John 21:1-14 (Matins)
Galatians 2:16-20
Luke 8:41-56

"Two Ways There Are"

Last week, we departed from a "Hell on earth" — the Lost Tribe of Gad, and by the lights of the first century, no tribe could have been more lost. Gad is not included in the roll call of tribes in Chronicles (2 Chron 27), nor is it mentioned in the Song of Deborah (Judges 5:2-31). Remarkably, the Moabite Stone (ninth century B.C.) refers to the Tribe of Gad as being an ancient people contradistinguished from the Kingdom of Israel, who, the stele implies, were significant people. That is, from time immemorial Gad has been depicted as the loner, yet they certainly are numbered among the Twelve Tribes. They are out, yet they are in. They are lost, yet they are found as we saw with the Son of God's visit to their land fulfilling Isaiah's prophecy:

Historically, the case of Gad is complex. St. Luke simply leaves us with a series of vivid images: life among the living dead depicted as a demoniac chained among the tombs, a howling world of demons who are welcomed by the thousands (we remember "Legion"), out-of-control passions of the most vile kind signified by stampeding pigs, a whole demon-possessed people driving God from their midst. As I say, Hell on earth.

But in the larger frame in Luke's Gospel, it turns out that the Evangelist has presented us with a diptych. a large, two-paneled icon whose left side depicts the culture of disease and death and the rejection of God (the definition of Hell) and whose right side depicts the embrace of God, a perfection of God-with-us.

Sovereign Energy pours out of Him as He displays that signature Almighty Power, which is mastery over life and death. But other things are present here too, more subtle but no less Sovereign — all for the purpose of revealing the Son of God but also revealing the Son of Man.

On the left-side panel, we encounter the Son of God fulfilling His mission to gather the lost Tribes of Israel. On the right-side panel, we see the people clamoring for Him. St. Luke is explicit that these two icons should be reflected on as a unity:

You see, the hinge is Lake Genessaret (the Sea of Galilee). Gad is the place opposite Galilee, the antipodes, if you will, where the mouth of Hell is said to be situated. Upon His return, Galilee is clearly depicted as blessed, where the Lord of Life is embraced.

They cannot wait for His return. They greet Him on the shore. They countenance Him to be the Lord of Life. Indeed, He will plainly declare this setting to be the place of Divinely-given life by annulling the claims of death. This is very obviously a mirror image presenting an inversion of the living death of Gad.

Even the synagogue ruler Jairus rushes forward prostrating himself. Now, this is remarkable! The synagogues were built under the Maccabees expressly to promulgate Judah-ism, originally imposed from Babylon and now under the official sanction of the Sadducees. You will recall Nicodemus was a ruler of a synagogue. So he is careful not to speak to Jesus in plain day. But he cautiously must slip off secretly under cover of night to see the Master. And we assume he walks back home hoping not to be noticed. But here is Jairus in broad daylight prostrating himself before Jesus! "Save my daughter!" he cries. "For she is dying!" Soon we find that the girl is dead, and we might surmise that a father, refusing to accept this, has hysterically run to Jesus (of all people) — the One on whom he has been charged to keep a tight rein.

But all of this — the proscriptions of the Sadducees, the decorum of the synagogue .... — Jesus brushes to one side. For the essential reason for the Incarnation is before Him: which is to expose the culture of death for what it is in order "that they might have life" (Jn 10:10). And He touches the girl on whose life death has set its ugly claw. He fills her with Divine lifeforce. As He had in the preceding chapters of Luke's Gospel, He reveals His Divine Identity.

Within this icon of life (as we see in many icons) is a very different scene present in-small. Its modest stature is denoted by Jesus' offhand manner. We are all aware of the great drama playing out concerning the death of Jairus' daughter. That is the main scene. But few notice the other scene yet which is apposite to the main drama. The crowd is in the midst of its great progress towards Jairus' daughter. But Jesus stops. He alone among them stops. The Disciples are confused. "What is He doing?" they think.

He says, "Someone has touched me" (Lu 8:45).

Everyone denies it (Lu 8:46). Peter offers, "But, Master, everyone has touched you! You are being pressed within a crowd!" (Lu 8:45).

Jesus ignores him. Instead, He utters the sentence for which this little scene has been drawn:

Power has gone out of me. Remarkable. The Greek word here is δύναμις. / dúnamis Its meaning in the first century, is "physical force or power." One of its meanings was "military potency" giving rise to our modern word "dynamite." It also meant "source of power," from which our word "dynamo" proceeds. Remarkably, this great force has gone out of the Lord. For something "to go out" means that it has departed: one thing is being filled while another is being emptied. Jesus stops in His tracks as He feels this subtraction.

The Disciples do not understand what is happening. They do not understand His words. They are not familiar with this category, for they are not constantly pouring themselves out, emptying themselves, that their force of life might be given away to the aching need all around them, as the Lord does.

I had the privilege of serving in fourth-world Haiti, and I saw the saints of God pouring themselves out without any hope of them recovering their precious energy .... the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

This is the life Jesus is striving to teach. The life of the Kingdom is a life of self-sacrifice. He is very clear that it is a life of servanthood, of self-denial, making the point over and over again.

A young person comes to me and asks, "Father, what is life in Heaven like?" I answer, "It is a life of self-sacrifice."

Yes, in Heaven! Look on the wall at all these faces. They hear prayer after prayer after prayer. They are still sacrificing! They hear urgent prayers having heart-breaking content. And they care. They deeply care.

This figure in particular hears many, many prayers .... or should I say many billions of prayers, since eternity marks no boundaries of time or centuries. The life of the Virgin is a life of continually pouring Herself out. (I post the icon over our altar which was a gift from Elizabeth and David Pertz.)

St. Paul writes,

The RSV translators render it

These are images that invoke Melchizedek — the libation, the sacrifice. Who offers the acceptable sacrifice to God? The wine and the bread, signifying the blood and the body, the pouring out of oneself — the self-giving par excellence. The great importance of this little scene in a crowded street is its concise power to reveal the deep meaning of Eucharist. Soon Jesus soon will say, "This is my Body which is broken for you" .... "This is my Blood which is shed for many." He will offer, at dear expense to Himself, and we will receive.

Some people believe that the Eucharist is symbolic, symbolic of the holy events on Calvary. No, this happened first. Calvary was the symbol: Jesus' Self-giving was primary. His Self-giving began at His Nativity.

He tells us,

Lying within this insignificant-yet-sublime scene is a truth we must not miss. His sacrifice of dúnamis is not a "this-for-that." It is not a trade or a transaction. None of the saints of God today expect that they are offering a trade for something. They pour out their lives because this is the Lord's command and example. It is a state of being. We call it a state of life in the West. It is always and everywhere, an essence of Who Jesus is, and (we who follow Him) who we are. As we strive to follow Him (always His requirement), we find that He desires a stripping away of our worldliness, that we might get back to the new, pink flesh of our childhood, so near to God, so sincere in our love, so like God in His love for us.

St. Paul is explicit. At His conception and birth, the Son of God laid aside His glory which He had before the world began. He did this to enter the horrible straits of our narrow humanity, the tiny claustrophobic box in which He lived on earth:

He commands us to follow Him. But how can we follow Him? we ask. How can we cross that vast distance from humanity to Divinity? Nonetheless, He has shown the way.

Paul's Greek word is kénosis (Phil 2:7) — which means "self-emptying, self-subtracting," which paradoxically opens the way through these high mountain passes. St. Paul continues:

And St. Paul says pointedly,

For this stripping away, this giving away, enables us to become Heavenly and citizens of the Kingdom. Here is the ultimate communicatio idiomatum, the properties of Man and God freely mixed though distinct. Here is the gateway to Divine life and living. Jesus has opened the Gate of Heaven to us all. He has told us how to get there. He has invited all, even from the highways and byways, the rows and hedges. But one thing is required. We must leave the world behind. We cannot come with our laptops! (To use a reference from my boyhood) we cannot come with our transistor radios. We must leave the world behind. We must not come to the Wedding Feast of the King's Son attired in that garment.

St. Matthew remembers the Lord's injunction this way:

We hold back some piece of our former, worldly lives. We hold back some shred of the old man or old woman .... because we perceive it to be a comfort.