CHAPTER 18
Jesus tells his followers that the greatest people in the
kingdom should act like children. In
fact, he says, “unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter
the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles
himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” From that bit, the Medieval Anabaptists will
take things literally, sometimes babbling like infants, thinking it’s what
Christ wants them to do.
I’m not sure what Christ means by this. I guess the key is determining what is meant
by the phrase “become like children.” Should
we run around on the playground? I
suppose the key to that is the next sentence when Christ says, “humbles himself
like a child.” A child assumes that the
one talking to him knows more than he does.
After all, he’s the kid, and you’re the adult. So assume that you’re being told the right
thing by Jesus, just like a child would when an adult instructs him.
Christ goes on teaching, going back to some points he made
in the Sermon on the Mount. If your hand
causes you to sin, you’d better cut it off.
Your eye, too. This is serious
stuff – and though he doesn’t go there, this can easily (very easily) be taken
as a justification for castration. Hey –
if there is one part of your body that has a mind of your own, that’s the
one.
That said, the way Christ phrases it can actually allow for
an argument against bodily dismemberment.
Jesus says, “If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut if off and
throw it away.” Aye, but the hand
doesn’t cause you to sin. Your mind does; your heart does. Sin comes from within. Therefore, you shouldn’t cut off your body
parts because that’s not the cause but the effect of sin. (However, this also means that you can make a
castration argument if you want to. It’s
the best argument you can make for cutting off any body part based on what
Christ says).
Christ keeps teaching, and gives us a rough draft of the
story of the Prodigal Son. It’s not
about a wayward youth who returns, but a runaway sheep. If a shepherd has one of 100 sheep run away,
he’ll leave the others to look for it, and be so thrilled if he finds it. So it is with the heavenly father when one of
his flock comes back to him. It’s a nice
story letting you know that God, like Motel 6, always leaves the light on for
you.
After a nice story, Christ goes back to his harsher
side. If your brother sins, first
explain things to him to get him on the right side of God. If that doesn’t work, take some church
leaders and have them talk to him. If
that doesn’t work, then “treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax
collector.” Boy, that tells something
about Jewish social life at that time.
“A Gentile or a tax collector”?
The Jews stuck to their own and didn’t like them damn Roman
officials. (Mind you, apostle Matthew is
a tax collector). Christ’s message about
Gentiles and tax collector as terms of reprobation only work if: 1) many don’t
like hanging out with them, and 2) Jesus buys into this sentiment.
But here’s the real point: you wouldn’t want to hang out
with any tax collector, would you? No, they
stick. You wouldn’t want to hang out
with a Gentile? No way, not with those
guys throwing their foreskins all over the place. So if you’re brother sins, then you should
cut off all contact. Break up the
family. This is harsh, but it does align
with Christ’s earlier teachings about how you must love him more than parents
love their kids or kids love their parents.
Christ keeps going back from harsh to soft and back again in
this chapter. After the bad cop routine
noted last paragraph, he ends the chapter acting like good cop. Rather oddly, this part seems to negate the
point of the last section. Christ gives
a parable about a master forgiving a servant – who then turns around and
doesn’t forgive a fellow servant. The
point is simple: if you don’t forgive people around you for their misdeeds,
then how can you expect God to forgive you?
That’s a nice statement and a good story – but it comes right after he
tells everyone to cut off contact with sinful brothers. Well, which is it? Cut them off or forgive them?
CHAPTER 19
Christ keeps on with the whole teaching thing. Hey – it makes better reading than the whole
healing thing.
Now, Christ moves on to divorce, and from there he goes to
sexuality in general. The short version:
this chapter goes a long way to explain the current marital/sexual policies of
the Catholic Church.
First, off, divorcees can go fuck themselves. Marriage makes a man and woman one flesh, and
no human must cut off one’s one flesh.
So marriage is permanent. Once you’re
in, you’re in for good. But Christ’s
critics reply: hey, Moses let us divorce, that’s in the Torah, Jesus! True, Jesus acknowledges, but that’s only
because the Hebrew back then were a bunch of fuck ups. Thus the divorce rule is a rule for fuck ups,
not for the true of heart. In fact, if
you marry a divorced woman, you’re committing adultery. Christ made that last point in the Sermon on
the Mount, but he’s explaining it in much more detail here.
Well, Christ’s critics have a nice rejoinder to Jesus: “If
that is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.” I find that a bit humorous. Man, if we have no option for divorce, what
is the point of getting married?
Christ’s response is very intriguing: “Not all can accept
[this] word, but only those to whom that is granted. Some are incapable of marriage because they
were born so, some because they were made so by others; some, because they have
renounced marriage for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Whoever can accept this ought to accept
it.” (Quick note: the “this” in brackets
is in my Bible just like that).
So yeah – when people tell Christ they’re better off not
even getting married if they can’t divorce – Christ ….COMPLETELY AGREES! You’re right – getting marriage is just
second best! I knew that St. Paul was a
celibate and promoted that way of life, but didn’t know Christ ever said
anything like this. Officially, he isn’t
saying that he’s celibate in this reading, but I don’t know how you can read
the quote and come away with the notion that he was having sex with
anyone. He is flatly anti-sex. He
recognizes that it’s going to happen, and if you need it that badly – fine, get
married. But the best thing to do is
abstain. For life.
See what I mean about this chapter and Catholic policy? The church opposes divorce and has a fully
celibate priesthood – and it fits this chapter entirely.
Also, what exactly is Christ’s vision of the kingdom of
heaven? It’s a phrase he uses a lot, but
never really defines. We have a clear
image of it now – it’s up above, in the clouds, with the Pearly Gates, where
you die. But here’s the thing – how does
that fit with Christ’s promotion of abstinence?
That means you won’t have any kids, after all. That seems to ruin the point of going to
heaven if there are fewer people going there.
In other words, is the Kingdom of Heaven in the heavens
above and a place you’ll go to when you die – or is the Kingdom of Heaven
something that’ll come here to earth when God’s reign is returned to
earth? Christ never really defines
this. Please note, in old Jewish
tradition the Messiah isn’t someone who dies for our sins. The Messiah is a
ruler who will be a new David. (That’s
why it’s important for the lineage at the top of Matthew to make Christ a
descendent of David). Messiah literally
means “anointed one” and kings are the ones anointed. So is the kingdom here or above? Christ never says, but this celibacy policy
seems to make little sense if it’s in the above. If the kingdom comes to earth soon, then we
have less need for new births.
All of that is just the first half of the chapter. The last part is the famous story of the rich
boy who wants to join the Jesus movement. However, Christ says it’ll be a big
hill to climb. Want to join: “go, sell
what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.” Jewish Boy Trump doesn’t want to do this,
leading to Christ’s famous statement: “it is easier for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
A few weeks ago, Pope Francis made a statement decrying
trickle down economics, and saying we need more social concern for the
poor. This story here is a central piece
of theological backing for that approach.
The Old Testament also has plenty of places calling on us to take care
of people, but here you have Christ himself rather flatly decrying
materialism. Sure enough, the Catholic
Church has a long-standing tradition of social justice. It’s easy to see why. Alternately, I don’t know how Prosperity
Gospel sorts square this one away with their pro-materialistic notions.
Christ is very radical in this section. He’s essentially
advocating religious communism. Give up
EVERYTHING and then come follow him. The
rich are ineligible for his kingdom of heaven.
Like much of the morals he advocates, it’s too much for almost all
people to literally follow. Right here
it would be easy for me to denounce and decry religious sorts who enjoy their
own prosperity instead of following what Jesus says here, but that’s not really
fair. After all, this is frankly too
high a standard to follow. Second,
religious people really do donate more to charity and those in need than
non-religious people do. Pretty much all
churches engage in social activities.
How many secular mass mobilization institutions really do that?
CHAPTER 20
This is mostly stuff we’ve already gone over. Christ heals people. Christ tells his apostles (for the third time
and counting) that he’ll be killed and rise on the third day. There are some disputes when the mother of
apostles James and John be allowed to sit next to Christ on Judgment Day. (Oh, last chapter Christ said that the apostles
will sit along him in judgment of all when the time comes). The other apostles are miffed, but Christ
smooths things over.
Aside from that, there is just one really notable part –
Christ gives another parable. He tells
of a man who hires workers to spend the day in his vineyard. Some he hires early, some mid-day, some late. But he pays them all the same, a full day’s
wages. The guys who worked all day are
miffed – we did it all day, you jerk!
But the point of the story: you all agreed to follow my ways for the
given reward, so you’re complaints are for naught. God can reward those who
come to him early, midway, and late the same if he wants. It’s his kingdom of heaven, it’s his world –
he can give rewards as he likes.
It’s not one of Christ’s best analogies. He makes God look capricious instead of
merciful. When God gives out his
rewards, he comes off like some arrogant boss – “am I not free to do as I wish
with my own money” (that’s an actual quote from the Bible on this score) – than
something divine. The problem is that
wages are supposed to be reciprocal based on work, and God is going against
that here. The heavenly reward doesn’t
come off reciprocal, if you think about it.
Be good and you’ll experience eternal salvation in paradise. Man, that’s a reward so awesome that none of
us have really earned it.
CHAPTER 21
OK, we’re headed toward the final act – Jesus is on his way
to Jerusalem. And, as often is the case
in the Gospel According to Matthew, that means we’ve got to fulfill a
prophecy. An old prophecy foretells
that, “Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a
colt” so the apostles gather up a colt and a donkey. They put their cloaks over the top of them so
Christ can ride them both into Jerusalem.
(Basically, they use the cloaks to connect them and Christ rides over
the connection).
Yeah, Matthew – you’re trying too hard here. This is just silly, having a guy entering
town on cloaks going over two different animals. Heck, they have to borrow a colt just for the
process. Even worse, the footnotes tell
me that the prophecy is a combination of two prophets. Even worser, the footnotes say that in
traditional prophecy, the words colt and ass can refer to the same animal. So this elaborate oddity is actually based on
a misinterpretation. You have to admit –
the prophecy wouldn’t make much sense if it meant too animals. But taken altogether – yeah, the Christ crowd
is trying too hard here.
We’re told that when Jesus hits Jerusalem the “city was
shaken” and wanted to know who he was. I
just find that unlikely. Forget the
silly entrance he’s making riding cloaks atop two different animals. Let’s assume he got off that unlikely
contraption soon. Still, this is
Jerusalem. Jesus so far has been a big
hit out in the sticks – but this is the big city, baby. They’re not going to be too easily
impressed. It would be like the biggest
band from Maine goes to New York City to make it big and everyone is awe of
them just for showing up. Yeah, maybe once
they get to know you they’ll be impressed, but they’re not going to be shaken
just by your very presence. He ain’t the
first big fish from a small pond to hit the big city. Please note, the people
don’t just shake when they see Christ, they ask, “who is this?” They don’t even know who he is or anything
about him – there is really no reason for them to be so impressed. He hasn’t said or done anything yet, except
ride into down rather awkwardly.
Christ’s first action is one of his most famous – he takes
on the moneychangers. I know a little
about this, but my memory is shaky. Apparently, this isn’t just straight up
bartering. I think that in order to
offer sacrifices in the temple, you needed a special currency or token or
something – and you had to change it outside the temple. Look, I’m fuzzy on the specifics (sorry), but
this isn’t just guys selling roosters and playing cards, and knick-knacks,
there is some sort of actual connection to the temple. But Christ, the poor rube from Nazareth, is
apparently unfamiliar – and on sight, it does look like a crass commercial
exchange.
“My house shall be a house of prayer, but you are making it
a den of thieves.” Oh, that’s where the
line “den of thieves” comes from. Good
line, Jesus. Also – calling it “my
house” is a little dangerous. So far, he’s just told his apostles his secret
identity as the Son of God. Publicly
using first person possessive with the Temple is a bit careless on his
part.
Oh, and he overturns the moneychangers tables. Again, from what I know from reading some
Biblical scholarships, the whole moneychanger set up is pretty freaking big
(acres? Sorry, I really wished I
remembered this part better). He
couldn’t have turned them all over. He
might have gotten a few, but much of the exchanges would’ve gone on just the
same.
Christ leaves Jerusalem.
That’s probably for the best. One
the way back the next day though, he does something very strange. He sees a fig
tree without any figs, and he curses it, telling it to die, essentially. It dies.
Neat trick – but frankly a dick move.
I mean – the hell? He’s the Son
of God, he’s the Messiah, he’s the savior of all humanity – and here is he
picking fights with …..a tree? Does that
sound off to anyone else? I dunno, I
guess he’s just really stressed.
When Christ comes back to Jerusalem, the priests have a
debate for him. What authority do you
have to do your teaching? They’re hoping
to make Jesus say he’s the Messiah so they can arrest him.
It doesn’t take.
Christ completely big times them.
He tells them, “I shall ask you one question, and if you answer it for
me, then I shall tell you by what authority I do these things.” Yeah, that’s totally big timing them. They asked him first, but he demands they
answer him first – or they can go blow.
Frankly, they should’ve tried the more abrasive, confrontational
approach. Maybe it would’ve worked
better, like it’ll work for Christ here.
At any rate, Christ’s question is: what authority did John
have when he baptized people? Was it
divine authority or human?
The priests huddle. Look, if we say divine authority, he’ll
nail us for not believing in the Baptist.
But if we say human authority, then all his supporters will be upset
with us – and we fear those weirdoes. So the priests refuse to answer.
OK, time out. First,
why are they so afraid of the crowd thinking that they didn’t like the
Baptist. Shouldn’t everyone already know
that? The Baptist was thrown in jail a
ways back and executed – and nothing has happened. This book makes it sound like people are so
enthralled with the Baptist that you don’t dare say anything bad about him –
but he was arrested and killed with no real consequence. Clearly, it couldn’t have been that big a
deal. Also, how big a deal was John in
Jerusalem. He was with the rubes in the
North. He ate locusts and honey by the
River Jordan. Why in heck are the
streets of Jerusalem apparently teaming with his followers? Also, if John the Baptist really was all
that, shouldn’t some people know who Christ is then before he arrived?
The level of John’s fame and support seems like a plot
contrivance.
Well, it’s a good plot contrivance because the priests
refuse to answer Christ’s question. OK then, Christ says – I won’t tell you
what authority I have either. That’s a
mighty impressive big timing. Here they
are, the big priests in the big temple in the big city, and the new kid from
the north just airily dismisses them.
They’re just lucky they weren’t walking around with fig-less fig
trees.
Christ ends things with some parables that are designed to
insult the priestly class as a bunch of worthless hypocrites. The first one says that they are worse than
whores and tax collectors (again, tax collectors really take a beating
here). They say they’re for God, but
then they ignore God – just like they ignored John the Baptist. Man, John the Baptist really means a ton to
Christ. The second parable means that
the priests are a bunch of self-serving murderers; they are tenants on God’s
land they’ll kill God’s servants and even his son (spoiler!) to keep their own
position and take God’s wealth for themselves.
Click here for the next part of Matthew.
Click here for the next part of Matthew.
No comments:
Post a Comment