Reading I: Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14
This passage is obviously a commentary on the fifth (fourth)
commandment: Honor thy father and thy mother. It adds the point that
obedience to this commandment atones for sins (Sir 3:3, 14), an ideal typical of later Judaism.
This latter point should not be taken with full theological
seriousness. The central message of the New Testament is, of course,
that atonement for sins is through Christ alone.
The point should be taken merely as an incentive or inducement to
obey this commandment, for in a loose, non-theological sense it may
well be said that love of one’s parents makes up for many
sins.
OR
Here we have another Old Testament reading that provided a model for
the narratives of Jesus’ birth, particularly that in
Luke’s Gospel. Samuel’s parents offer him to Yhwh
“for ever,” that is, for his whole life.
We moderns would object that Samuel had not been consulted and
should have been left to decide for himself when the time came. Such
problems were alien to the ancient world.
The parents in any case did not determine the child’s destiny.
They offered him for the service of the temple, but instead the
child grew up to be a prophet who played a major role in the affairs
of state.
Like the birth of Jesus, Samuel’s birth is narrated in the
light of his subsequent destiny.
Responsorial Psalm: 128:1-2, 3, 4-5
This wisdom psalm, with its introductory beatitude (“Blessed
is every one who fears the Lord”) presents the fear of the
Lord as the basis of family, social, and economic prosperity.
On a superficial level, it seems to express a naive, Deuteronomic
confidence that obedience to the law will be an insurance against
disaster, and a conviction that disaster can always be explained as
punishment for disobedience, views seriously questioned already in
the Book of Job.
Yet, there is something to it.
Where there is a wholesome respect for God and his will, human
relationships do stand a better chance of being well ordered and
harmonious. Those who fear the Lord are not tempted to put
themselves in the place of God, to boast in their personal
achievements.
Such persons are therefore freed to love their neighbor and make it
easier for the neighbor to love in return.
OR
Responsorial Psalm: 84:2-3, 5-6, 9-10
It is strange that this familiar psalm has not been used before in
the Sunday Lectionary. It is a psalm with affinities to the songs of
Zion and to the pilgrim psalms, and speaks of the joy of worship in
the temple.
It would appear that it was designed for use at the autumn festival
(Tabernacles). Its date of origin is sometime during the age of the
monarchy (Ps 84:1).
The worshiper envies both the birds that live in the temple their
whole lives long, having built their nests in its precincts, and the
priests, whose work keeps them in the temple all the time.
Thus, the psalm serves fittingly as a response to the reading about
Samuel, who was dedicated to the service of the temple at Shiloh all
his life
Reading II: Colossians 3:12-21 or 3:12-17
This is part of the “parenesis,” or ethical
section, of the letter to the Colossians. Such exhortations follow a
regular pattern that is widely believed to reproduce the structure
of a primitive Christian catechism.
The passage begins with a list of virtues, introduced by the
imperative “Put on.” This language reflects the vesting
of the candidate as he or she came up out of the baptismal font.
This imperative may be preceded by another, namely, “Put
off,” followed by a list of vices. This recalls the stripping
of the candidate prior to baptism.
Following these general exhortations, there is often, especially in
the later New Testament letters, a “Haustafel,” or
household code, listing the various members of family and society
and their respective duties.
Such codes were apparently derived from Stoic teaching via
Hellenistic Judaism, whence they passed into Greek-speaking
Christianity. That is why they reflect the subordinationist ethic of
contemporary society (“Wives, be subject”—not an idea
that is likely to appeal to feminists!).
But this subjectionist element, derived as it is from Stoicism, is
not the distinctively Christian element in the code. That is found
in the words “in the Lord”; in the injunction to
husbands to love their wives; in the earlier definition of
love as forgiveness; and in specifying the motivation for
forgiveness as Christ’s forgiveness of sinners.
Here we should be able to find the raw materials for the formulation
of a Christian ethic for a society that is not organized on a
hierarchical, subordinationist pattern.
OR
The overall context of this reading is the schism that has recently
taken place in the Johannine community (see
1 Jn 2:19;
4:1). Certain members (we will call them “gnosticizing
secessionists”) have left the community because of their
Docetic Christology and neglect of ethics (see
1 Jn 4:3;
4:20).
The Johannine epistler seeks to assure the remaining members of the
community that they, not the secessionists, are children of God.
This is a status that has been conferred upon them by God’s
love, that is, by his act of revelation and redemption in Jesus
Christ.
The secessionists deny the full reality of that act and therefore do
not share in that new statusthey are not children of God.
It is noteworthy that the author, contrary to the practice of Paul,
distinguishes between “Son of God,” a term that he uses
exclusively for Christ as a Christological title, and
“children of God,” a term for the derivative status of
Christians. If this distinction were universally observed, it would
ease the problem that such language causes for feminists
nowadays.
Note how the author, in a manner this time closer to Pauline usage,
preserves the “not yet” of this Christian status. Our
being children of God is a reality, but it is visible only to
faith.
Lacking faith, the world cannot see or observe it. Only when the
final consummation occurs will the Christian status of divine
childhood become visible.
This final consummation the epistle describes as the appearance, not
of Christ, but of God. It will consist in the beatific vision of
God.
The second part of the reading is the tail end of the most difficult
parts of the New Testament. We take the “merciful” as
opposed to the “severe” interpretation (see Raymond
Brown’s commentary ad loc.).
Our own conscience may accuse us, but God is more merciful than we
are with ourselves, and he will forgive us when our consciences
accuse us. He will give us whatever we ask (the context suggests
that what is being asked for is God’s forgiving mercy).
All this is promised because we—that is, the Johannine community, as
opposed to the secessionists—are doing his will. His will is that we
should believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God (which the
secessionists fail to do, since they deny the flesh of Jesus, the
reality of his incarnation), and love one another (which the
secessionists fail to do, since they do not love their fellow
members in the community). They are cliquish and elitist.
Note here the Johannine form of the double commandment of love.
While it is through keeping these commandments that we abide in God,
we know that we abide in him only through the Holy Spiri
The form critics classify this pericope as a “legend.”
This does not necessarily mean that the incident is wholly
unhistorical, as indeed Dibelius was careful to point out.
To call it a legend means that its purpose is not historical. There
are many similar stories of the precocious childhood of a great
person whose early life showed signs of coming greatness (for
example, in the life of Buddha or Josephus).
We recognize certain redactional concerns of Luke: the legal piety
of Jesus’ home (see
Lk 2:21-22), shown in the devout observance of Passover customs; the effect
of these remarkable incidents on Jesus’ mother (see
Lk 2:19); and the emphasis on the human growth of Jesus (see
Lk 2:40), though the last point may be modeled on the childhood of Samuel
and may be designed to portray Jesus as the eschatological prophet.
In that case it may even have been a feature of Luke’s
source.
That the core of the narrative is pre-Lucan is shown by the absence
of any hint of the virginal conception (“his parents,”
“your father”). The answer of the boy Jesus in
Luke 1:49, with its reference to God as “my Father,” seems to
reflect the Church’s Christology.
The basic incident, however, is not only pre-Lucan but may well rest
upon an authentic memory. And even the allusion to “my
Father” may be pre-Christological, reflecting Jesus’
growing historical awareness of his unique filial relation with
God.
This awareness will then be the basis and presupposition for his
later submission to the Father’s call and the acceptance of
his unique eschatological role in salvation history.
Thus, one hesitates to dismiss this story as entirely without
historical worth, even if in the form-critical sense it should be
characterized as a “legend.”
Our real concern must be with the evangelist’s purpose in
including this story in his Gospel.
It is evidently part of his picture of Jesus’ family and its
devout adherence to the Jewish law, which provided the environment
in which Jesus developed, as Samuel had developed, so that he could
later fulfill his role as the eschatological prophet and the bringer
of redemption to Israel.