The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today resonate with the tension we sometimes experience between our comfort with familiar ways and understanding and the challenge of embracing new life in unknown relationships of New Life.
Old and New
The reading from the Letter to the Colossians is a hymn to the Supremacy of Christ.
* [1:15–20] As the poetic arrangement indicates, these lines are probably an early Christian hymn, known to the Colossians and taken up into the letter from liturgical use (cf. Phil 2:6–11; 1 Tm 3:16). They present Christ as the mediator of creation (Col 1:15–18a) and of redemption (Col 1:18b–20). There is a parallelism between firstborn of all creation (Col 1:15) and firstborn from the dead (Col 1:18). While many of the phrases were at home in Greek philosophical use and even in gnosticism, the basic ideas also reflect Old Testament themes about Wisdom found in Prv 8:22–31; Wis 7:22–8:1; and Sir 1:4. See also notes on what is possibly a hymn in Jn 1:1–18.1
Psalm 100 summons all lands to Praise God.
* [Psalm 100] A hymn inviting the people to enter the Temple courts with thank offerings for the God who created them. * [100:3] Although the people call on all the nations of the world to join in their hymn, they are conscious of being the chosen people of God.2
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus addresses the question about Fasting.
* [5:39] The old is good: this saying is meant to be ironic and offers an explanation for the rejection by some of the new wine that Jesus offers: satisfaction with old forms will prevent one from sampling the new.3
Ed Morse comments that the love that sustains us through difficulties and trials usually does not come all at once, but little by little. Trials test us, which can help us grow if we are open to them. Trials may prove that we can bear up, building our confidence for even greater ones ahead. Or they may simply illustrate where we remain weak, showing us we need more training and building our humility and reliance upon God. The saints show us this path by their stories about growing into sainthood.
We like the thrill of adventure, but not the difficulties it might present. We want a roller coaster that provides safe thrills, but no danger. But that is not real life. To avoid risk, we will naturally prefer the old wine and the old paths that we know, but perhaps we are being called to taste new wine that will be even better than the old! Are we open to the prospects of an adventure with God?4
Don Schwager quotes “Christ will send you wise men and scribes,” by Clement of Alexandria, 150-215 A.D.
"A scribe is one who, through continual reading of the Old and New Testaments, has laid up for himself a storehouse of knowledge. Thus Christ blesses those who have gathered in themselves the education both of the law and of the gospel, so as to 'bring forth from their treasure things both new and old.' And Christ compares such people with a scribe, just as in another place he says, 'I will send you wise men and scribes' (Matthew 23:34)"(excerpt from FRAGMENT 172)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Colossians 1:15-20 suggests that today’s lyrical hymn from St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians gives us a terrific launching point for pondering who Jesus is.
"Jesus, you are greater than I could ever imagine on my own. Thank you for the gift of the Scriptures that helps me lift my mind so that I can meditate on you and give you praise!” "Jesus, I bow to you in humble adoration.”6
Friar Jude Winkler expands the hymn in Colossians referring to Jesus as “ikon” that re-presents to us, as Wisdom present at Creation, and the “fullness” of God. Mourning the loss of a loved one is one reason to fast. Friar Jude reminds us of the distaste of Jewish tradition for “mixing” as Jesus invites us to the new wine of the Kingdom even as we suggest that the old wine tastes better.
Franciscan Media notes that an Anglican historian has written: “It is impossible to conceive what would have been the confusion, the lawlessness, the chaotic state of the Middle Ages without the medieval papacy; and of the medieval papacy, the real father is Gregory the Great.”
Gregory was content to be a monk, but he willingly served the Church in other ways when asked. He sacrificed his own preferences in many ways, especially when he was called to be Bishop of Rome. Once he was called to public service, Gregory gave his considerable energies completely to this work. Gregory's description of bishops as physicians fits in well with Pope Francis' description of the Church as a "field hospital."7
Cynthia Bourgeault shares how her early exposure to a simple form of quiet prayer impacted her spiritual journey.
I was also one of the relatively rare few who also had it patterned into me that prayer was listening to God. Not even listening for messages, exactly, like the child Samuel in my favorite Old Testament story [1 Samuel 3:3–10], but just being there, quietly gathered in God’s presence. This learning came not from my formal Sunday School training, but through the good fortune of spending my first six school years in a Quaker school, where weekly silent “meeting for worship” was as an invariable part of the rhythm of life as schoolwork or recess. I can still remember trooping together, class by class, into the cavernous two-story meetinghouse and taking our places on the long, narrow benches once occupied by elders of yore. Occasionally, there would be a scriptural verse or thought offered, but for long stretches there was simply silence. And in that silence, as I gazed up at the sunlight sparkling through those high upper windows, or followed a secret tug drawing me down into my own heart, I began to know a prayer much deeper than “talking to God.” Somewhere in those depths of silence I came upon my first experiences of God as a loving presence that was always near, and prayer as a simple trust in that presence.8
'Thinking Faith reminds us that as we attend to creation, we might notice within ourselves a desire to act more gently toward this created world, to exercise more self-control over our consumption, recognising that we do have an impact on the created world.' How might the gift of wisdom help us to respond to the ‘cry of the earth and the cry of the poor’?
The “new wine” of full life offered by Jesus disturbs our comfort with the way we are, even as the Spirit prompts us to be open to life in the Kingdom.
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