Posts

Dr. Michael Barber, writing at The Sacred Page:

The notion that biblical Greek uses different terms for various kinds of love was popularized by C. S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1960). I will refrain from offering a full treatment. Let me focus on two terms: agapē and philia. According to Lewis, agapē love can be distinguished from philia love in that the latter refers to the love of friendship, while the former denotes something more: unconditional divine love. The official C.S. Lewis website sums up his views on this here. Writing about agapē, Lewis taught: “This is our chief aim, the unconditional love of the Father given to us through his Son.”
That Greek has clear words for different types of love sounds nice. It seems helpful. Unfortunately, it greatly oversimplifies things.

And, as Barber notes, things get rather complicated when this view is applied to Jesus’ restoration of Peter (following Jesus’ resurrection) in John 21:

When they had eaten breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love [agapaō] me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord. You know that I love [phileō] you. He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him again a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love [agapaō] me?” He sad to him, “Yes, Lord. You know that I love [phileō] you.” He said to him, “Feed my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love [phileō] me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love [phileō] me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know all things. You know that I love [phileō] you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”
— John 21:15-17; my (Barber’s) translation

Interpreters often make much hay out of the fact that the word for “love” is different the third time Jesus asks the question. It is often claimed that Peter is hurt because the last time Jesus puts the question to him, he asks, “Do you phileō me?” Peter is said to be grieved because even though he realizes that he has not yet matured to agapē love for Jesus, he is nonetheless saddened to think that Jesus doubts that he at least has philia love for him.

This is not an uncommon interpretation. In a 2006 General Audience, for example, Benedict XVI offered this line of interpretation of this passage. I must confess that I was quite surprised by it when I first read it. Notably, he studiously avoids this line of explanation in his treatment of John 21 in the second volume of his Jesus of Nazareth trilogy, which he later published in 2011. This would not be the only time Benedict XVI’s explanations in his trilogy would depart from what he had said earlier in a General Audience. For example, his lengthy treatment of the date of the Last Supper in Jesus of Nazareth also omits a suggestion he had once made at a General Audience in 2006. (In Catholic theology, papal statements made in General Audiences are not viewed as infallible magisterial doctrinal definitions.)

Yet, I have to confess, it seems highly unlikely to me that the evangelist is making a big deal out of the fact that Jesus and Peter use different words for love here. Why? Because elsewhere these words are used interchangeably in John.

A few representative passages from John are then explored by Barber to make that latter point. As an aside regarding Benedict’s seeming agreement with the agape/phileo distinction in his 2006 talk: it’s not certain that his views changed over time, or that he ever held that view personally; it’s possible that an associate of Benedict may have had a hand in composing this General Audience talk (it’s a common practice). It’s far more likely that the 2011 Jesus of Nazareth book reflects Benedict’s actual view on the passage, as that series of books was very personal to him, and unlikely to have been ghostwritten in any way.

Barber then returns to the John 21 passage to make the point that, even in biblical studies, often the simplest and most obvious explanation is the most likely. And here, it’s simply this: just as Peter denied Jesus three times (John 18), Jesus restores him three times (John 21). That’s it. Barber correctly notes that Peter’s hurt because of the third time Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, echoing Peter’s third denial (just as Jesus had prophesied).

Peter’s not hurt because he thinks Jesus has “downgraded” his expectations for Peter from unconditional, self-giving love (agape) to mere friendship (phileo), as if Jesus is saying, “I’ll take what I can get from you at this point, Peter. I know mere friendship is where you’re at with me right now, although I’m not even sure of that — but you’ll give your life for me later. You’ll get there.”

Barber also correctly points out that both events (Peter’s threefold denial and restoration) take place over a charcoal fire — the only two times that term, incidentally, is used in the New Testament.

So, preachers: no more bad homilies on this passage, K? You’ve been schooled.

By the way, Dr. Barber and his companions over at The Sacred Page (Dr. Brant Pitre, Dr. John Bergsma, and Dr. John Sehorn) are all great scholars, and are just killing it on their newly revamped blog. Go check it out; it’s well worth your time.

After Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, Jesus’ opponents want to destroy Lazarus as well, as he drew many to faith in Christ. Lazarus, in so many ways, is a model disciple, and we need to follow his example.

Don’t forget to share this post and subscribe to our YouTube channel!

(My latest for Catholic Answers Magazine.)

These days I take a lot of heat for my name.

When I introduce myself as “Cale”, I quickly have to add, “not spelled like the vegetable.” This often leads to a bit of repartee, in which I explain that my father was a big fan of the famed race-car driver Cale Yarborough. Eating Kale wasn’t really a thing when I was born, but now that it is, perhaps I should change my name to “Arugula.”

This sometimes gets me thinking about some of the more unique names in the Gospels, like that of St. Bartholomew, whose feast we celebrate on August 24th. Often it is alleged—in both scholarly and popular circles—that the Gospels are late, legendary documents written many decades after Jesus died, or that they are not based on eyewitness testimony, and, as such, are not to be trusted.

Recent studies on names in Jewish antiquity, however, give us new reasons to challenge such assumptions.

Building upon the work of the Israeli historian Tal Ilan, Richard Bauckham has compiled lists of the most popular Jewish names at the time of Jesus. In his magnificent tome, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, the famed Cambridge New Testament scholar shows that there were clear regional preferences for certain names, even within the same ethno-religious group. In Egypt, for example, the most popular Jewish names would have been different from those in Roman-occupied Palestine, where Jesus lived, even though the regions were adjacent to one another.

Greg Monette, in his book The Wrong Jesus, takes Bauckham’s list of the most popular Jewish names in Roman Palestine and applies it to the list of Jesus’ apostles in Matthew (with their respective rank in parentheses):

The names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon (1), who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother; James (11) the son of Zebedee, and John (5) his brother; Philip (61) and Bartholomew (50); Thomas and Matthew (9) the tax collector; James (11) the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus (39); Simon (1) the Cananaean, and Judas (4) Iscariot, who betrayed him” (Matt. 10:2-4).

Andrew is a Greek name, and therefore unranked, although he may have had another, more common Semitic name. Thomas’ name is Aramaic for “twin” and is likely his nickname, and therefore also was not ranked.

This explains why there are always “qualifiers” applied to figures in the Gospels who have extremely common names. “Simon”, as the list above shows, was the most popular Palestinian Jewish male name in Jesus’ day—hence the need to differentiate “Simon, who is called Peter (the name bestowed on him by Jesus, meaning “Rock”)” from “Simon the Cananaean”. Bartholomew owned only the fiftieth most popular name, and Philip had the sixty-first, so there was no danger, really, of confusing them with anyone else in the apostolic band. Hence, they could be identified by only one name.

Other common qualifiers included one’s father’s name, known as a patronymic, such as “Simon Bar-Jonah” (Matt. 16:17). The Aramaic “Bar,” of course, means “son of”. Place of origin was another differentiator; hence “Jesus of Nazareth.” By the way, in case you were wondering, “Jesus,” which is the same name as “Joshua” (or “Yehoshua” in Hebrew, meaning “God saves”), was the sixth most popular name at the time.

Why does all of this matter? Because it shows once again that the Gospels cohere with the way things really were at the time, making their historical accuracy much more likely.

If the Gospels, as critics allege, were really written many decades after the events in question and made up out of whole cloth, what would be the likelihood they would have picked the right names for their “characters”?  This idea is akin to someone today penning a fictional story set a century ago in another country—one might have a hard time coming up with historically accurate names for that place, at that time. Of course, Google could help with this, but imagine trying to do that almost 2,000 years ago on your own! It would be technically possible, but highly unlikely.

The fact that the Gospels do display accurate first century Palestinian Jewish names is a mark of authenticity, making it extremely likely that they were indeed written very close in time to the historical events they narrate, and that they reflect eyewitness testimony.

One might argue, “Perhaps the names and accounts were still fabricated—but by contemporaries, not someone coming along several decades later.” One major problem with that objection is that  and could have set the record straight as the Gospels began to circulate. In this scenario, they might have gotten the names right, but the events of Jesus’ career couldn’t have been fudged, with so many eyewitnesses who could have easily refuted such reports, were they not factual.

Before we go, I want to talk about Bartholomew in particular (it is his feast day, after all). Who was he, really?

This has proved to be a somewhat difficult question to answer. He’s a bit of a man of mystery, so he isn’t necessarily the most popular of Jesus’ disciples today. His first post-New Testament mention isn’t until the fourth-century Ecclesiastical History by Eusebius, which states that he, at some point, may have been evangelizing in India. Various accounts of his martyrdom have also been proffered.

To further complicate things, we’re not absolutely sure what his real name was. Many scholars have historically claimed that Bartholomew was the same person as Nathanael, who famously scoffed at the idea that the Messiah could hail from Nazareth (John 1:43-51). One reason that scholars believed this is that Nathanael, who is never mentioned in the Synoptics (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), appears in John’s Gospel, while Bartholomew, present in the Synoptics, is never mentioned in John. In the lists of the apostles in the Synoptics, Bartholomew’s name follows Philip’s, implying a connection between them—and it is Philip, in John’s Gospel, who introduces his friend Nathanael to Jesus.

But Bauckham cautions us about being too dogmatic about this. As we saw earlier, name differentiators were often used when a person’s given name was very common. Bartholomew’s name means “Bar-Tolmei”, or “son of Tolmei,” and the name Tolmei/Bartholomew was only the fiftieth most common name. So, Bauckham reasons, if one was going to use such a unique name as a replacement, that would indicate he had a common given name. But that would seem to rule out Nathanael as a name, since it was already an uncommon name in Israel. In fact, tied with Bartholomew for fiftieth place. In other words, there shouldn’t have been a need for Nathanael to call himself Bartholomew at all to differentiate himself from anyone else among Jesus’ apostles.

Perhaps ol’ “Bart” and “Nate” aren’t the same person after all—or maybe they are! We may not have absolute certainty about that issue this side of heaven, but we can take heart in the fact that the Jewish names in the Gospels are marks of authenticity for these books. And we can still celebrate the feast of St. Bartholomew with a great meal, perhaps even serving up some kale—or maybe arugula, instead.

1 Corinthians

Over the next few weeks, the second reading at Sunday Mass will be taken from Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians). This week, we read the first few verses of chapter one:

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God,
and Sosthenes our brother,
to the church of God that is in Corinth,
to you who have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy,
with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours.
Grace to you and peace from God our Father
and the Lord Jesus Christ.

(1 Cor 1:1-3)

Here’s some background on the letter. As scholar Richard Hays points out, anytime we read one of the New Testament letters, we are really reading someone else’s mail! Of course, these documents have been canonized as sacred scripture, and are indeed the Word of God. So, there is always a message from the Lord for us when we read them. But in another sense, as Hays notes, Paul probably would have preferred that some of the “issues” the believers of Corinth were dealing with were not broadcast to the ages. There’s a lot of embarrassing stuff here – everything from sexual immorality within the congregation, to lawsuits among church members, to divisions, factions and personality cults; and much more.

Thankfully for us, this letter was preserved, because it reminds us that there really was no “golden age” in Church history, even in the beginning, where everything was perfect and all were perfectly holy. We in today’s Catholic Church are still dealing with the same old sins. Human nature is no different. “The more things change, the more they stay the same”, as the saying goes. We can use Paul’s letter to figure out how best to deal with problems like these in today’s Church.

And thankfully for us, God’s grace is still just as powerful now as it ever was back then. God is still in the business of salvation and redemption. As Paul notes in today’s reading, the Corinthians (and us) are “sanctified in Christ Jesus, and called to be holy” (1 Cor 1:2).

But, what does being called to holiness really mean?

This Sunday’s Gospel (John 1:29-34) reminds us that Jesus pours out the Holy Spirit on us in Christian baptism. And our baptism calls us to two things, which can never be accomplished without the help of God’s powerful Spirit : 1) Holiness (becoming a saint); and 2) Apostolate (sharing our faith and helping others to become saints, too). Let’s focus briefly on the first point, that of holiness.

As one writer is fond of saying, becoming a saint means becoming “the best version of yourself”. It also means becoming more like Jesus Christ, who is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). It is Jesus’ truth and life poured through our unique personalities, situations, and vocations. But we must cooperate with Jesus in this process. God does the heavy lifting, of course, but it doesn’t happen without effort and willingness on our part.

As St. Josemaria Escriva wrote:

“They have the stuff of saints in them.” At times you hear this said of some people. Apart from the fact that the saints were not made of “stuff”, to have “stuff” is not sufficient. A great spirit of obedience to your (spiritual) Director and great readiness to respond to grace are essential. For, if you don’t allow God’s grace and your Director to do their work, there will never appear the finished sculpture, Christ’s image, into which the saintly man is fashioned. And the “stuff” of which we were speaking will be no more than a heap of shapeless matter, fit only for the fire…for a good fire, if it was good “stuff”!

(The Way, No. 56).

John 21

Q. This Sunday’s Gospel is taken from John 21. Does this chapter have any implications for the papacy?

A. Other texts, like Matthew 16, are often cited in this regard, but John 21 has one of the strongest proofs for the ongoing role of the office of Peter in the universal Church. Even non-Catholic scholars recognize this.

Q. Does the miraculous catch of fish in this chapter have anything to do with the Petrine office?

A. Fishing, of course, wasn’t just the former trade of the apostles; it represents their evangelistic mission of being “fishers of men”. The unbroken net conveys the unity of the one Catholic (universal) Church. Elsewhere, when Jesus provides a miraculous draught of fish, the nets begin to break from the strain; here, the nets are intact. Peter, dragging the net ashore, evokes his leadership in bringing the Church safely home to Christ, even to the shores of Heaven itself.

Interestingly, although the catch was so big that the disciples struggled to bring the nets aboard, almost sinking their boat, Peter now easily drags the net ashore all by himself. The Greek verb in the original text that is used to describe Peter’s dragging of the net is the same one used by Jesus in John 12:32. This is where Jesus says that, as he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all people to himself.

Q. Why does the text mention specifically that 153 fish were caught?

A. By far, the most puzzling aspect of the passage is the reference to the 153 fish. First of all, this is an authentic eyewitness detail. On a secondary level, many commentators have proffered various theories to explain what this number might symbolize (John’s Gospel functions on “two levels” – there is often a secondary, “heavenly” meaning to earthly events). Most of these interpretations suggest the idea of the universality or completeness of the catch.

So, to sum up: we have Peter, alone, dragging the unbroken net of a universal catch to the shores of heaven. This is clearly a reference to his position as leader of the Church on earth.

When you add to all of this the threefold charge of Jesus to Peter (“Feed my Sheep”) that immediately follows, the picture is complete. Peter is singularly (in the original Greek text) given this responsibility to shepherd the universal Church. Keep in mind also that this event is recounted in the same Gospel in which Jesus describes himself as the “Good Shepherd” (John 10). Before his Ascension, Jesus here reaffirms Peter’s unique leadership position, passing the earthly reins of the Church to him.

This Sunday’s Gospel (for the Fourth Sunday of Lent) is one of the most famous passages, if not the most famous passage, in the entire Bible. The passage in question, of course, is from Chapter Three of John’s Gospel. This section contains the single most memorable verse in Scripture for most people in the culture at large. This, of course, is John 3:16:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish, but might have eternal life.

One reason this verse is so ubiquitous is that it’s often displayed on “bedsheet banners” at sporting events. It has been called “the Bible in a nutshell” and “the Gospel in a nutshell”. And this is Good News indeed: by Jesus’ Passion, death, and Resurrection, God has made it possible for us to obtain forgiveness of our sins and attain eternal life and friendship with God.

But one thing that many people don’t focus on is what comes after John 3:16. So many remember John 3:16, but so few think about John 3:18, which, we musn’t forget, is just as much God’s word as John 3:16 is. Here’s John 3:18:

Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.

The “flipside” of the Good News is the Bad News: not everyone goes to heaven. In fact, the Good News of the Gospel wouldn’t be so good if that sad truth were not a reality.

And people, if they are thinking properly, absolutely cannot blame God for the fact that many are not saved. As a priest friend said in a homily last week, God had a choice: to either create a world with love, or a world without love. To love requires freedom. Freedom means that one can say “no”. No to God, and no to love. “The door to hell is locked from the inside”, wrote C.S. Lewis. In other words, people send themselves to hell by freely rejecting the salvation Christ offers.

This should cause us to redouble our efforts to not only do penance for family and friends who are far from the Lord this Lent, but to share the Good News with them, too!

images-1In this Sunday’s Gospel, we hear the account of the woman caught in adultery in John 8:1-11. In my Bible, there is a textual note that explains that the earliest manuscripts of John that have been discovered do not contain this pericope. Does that mean that it didn’t actually happen?

No. The fact that early manuscripts may not have contained the account does not mean that it didn’t occur in the career of Jesus. The incident is certainly in keeping with what we know of the person and character of Jesus (not to mention that of his opponents). Besides, it is the final form of the texts that were canonized as Scripture, not the texts in their various stages of development.

First, Jesus is presented with a difficult dilemma. “Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?’ They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him.”

The utter hypocrisy (a sin Jesus has accused them of many times) of the scribes and Pharisees is obvious. If this woman was literally “caught in the act” of adultery, there is a very good chance that they themselves had known about the affair beforehand. Presumably, they may have been able to stop her – to reason with her, that she should stop this gravely sinful activity. If they had truly been concerned for the woman’s soul, they would have. Instead, they wait and spring a trap for her, so that they can use her as bait to ensnare Jesus. There is also the chilling possibility they themselves “set up” the whole illicit affair in the first place. Plus, where is the guilty male party? Why wan’t he “brought in for questioning”, too? At any rate, Jesus’ accusers are far from free of sin themselves.

The reason why this is dangerous for Jesus is this: if Jesus says, “Let her go”, he would be considered a lawbreaker, and therefore could not in fact be the Messiah. The Mosaic Law did indeed indicate that the woman ought to have been killed (cf. Lev. 20:10, Deut 22:22). On the other hand, if Jesus doesn’t forgive her, and agrees with the death penalty in her case, what of his reputation for mercy?

Let me interrupt you for a moment. What was Jesus writing with his finger on the ground?

Many commentators have proffered theories on this. Some say he was writing out the Ten Commandments; others believe he was spelling out the personal sins of the accusers. All of this might make for good preaching, but the truth is, no one knows. Interestingly, this is the only time the New Testament mentions Jesus writing.

In any case, Jesus’ reply is brilliant. “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Only the Sinless One – Jesus himself – can be her judge. All of the accusers drop their weapons of stone and go home, beginning with the eldest (who, because of their life experience and wisdom, realized first the truth of Jesus’ words). Yet Jesus does not “paper over” or excuse the woman’s grave, sinful behavior. He forgives, but his is not a cheap grace. “Go and sin no more”. Reform your life. Convert. This is what Lent is all about.

After attending the Mass of the Lord’s Supper tonight, commemorating the institution of the Mass that first Holy Thursday, many stayed in a silent vigil with our Eucharistic Lord. While praying before the altar of repose, I reflected on what Jesus taught his Apostles that night. As always, he lived his own teaching, his words matching his deeds exactly. He had told them, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). And that love should be manifested in humble service. Christ demonstrated it by taking on the role reserved for the lowest servant: the Lord of the universe washed his disciples’ feet.

This Easter, what may wind up convincing people of the truth of our faith may not be the impressive array of arguments at our disposal that authenticate the Resurrection of Jesus as a historical event, although we should use them whenever we can. It may in fact be something less intellectual, but no less real: our love and service on behalf of others, in Jesus’ name. Some are “caught” by the head; others, by the heart.

The recent Solemnity of Saint Joseph on March 19 was a welcome feast within Lent – and we’ll have another one next week: the Annunciation. When contemplating Saint Joseph, one of the many interesting unanswered questions about him is this: How old was he? Was he an older man who served as a guardian to the Virgin, or was he younger and more robust? I’ll lay out the two competing views in the next couple of posts. First up: the view that he was older.

The Eastern wing of the Church has traditionally held that Saint Joseph was an older man, who betrothed and married Mary not for the purposes of romance, but protection – to be her legal guardian, as it were. The thinking here is that Mary had always planned on remaining a virgin dedicated to the service of God. Admittedly, this was a relatively rare position to take in Israel in the first century. But there are other examples, even in the same generation: Jesus himself (obviously), Saint Paul, and some of the Essenes, for starters. One could also add the prophetess Anna mentioned by Luke (2:36-38), who, although briefly married in her youth, lived out the rest of her days worshipping in the temple, consecrating herself to the Lord. She ostensibly could have sought remarriage, but didn’t. Mary may have been planning a similar life for herself.

But being an unmarried woman in the first century, especially if one was without extended family members to rely upon, may have been a precarious position to be in. Having a guardian, in the form of an older Saint Joseph, would have been a boon. Mary’s question to the archangel Gabriel, when told she would be the mother of the Messiah (“How can this be, since I am a virgin?” – Lk 1:34) is quite an odd question for an engaged woman to ask. Gabriel has said nothing at this point about the conception of Jesus being miraculous in nature – he does that a few verses later. Odd, that is – unless she was planning on remaining a virgin all along.

The concept of Joseph as an older man also carries explanatory power in other ways: most notably, it explains his absence from the adult ministry of Jesus. The presumption is that he had died by this point. Although the mother of Jesus is mentioned at key points in the ministry of the Lord, Joseph is nowhere to be found. This is felt most acutely at the crucifixion, where Jesus gives the care of his mother into the hands of – not Joseph, but the apostle John – inconceivable if Joseph had been living at the time (Jn 19:26-27). As well, in some strains of this tradition, Joseph is said to have been a widower, whose first wife had died some time before, when he married the Virgin. This may shed some light on who the alleged “brothers and sisters” of Jesus might have been. Certainly, they were not other children of Mary, but they may have been Joseph’s children from his previous marriage.

What do you think? Sound off in the comments box, but don’t forget to stay tuned for the other side of the argument, which I haven’t even presented yet – that Joseph was a much younger man. We’ll tackle that argument in the next post.