his finger in our human pie, that he still has his hand in the affairs of this our troubled world.

Openhanded: Giving freely; liberal.

Would you believe that some of the criticisms CNEWA’s charitable work receives are:
“Why are you helping them? They’re not one of us,” and “What do you get out of it? What’s in it for you?”
The lesson of the parable of the laborers in the vineyard is that the Lord is generous and free to do as he wishes — and that we followers of Jesus must imitate the Lord’s liberality.

To lay hands on: 1. To seize violently; do physical harm to. 2. To bless, consecrate, ordain, etc.

A prayer I learned in my seminary days still lives in my heart: “Lord, come and possess me.
“Take hold of my faculties. Immolate my selfishness. Shape my life according to your ideals.
“Impress yourself on my soul. Work in me. Shine through me. Make me a light and savior in union with all the saints for the glory of the Father.
“From your generosity let me learn to keep giving — the world to God, God to the world, and myself to both.”


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 23:4, July 1997)

Lamech’s Policy

Although the book of Genesis doesn’t call him that, I think Lamech is the archetypical Middle Eastern “tough guy.” Identified as one of Cain’s great, great grandsons — and the father of Noah — Lamech seems to celebrate the violence of his patrimony. His boast is:

I have killed a man for wounding me, a boy for bruising me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.

Is Lamech’s policy too brutal and harsh? Does he overreact to provocation? What are his real motives? Personal pride? Family honor? Prevention of some greater evil?
Let’s try to give Lamech the benefit of the doubt. The deeds he describes prima facie seem indefensible. But, we don’t know the background and circumstances that led to his course of action.
Perhaps in the world of Lamech, the slightest perception of weakness on his part would make him vulnerable to an overwhelming attack. Maybe the only safeguard for him and his people was his decisive, almost preemptive actions.
In the ancient Middle East — and throughout the Middle East even today — vengeance is considered a virtue. A man, a family, or a clan that does not seek vengeance for harm done is without honor. Retaliation is not just an option; it is an obligation.
In situations of conflict and violence, each of the parties may consider himself as the one offended and entitled to revenge. And so, all can be trapped in an endless cycle of injury and retaliation.

Most ancient Middle Eastern law codes tried to regulate retaliation and moderate the rights and duties of revenge. For example, the book of Leviticus says:

Whoever takes the life of any human being shall be put to death; whoever takes the life of an animal shall make restitution of another animal. A life for a life! Anyone who inflicts an injury on his neighbor shall receive the same in return. Limb for limb, eye for eye, tooth for tooth!

This is a norm of proportionality: the retaliation should not exceed the original injury. But, this rule is still not enough to break the endless cycle of violence.
Jesus proposes a radical solution: that we freely renounce our right to revenge and rely on the power of love:

. . . offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well . . .love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.

Whoever practices this policy risks much and, humanly speaking, may lose! But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The choice is Lamech’s policy or love.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 22:3, May 1996)