Come Forth - Book Review Gerry OShea
I recall a
fine priest who ministered when I was young in my home parish in Kenmare,
County Kerry. In response to perennial
questions about God’s role in the human condition, his usual answer was,
“It is all a mystery.” For example, one parishioner approached him for an
explanation of how a merciful God would condemn anyone to eternal damnation. A
number of others spoke of their bewilderment about why a loving and personal
God tolerated so much abject poverty and destitution among his creatures all
over the world.
In reviewing
James Martin’s recent book Come Forth, which deals with what many
consider Jesus’ greatest miracle, the raising of Lazarus from the dead, I
thought of the priest from my childhood.
Delving into the whys and wherefores of this
amazing biblical event, Martin wonders why, despite Christ’s promise, “Ask and
you shall receive—- knock, and the door shall be opened—for everyone who asks
receives,” this rarely seems to work in practice.
He examines various perspectives proposed over
the centuries that might throw light on this question, specifically about why the
recitation of prayers does not seem to diminish human suffering. Thousands of
children die from malnutrition every day, no matter how long people pray for some
miraculous happening that would give them a shot at life. How do you explain
away Jesus’ assurance that every sincere prayer will be answered?
Fr. Martin writes about “a mysterious God” who is not
bound by the laws of logic, a somewhat evasive perspective that many will find
unsatisfactory. His response reminded me of the kicking-for-touch wisdom of the
Kenmare priest from long ago.
In his last
book, Learning to Pray, Fr. Martin challenges readers to appreciate the
multiple possibilities for prayer in their lives. This book highlights the many
dimensions of a relationship with God, including the depressing dark nights
described by Mother Theresa, who, because of her absorption with helping the
poor, is now correctly deemed a saint.
Come
Forth is a
continuation of his book on prayer. Both stress engagement with God as an
experience of friendship with the divine. Acknowledging God is understood as
central to the human experience, encompassing mystery (that word again!) and
sometimes disappointment as well as rare periods of ecstasy.
The first question
that Fr. Martin confronts concerning the Bible story in St. John’s Gospel about
Lazarus concerns its historicity: Did it actually happen, or was it a story
concocted in the early years of the new religion to promote the belief that
Christ was divine? Most Christians have no doubt that Jesus raised his friend
Lazarus from the dead, and the author, a Jesuit priest, affirms this belief.
However, he
brings up some powerful questions that suggest the matter is far more complex.
How can we explain that this event, considered the greatest miracle in the four
gospels, is only mentioned in John’s story? Sceptics point with wonderment to
this extraordinary happening where a man was revived who was dead for four days
and lay in the tomb for two of those. How could the other gospel writers skip
that amazing tale in writing about Christ’s life?
Perhaps the
most engaging answer provided in the book suggests that the three Synoptic
gospels are more concerned about Christ’s Galilean ministry, while John was
focused on Judea. Matthew, Mark and Luke may have thought that Jesus’ power to
raise the dead was sufficiently demonstrated in Capernaum (Jairus’s daughter)
and Nain (the widow’s son).
The
distinguished English writer Catherine Nixey, in her just-published book Heresy,
Jesus Christ and the Other Sons of God, provides a very different
perspective on belief in miracles at the time the Gospels were written.
Her writing points to numerous healing stories,
including resurrecting the dead, that were common among different cultures in
the Middle East in those years, but she considers that all these stories lack
credibility. “By the first century AD, being revived from death was a common
phenomenon,” she writes early in her book.
Miss Nixey,
who was raised a Catholic by her parents, a former nun and monk, has left the
church for many years, and in this book, she proudly proclaims that she is an
atheist, seemingly determined to disabuse Christians of what she considers
their unfounded anti-intellectual beliefs.
Fr. Martin concentrates
on Lazarus and his two sisters and their interplay with Jesus; Martha is seen
as the activist who focused on providing hospitality for him, while Mary,
sitting near him, was the contemplative who massaged his feet with oil. Martha complained
to her sister and to Jesus that she was not pulling her weight with the
household chores. This criticism evoked a mild but memorable riposte from their
friend that Mary had chosen the better part.
Surprisingly,
none of the three got married at a time when Jewish culture stressed the
importance of having children. The author wonders if this was due to some
family disease or disability.
Martha
declares that her friend, Jesus, is the “Messiah and the Son of the living God,”
a major biblical proclamation that Fr Martin analyzes in detail. He teases out
various interpretations of the word Messiah, quoting the distinguished scholar
Raymond Brown as explaining that it meant “the expected king of the house of
David.”
He continues
with a learned disquisition about the messianic title, which is central to
understanding the New Testament. This is followed by Martha’s second affirmation,
that he is the Son of God. Catherine Nixey writes that this was a common title widely
used in the early years of the common era. Fr. Martin explains clearly its
Christian significance claiming its equivalence with the term Messiah.
Jim Martin
is honored by progressive Catholics for taking a strong public stand in favor of
full church rights for the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer)
community. He ran into fierce opposition among Catholics for his outspoken
support of what was – and still is - an unpopular stance. He was vilified because
many practicing Catholics, following the pulpit teaching in their churches, disapprove
of intimate relationships outside the binary male-female paradigm.
He met with
Pope Francis, a fellow Jesuit, who seemed to approve of his diligent work while
still publicly subscribing to a very narrow definition of gender and sexuality.
It would be interesting to read Fr. Martin’s reflections on these contradictions.
Each chapter
ends with thoughtful questions for discussion. Clearly, the author wants to
engage his audience in grappling with the profound issues raised in the book.
Come
Forth is a
well-researched book on Jesus’ relationship with Lazarus and his sisters Mary
and Martha.
Gerry
OShea blogs at wemustbetalking.com
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