by CCW | 28 July 2013 17:03
Ignorant about what? Ignorant about what belongs to the nature of our identity in Christ. But, we are, I am afraid, only too ignorant. And because of our ignorance we are easily “overthrown in the wilderness” of our lives, both individually and corporately. The good news is that even the things of our ignorance can be used to bring us to understanding, to the understanding of the good and to the doing of all “such things as be rightful”, as the Collect puts it.
In the witness of the Scriptures, we have the stories of the ignorance of our humanity written out for us to read just so that we will not be quite so ignorant. “These things”, Paul tells us in his to First Letter the Corinthians, a people remarkable for their willful ignorance, we might say, “were our examples”. And they still are “our examples”. What things? The things belonging to our identity in the body of Christ which we have ignored and denied. But in making such things known to us, we may learn “not to lust after evil things, as they also lusted”. He has in mind the stories of Israel’s wandering in the wilderness; in particular, the stories of disbelief and complaint on the part of Israel towards Moses and, more significantly, towards God.
Paul is doing two things here. First, he is saying that these formative stories of the people of Israel are things from which we can learn. They are “our examples”. Secondly, he is saying something even more significant. He is saying that we are in these stories. The Old Testament stories actually belong to the story of our life in Christ. Paul sees in the wilderness journeys of the ancient people of Israel something which both anticipates and participates in the definitive journey of human redemption signaled and accomplished in the passion of Christ. He is providing an interpretative approach to the reading of the Scriptures.
Israel’s traveling under the cloud of God’s providential care, Israel’s crossing of the Red Sea, Israel’s being fed in the wilderness – all these things have their ultimate meaning in the sacrifice of Christ and in our sacramental life in Christ. It is a very strong and astounding claim. “They”, meaning those Old Testament figures, “did all eat the same spiritual food, and did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that spiritual rock that followed them; and that rock was Christ”. The specific reference is to Moses, striking the rock at Massah, as well as the provisions of quail and Manna, bread from heaven for the complaining and despairing people of Israel. Such provisions are themselves the sacramental signifiers of how the ancient people of Israel participate in the fullness of God’s redemptive work for all peoples.
“That rock was Christ”. It is a loaded theological statement. These events of the Old Testament are seen in the light of the crucifixion of Christ, not just as a foreshadowing of the passion, but as part of the passion itself, as actually participating in the passion of Christ. “Out of the pierced side of the crucified Christ flow the sacraments of the Church,” the sacraments of baptism and eucharist.
Without this way of thinking we are indeed, “overthrown in the wilderness” of contemporary life. Why? Because we will not see how our lives have their meaning and truth in the story of God written out for us to read most fully in the story of Christ. Our agnosticism very quickly leads to our atheism.
Paul’s word here for ignorance is αγνοειν, meaning our unknowing, or more literally, our agnosticism. The Gospel story which accompanies this Epistle reading brings out a further dimension to the forms of our agnosticism, namely, a certain kind of willful unknowing, our atheism, as it were, especially practical atheism which is about our acting without regard for God and truth and more with respect to power, self-interest and what we think we can get away with.
Here is where the Gospel comes into the picture. The marvel of the Gospel parable, known as “the parable of the unrighteous steward,” is that it is essentially an example about what not to be and what not to do. It points explicitly to that deeper principle of human redemption accomplished in Christ which always remains to be realized in us. We are given the very positive lesson about acting with prudence (φρονιμως) along with the very negative lesson about unrighteousness or, as I am suggesting, practical atheism. Against that, prudence is very much a kind of practical wisdom. It is about dealing with the things of this world with a view to the ultimate principle of the being and knowing of all things in God. In the Christian view, prudence is about a kind of participation in the divine reason.
We are all stewards, those to whom things have been entrusted. But to what end? For our own immediate ends and purposes? No. The concept of stewardship implies an obligation and a commitment to something greater than ourselves. Does that make us slaves, having no interest and no enjoyment in making proper use of the things of this world? No, and for two reasons; first, it would mean that the good things of the world are not seen in relation to a divine purpose in which they find their perfection, and, secondly, we ourselves would not be seen as participants in the divine will for the created order of which we are a part.
As stewards there is the principle of accountability to the Master or Lord. That is what it means to be a steward. And yet, somehow, there is a wonderful freedom found in our acting in accord with the will of the Master. We are not simply or merely servants but also friends who have been bidden to partake of the communion of the body and blood of Christ. This puts everything in a new light and challenges how we think about our lives. Paul rightly and properly calls us “brethren”, a familiar term signifying a greater dignity, the dignity of our identity and fellowship in Christ.
In the Gospel, the Master “praised the unrighteous steward”, not for being unrighteous, but because of his prudence with respect to his own immediate and future self-interest. In a way, he marvels at the steward’s actions which are about the misuse of his master’s goods to be sure; he is literally giving away what is not his. Yet, here is the great marvel, even such things can be an example, a lesson about how to act properly and honestly with due diligence and concern by using the things of this world for God and, in turn, finding our truth and blessedness. The things of this world are “the mammon of unrighteousness” when we treat them as ends in themselves. We are called to use such things with a view towards our end in God and with a view towards how the things of this world ultimately find their truth in God. It is about an honest view of reality – seeing the world as God’s world and discovering the nature of our identity in Christ.
The Epistle puts it ever so strongly with its inescapable sacramental imagery. “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ?” Think about it. Bread and wine, the products of human labour through working with the good order of God’s creation, the wheat from the fields and grapes from the vineyards, become something more, the means of our actual and real participation in the life of Christ. Canadians, and Maritimers, in particular, like to think of themselves as a practical people. Can there be a better or greater example of practical wisdom, of prudence, of the use of things of this world with respect to our life in Christ? He is our rock and our righteousness. In the words of St. Paul,
Fr. David Curry
Christ Church & St.George’s, Falmouth
Trinity IX, 2013
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