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Commentary on Luke 11:15-26

As said by the prophet Jeremiah:

Hear this, O foolish and senseless people,
who have eyes but do not see,
who have ears but do not hear. (Jer 5:21)

In today’s passage, Jesus frees a person from enslavement to an evil power which had rendered him mute, so that he could not speak (in Matthew’s version of this story, the man is also blind). As Christians, many of us can suffer from the same evil influence when we refuse or are afraid to acknowledge openly our Christian faith. We hide and we remain silent, especially when the values we hold are attacked or ridiculed. Once liberated, the man could speak and he did so, much to the amazement of the crowd. Let us, too, pray for this gift of speech—to be able to say the right thing at the right time.

But there were those present who accused Jesus of using the demon’s power to drive out the evil spirit. At the same time, in spite of the extraordinary signs that Jesus was initiating on almost a daily basis—including the one they had just witnessed which caused such astonishment among the people—his enemies asked him for a sign from God.

There is a clear gap between the leaders and the people here. While the leaders keep asking Jesus for his credentials, the people are shown as constantly praising and thanking God for all that is being done among them through Jesus.

Jesus then shows the self-contradictions in his opponents’ charges. A kingdom that is split by internal rivalries cannot survive. Why would evil spirits attack each other and as such frustrate their goals? And, Jesus says to his accusers:

Now if I cast out the demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your exorcists cast them out?….But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.

When people are liberated from the control of evil spirits, that is a sure sign that the loving power of God is at work. Any other interpretation does not make sense. And the ‘Kingdom of God’ is personified and embodied in Jesus himself. It will also become present in his disciples who do his work.

And Jesus goes on to give another image. A strong man guarding his house and possessions remains undisturbed until someone stronger comes and overthrows him. That is clearly what is happening. Jesus is the stronger one and the evil spirits are being driven away by him. They are helpless before him. This liberation of people and society from evil powers is one of the most dramatic proofs that the all-powerful reign of God is present in the person of Jesus. What further signs could be asked for?

Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.

There can be no neutrality where Jesus is concerned. We have to make our choice—for him or against. Not to choose is itself a choice—against him. Compare this with the similar, but actually quite different saying we saw earlier:

…for whoever is not against you is for you. (Luke 9:50)

This was in the context of the Apostle John complaining that he saw a man cast out demons in Jesus’ name. In so far as that nameless person was doing Jesus’ work and doing it in Jesus’ name, he was with Jesus. That surely has implications for the many good things that non-Catholics and others who are not Christians at all are doing.

And this saying about the non-acceptance of neutrality leads to another warning. It is not enough to have been liberated from the power of an evil (“unclean”) spirit. Otherwise this “unclean spirit” may say:

I will return to my house from which I came.

But:

When it returns, it finds it swept and put in order. Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself…

The end result is that the evil spirits:

…enter and live there, and the last state of that person is worse than the first.

No, instead, the emptiness left by the departure of the evil spirit has to be actively filled with the Spirit of Jesus.

Was Jesus referring to some of the people around him? Was he especially calling out his critics? These were people who by their meticulous observance of the Law saw themselves as morally blameless, but in whose lives the positive presence of the Spirit, as exemplified in Jesus himself, was totally absent.

It is easy to use the sacrament of reconciliation to get the forgiveness of our past sins and leave it at that, feeling comfortable with having a ‘clean slate’. Nature may abhor a vacuum, but the devil loves one!

The true reconciliation that the sacrament calls for, even demands, is a new and stronger commitment to the living of our Christian life. The sacrament is intended to be an experience of conversion and change. It is much more concerned with the future than with the past.  The past is gone and there is nothing we can do about it. The present is in our hands and that is where we meet God.

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Commentary on Isaiah 40:1-5,9-11; 2 Peter 3:8-14; Mark 1:1-8 Read Sunday of Week 2 of Advent (Year B) »

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Commentary on John 1:43-51

Today in the Gospel, we have the calling of two more disciples, with the revelation of Jesus to Philip and Nathanael (in that order). Notice that the passage again begins with “The next day…”. We are now in day four of this week that begins John’s Gospel. We are told that Jesus goes to Galilee, the province in the north where he will do much of his work. Up to this, he had been further south on the banks of the Jordan River, where John the Baptist had been baptising.

Jesus came across Philip and invited him to be a disciple, “Follow me”, says Jesus. Philip came from Bethsaida, which was also the hometown of Peter and Andrew. Later in the Gospel, Philip will be pictured as a rather simple and naïve person. During the feeding of the crowds, Jesus asks Philip:

Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?
(John 6: 5)

This draws from Philip a not very helpful response. Later, at the Last Supper, as Jesus speaks about his Father, Philip says:

Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.
(John 14:8)

This gives Jesus the opportunity to explain how and where the Father can be ‘seen’. (Note: the apostle Philip is not the same Philip who is one of the deacons appearing in the Acts of the Apostles.)

We do not know what else happened between Jesus and Philip, but like Andrew, the new disciple was immediately fired up to go and find Nathanael. He tells Nathanael two things about Jesus: first, that he is the One written about by Moses in the Law and also by the prophets, and second, that he is the son of Joseph from Nazareth. Nathanael is not very impressed and cynically responds:

Can anything good come out of Nazareth?

Later, the leaders of the Jews will also discount Jesus because of his origins—what they believe to be his origins. It is something we can sometimes be tempted to do with people we meet.

Philip’s response to Nathanael is perfect:

Come and see.

It was the same answer that Jesus gave to the two disciples who asked where he stayed. The only way to know Jesus is not by hearsay or reading books, but by personal experience of him. This same answer will come again in the story of the Samaritan woman.

When he sees Nathanael, Jesus says:

Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!

The first person to be called “Israel” in the Hebrew Testament was Jacob (see Gen 32:28), and he was guilty of serious duplicity. He cheated his older brother Esau of his birthright (even though the Scripture implies that Esau did not deserve it anyway; see Gen 27:35-36). There can hardly be higher praise given a person than to say they are free of duplicity. Integrity is a very high virtue—Christian and human. It is a quality of wholeness, of total harmony between what goes on inside the person, and what is seen on the outside. Such a person can be trusted; such a person will never cheat or dissemble or wear any kind of mask. It is a quality in which most of us fail to some extent.

Obviously surprised:

Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

The full meaning of this is not clear, but it deeply impressed Nathanael. In the Hebrew Testament, the fig tree was seen as a symbol of messianic peace. In the book of the prophet Micah we read:

…they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid. (Micah 4:4)

In speaking words of assurance to Joshua the High Priest, an angel of the Lord concludes with the words:

On that day, says the Lord of hosts, you shall invite each other to come under your vine and fig tree. (Zech 3:10)

These words of Jesus are enough for Nathanael to make an extraordinary profession of faith:

Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!

The title “Son of God” was used in the Hebrew Testament as an adopted name for the Davidic King (2 Sam 7:14; Ps 2:7; Ps 89:27), and “King of Israel” is used here with a messianic sense. For John, of course, “Son of God” also implies the divinity of Jesus.

Jesus responds to Nathanael’s declaration:

Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.

And Jesus continues:

Very truly, I tell you [‘you’ is plural in the original Greek], you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.

The reference, of course, is to the famous dream that Jacob had where he saw angels ascending and descending on a stairway which joined the heavens and the earth (Gen 28:12—see the note about this passage in the New American Bible). Longer experience with Jesus will reveal to Nathanael and the other disciples the mutual relationship between Jesus and his Father. God comes to them through Jesus; they will go to God through Jesus. Jesus is the Stairway between us and God the Father.

It is not clear whether Nathanael was one of the Twelve, because he is not mentioned in any of the lists of the Twelve in the Synoptics. He only appears here in John, and in the epilogue (John 21:2). However, he is worthy of being remembered for his insight into the identity of Jesus, and the great virtue of integrity. They are qualities which each Christian should treasure and pray for.

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Commentary on Exodus 32:7-14

While Moses was up on the mountain conversing with God and receiving the law from him, the people below became impatient. “That Moses, the man who brought us here from Egypt—we do not know what has become of him.” Aaron, the brother of Moses, then collected all the gold that the women and children wore and melted it down to make a ‘golden calf’.

The word ‘calf’ is somewhat derisive because it was in fact the statue of a bull, a common symbol of divinity in the ancient East. It seems that a group in competition with Moses’ followers (or perhaps a dissident faction within Moses’ group) wished to have the figure of a bull symbolise the presence of God. However, the God being worshipped was still Yahweh, who had brought them out of Egypt. The dissidents would also likely have viewed the Ark of the Covenant simply as a symbol of Yahweh, rather than recognize that the actual presence of God resided in it. So, they would have no problem substituting the familiar symbol of the golden bull for the Ark.

In paying worship to the bull, they saw the saviour who brought them out of slavery in Egypt. But they were worshipping a god of their own making—something people in all ages, including our own, tend to do.

God is portrayed as reacting very angrily to this and asks Moses, who is still in his presence, not to stand in his way:

Now let me alone so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them…

But Moses, while not denying their sin, pleads on behalf of his people. Later, he will plead on behalf of his sister, Miriam, and frequently on behalf of the people all during their journey through the desert. His intercession foreshadows that of Christ, who on the Cross won forgiveness for our sin.

Moses’ argument is that, if God destroys his people, he will become a laughing stock among the pagans for rescuing his people and then destroying them in the wilderness. In addition, Moses reminds God of the promises he made to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob of the great and unending future of their descendants. So God, seen here in very human terms, relents and withdraws his promise of vengeance.

Of course, this is not at all the kind of God the New Testament asks us to believe in. We should be careful about speaking of our God in such anthropomorphic terms. God does not get angry; he does not take revenge. Our sinfulness brings its own punishment because every sin is a denial of what we are meant to be and become.

As with most passages of Scripture, what we need to look at here is not what is being said and done, but at the underlying meaning of the passage. The emphasis here is on the thanklessness of God’s people and on God’s readiness to forgive again and give them another chance.

We are constantly in the same situation. Let us be aware at this time of the countless gifts God has given us and continues to shower on us. At the same time, we know that, when we fail, his mercy and compassion are there for us always. But let that compassion draw us closer to him and to Jesus, and help us to leave behind every lack of love in our lives.

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Commentary on Genesis 41:55-57; 42:5-7,17-24

Today’s reading finds us in Egypt with Joseph, the second youngest son of Jacob’s twelve sons. We have skipped the whole saga of how Joseph came to be sold into slavery by his brothers, and the gradual process by which he rose from being a Hebrew slave to becoming the Pharaoh’s right hand man. This was largely due to his ability to interpret dreams and to his personal integrity. It was Joseph who had predicted the famine that is now on the land, and Joseph who had made preparations to deal with it when it came.

As the effects of the famine began to be felt in Egypt, the people cried out to the Pharaoh for food. The Pharaoh referred the people to his grand vizier, his most senior official, saying:

Go to Joseph; what he says to you, do.

Such was Pharaoh’s confidence in the ability of his chief official (who was, of course, an Israelite—a point that would not be lost on those hearing this story read to them).

Joseph threw open the granaries where, because of his foresight, the surplus of previous harvests had been stored, and he sold the grain to the Egyptians. But the famine was not confined to Egypt and people came from “all the world” to buy grain from Joseph.

The land of Canaan was also affected, so Jacob’s sons also made the same journey with others to get food. And it was Joseph, as the effective ruler of the country, to whom they all had to go. Jacob had kept his youngest son, Benjamin, behind with him in case his other sons might not be able to return.

As the sons of Jacob come into the presence of the chief minister, they bow down before him, their faces touching the ground. This is exactly what Joseph had foretold they would be doing when, many years before, he told them the dream he had of their sheaves of wheat bowing down before his (Gen 37:5-8). And it was this dream which had so angered them that they sold him into slavery. Now they come to the same brother—still unrecognised by them—to be saved from death. How ironic! How God works in strange ways to help us!

Joseph, of course, recognised his brothers, but said nothing at this stage. Instead he treated them as if they were strangers and threw them into prison for three days with the prospect of even worse things to come. They were getting a taste of the treatment he had experienced as a result of their rejection.

On the third day, Joseph told them they could save their lives if they did what he wanted. They could rely on him because, he said:

…for I fear God…

He spoke to them very severely and earlier had accused them of being spies. They can take grain back home with them for their families, but they have to leave one of their brothers behind as a pledge. Then, after they get home, they are to bring back their youngest brother, Benjamin, whom Joseph had never seen—otherwise they will be condemned to die.

The brothers immediately began to discuss among themselves their situation. They knew that Jacob, now an old man, would be very reluctant to let Benjamin fall into the hands of the Egyptians. But they had little choice and the brothers agreed to Joseph’s conditions.

At the same time, they realised that all this was a just punishment for the way they had treated their brother Joseph:

Alas, we are paying the penalty for what we did to our brother; we saw his anguish when he pleaded with us, but we would not listen. That is why this anguish has come upon us.

Reuben, the only one who was against Joseph’s being killed, now blamed his brothers for their present situation.

Did I not tell you not to wrong the boy? But you would not listen. So now there comes a reckoning for his blood.

They presumed Joseph was long dead.

They said all this in Joseph’s presence, not realising that he understood every single word of their language, because when he had addressed them, he had spoken through an interpreter. Joseph now hurriedly leaves their presence and breaks down in tears. Such tenderness on the part of a high-ranking official is rare in the Hebrew Testament.

When he returned to their presence he had one of the brothers, Simeon, bound before their eyes as a hostage for the production of Benjamin on their next visit. He also gave orders that the brothers’ bags were to be filled with grain and that the money taken from them should be given back to each man. He also gave them provisions for their journey home (this last paragraph is not in our reading today). Tomorrow we will see the happy outcome of this drama.

For obvious reasons much of this lovely account of Joseph (beginning in chap 37) has to be left out, but it is well worth reading the whole story—one of the most touching in the whole of the Old Testament—a beautiful story in its own right.

Joseph stands out as a man of great compassion, a man of strong and sensitive feelings, and a person of the utmost integrity. He would have been a rarity in his day and even in our own. As we read this story we could perhaps reflect with some profit on our own sense of justice, compassion, and the level of our integrity in our dealings with friends, colleagues and strangers.

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Commentary on Romans 4:1-8

Paul continues his theme about the gratuitousness of God’s love and salvation for us.  He uses Abraham as an example. Abraham is the father of the Jewish people, the great patriarch of the Jewish nation, the true example of a “justified” person, but he also preceded the introduction of the Mosaic Law and knew nothing of such a law.  As much of what Paul is saying is directed to his fellow Jews, his choice of Abraham, the ancestor of all God’s people, is not without significance.

Could Abraham have been “justified by works” by God merely on the basis of what he had achieved in his lifetime?  Actually, Jewish tradition, preoccupied with Abraham’s loyalty and his fortitude under trial, had made him the outstanding example of justification by works. The Jews believed his greatness was in what he achieved.  Paul agrees that Abraham certainly could have grounds for making that claim.  However, he asserts that this justification and these works have their source in Abraham’s faith.

And Paul believes that he has Scripture on his side.  He quotes from Genesis: 

Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness. (Gen 15:6)

There is no mention here of his doing anything.  He was rewarded purely for his trusting faith in God.  Abraham had kept no law (it did not yet exist), rendered no service and performed no regular ritual that earned credit to his account before God.  It was his belief in God, who had made promises to him, which was credited to him as righteousness.

There are three ways in which the quotation can be understood:

1. Because of his faith, Abraham was regarded as an upright man, though in reality he was not.
2. Because of his faith, God had conferred on him an uprightness that was not his when he came to believe (but may have come later).
3. In God’s eyes faith and uprightness are so interdependent that they are really inseparable.

Only the last of these three would seem to be consistent with Paul’s teaching.  A person who has totally surrendered to Jesus and his Way in faith and trust is going to be a good and loving person, or at least, be moving inevitably in that direction.

The story of Abraham gives several examples of this faith and trust.  He was first asked to leave his homeland and go to a distant land where his descendants would live, and he did so.  Although his wife was well beyond the age for childbearing, God promised that Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the skies or the grains of sand on the seashore.  Abraham put his trust in the Lord’s word and he did indeed have a son, Isaac.

Then, sometime later, God—incredibly—asked Abraham to sacrifice his only son, the only legitimate heir who could give him descendants, and Abraham proceeded to do the Lord’s bidding, but once his faith was proved, God stopped him at the last minute.

When a man works, says Paul, his wages are not a gift; they are his due:

But to one who does not work but trusts him who justifies the ungodly, such faith is reckoned as righteousness.

The man does nothing, not because he is lazy, but because he knows only God can produce results.  On the other hand, as we have said, the person full of faith will, by that very act, also be full of good works.

Paul finishes by quoting words of David (Psalm 32:1-2) applied to “those to whom God reckons righteousness apart from works”:

Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven,
whose sin is covered.
Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity
and in whose spirit there is no deceit.

It is as if God no longer sees or does not want to see the bad that we have done, and removes from us all guilt.  But that does not mean we can just sit back and relax. “Why worry?  I just have to say ‘I believe in the Lord Jesus’ and God covers over all my sins.”  No, on my part, I need to open my heart to that loving compassion of God that has been revealed by the pouring out of Jesus’ blood on the cross.  That has to have an effect on my behaviour.

I have to say a big and unconditional ‘Yes’ to Jesus’ invitation actively to follow him, even though it will happen only with his help all the way.  It will mean saying an equally big ‘No’ to many things which I know are in conflict with the Way of Jesus.

It is important to remember, too, that the root of the sin is not in the action, but rather in one’s relationship with God.  Once I am fully reconciled with Jesus by throwing myself at his feet in faith and sorrow, he takes me back in exactly the same way that the father of the Prodigal Son took his wayward son back. All is forgotten; healing has taken place.  The relationship is fully restored even though the effects of my act may still endure.  God only sees me as I am here and now.  And I respond to him in faith—now.

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Commentary on Luke 12:39-48

Today we have some further warnings on readiness. The unpredictability of God’s coming for the final call is compared to a thief breaking into one’s house. If one knew when the thief was coming, one would be prepared and have everything well locked up. Many people have had the experience of being burgled or of having their pocket picked. The point is that we do not know the day or the hour:

…the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

Peter asks if this image is just for the disciples or for the whole world. Jesus answers by telling a parable.

A faithful and farsighted steward is one who is found doing his job for the household whenever the master returns. The ‘steward’ was one who had responsibility over the other servants, and Jesus could be referring here to his Apostles and other leaders of the Christian community. A trusted slave (‘servant’) too could sometimes be put in charge of an estate.

But if the steward feels that the master is “taking his time in coming” (i.e. delayed) and sets about abusing the rest of his staff and wasting his time in debauching himself, he will be severely punished when his master returns unexpectedly. We know that the early Christians believed that Jesus would return during their lifetime, but as time went on and there was no sign of Jesus, Christians could be tempted to become less vigilant and begin to ‘live it up’. It was a dangerous thing to do.

Then Jesus makes a distinction. Those who know their master’s wishes (like his disciples), but are found misbehaving when he returns, will be severely punished. Those who do not know (non-disciples, outsiders) will still be punished for doing wrong, but their punishment will be less severe than that of those who have received their master’s teaching and instructions:

From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required, and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

We as Christians, with the guidance of the Scriptures and the teaching of the Church, bear far greater responsibility for the wrongs we do than others, such as non-Christians or non-religious people, who have less guidance.

Within the Church, there are people who are better formed and better informed, and they too bear greater responsibility before God. At the same time, it might be worth pointing out that those who could avail themselves of such formation and information and fail to do so may be also liable to greater accountability. We need to distinguish between nescience and ignorance. Nescience is simply not knowing or not being aware of some truth or value. Ignorance is not knowing what I ought to know and have every opportunity of coming to know.

Ignorance may sometimes be bliss, but not where knowing Jesus and the Gospel is concerned. And wisdom, far from being folly, is a gift to be treasured.

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Commentary on Luke 14:25-33

Luke’s Gospel is noteworthy for its extremes. On the one hand, it shows the radical and uncompromising demands that Jesus makes on those who would be his followers and, at the same time, emphasises as none of the other Gospels do, the gentleness and compassion of Jesus for the sinful and the weak. Both pictures have always to be kept simultaneously in view and they are in no way contradictory. Today and tomorrow we will see both of these images of Jesus back to back.

In today’s passage we see Jesus, as was often the case, surrounded by a huge crowd of people. They are full of enthusiasm and expectation, but Jesus very quickly pulls them up short. He says:

Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.

This is a very shocking demand, especially for a society where people’s whole lives were centred on their families.  Luke is alone in asking that even the wife, too, be abandoned, but this is just an example of the totality of our commitment to following Jesus.

However, we have to make two qualifications.  First, the word ‘hate’ is a Semitic expression not to be taken literally.  It could not be so taken, as the whole of Jesus’ teaching is based on love, not only of blood relatives, but of strangers and even enemies.  It is rather a dramatic way of saying that anyone who puts any person, even those closest to them, before total commitment to Christ and his mission is not ready to be a disciple. There can be no compromise here—it is all or nothing.

Second, we also have to say that Jesus is not recommending a literal abandonment of one’s family. That would be highly irresponsible and a violation of that commandment of universal love. But it is clear that, for those who want to be part of Jesus’ work, they have to give themselves completely and unconditionally.  And where there is a choice between the clear call of the gospel and personal attachments, they have to let go of the latter.

It is important for the crowd to hear this. Following Christ is not just like football fans stalking their favourite player or ‘groupies’ following a pop star from city to city.  There is a price to be paid, and they need to know that there is one, and what it is. That price is the cross, a level of sacrifice and suffering—perhaps even of one’s life—that each one must be prepared to undergo for the sake of the gospel and the building of the Kingdom.

So, to illustrate this Jesus gives two examples. The first is of a man who had a plan to build a tower. Before he started, he made sure that he had all the necessary resources. Otherwise he might find that, after laying the foundations, he could not finish the work and he would become the laughing stock of others. “Ha! Ha! He began to build what he could not finish.”

In the second example Jesus speaks of a king with 10,000 soldiers who finds he is going to war with another king who has 20,000. If he thinks there is no way he can win, he will send an emissary to negotiate the best peace terms he can get. Similarly, says Jesus, no one can be a disciple of his who is not ready to let go of everything he has.

Following him has to be absolute and unconditional. How many of the crowd listening were ready for that?  How many of us are ready for that?  Am I ready?  What are the things I am clinging to?  What are the things I cannot let go of?  And why is that?

To be a disciple of Jesus means being absolutely free.  It reminds one of Francis of Assisi leaving his family and taking off all his rich and fancy clothes to replace them with a beggar’s rags, and being filled with a tremendous sense of joy and liberation.  Do I want to be a disciple of Jesus?  To what extent?  Am I ready to pay the price he asks?

The paradox, of course, is that once I pay the price, I will get so much in return. Just ask St Francis or St Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) about this.

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Commentary on Luke 21:34-36

Our final reading from Luke (and this Church year) continues the messages of warning that he has been giving during the week. The warning is not to become immersed in a life of self-centred indulgence and hedonism, nor to be overcome by many worries and anxieties. It is these two things which can dominate the lives of so many: a combination of escapism from what is difficult, and a running to activities where happiness is confused with pleasure.

“That day” is going to close in “like a trap”—quickly and without previous warning:

For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.

Of course, for every single one of us, “that day” is the day on which we will be called individually to face our Lord and Creator.

One might ask, what do we do while we are waiting for the rest of the world to join us? Perhaps we should remember that ‘on the other side’ it is an eternal ‘now’, with no past or future. It is like going to the hub of a wheel from any part of the rim. All converge together in the same place.

So we are warned to be permanently on the watch—to pray constantly for the strength to avoid what is bad for us, and to be able to stand secure when we come face to face with the Son of Man. In some ways, the demands are very simple, although we find them difficult at times, i.e. showing our fidelity to God by a loving concern for the well-being of every other person, especially those most in need.

Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me. (Matt 25:40)

Whatever the circumstances of our life, we look forward in confidence to the ultimate victory of God, of Jesus and of the Kingdom. As has been said here more than once, the best preparation for that unpredictable moment of leaving this world is to live as fully as we can in the presence of our always-present God. Let us seek him, find him and respond to him in every single person and in every single experience of our daily lives. We pray:

O Lord, grant that all my thoughts, intentions, actions and responses may directed solely to your love and service this day and every day. Amen

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Commentary on Genesis 18:16-33

For the next two days we read the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. As we begin the reading we see the three mysterious visitors of Abraham preparing to continue their journey to Sodom.

As an act of courtesy on the part of a host, Abraham accompanies them on the beginning of their journey. In parts of the Old Testament, especially in the Pentateuch, God is portrayed as having very human qualities, and this is particularly revealed in the dialogues he holds with various people (e.g. when Moses pleads on behalf of the recalcitrant Israelites).

There is a delightful touch in today’s reading. As Abraham is seeing off his mysterious visitors, one of whom is identified as God himself with two angels as companions, God wonders to himself whether he should reveal to Abraham his plan to destroy Sodom. He knows how good and compassionate a man Abraham is—almost more kind and compassionate than God himself! But Abraham is now an important person in God’s plans. He has become the head of a great nation, and all the other nations will be blessed in him. So in a way, he has a right to be privy to God’s intentions.

In fact, Abraham has been specially chosen to teach his sons and his posterity to follow closely the ways of the Lord by doing what is right and just, so that the promises made to Abraham will be realised. And the very justice about what the Lord is planning to do is going to be questioned.

Now, while the two angels continue on their journey, the third man—the Lord—tells Abraham he must go down to Sodom and Gomorrah to verify the reports reaching him of their terrible immorality. Again, God is presented in human terms as needing to verify by a personal visit whether what he hears about these cities is true. What was the terrible sinfulness of Sodom and Gomorrah? Israelite tradition was unanimous in ascribing the destruction of the two cities to their moral wickedness, but there were different understandings of what this wickedness consisted.

According to the Yahwist account we are following here, the evil was in a request to have homosexual acts with the three visitors of Lot (one of whom, of course, was the Lord), giving us the origination of the word ‘sodomy’. Others however, would see this not just as a serious violation of the traditions of hospitality, but as a sin of rape. Such acts were abhorrent to the Jews. In that time and culture, it was regarded as the utmost degradation for a man to be abused in this way. Roman soldiers would sometimes humiliate their prisoners of war in this manner.

The idea of permitting this outrage to recipients of a host’s hospitality was beyond conception to Lot. Only the most wicked could even think of such a thing. The degree of abhorrence is indicated by Lot’s offering the people his daughters instead. Though this compromise certainly horrifies us, in that culture and at that time, Lot judged it better to have his own daughters violated than allow his guests to be touched. To Lot, there was nothing more he could have done.

Elsewhere, in Isaiah, the perpetrators of social injustice are likened to the people of Sodom (Is 1:9). Ezekiel likens the immoral behaviour of his people to that of Samaria and Sodom and says his people’s record is even worse:

Your big sister is Samaria, who lived with her daughters to the north of you; your little sister, who lived to the south of you, is Sodom with her daughters. You not only followed their ways and acted according to their abominations; within a very little time you were more corrupt than they in all your ways. (Ezek 16:46-51).

Speaking of the idolatry and sexual immorality of Jerusalem, Jeremiah says:

…all of them have become like Sodom to me
and its inhabitants like Gomorrah. (Jer 23:14)

While two of the men (the angels) continue on their way to Sodom, the third, who is the Lord, stays behind with Abraham, who immediately begins to plead on behalf of Sodom. Surely a God of justice will not wipe out the innocent with the guilty? Supposing there are as many as 50 good people in the city, will God destroy it? Abraham dares to tell God how he should behave! He says:

Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked!

And then Abraham presents the punch line:

Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?

It would be unjust to condemn the innocent, however few in comparison with the many sinners. We have here the age-old problem of why the good should suffer along with and because of the wicked.

The sense of collective responsibility was so strong in ancient Israel that the question does not arise as to whether the just might may be spared separately and individually. God will, in fact, save Lot and his family, but the principle of individual responsibility does not appear until later (e.g. in Deuteronomy and the prophets). Abraham’s argument, then, is that since all will share the same fate he asks that even a minority of good people would be enough to win pardon for all.

Even so, Abraham’s request does not go below the number 10. Beyond that would be too much to ask for. But later we read in Jeremiah (5:1) that God would pardon Jerusalem if only one just person could be found; the same is implied in Ezekiel (22:30). Then, in Isaiah (chap 53), it is the suffering of the one Servant which will save the whole race, but this was not understood until it was seen fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ.

God ultimately agrees to spare the city, if he can find 50 good people in it. But having received this concession, Abraham presses on even further, although he knows he is being very impertinent in speaking to his God like this:

Let me take it upon myself to speak to my lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?

No, God says, the city would not be destroyed if 45 innocent people could be found. Abraham then continues his bargaining—40? 30? 20? Even only 10? Each time God concedes and at the end replies:

For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.

With that, the Lord leaves Abraham and continues on his journey to Sodom, while Abraham returns to his home. However, on the following day, he will go back to the place where he spoke with the Lord and where he could look down on Sodom and Gomorrah in the valley below.

Unfortunately, as we shall see, not even 10 good people could be found in the whole of Sodom. Perhaps this would be a good time for us to reflect on the level of our own compassion with people who come into our lives. We may sometimes find ourselves doing the very opposite of Abraham, that is, condemning a whole group because of a small number of misbehaving people. We do need more of Abraham’s attitude of seeing as much good as possible in the world around us.