Don't get me started ... Theology Time

Theology Time brings me great trouble this week. I have seen many of those close to me, related in myriad ways, suffering in great and varied degrees. The idea of a Divine Plan is not one I wish either to discuss or dwell upon. A passage from Conrad’s short story Youth best describes my feelings this morning toward a “holy interventionist.” The story unfolds about a young man on a ship transporting coal to the Orient. The coal catches fire and the ship explodes beneath the feet of the crew members. Intervention arrives in the form of Malay sailors who don’t seem overly interested in the surviving sailors. The youth gives voice to a primal plea that could have been hurled from high mountains at the multitude of gods that humans have chosen to follow.

He said, "I thought people who had been blown up deserved more attention."

Anyway, back to the Sermon on the Mount, specifically the Beatitudes, specifically the third one ascribed to Matthew, according to whom, Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Now that’s going to come as a hell of a surprise to the billionaires that walk amongst us. Doormats are for walking on. They don’t inherit “jack-diddly.” Give them an inch, and they’ll want a mile. Provide them a full stomach and a warm room and they’ll want public education and health care next.

Anyway. What did Jesus mean when he mentioned the “meek?”

First, we must understand that there is no contemporary mention in recorded and reliable documents that the figure of Jesus, (I prefer to call him “The Galilean” for the regional implications) ever existed. The first mention of him in official history was by Josephus, a Jewish historian who mentioned the death of the rebellious rabbi some 150 years after his assumed death.

Nor, do we stand assured that we are reading the exact words the Galilean spoke them. Matthew relied upon, we are told, original material supplied by an anonymous source called “Q.”

Further, the crowd to which the Galilean spoke wasn’t homogeneous by any stretch of the imagination. First, there were the disciples, who maybe weren’t the most trustworthy critics and may have considered themselves as above the common folk. Then there were the right-wing fundamentalists of the day, the priests and Sadducees who hated the upstart and had the power of the Romans behind them—the ones with the weapons. That brings us to the military rulers who surely had spies in the crowd. Finally, there were the common folk, some of which probably listened only to state-supported news for information. Who is left? The meek of course.

What, then, in the hell does it mean to be meek? Who knows? Maybe the best thing to do is look at the Speaker himself. What was there about him that might fefine meekness?

He eschewed worldly goods, that’s for sure. That’s for dang sure. He didn’t preach from some converted sports stadium, arriving in a Rolls wearing suits worth tens of thousands and ties worth thousands. A simple robe and some sandals. Perhaps they were made from automobile tires. Perhaps not.

He didn’t bluster like some professional wrestler or reality TV star. In fact, other than the time he got pissed over businessmen obtaining loans in the Temple, he was extremely mild-mannered, certainly not timid, but polite and well-spoken.

He seemed to be truth-oriented, a trait among leaders that fades out of sight more each year.

He was non-judgmental, even toward immigrants and those who, for reasons of genetics, might be ill or differently-turned. We’ll leave that one there and pick it up when we get to Saul of Tarsus.

He was humble to say the least. Picture Donald Trump or one of this spawn washing someone’s feet. Go ahead. I dare you. Thought so.

My advice du jour? If you want to pattern your life as you think the Galilean would want you to, “Q” is a better source than Sean Hannity.