A Lenten Reflection

The author of this piece of English poetry  is unknown. The pieces of the poem below offer a flavor of its theme. Although we are now in the Easter season it is good to remind ourselves of why we are so elated. The full version can be found online.

exerpts from "The Dream of the Rood", translated by Craig Williamson

Lo, I will tell the dearest of dreams

the sweetest vision that crossed my sleep in the middle of the night

when speech-bearers lay in silent rest.

I seemed to see a wondrous tree

Lifting up in the air wound in light,

The brightest of beams.

…

I was seized with sorrow

tormented by the sight of that beautiful cross.

…

I heard the best of woods begin to speak:

“Many years ago – I still remember the day – I was cut down

at the edge of a forest, severed from my trunk,

removed from my roots.

…

Then I saw the Lord of mankind hasten to me, eager to climb up.

…

With a keen heart and firm purpose.

climbed up on the cross, the tree of shame,

bold in the eyes of many, to redeem mankind.

…

I was seized with sorrow, humbling myself to men’s hands

bowing down with bold courage.

They lifted up almighty God,

raising his body from its burden of woe.

…

A sorrow-song at evening, as they began to depart,

drained by the death of their glorious Prince.

He rested in the tomb with few friends.

But we stood by weeping, unquiet crosses,

when the cries of men had drifted off.

…

Now you have heard, my dear dreamer,

How I have endured such sorrow and strife.

The time is come for all men on earth and throughout creation

to honor me and offer me prayers to the sign of the cross.

The son of God suffered on me for a while –

Now I rise up in heaven a tower of glory,

And I can heal any man who holds me in awe.

…

Now I command you, my dear friend,

to reveal this dream to other men,

disclose to them that the tree of glory was Christ’s cross

where he suffered sorely for the sins of man

and the old deeds of Adam….”

 …

Then I prayed to the cross with an eager heart and a zealous spirit ….

…

Now my life’s great hope is to see again Christ’s cross

And honor it more keenly than other men.

The cross is my hope and my protection.

…

I live each day, longing for the time that I saw before in a wonderous dream

will come back again to carry me to the joys of heaven,

to an everlasting bliss, to the Lord’s table

where the company of Christ feasts together forever and ever,

where I can dwell in glory with the holy saints, sustained in joy.

I pry for God to be my friend, the Savior who suffered sorely

on the gallows tree for the sins of men;

who rose and redeemed us

with everlasting life and a heavenly home.

….

Saul's Metamorphosis

After reading Sholem Asch’s account of St. Paul’s journey to Damascus I began to reflect on my own road to Damascus. When I began to delve into my Catholic religion I wanted to know “the facts”. What were those of my beliefs that were grounded in fact and verifiable in experience? There came a time when I gained confidence in my religious beliefs. 

I attained what I believed to be an intellectual understanding of my faith. I called it an integration of my faith with my daily life. Sure, there were still mysterious aspects to my religion. Those I had to take on faith. After all, religion by definition requires that we believe is some things that we cannot prove. I had the assurance that my knowledge of Scripture and the teachings of my Church provided me with a solid faith; a faith that could guide me through life, however imperfectly I could follow it.

Yet, Asch’s fictional account of Saul’s metamorphosis to Paul caused me to reflect on a transition of my own. Asch portrays Saul as a well-educated Pharisee, stubborn and self-assured in his understanding of Jewish beliefs. He knew for sure when he was hearing blasphemous and heretical teachings being preached in the Synagogue! Can my own self-assurance blind me to the spirit of my Faith as it did with Saul?

Have I undertaken a transition from my “intellectual” understanding of my faith to a “spiritual” understanding? How far along am I on that transition? To what degree am I living an intellectual faith? When will I, like Paul, come to the metanoia from a self-assured, intellectual approach to my Faith to an acceptance of and submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ?

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Through a series of “seizures” and nights of visions and mental wrangling Saul's assurance in his faith begins to weaken. He is zealously attempting to eradicate those of the new sect who were undermining his religion. He witnesses in those he is punishing a quiet acceptance of the reprimands, imprisonments and lashings he is inflicting on them. Rather than being angry with him they exhibit an assurance in their faith in the recently crucified messiah. Their patient endurance begins to work its way through his beliefs. His intellectual understanding of his religion begins to take on a spiritual understanding.

Sholem actually begins his account of the metamorphosis of Saul immediately after the scene where Saul with two other witnesses attends the preaching of Reb Istephan in the synagogue. He is convinced of Reb Istephan’s blasphemous preaching. Asch describes Saul’s condition as he is on his way to his sister’s house.

From the book:

“There were certain signs by which Saul of Tarshish recognized the beginning of the onset…. All day long he had felt it gathering above him, like a storm cloud. A fiery circle was pressing against his temples, and increasing darkness was shed upon his eyes. Nevertheless there was within him a bright stirring, as though a new soul were being poured into him. Saul of Tarshish hated this condition, which made his footsteps uncertain, and deprived him of self-control, turning him over to a power over which he had no influence…. And yet he longed for it, as a man longs for the warm, encircling arms of a beloved wife…. It was with him as though he were being sped beyond the limits of this world and entering into another which knew no limits and no boundaries; a world in which there was neither yea or nay, only in infinite space of blazing brightness, through which he fell forever… and continued to fall… through infinite time…. In that condition the impossible became possible… he dreaded to enter into this world, as a man dreads to cross the threshold of the unknown, as a man dreads to cross the threshold between life and death…. Yet he was drawn irresistibly toward the threshold, and the nearer he drew to it the more powerful became the attraction of the unknown, of the infinite, of the limitless, of the impossible-possible. He had been fighting against the pull of that condition all day long; he fought against it now as he hastened toward the house of his sister. He stumbled rather than walked through the narrow streets of Jerusalem; his limbs obeyed his will and memory when he himself could no longer direct them. At last he reached the door of his sister’s house, but he could go no further. There the condition fell upon him, as if it had been a murderer lying in wait, and flung him to the ground.

…

In the midst of his seizure Saul beheld an angel of the Lord cleaving the air in downward flight toward him. The Angel sank, feet downward into the earth, and only the upper half remained visible, but that upper half was blinding white, as though it were all fire within, covered by a human skin. The angel lifted his wing-arms to heaven, as if in prayer, and the face of the angel, which shone with divine fire, was likewise upturned, and on it rested a vision of eternal grace, as if the eyes of the angel had penetrated to the glory….

When Saul came to he marked, as always after one of his seizures, that he had for a time lost the power of sight. In the darkness which surrounded him he saw, in recurrent visitations, the angel which he had beheld during the seizure, and he wondered greatly over the meaning of the vision….” pp. 105-106

Saul's Conversion to the New Christian Sect - Sholem Asch

Conversion of Saul - Francesco Solimena

The Apostle, Part 1, Chapter 17, tells of Saul’s mission to Damascus. He was authorized to go there and arrest the disciples of Yeshua who were spreading the good news to the people of the area. In Saul’s mind they were blaspheming God and corrupting the laws of the Torah and their activities had to be stopped. In this chapter the author presents Saul as a man in anguish over what he has already done to friends as well as strangers; spying on them, arresting them, having them flogged. And the recipients of his wrath accepted his punishments without animosity, with grace, at times “turning the other cheek” and offering prayers for forgiveness Saul and his misguided actions. At the end of the chapter Saul is smitten with a vision of Yeshua asking him, “Saul, Saul, why dost thou persecute me?” Having been struck blind he proceeds to Damascus. Chananyah, one of the leaders of the new sect of Yeshua meets with him and eventually through this man, a man he was on a mission to arrest, he regains his sight, realizes his wrong ways and is baptized.

What follows in Chapter 18 is the story of Saul’s struggle to reconcile his years of training with this Messiah whose teachings present a very different picture of the God of Israel. Saul’s struggle is not presented as an intellectual battle but rather as a spiritual one that was attempting to change his longstanding integration of faith and its call to action. He leaves Damascus alone and goes to the pagan city of Petra.

From Chapter 18

“In the city of drunkenness, of unbridled and savage appetites, of debased Hellenistic-Asiatic manners, Saul lived alone in the little Jewish community, pursued his trade, and kept to himself the secret of his vision. He lived apart, waiting for the restoration after the storm through which he had passed. Slowly he began to emerge, and it seemed to him that he was finding his way back to himself.

But when his recovery had reached a certain stage, he was thrown, by his own recovered strength, into a new paroxysm of fear. For he was able to again perceive his nakedness. He saw himself standing amid the ruins of his own being. There was nothing left to him but the vision on the road to Damascus. The rest was a wilderness, in which he wandered with the weight of his misdeeds hanging about his neck.

…

Often, in the moments of his despair, he remembered the practice of the learned, and he conjured up the image of his teacher, Rabban Gameliel; and he recalled the words of warning which had been uttered at their parting: “Saul, I fear for thee. I will pray God for thy soul. The road thou has chosen is narrow and perilous.”

…

Was it not high time for him to put some order into his soul? … he began to see that order in his soul would have to be preceded by unification, and unification was as yet impossible, for the vision in Damascus had brought a division into his life, and the two halves could not be joined together. One of the two halves would have to be deleted and sacrificed. He resolved that it was the first half which was to be destroyed; the only salvation for him was his faith in the new and second life to which he had won throughThe old life was one of mass sin. He had stained it with the blood of innocent men and women whose spirits had been finer, lovelier, and more god-fearing than his. In the old life he had sown pain and harvested regret. The rivers of tears which he had caused to be shed, the pain he had caused to be endured, the lives he had shattered, built up a leprous growth over the whole of his first life; and there was only one cure, one salve, one healing water: faith in the Messiah.

…

The new faith was the thread which would lead him out of confusion and dissolution.

…

Had he not seen the face of the Lord? Had he not heard his voice? Had he not seen that form which had been buried and had risen to again to life? … To him, to Saul, who had persecuted the congregation, and had gone to Damascus on a mission of destruction, to him, the sinner, the Lord had appeared in a vision and chosen him as his instrument.” pp. 175-176

The man Saul of Tarshish

Early in the book Sholem provides insights into the character of Saul.

‘For Saul was regarded in the school [of Rabban Gameliel or Hillel?] as a hard man, one who “was quick in the kindling of his anger and slow in forgiveness,” He was known widely for his obstinacy; when Saul of Tarshish had made up his mind on any question, it was useless to try and change him. In argument he was passionate and unregardful of the feeling of others. They applied to him, sardonically, the verse: “All my limbs shall praise the Lord,” for in debate – if that could be called debate in which Saul of Tarshish participated – he spoke with hands and feet and eyes.

But if they could not love Saul of Tarshish they admired and respected him. No one ever challenged his purity of his motives. Whatever Saul of Tarshish did or said was in the name of heaven; he sought nothing for himself. In his heart blazed the fire of a great love of the God of Israel, for the people of Israel, and for its redemption. Saul was compounded of nothing but faith. Nor was faith for him merely an abstraction, even as God was not for him a divine Father of purely unimaginable form. Faith was for Saul, very often, an apparition in the flesh, a daily experience. Faith in a heavenly Father was the only possession of worth, and for its sake alone the burden of life was endurable. He did not think of faith as something apart, a separate refuge for himself, a reward, or a promise of reward for his righteousness. He desired neither glory nor praise.  Only in God the Father did all life possess meaning and suffering its justification. Life for its own sake was not worth the tribulation it entailed; it consisted, in itself, of a chain of torments, individual and general, physical and moral, a chain of innumerable links. The only enduring happiness it afforded lay in the bond with a heavenly Father.

Companion Saul was not only a powerful preacher; he was one who subjected his own body to the principles he preached. He had known the torments of the flesh from his childhood on. A malarial disease had fastened on his bones and like a hidden leach ate into their marrow. His bones became soft, his blood watery. No word of complaint ever passed his lips, even to his nearest friend. It was a point of pride with him to bear his affliction like a secret gift from God, for “he whom God loves He punishes,” said the Holy Script, and the sages taught, “Afflictions are God’s bestowals upon his saints.” Yet Saul knew that in nurturing this pride he was committing a mortal sin which might cause him to fail to the lowest level. So he fought with his pride too; and he would have liked to expose his sorrows to others, in order that he might lower himself in their esteem. But he could not bring himself to do it. The pride which locked his lips against his companions was his second nature.’ 
pp. 76-77 

Sholem Asch "The Apostle"

Sholem Asch

I finally decided to embark on the task of reading another of Sholem Asch’s tomes on the life of major Jewish biblical characters. The Apostle is a fictionalization of the life of Paul of Tarshish. The edition I’m reading was translated from the Yiddish by Maurice Samuel, consists of 754 pages and published in 1943 by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York. It is the first of Asch’s books that I own that came with a table of contents. Although most of his novels are quite long the style of the writing makes reading them effortless.

A fictionalization goes beyond the exposition of facts as would a pure biography. Sholem constructs personality and character around his subject that takes what is known and deduced about Saul and weaves him into the plot that consists of the description of the culture and mores of the world at the time of Saul; the close association of the Jews daily life and the covenant with their God. The book is populated with people who are acutely aware of their history and the promises their God has made to those who are faithful to him.

Of, course readers who seek an accurate picture of the culture of the time will constantly be asking whether or not what they are reading is fact or fiction. For them researching the material presented can provide an education that is well worth the time. If you are, however, just looking for a pleasurable reading experience, Sholem’s presentation will satisfy your desire. He treats the religion of the Jews as well as the new sect of Yeshua with respect and reverence. The culture of the times is presented through the personal experience of the characters, making the story engaging.

When we read novels we tend to associate the plot and character development with the person of the author. I believe that after reading three of his novels on the Bible I’ve come to know the author well enough to call him Sholem.

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The time is about two months after the crucifixion of Jesus and Joseph bar Naba (the Barnabas referred to in Acts 4:36 and 14:14) is sitting in the courtyard of his sister Miriam. He is in the company of Zipporah. A woman which the text intimates is romantically involved with him. In this passage we get a sense of how closely intertwined are the earthly life and the spiritual life of these people. In stark contrast, the last paragraph displays the harshness the Pharisetic rule over the people.

 Sholem Asch describes the scene:

‘The whole world lay wide open to the grace of God, and Joseph bar Naba sat hand in hand with the loveliest of the daughters of Jerusalem, Zipporah.

An urgent warmth breathed out of the night. The plants which had been gathering the heat of the sun all day were overloaded with sweetness, which they spilled out on every hand as if afraid that the desert winds might come and rob them of it; and the body of the night was like a human body which had attained ripeness. The silence was filled with a mute, disturbing hunger. Still bar Naba gazed at the deep glimmering heavens where they bent over toward the desert of Jericho, and he did not know that Zipporah’s hand was in his. A long time their hands remained together, and it was as if something flowed from one to the other, stilling the thirst of their youth. But they were aware only of the night, and it seemed to them that they had been drawn into the urgent warmth and silence of the night.

“Why has the gift of prophesy been withdrawn from Israel?” asked Zipporah, suddenly. “Why do not prophets appear to us, as they appeared in the olden days to our forefathers? Wherein are we worse than our forefathers? Why is God silent?”

No one answered her question, nor did Zipporah seem to expect an answer. The sound of her voice was like that of a bell set in motion under water, spreading its tones along the waves. And Zipporah went on talking to herself, more in dream than in waking:

Sometimes I feel that the time is near when He will pour out His spirit upon all flesh, even as he promised the Prophets. I feel the time is near when prophesy will be renewed in Israel, and He will send His spirit not only to His chosen ones, to the learned and the wise, but also to the simple of heart. And upon us, too, upon us women, the spirit will fall like a refreshing dew. It will cover the whole land, and the scales will fall from our eyes; then we shall see all things in another light, and our hearts will be filled with another spirit. Sometimes it seems to me that I am seized with an incomprehensible strength. I am filled with power as a fruit is filled with ripeness in the summer. Like Hannah, the mother of Samuel, I am drunk, not with wine, but with the power that fills my inward parts, so that they cry out and tear my li  ps open. Then words issue from my lips, and I know not their meaning and their content. They pour out at my lips, as water pours out from a spring. I know that God is speaking through my lips.”

“All of us burn with the thirst of the deliverance, and all of us long for the word of God as for a drink,” answered bar Naba.

The Apostle cover

“Like Deborah the Prophetess I long at times to lift up the banner of my people and sing the song of triumph and deliverance. Sometimes the spirit is so strong on me that I believe I can conjure down salvation from the heavens. It fills my heart with the loveliness of the upper worlds, and I hear the beating of wings, though I do not see the angels; and it seems to me that in another moment a door will be opened for me and I will be admitted into the innermost mysteries. And then a voice will issue from the locked wall, and a message will descend from heaven in fiery letters and rest upon my eyes, and I will drink in the fiery script and I will cry out the salvation of all Israel.”

Bar Naba was suddenly aware of Zipporah’s hand in his, hot as a flaming brand. He looked into the girl’s face. Her eyes blazed like the stars which covered the heavens, and like those they sent forth a mystic fire which filled him with bliss and terror.

“Zipporah! How lovely thou art! It is as though Deborah had risen in thee and thou with thy word wilt light a new hope in Israel!”

“Since when does God have recourse to the help of a woman? Only the idol worshipers have sibyls. Woman is an impure vessel and the God of Israel will not make use of it. Her heart is painted, even like her lips and her cheeks, and her one desire is toward man.” The voice came from a corner steeped in darkness, but its hardness revealed the presence of the young man Saul of Tarshish.'  pp.24-25

Unless You Become Like This Child

from "Unless You Become Like This Child", page 22-24

"so it is with all other attributes needed to children: all of them are modeled on the wholesome exchange of love between the primarily giving love of the mother and the primarily received love the child. For the child it is natural to receive good gifts, and so docility, obedience, trust and sweet surrender are not for him virtues to be expressly achieved but the most unreflectedly natural things in the world. This is so to such an extent that the child adopts the mothers giving attitude unquestioningly as the right one, and he gives spontaneously when he has something to give. He shows his little treasures without hiding any of them; he wants to share her because he has experienced sharing as a form of goodness. The fact that he can make this attitude his own presupposes that he does not need to distinguish between the giver and the gift, since both at the mother's breast and in all other things given him the two are one: in the gift the child directly recognizes the love of the giver."

Balthasar takes this idyllic state of unity and introduces the effects of the human ego on this unitive love.

“It is the expressly perceivable egoism of the giver (Lk. 11:13) that results in the gift’s no longer being understood as the image of the giver: only then does the inclination to private possession become split in the child from its use as possible gift. Then we see vanish the spontaneous seeking of refuge in the place of protection and obedience as the immediate response to the “fostering “ source ; only then does concrete “fosterance” (auctoritas, from augere: “to make grow”, “to foster”) become abstract, legal “authority”.

Now Balthasar speaks to a important contemorary aspect of the civil culture and its role in developing the individuals' primal concept of love.

“Here arises the burning question whether the ruling, concrete authority of the parents of the family in regard to the children is something preliminary which is then enhanced to the seemingly all-encompassing and definitive authority of the state or of society, whose fostering care replaces that of the family. … But the fourth commandment of the Mosaic Decalogue stands opposed to this confiscation of the individual by the state, and it is a commandment that Christ reaffirms and which enjoins on adults, too, the respectful love of children for parents. Even when the educational element of the parents’ authority disappears as the children come of age, this does not abolish the original relationship of giving and responding personal love between children and parents.”

Near the end of this chapter of the book Balthasar gives a beautiful expression of one aspect of the doctrine of the communion of saints.

“… when children grow up and themselves become mothers and fathers … they will have an active experience of “archetypal identity”, still they will not be able to dissociate it from the passive form of it they had once experienced. The experience immerses them in the great stream of memory of generations whom they cannot cease to thank for their existence and whose past becomes for them the present, to the extent that, along with their progeny, they look out toward the future.”