January 29, 2014
This is the second in a three-part series on evangelization.
As we work our way through our vision of evangelization and discipleship, we have to be critical at every level to debug the presumptions – and unintended consequences – of our approach to church involvement. If we keep raising the bar, do we not automatically at least marginalize, if not exclude, more and more “ordinary” Catholics? Is it not possible to use ideas of disciples in a more exclusive way rather than, as Jesus seems to have done, use those ideas in a more inclusive sense? Jesus reached out to tax collectors, prostitutes and those excluded by the current interpretations of holiness in his day. Some of the approach of Jesus and his followers might be helpful to reflect on.
No parable, I think, says more about life in the early Church than the Sower and the Seed. It’s the opening parable of both Mark’s and Matthew’s collections. The seed that is not productive seems to be a rather straight description of those things that led followers away from their commitments to Christ: wealth, shallowness or fear of persecution. But of the seed that is productive, there clearly seems to be a sense of gradation: not all the seed produces the same. As Mark puts it: “It came up and grew and yielded thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.” And Mark wryly adds: “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear (Mark 4:8-9.” Matthew varies the words just slightly, making the same point: “But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear (Matthew 13:8).”
We note carefully: it is the good seed the produces in varying quantities. We hear “thirty, sixty, one-hundred,” but are we not also encouraged by the parable to hear “ten, twenty, forty, or seventy”? In other words, the increased productivity of one range of seeds does not exclude the lesser productivity of the other seeds. This indicates a wide acceptance, in the early Church, of different levels of discipleship, without there being an assumption that everyone had to fulfill the highest expectations – that everyone had to produce a hundredfold. Surely there’s a huge difference between the seed that falls on bad soil, yielding nothing, and seed that produces. But that should not obscure our noticing the differences produced by seed that falls on good ground.
In Mark 12, Jesus is approached by a scribe who overhears how well Jesus is responding to those who were disputing with him. The scribe asks Jesus about the greatest commandment. When the scribe endorses the answer Jesus gave, Matthew tells us then “…Jesus saw that [he] answered with understanding, [and] he said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God (12:34).’” This phrase deserves to be tossed around in our apostolic minds for quite some time. Obviously the scribe belonged to a group that is, as Matthew says, “disputing” with Jesus. All the scribe does is recite back what Jesus said to him. Yet this seems to be enough for Jesus to recognize the scribe as somehow drawing close to the Kingdom of God. In other words, wherever insight comes, it should be recognized and celebrated.
Even more, Matthew’s great parable of the final judgment (Matthew 25:31 ff.) should give all believers pause. In this image, the king gathers all the nations of the world (the word “nation” has a special kick for Jewish thinkers because they were the “gentiles” and, therefore, presumably not chosen) and divides them as a shepherd might, between sheep and goats. When the King narrates why the sheep are entering the Kingdom (because the fed, clothed, and visited him), the hearers are shocked. “When did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?” In other words, the righteous, the saved, are not even aware that they are doing the king’s will. They are not even aware of their righteousness, or even all the motives for righteousness. Of course, they fed, gave water, helped, and visited. The accursed, the goats, did not do these things for Christ’s “least ones.” Can it be that people are involved in God’s grace without even the dimmest recognition of it? Can it be that God’s grace is far wider than those who are consciously followers, and, even more, than those who are “intentionally” followers of Christ?
Luke’s “Good Thief” should make us ask what and whom in his community this unexpectantly attentive criminal referred to. Were there early Christians who got only a glimmer of Christ, but that seems to have been enough? And look at Paul’s tolerance for preachers who preached out of false motives – “as long in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is being proclaimed.” How does that standard hold up when it comes to strict orthodoxy? We Catholics in particular need to recall how often, in our Eucharistic Prayers, we refer to those whose faith only God “alone” knows.