Matthew 12
There are infinite numbers of ways to
start a quarrel . . . if you really want one. Chapter 12 begins with
a dispute about the Sabbath, a touchy subject for Orthodox Jewry of
Jesus time because much weight was given to the observance of all
that could be inferred from Exodus 20:10 “but the seventh day is a
sabbath to the Lord your
God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or
daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any
foreigner residing in your towns.”
What is work, anyway? Science
uses this definition (or at least it did when I was in High School):
Work is done when a force moves a mass through distance. Our
assignments included calculating how much
work had been done using appropriate measures for force, mass and
distance.
I'm
betting they still do that in High Schools, or probably, by now, in
Grade Four!
To
the pharisees challenging Jesus' and his disciples on Sabbath law,
picking food off it's stem in order to eat it is work. In point of
fact, many household chores are too this day prohibited on the
Sabbath (like lighting a fire) and a non-Jew (Shabbot Goy) may be
hired to do these tasks in Orthodox communities.
Jesus
reply doesn't chide them for making their Sabbath laws too strict;
what he seems to be saying is that that their anal attachment to the
letter of the law is blinding them, rendering them incapable of
making meaningful choices. He accuses them again of failing to
understand Hosea 6:6 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
I
have to ask myself: Do I know what Hosea 6:6 meant in the prophet's
time? in Jesus' time? and most importantly, in my time? What quarrels
of today would have Jesus throwing Hosea in our
faces? I wonder.
Most
of Chapter 12 crosses over into the world of aphorisms (sayings,
maxims) like “Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make
a tree bad and its fruit will be bad, for a tree is recognized by its
fruit,” and so on. It makes for discontinuous reading; Matthew the
list-maker at work again! But embedded in all the wise sayings is the
one that gave us the heebie-jeebies as kids: “ . . . every kind of
sin and slander can be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Spirit
will not be forgiven.” A thousand theologians and way more than
that many Sunday School classes later, I still don't get it.
As I'm equally puzzled by Verses 43
to 45: “When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes
through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says,
‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds
the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and
takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they
go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse
than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation.”
I'm sure someone has ventured an interpretation for the images of
“the house unoccupied, swept clean and in order,” and perhaps I
should consult a commentary: it's obviously continuing in the
predominant vein of the whole chapter: the audience is a nest of
vipers and—possibly—driving out one of the snakes will only end
up making room for seven others. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.
I
used to marvel that Jesus would let his mother and the rest of his
family stand outside waiting to speak to him, and then proclaim that
his disciples were now his family. More mellow now, I put that
impression to bed with a nod to Matthew's brevity; Jesus is tenderly
expressing his love for his followers by using the image of family,
an image that plucks at the heart strings of anyone who's grown up in
a fully-functioning home.
I
like to think that right after he said this, he made his way through
his audience, embraced his mom, his brother and sister and, and . . .
I really would like to know what they wanted to talk to him about!
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