All Is Vanity!

There are a few books of the Bible that I really find amusing.  My students know that one of them is the Book of Tobit.  In fact I apparently made one too many jokes about that book and was pointedly told by one of my students (thank you, Sr. Mahilia) that I needed to rein it in! 

The Book of Ecclesiastes is another book that amuses me.  That is, when it isn’t making me totally depressed!  Let’s put it this way – Ecclesiastes may not be the book to read when you’re already having a bad day.

The best-known verse in the Book of Ecclesiastes is probably:  “Vanity of vanities!  All is vanity” (1:2).  “Vanity” is the typical English translation of the Hebrew word hebel, which literally means “vapor” or “breath.”  The word is used 38 times in the Book of Ecclesiastes to describe the fleeting and even futile nature of life.  The Good News Bible (not known for its technical accuracy, but pretty good at capturing the "gist" of things) even goes so far as to translate the verse this way:  "It is useless, useless.  Life is useless, all useless."  

The author goes on to write other things we might find surprising.  He writes that seeking wisdom is an “unhappy business” (1:13); there is nothing better for human beings than to eat and drink (2:24); we aren’t really any better off than animals – not in life or death (3:18-21); and the dead (all of them) “know nothing” and “have no reward” (9:5).  

Sure, there are a few uplifting verses in Ecclesiastes (a lovely passage on the value of friendship, for example; 4:9-12), and the author does retain and encourage a stalwart faith in the midst of his observations of life’s futilities (3:12-14; 4:18-20).  But those who try to paint over this book with an overly optimistic gloss are ignoring its brooding tone and many of its messages. 

Some have even questioned whether this unusual book belongs in the canon of Scripture.  After all, doesn’t the maxim “life is vanity” contradict the basic biblical belief that life is a sacred gift from God?  But there is a stark realism here, written down and poured out on the sacred page.  That is why I don’t find it strange that the Book of Ecclesiastes found its way into the canon.  I don’t think the ideas we read here mean that life really is hebel, or futile.  I don’t think the author’s own uncertainty about the after-life means that we need to be uncertain.  But this book allows us to express our frustrations and fears, and it comforts us.  It allows us to have dark moments and say, “I don’t get it” and “It isn’t fair.”  It allows us to read and say “I’m not sure either” and “What is death, really?” 

If nothing else, this special book reminds us that opening the Bible always begins a conversation with God.  We can express every emotion, ask every question, and enter into every mystery.  And when we enter into the very honest and very human ideas we find in the Book of Ecclesiastes, we can be assured that our God understands and responds:  “I hear you, my people.  Keep talking to me.”  

 
 

Article in "The Bible Today"

If you subscribe or have access to the biblical journal The Bible Today, you’ll find an article I wrote entitled “The Garden as a Place of Agony” in the current issue (May/June).  It is based on my blog post "Agony in the Garden," which one of the editors read and asked me to expand for the journal.  The issue includes other “garden-themed” articles, exploring topics such as the Garden of Eden, garden imagery in the prophets, and John’s use of creation/garden motifs.

Below is an excerpt from the article.  This section explains the gospels’ use of the term “Garden of Gethsemane” (or lack of use, really!) and what we know about its location based on the gospel accounts.

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Parallel accounts of Christ’s suffering in what is commonly referred to as “the Garden of Gethsemane” can be found in Matthew 26:30-56, Mark 14:26-52 and Luke 22:39-53.  While John’s gospel does not narrate the suffering of Christ in the garden, it does place his arrest there (John 18:1-12).  Interestingly, none of the four accounts actually identifies the place as the “Garden of Gethsemane.”  Matthew and Mark write of Jesus and his disciples going to “the Mount of Olives” (a place mentioned with some frequency in the Gospels) after their last meal together, and then coming to “a place called Gethsemane,” probably a smaller part of the larger Mount of Olives area (Matt 26:36; Mark 14:32).  Luke refers only to “the Mount of Olives” and makes reference to the fact that it was “his [Jesus’] custom” to go there (Luke 22:39).  Notably, only John refers to the place as “a garden,” which he describes by mentioning its location as “across the Kidron Valley” (John 18:1), a vague geographical note that corresponds with the location of the Mount of Olives.  John also mentions that this was a place Jesus often went with his disciples (John 18:2). 

While it is important to note the distinctions among the gospel accounts, it is also fair to conclude that Gethsemane was indeed a garden-like area within the larger land area known as the Mount of Olives.  Clearly the indigenous olive tree was the dominant plant of the region (fittingly, “Gethsemane” means “oil press”), and one might imagine a secluded grove of these trees coexisting with other naturally growing vegetation.  This place would be peaceful and semi-private, a suitable place for Jesus and his disciples to withdraw from time to time for quiet and refreshment.  Although the exact location of the actual garden is unknown, it is reasonable to place it at or near the current site of Gethsemane, which is located on the lower west slope of the Mount of Olives. 

 -- The Bible Today, May/June 2015, Vol. 53, No. 3

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UPDATE: The complete article is now available as a pdf. Click here to read it.

 
 

Let the Sun Do Its Work

Spring has finally come to Connecticut, which means a beautiful light through the trees and everyone gathering outside – fixing up the yard, starting the garden, or walking at the beach.  Remember that sunny day I told you about – the one that finally comes – when you know you can leave the fleece behind for good?  The one we earned with every miserably cold morning and every slip on the ice?  That day has arrived!

It’s that time of year when the sun block comes out and reclaims its spot near the back door.  But it usually takes a surprise or two before I take the sun block seriously.  On Sunday, after just an hour or two at the beach, my sons' faces were a shade or two darker, and my own arms had lost the “winter white.”  The sun had done its work without me realizing what was happening. 

The sun works on us with a silent, gradual, transforming power.  If I go to the beach and stare at my skin, I don’t see a change taking place.  It’s only later that evening when I look in the mirror that I see the change – the warm glow of color restored, the abiding result of happy times spent in warmth and light.

Below is a brief excerpt from Fr. Murray Bodo’s Landscape of Prayer.   Fr. Bodo shares a charming account of a fellow Franciscan who taught folks to pray before the Blessed Sacrament.  He wanted them to stop trying so hard.  He wanted them to stop stressing about “what to do.”  He wanted them to enjoy their time in this Eucharistic Presence in the same natural way that I enjoyed the warm sun at the beach with my kids.  He wanted them to “let the sun do its work.”  And then later – as they went about their lives or glanced in the mirror – later they might discover that they had been changed by this silent, transforming power:

“Brother Carlo used to expose the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance and ask those who would learn to pray to sit in silence for two hours before the Blessed Sacrament. Usually they were, to say the least, nonplussed. And he would then explain, ‘Imagine you are lying on the beach, thinking of nothing in particular, just letting the sun’s rays work gradually on your skin, a beautiful tan emerging day by day. The host in the monstrance is the sun. Just be in its presence, not worrying about so-called distractions or whether or not you are concentrating on the ‘sun.’ A change gradually takes place in you the way a suntan emerges on the skin. Relax, let the ‘sun’ do its work. Your work is to be there.’”
— Fr. Murray Bodo, OFM, Landscape of Prayer, St. Anthony Messenger Press

"God, why do you have to be so mysterious?"

While studying the account of Moses and the Burning Bush in her religious education textbook, my daughter got a little bit irritated with God.  She felt he was being intentionally difficult when it came to naming himself.  “Why not just give a name?  What’s with ‘I am who I am’?” (Ex. 3:14)

It’s a fair enough question.  I didn’t say much in response, but I did point out it would be a little disappointing if God said, “Hello, my name is Bob.”  Bob is a great name – but it isn’t the least bit mysterious.

Sometimes it may seem like God is being difficult on purpose.  But he’s probably just being himself.  He’s being mysterious.  He’s being “I am.”  I experience this Difficult Mystery when I teach Scripture.  Sometimes I feel like I’m entering a world where I don’t belong.  I start to understand it, and then I suddenly stop.  I come close to something and then it unravels into a hundred other things.  Why is it this way?  And how can I take other people to a place that is so far beyond me?

But that’s just the privilege of knowing God.  How boring would it be to have a God who can only take us places we’ve already been, or tell us things we already know?  No, I prefer a God whose name I don’t understand, whose Book changes every time I pick it up, whose ways are not my ways, who takes me places I’ve never been and who tells me things I never knew. 

Why does God have to be so mysterious?  Because he is!