Category: Ordinary Time Year B

There is an idiom, still in use today, known as “a king’s ransom”.

It speaks of a large amount of money used to purchase an object/s.

Today an alternate phrase might well be “megabucks”

The idiom has its origins in the Middle Ages, (approximately from the 5th to the late 15th centuries.)

Nobility captured in battle were often held for ransom. The higher-ranking the nobleman, the larger the ransom demanded. The biggest ransom of all would be demanded for a king, as was done with King Richard I of England. So “a king’s ransom” means a lot of money!

Richard I, known as Richard Cœur de Lion or Richard the Lionheart because of his reputation as a great military leader and warrior, was King of England from 1189 until his death in 1199.

As king, Richard’s chief ambition was to join the Third Crusade, prompted by Saladin’s capture of Jerusalem in 1187. To finance this, he sold sheriffdoms and other offices and in 1190 he departed for the Holy Land.

Although he came close, Jerusalem, the crusade’s main objective, eluded him. Moreover, fierce quarrels among the French, German and English contingents provided further troubles. After a year’s stalemate, Richard made a truce with Saladin and started his journey home.

Bad weather drove him ashore near Venice and he was imprisoned by Duke Leopold of Austria before being handed over to the German emperor Henry VI, who ransomed him for the huge sum of 150,000 marks (equivalent to about 2 billion British pounds).

Today, as Church, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King.

Of all the titles we could bestow on Jesus that of a ‘king’ would seem to be one of the least appropriate.

When we think of, or imagine, a king we think of a throne, a crown, a palace, great wealth, power, prestige, a retinue of servants, and of course an army!
None of these are visible in the life and ministry of Jesus.

We see him walking the dusty roads of Palestine. He is surrounded by the poor and the sick, by outcasts and sinners.

The very persons officials would shoo away from the presence of today’s king(s) are the very ones Jesus calls near.

And, indeed, He paid a ‘King’s ransom’!

He did not sit on a throne, clothed in regal attire.

Rather he hung naked on a tree, “After they crucified him, they divided up his clothes among them by drawing lots.” (Mtt. 27: 35)

‘Disembodiment is not an option for the Christian.’ This statement by visual artist Edward Knippers is a guiding principle in his work. This is an illustration by Edward, titled “The Crucifixion”.

Calvin and Hobbes is a daily comic strip that was written and illustrated by American cartoonist, Bill Watterson.

It follows the humorous antics of Calvin a precocious and adventurous six-year-old boy, and Hobbes, his sardonic stuffed tiger.

The pair is named after John Calvin, a 16th-century French Reformation theologian, and Thomas Hobbes, a 17th-century English political philosopher.
In one cartoon strip Calvin is holding a plate out to his mother. She is busy dividing up the only piece of pie left from yesterday.

Calvin shouts “I want the last piece of pie! Don’t divide it up. Give it all to ME.” Sound a bit like Elijah from this Sunday’s First Reading?

Mum says, “Don’t be selfish, Calvin.” The boy answers, “So the real message here is ‘be dishonest?’”

His mother freezes for a moment, then hands the whole piece of pie to him.

The widow in the story from the first Book of Kings (1Kgs 17: 10 – 16) has “only a handful of flour” in her jar and “a little oil” in her jug. She was collecting wood to cook the very last meal she and her young son would ever eat. After that they would die of starvation and thirst.

In effect, Elijah was demanding their last meal for himself.

Elijah calls out to her again, “The God of Israel says, ‘The jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, until the day when the Lord sends rain upon the earth.’”

God will keep the vessels full until the drought is over.

Our widow has only these puzzling words to rely on. But rely on them she does. She bakes the tiny bit of bread, in front of the wide eyes of her son, and takes all of it, every bit of it, to Elijah.

Does this story make sense? No.

Is there an answer? Yes.

This widow knew God so well that she trusted in God’s goodness even in the face of impending death.

Her last act would be one of trust.

An essential quality of trust is to release our own control of things. When the chips are down, let go and let God. Even in your last extremity. And so, after all, God had sent Elijah to help the widow, not rob her. But she had to trust first.

In the Gospel (Mk. 12: 38 – 44) a second widow illustrates the same kind of trust, putting the last two pennies she had to her name into the collection box. Jesus sees it happen and sees the depth of her faith.

I suppose the question now turns to you and me. How much do we trust God?

How much flour and oil am I ready to give over?

How many pennies am I ready to give up?

As human persons we have the most unusual of metaphors when describing love.

Here are a few that come to mind:

“I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m head over heels for you.”

“You mean the world to me.”

“I adore you.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“You’re everything to me.”

“You’re the light of my life.”

“I’m falling in love.”

None of them sounds terribly metaphysical! Many, indeed, sound very physical, e.g. ‘head over heels’ and ‘falling in love’.

An intriguing characteristic of the mystics describing their relationship with their God is its sensual quality.

When we dip into the writings of many of these women and men, e.g. Origen, Bernard of Clairvaux, Teresa of Ávila, Catherine of Siena, John of the Cross we are “confronted” with the “erotic” dimension of the spiritual life.

Their writings very much touch on the inner experience of eros: there is desire, yearning, passion, pleasure, excitement, intensity, and ecstasy available in the mystical relationship between human and divine.

Many mystics, even male mystics, envisioned themselves as “brides” of Christ.

Almost from the beginning of the Christian era, mystics and saints and theologians and spiritual teachers have reflected on one of the most beautiful and poetic of the “wisdom writings” in the Bible to explore the mystery of the love of God and how that love seeks intimacy with us, God’s human creatures.

I am referring to the Song of Songs, also known as the Song of Solomon or the Canticle of Canticles.

It is not so much a “book” as a poem or extended lyric; it’s short — only 8 chapters and barely over 100 verses long.

The book never directly mentions God at all.

Instead, on the surface, it is a love poem — and a deeply sensual, subtly erotic love poem at that.

So why, of all the spiritual and philosophical riches in scripture, would this be the book that the mystics and other God-seekers turn to, again and again?

It speaks most directly of union, and that is the experience these women and men have, in turn, experienced with their God!

Which leaves us with two questions, “Have I fallen head over heels in love with my God? and, “Have I allowed my God to fall head over heels in love with me?”

Or, as our Gospel of today (Mk. 12: 28 – 34) says, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” (v 29,30)

“I won’t take no for an answer,”
God began to say
to me

when He opened His arms each night
wanting us to
dance.

(Catherine of Siena 1347 – 1380)

I know I am really showing my age when I make mention of the cartoon strip known as Peanuts.

Created by the American cartoonist Charles Schultz, the cartoon strip featured characters like Charlie Brown, Lucy and of course the dog named Snoopy.

One of the regular cartoon characters is a boy called Linus.

A feature of Linus is his persistent carrying of a blanket.

Many failed attempts are made to rid Linus of his blanket.

No one, to my knowledge has suggested introducing Linus to Bartimaeus.
Let’s watch Bartimaeus.

When he heard that Jesus was passing by, he began to shout, “Have pity on me!” People told him to shut up, he was making too much noise.

But he shouted even more.

“Call him,” Jesus said…. “Cheer up!” they told him. “On your feet, he’s calling you.”

Then, the account continues, “throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.”

He came, of course, still in the dark. Did you notice that he threw aside his cloak? It was a strange thing for a blind person to do: would he find it again?

Blind people have great trouble finding things.

Notice how carefully they place things, caressing them almost.

However, sighted people are forever throwing things around.

In throwing his cloak aside Bartimaeus acted like a sighted man.

While all the sighted people held their cloaks and their possession around them with careful fingers, he alone leaped up, threw aside his cloak and ran to meet the Lord.

‘It is a very powerful symbol of the life of faith: Bartimaeus walked in the dark.

He approached Jesus in darkness.

Faith is a kind of knowledge, yes, but it is dark knowledge.

Still, this dark knowledge sets us free, somehow, to move with confidence.

How good it would be to move without timidity, to travel through our life with freedom and joy!

A blind beggar shows us how.

Throw your cloak aside!

Jump to your feet!

Come toward Jesus in darkness!

[For those who are interested there is an occasion when Linus is free of his blanket. During an animated cartoon titled “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, Linus is centre stage responding to Charlie Brown’s urgent request, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is about?”

Linus recites Luke 2:8 – 14, and at the words “I bring you news of great joy” both his hands are empty, and the blanket sits on the floor.

Ironically, the news of great joy does not last long! As Linus leaves centre stage, he reclaims his blanket – so how long does Christmas joy last for you before you need pick up your blanket?