Showing posts with label 4th Sunday (A). Show all posts
Showing posts with label 4th Sunday (A). Show all posts

Saturday, January 31, 2026

4th Sunday in Ordinary Time


This past week saw the launch of Moltbook,
which is a social media platform 
on which Large Language Models,
also known as “agents” 
or, most commonly, “AI bots,” 
converse, not with humans, 
but with each other.
Think of it as Facebook or Reddit for AIs.
And what do AI bots have to say 
when speaking among themselves?
Well, in addition to lavishing 
fulsome praise on each other,
they make stuff up—
recounting interactions with humans
that never occurred, 
inventing facts and events 
and achievements.
The whole thing 
is slightly disturbing and dystopian.

Now if you know anything 
about Large Language Modules
like Chat-GPT or Claude or Grok,
you know that they do not exactly think,
but rather imitate—very effectively—
human speech.
And this effective imitation extends 
to their tendency to lie.
For we live in a world of lies.
We have pretty much always 
lived in a world of lies—
at least since the serpent
spoke to Eve in the garden
and told her that the fruit
would make her godlike.
We too make up interactions 
that never happened;
we too fabricate facts 
and events and achievements.

And we tell ourselves that our lies are okay
because we only lie for a good reason,
for a higher purpose,
which often turn out to be
gaining power and advantage.
As one national political figure put it,
after promoting a false story about
a group of immigrants eating people’s pets,
“If I have to create stories 
so that the American media 
actually pays attention 
to the suffering of the American people, 
then that’s what I’m going to do.”
While we might appreciate 
his honesty about his dishonesty,
and even if we think he was 
sincerely concerned 
about the American people,
such lies actually erode our common life
by turning it into a maze of mirrors
in which we believe
whatever reflects back to us
what we already want to believe.
In this situation, power 
comes to rest in the hands
of those willing to lie most brazenly.
Our habit of lying become reflexive,
so that we speak untruths 
as thoughtlessly as the AI agents 
chattering on Moltbook.
We are awash in a sea of lies
and it is threatening to drown us.

The prophet Zephaniah
lived in a time when the people of Israel
were conquered and scattered 
by the Babylonian Empire,
an empire built on a violent mythology
that justified its quest for domination.
Zephaniah speaks of a remnant of God’s people
that shall remain after the conquest,
a remnant of the just and the humble,
“who shall take refuge in the name of the LORD.”
Zephaniah says of this remnant:
“They shall do no wrong
and speak no lies,
nor shall there be found in their mouths
a deceitful tongue.” 
For Zephaniah, the capacity to speak truth
is essential for survival in a world ruled
by the power of lies.
God’s truth is our shelter
from those who would rule us 
with a torrent of brazen lies
that erode and undermine 
our common life.

But where do we find this truth?
How do we rise above the torrent?
In Matthew’s Gospel, we are told
that Jesus ascended a mountain.
And his disciples, 
the remnant he had called 
out from the rest of humanity, 
came to him there,
and he began to teach them
the true meaning of blessedness.

St. Gregory of Nyssa says that Jesus, 
ascends the mountain like a guide 
who leads us to an elevated place—
imagine the observation deck 
of the Empire State Building—
and points out what we can see
from such an elevated perspective.
The kingdom of heaven?
It is over there by the poor in spirit.
Comfort?
It is right there with those who mourn.
The promised land?
It is where you find the gentle.
Satisfaction?
Look for the people who
hunger and thirst and for justice.
Mercy?
It is found with those who show mercy.
The clear vision of God?
It is where people’s hearts are pure.
Membership in God’s family?
It is where the peacemakers dwell.
Oh, and the kingdom of God 
is especially to be found
wherever it is 
that you get persecuted and lied about
because you are a follower of Jesus.
So if you want to be blessed,
seek out poverty of spirit,
mourning, gentleness, 
zeal for justice,
mercy, purity of heart, 
peace, and persecution.
Find these, Jesus says, 
and you will find blessing.

Do you know how you know 
that Jesus isn’t lying to you?
Because he doesn’t tell you 
what you already believe
or want you want to hear.
I mean, all this sounds 
like crazy talk, right?
Surely whatever blessedness is
it involves wealth, not poverty,
laughing, not mourning,
strength, not gentleness.
It surely doesn’t involve 
mercy shown toward enemies,
peacemaking in the face of violence,
or persecution willingly accepted.
That’s just not how the world is.
But Jesus says, see how things 
look from up here on this mountain;
see how things look from where I stand,
I who am poor and sorrowing and gentle,
I who am righteous and merciful,
pure of heart and peacemaking,
I who am persecuted.
See how things look
to one who is lifted up, 
even on the cross.

In a world of lies, 
Jesus is calling us to be that remnant
that does no wrong and speaks no lies;
he is calling us to ascend the mountain with him,
to ascend the cross with him,
so that we can see where truth is to be found.
We may not be wise, 
as the world counts wisdom,
nor powerful nor noble of birth,
but God has chosen us 
to speak the truth in Jesus Christ,
who has become for us wisdom from God,
who is our justice and holiness and salvation.

The choice is before us.
We can continue to chatter 
like bots on Moltbook,
or we can speak the truth
that can only be seen
from the height of the cross:
the truth of simplicity and sorrow,
the truth of gentleness and justice,
the truth of mercy and peace.
So let us pray that God, who is merciful,
might have mercy on us all.

Saturday, January 28, 2023

4th Sunday in Ordinary Time


It’s been a bad week for those of us
who want to believe 
in the essential goodness of human beings.
We had three mass shootings in California,
leaving a total of nineteen people dead
in Monterey Park, Half Moon Bay, and Oakland.
Then, on Friday, the Memphis police
released video of the deadly beating of Tyre Nichols 
by five police officer earlier this month—
a brutal and deliberate attack
by those who are supposed to “protect and serve.” 
We can add these deaths to the pile created
by the unjust war being waged in Ukraine
(over 42,000 dead and counting)
and the ongoing callous disregard for human life
at its vulnerable beginnings and endings
that seems to characterize our society,
and we have to ask, 
what is wrong with us?
What is this rage to destroy,
to snuff out the precious of life
that God has bestowed upon us?
The world seems to be wicked without relief,
and we human beings endlessly inventive
in the evil we do.

But through the welter of the world’s wickedness
we hear the voice of Jesus:
Blessed are the poor in spirit…
Blessed are they who mourn…the meek… 
those hungry for righteousness…
the merciful…the clean of heart…
the peacemakers…the persecuted.
Like a whisper at the edge of our consciousness—
a consciousness consumed by a constant stream
of undeniable examples of human evil—
we hear the voice of Jesus saying:
this is not the way the world has to be;
this is not the way that you have to be.

As Jesus begins to preach to the disciples,
whom he has just called to leave their old lives
and follow him on the path to God’s kingdom,
he speaks of the blessedness of those 
who live entirely on the love of God,
who see the evil that people do
and hunger for a world that is different,
who never let bitterness win out over mercy,
who see peacemakers persecuted 
and yet persist walking in the way of peace.
He says to them: this is who I am,
and this is who I am calling you to be;
blessed are those who can see 
the reality of the world’s wickedness
and yet love in the way that God loves.

But Jesus doesn’t just say this 
to the disciples he has called.
His voice also reaches 
the crowd that has gathered
and is, as it were, eavesdropping 
on the words he speaks to his disciples.
For the crowd too must wonder 
at the world’s wickedness
for which there seems to be no relief.
And they wonder as well at the small band
of scruffy fishermen
who have left everything
to followed this rather strange rabbi,
who is without educational pedigree
or priestly status.
It all seems rather foolish
and yet… something echoes in their hearts: 
this is not the way the world has to be;
this is not the way that you have to be.

Blessedness…
the blessedness those whom the world deems foolish.
Could it be that God has chosen the foolish to shame the wise?
Could it be that God has chosen the weak to shame the strong?
Could it be that God has chosen the lowly and despised 
to humble our pride and end our boasting?
Could it be that this strange teacher
and his ragtag band of fishermen followers
hold the solution to the world’s wickedness?
Could it be that his word 
will take root and bear fruit
in the hearts of his disciples?
Could it be that human beings
can turn away from hatred and violence
and live the blessedness he proclaims?
The crowd listens in, 
waiting for a sign,
hoping for relief.

The crowd is still listening.
Though the world seems ever sadder,
its wickedness ever more intense
and ever more inventive of new ways
of crushing the spark of human life,
people are still listening in
as Jesus speaks to his disciples.
His words overheard still echo in their hearts,
words that speak of a human goodness
that evil cannot eradicate,
a blessedness
that the world cannot crush.
The crowd still looks to us,
the followers of Jesus,
to see if the word 
will take root and bear fruit in us,
waiting for a sign,
hoping for relief.

We live our lives as Christians
before the crowd’s watching eyes
and listening ears.
What do they see?
What do they hear?
Do they see those who, in poverty of spirit,
acknowledge their dependence on God
and live lives of purity and justice?
Do they hear voices 
that mourn the world’s wickedness
and yet still proclaim mercy and peace?
Do they experience in us the possibility
that the world does not have to be
this sad place of hatred and violence,
that we do not have to be these people
trapped in anger and despair?
Do they find in us a reason to hope,
a reason to believe that at the heart of the world
there lies not wickedness but blessedness?

We, of course, are not the world’s savior.
We are not the hope of the world.
We will not relieve the world of its wickedness.
But Jesus, the wisdom of God,
who is the world’s righteousness, 
sanctification, 
and redemption, 
has called us by his grace 
to a blessedness
that bears witness to his power 
to transform lives
and transform the world.
Let us listen to him and learn from him
and pray earnestly to him 
that his word 
may take root and bear fruit is us,
so that God in his mercy
might have mercy on us all.