Another Voice

 

The Gospel of Luke gives us one of the longest, most detailed accounts of Jesus’ life. In Luke 1:3, the author declares his intention to write a “carefully ordered account” for the “Most Excellent” Theophilus, after investigating everything from the beginning. The account was written to provide certainty and a firm grasp on the truth of the events about Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.

As we have seen, the Gospel of Mark most likely written in the late 60s to early 70s CE, focused on the mostly Gentile Christian community in Rome. The Gospel of Matthew, composed between 80 and 90 CE, was more focused on the Hebrew-Christian community in Antioch.

The Gospel of Luke, also composed between between 80 and 90 CE, stresses that Christianity is just as much a way of life for Gentile-Christians as it is for Hebrew-Christians. Luke stressed, as well, that Christianity called for legal recognition in the Roman Empire. The Gospel of Luke is strongly focused on themes of healing and reconciliation. Both so greatly needed today.

Contemporary scholars generally hold that the actual author of the Gospel of Luke is unknown. The earliest reference to the Gospel’s being authored by someone named “Luke” is from the Christian bishop Ireneaus of Lyon (c. 125-202), whose ministry was in the south of today’s France. His traditional attribution that the author was “Luke the physician” is now doubted by a significant number of researchers who believe this Gospel was written by an unknown and well-educated Gentile Christian late in the first century. Scholars doubt that Luke the physician, a companion of Paul, wrote the Gospel of Luke because the text shows historical inconsistencies with Paul’s own letters; and the portrait of Paul in Acts differs significantly from Paul’s own former Hebrew identity and apostolic authority.

The Gospel of Luke’s author came from a thoroughly Greco-Roman environment. Unlike the Gospel of Matthew’s author, however, he was not well-grounded in the Hebrew tradition. Scholars speculate on whether his account was written for a Christian community in Antioch or some other location in Asia Minor, like Ephesus or Smyrna. The Gospel of Luke and Acts of Apostles make up a two-volume work often called simply “Luke–Acts.” Both are addressed to the “Most Excellent” Theophilus.

Theophilus’ identity is unknown. Some scholars suggest he was a wealthy man who paid to have Luke-Acts written. Other biblical scholars have concluded that he was a Roman official who had been initiated into the church’s teachings, for whom the author of Luke now provided a full narrative.

Some scholars, however, suggest that since the name in Greek means “Friend of God,” both Luke and Acts were addressed to anyone who fits that description. Nevertheless, since the author of the Gospel addresses Theophilus specifically as “Most Excellent Theophilus,” I side with those who believe Theophilus was a particular historic person who supported the Luke-Acts author. He was most likely a Christian or prospective Christian, who needed an orderly account to confirm his faith’s historical reliability.

For documentation, Luke’s author drew from the Gospel of Mark and a collection of his own materials. Some scholars used to say that Luke’s author also drew from  “Q,” from the German word “Quelle,” meaning “source.” The “Q” theory was devised by German scholars in the nineteenth century. But this hypothetical written collection of Jesus’s sayings, once believed to have been used by Matthew and Luke, has been heavily debated and is now generally rejected by contemporary New Testament scholars.

Perspectives on Jesus:

The Gospel of Matthew saw Jesus as the fulfillment of Hebrew history. The author began his infancy narrative with a genealogy of Jesus from Abraham down to Joseph and Mary. The Gospel of Luke, on the other hand, understands Jesus as the high point in all of human history. His genealogy, presented at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, runs backwards from Joseph to Adam.

Most people really ignore the differences found in the Jesus Infancy Narratives in Matthew, chapters 1 and 2, and Luke, chapters 1:5 to 2:52. They simply combine the accounts without noticing the differences. Nor do they know or realize that folkloric legends that began centuries after Jesus’ birth were added to the mix.

In Matthew we do find: the visit of the wise men, the star, and Herod’s plot to kill Jesus. These are not found in Luke however. In Luke, on the other hand, we find: the birth of John the Baptist, the shepherds, and the presentation of Jesus at the Temple. But these are not found in Matthew. The differences between Matthew and Luke are nearly impossible to reconcile, although they do share some similarities.

The American biblical scholar and Catholic priest, John Meier (1942 to 2022), often stressed that Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem is not to be taken as an historical fact. Meier described it as a “theological affirmation put into the form of an apparently historical narrative.” As I wrote in my reflection on the Gospel of Matthew a few weeks ago, many contemporary scholars presume Jesus was actually born in Nazareth.

Luke’s perspective is also more Mary-oriented than Joseph-oriented. In Matthew’s infancy narrative the light is on Joseph. In Luke’s account, it is Mary who shines. She is the one who hears and keeps God’s word. In Luke 1:46-55, we find Mary’s Song of Praise: “The Magnificat.”

Three particular themes draw my attention when re-reading Luke: women, building bridges, and religious hypocrisy:

WOMEN: In Luke, Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law (Luke 4:38-39), a 12-year-old girl (Luke 8:41-42, 49-56); a woman with a 12-year infirmity (verses 43-48); and a woman who had been crippled 18 years (Luke 13:10-17). In Luke we see Mary the Magdalen, an early disciple of Jesus. She sits before Jesus and listens to him. Her sister Martha complains to Jesus that Mary should be helping her with serving. Jesus replies: “Martha, Martha…it is Mary who has chosen the better part.” (Luke 10:38-42). In the Death and Resurrection accounts, women are the most important: Women were among those who observed the crucifixion (Luke 23:27, 49). Women prepared spices to anoint Jesus’ body (Luke 23: 55-56). Women were the first to find Jesus’ tomb empty (Luke 24:1-3) and angels told them Jesus had been raised from the dead (Luke 24: 4-8). Women were the first to proclaim the Resurrection to Jesus’ other disciples (Luke 24: 9-11). Catholic upper-level ecclesiastics who still oppose women’s ordination should reflect on these passages.

BUILDING BRIDGES NOT WALLS: Luke’s stress on peace-making implied a new relationship with the Roman Empire. Dialogue had to start, and destructive polarization had to end. In Luke’s Infancy Narrative, the angelic messengers proclaim: “Good news of great joy for all people. To you is born this day . . . a Savior! . . . Peace on earth among those whom God favors!” (Luke 2:10-11,14). These words echo and go far beyond the Roman monument inscriptions that had praised Augustus Caesar (63 BCE-14 CE) as “god” and “savior.” Luke hereby stresses that Jesus had completed more fully and uniquely the work of Augustus. Later in this Gospel, Luke offsets the fact that Jesus was executed by the Romans, by having the Roman Prefect Pontius Pilate (who died after 36 CE) declare Jesus innocent three times (Luke 23:4,14,22). Only Luke, unlike Mark and Matthew, has the Roman centurion at the foot of the cross exclaim: “Surely, this man was innocent.” (Luke 23:47). Building bridges. In Luke’s narration, Herod Antipas (c. 20 BCE – c. 39 CE), who publicly identified himself as a Hebrew and was the 1^st century ruler of Galilee, and Pontius Pilate become unlikely friends, after being in Jesus’ presence (Luke 23:12). And finally, only in Luke’s Gospel does Jesus pray for forgiveness for his crucifiers (Luke 23:34).

RELIGIOUS HYPOCRISY: Some observers accuse Luke of antisemitism, because he regularly shows Jesus criticizing some Hebrew religious leaders, who were Pharisees, scribes, and Levites. I think these critics miss the point. Jesus was not antisemitic. But Jesus was strongly critical of the arrogant religious hypocrisy of some of the religious elite in his day.

During Jesus’ time, the Pharisees were a prominent Hebrew religious group known for their strict adherence to the Law and were often viewed as overly legalistic. When invited to dine in the home of a Pharisee, for example, the religious leader accused Jesus of not washing ahead of time. Jesus replied: “Now then, you clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You foolish people!…give what is inside the dish to the poor, and everything will be clean for you…you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God….Woe to you Pharisees, because you love the most important seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces.” (Luke 11:37-44).

Luke speaks strongly to our own contemporary society, in which many praise God but ignore the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized. By way of example, contemporary U.S. political leaders are using religious language as manipulative rhetoric with no honest substance. Healthy religion limits what can be said in God’s name. Without those limits, God can be made to authorize and endorse anything — including hatred, murder, destruction, and a war in Iran.

Jack

[Next week we take a look at the Fourth Gospel. The Gospel of John is widely considered the most unique and distinctive of the four canonical Gospels, and categorized separately from the “Synoptic Gospels” (Matthew, Mark, and Luke). It is estimated that over 90% of the  material in John is unique, featuring different stories, a distinct chronological structure, and a higher, more philosophical focus on Jesus’s divinity and identity as the Son of God.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Wednesday, as we prepare for Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter 2026, I begin with some general biblical observations and then move on to a reflection about Matthew’s Gospel. Thus: a bit longer this week.

Each of the four Gospels was written to present the message and person of Jesus to a specific historical audience. Depending upon that audience, elements mentioned or stressed in one Gospel were minimized or ignored in another. 

Matthew has Jesus’ family going to Egypt and then returning in order to portray Jesus as the new Moses. The Gospels, again, are about the meaning of the Christ-event. They are anchored in the life and meaning of the historical Jesus of Nazareth and belief in him. They do have historical elements but, strictly speaking, they are not historical accounts.

Last week we saw that the Gospel of Mark makes no mention of a virgin birth or of Jesus’ infancy. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke do indeed mention a virgin birth. Are they reporting historic fact or accepted suppositions? Certainly, the two accounts of Jesus’ infancy are quite different in details. Matthew suggests that Joseph and Mary already lived in Bethlehem, where they lived in a house and later fled to Egypt to escape King Herod. Luke indicates that Joseph and Mary travelled from Nazareth to Bethlehem for a Roman census, and that their baby, Jesus, was laid in a stable’s manger because there was no room for them in an inn.

About all scholars of antiquity agree that the man Jesus of Nazareth existed, but scholars differ on the historicity of specific episodes described in the biblical accounts. The Gospels contain: bits of history, parables, metaphor, symbol, re-interpreted passages from the Hebrew Scriptures, and imagined scenarios for key events in the life of Jesus. 

Translations of the scriptures are necessary, of course, because people in different places and times speak a variety of languages. Most of our contemporary scripture readers are not fluent in biblical Hebrew, Greek, or Latin. I am, perhaps, a bit unconventional. I can squeak by with my Hebrew, but my Greek and Latin are really quite good.

Ideally, people who want a more comprehensive understanding of biblical texts should use a good biblical commentary, because all translations are filtered through the vision and vocabulary of the translator. Sometimes this creates problems in correctly understanding a passage. 

In recent years, for example, scholars of the New Testament have suggested that we seriously reconsider how one translates the Greek term ioudaios, originally translated in English as “Jews.” Ioudaios is more accurately translated as “Judean,” not “Jew.” The Greek ioudaios and the Latin iudaeus come from the biblical Hebrew word Yehudi meaning “from the Tribe of Judah.”  

 

[Please note: Up until the year 1524, there was no letter “J” in the alphabet, just the letter “I”. The letter “J” was invented by Gian Giorgio Trissino, an Italian author and grammarian who lived from 1478 to 1550. By way of example, the initials INRI so often seen on crucifixes, represent the Latin words: Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum) the Latin inscription (found in John 19:19), which in English translates correctly to “Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Judeans.” But not “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”]

 

Strictly speaking, there were no people called “Jews” in the days of Jesus. There were Hebrews, anchored in the Abrahamic religious tradition. And the word “Jew” did not appear in the first English translations of the New Testament. The best-known early editions of the New Testament in English are the Douai Rheims edition and the King James Authorized Edition. The Douai Rheims translation was first printed in 1582; but the word “Jew” did not appear in it. The King James Authorized translation was first published in 1611. The word “Jew” did not appear in it either. 

For the very first time, the word “Jew” appeared in both of these well-known editions in their 18th century revised versions. “So, what?” a friend asked. Well, since the late 19th and early 20th centuries the word “Jew” has been used increasingly in a pejorative way and has greatly contributed to antisemitism. Expressions like “Jew someone” or “Jew lawyer” or “Jew down” have been common negative terms.

Antisemitism, unfortunately, is once again showing its ugly face on both sides of the Atlantic. According to a January 2026 UNESCO report, antisemitism and Holocaust denial have reached levels not seen since World War II.

Antisemitism arose because, over the years, a great distortion grew up around “Jews,” linking them with the death of Jesus and with evil and avarice. One can recall Christopher Marlowe’s 1592 CE play “The Jew of Malta” and its demonic image of Jews. And in Shakespeare (1564-1626) we find the “Jew” moneylender Shylock and his bloodthirsty desire to claim his “pound of flesh.” Today, some people try to avoid using the word “Jew” and use “Jewish” instead. Nevertheless, in the days of Jesus there were no Jews. There were Hebrews, who belonged to the Abrahamic religious tradition. Jesus grew up in that Hebrew tradition.

“Jews” did not condemn Jesus. Judean religious leaders in Jerusalem condemned him. “Jews” did not kill Jesus. Judean religious leaders turned Jesus over to the Roman Pontius Pilate, the fifth prefect of the Roman province of Judea. The Romans crucified Jesus. Pontius Pilate called Jesus “King of the Judeans” to anger the Judeans and to stress in a demeaning way that he saw Jesus as a troublemaker, promoting rebellion against the Roman Empire.

Now to focus more directly on the Gospel of Matthew:

Last week I stressed that the Gospel According to Mark was designed for Gentile-Christians in Rome, and composed by an anonymous author, after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70 CE. Mark’s Gentile-Christians in Rome faced and feared persecution and death at the hands of Roman authorities; but they also had to live with discrimination from Hebrew-Christians living in Rome.

Matthew’s Gospel, on the other hand, was actually written for Hebrew-Christians. 

Although a second-century tradition had held that the author was Matthew, a former tax collector and one of the Twelve Apostles, contemporary scholars maintain that we have no direct evidence of that Matthew’s authorship. The Gospel According to Matthew, was most likely written by an anonymous Hebrew-Christian scribe between the years 80 and 90 CE. He was not an eyewitness to the Jesus events but collected various traditions and sayings by and about Jesus and put them in one long essay. Some scholars say the final edition could even have been written as late as 110 CE.

The Gospel of Matthew, however, does contain some apparent contradictions and internal tensions, because the final author simply reproduced testimonies from multiple authoritative sources, without checking the implications. One suspects that he could have used a good text editor. There are, for example, contradictory expressions about God in Matthew’s Gospel: portraying God as a demanding hard-nosed judge focused on strict obedience but also as a supportive and loving God who actively participates in human history.

The author of Matthew wrote for a community of mostly Greek-speaking Hebrew-Christians located in Antioch in Roman Syria.There were some Gentile-Christian members in the community, but they were expected to obey Hebrew religious norms. Perhaps even circumcision. Jesus in the Gospel According to Matthew came, therefore, “not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it” (Matthew 5:17).

For the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus was the great embodiment of all preceding Hebrew history. Matthew’s author constructed a Jesus infancy narrative that begins with “A genealogy of Jesus Christ, Son of David, son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1-17). Matthew’s genealogy features four notable Hebrew women, a number of fulfillment passages that relate Jesus to prophetic Hebrew Scripture texts; and allusions to famous Hebrew men of the past. 

I would again stress the need to recognize that the Gospels are not intended to be historical biographies but rather theological “portraits” as my former friend, biblical scholar, and Catholic University of Leuven doctoral graduate, Fr. Donald Senior (1940-2022) described them in his 1992  book Jesus: A Gospel Portrait. The infancy narratives, for example, do not attempt to give us an historical account of Jesus’ birth but rather, to answer the theological question of “who is Jesus of Nazareth?” This does not mean that the infancy narratives do not contain some history, in theand sense that we understand history today.

We do know historically that Jesus was born during the reign of King Herod, appointed “King of the Judeans” by the Roman Senate in 40 BCE and he secured the throne in 37 BCE after defeating the Hasmonean king Antigonus with Roman support.

On the other hand, we are unable to verify historically that Joseph and Mary migrated to Bethlehem because of a census. Actually, historical records place the census event around 6–7 CE, thus after Herod’s death in 4 BCE

Many contemporary scholars, in fact, presume Jesus was actually born in Nazareth.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus, like Moses, was rescued as an infant from a murderous king (Matthew 2:16-18). In Matthew’s narration, Jesus’ ministry begins with three temptations in the desert. They correspond to the experiences of Israel in the desert, after the Exodus. Jesus is God’s great liberator, the new Moses.

The Gospel of Matthew includes some 600 of the Gospel of Mark’s 661 verses but it adds about 220 additional verses, shared by Matthew and Luke but not found in Mark.

Matthew contains five discourses by Jesus: Matthew 5:1-7:29; 10:1-42; 13:1-52; 18:1-35; and 23:1 through 25:46 which symbolized, for the evangelist’s Hebrew-Christian audience, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. 

• In the first of these, the Sermon on Mount, the rabbi Jesus, like a new Moses, presents his definitive teaching about what it means to be his follower. Jesus, in Matthew, is the great teacher. Notice how Jesus so often says “you have heard it said of old . . . but I say to you.” (Matthew 5:21-22) Rabbi Jesus takes a teaching found in the Hebrew Scriptures and then intensifies and expands on it.
• In the second, Jesus commissions the Twelve Disciples, symbolic again for the Twelve Tribes of Israel.
• In the third discourse, we see opposition to Jesus coming to a head and accusations that his deeds are done through the power of Satan. Jesus in turn accuses his opponents of blaspheming the Holy Spirit and challenges his disciples to understand his teachings.
• In the fourth discourse, we see that the increasing opposition to Jesus will result in his crucifixion in Jerusalem and that his disciples must therefore prepare for his absence. The instructions for the post-crucifixion community emphasized responsibility and humility. In this section, Matthew 16:16,  we read as well that Simon, newly renamed Peter (from Petros, in Greek, meaning “rock”), calls Jesus “the Christ, the son of the living God” and Jesus states that on this “bedrock” (petra in Greek) he will build his “community.” The Greek word in the text is ekklesia which is often mistranslated as “church.” 

 

The official Roman Catholic interpretation has traditionally been that Jesus was making Peter “head of the church.” But another interpretation is that the rock Jesus was referring to was not Peter, but Peter’s statement in Matthew 16:16: “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.” In this view, the “rock” is the truthfulness of that statement. The community of Christ is built on the rock-solid truth that Jesus is God’s Chosen One and the eternal Son of God. 

The authenticity of this uniquely Matthew material, however, has been widely discussed and has been challenged on the basis that verses Matthew 16:16–19 are found only in Matthew.

Nowhere in the New Testament is Peter described as being supreme over the other apostles. And as I have written before, we know that Peter did not set up the Christian community in Rome and that Peter was never a bishop of Rome.

Peter certainly was not “the first pope.” The Roman Catholic theologians Raymond Brown (1928 – 1998) and John P. Meier (1942 – 2022) were quite emphatic about this in their book Antioch and Rome: New Testament Cradles of Christianity, (Paulist Press 1983).

This is not an anti-Catholic statement. I am still a life-long Roman Catholic and a Roman Catholic theologian. At some point however, official Roman Catholic self-understanding will have to come to terms with this historical reality.

 

• In the fifth discourse, Jesus travels toward Jerusalem, and the opposition intensifies. When he arrives, he is soon in conflict with the Temple’s traders and religious leaders. The disciples ask about the future, and in his final discourse Jesus speaks of the coming end. Jesus warns that there will be false messiahs, earthquakes, and persecutions. His disciples must prepare themselves for ministry to all nations. Matthew notes that Jesus has finished all his words, and attention now turns to the crucifixion. 

 

The central message of Jesus’ preaching in the Gospel of Matthew is the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven and the need for repentance, and a complete change of heart and conduct, on the part of those who are to receive this great gift of God (Matthew 4:17).

The Kingdom of Heaven is both a present reality and a future hope. It is dawning already. The ethic that Jesus lived and taught is exemplified in the Sermon on the Mount, found in Matthew’s chapters 5, 6, and 7. This is one of the most widely quoted sections of the canonical Gospels and includes some of the best-known sayings attributed to Jesus, such as the Beatitudes and what many consider to be the central tenets of Christian discipleship.

[I explored the Beatitudes in my Another Voice, Ash Wednesday reflection, on February 18, 2026.]

In Matthew’s Gospel, Galilee is the setting for most of Jesus’ ministry. He leaves there for Judea only in Matthew 19:1. But  Jesus’ ministry in the Judean city Jerusalem, the goal of his journey, is limited to just a few days (Matthew 21:1–25:46).

Thinking of Easter, the account of Jesus’ Resurrection, in Matthew 28, highlights a dramatic, apocalyptic event, starting with a violent earthquake and a stone rolled away by an angel, marking the triumph of God over death. Matthew in fact is the only Gospel to describe such an earthquake and the descent of an angel to open the tomb, making the Resurrection as an act of Divine power.

In a passage unique to Matthew (28:11-15), terrified guards report to the chief priests, who then bribe them to spread a false story that Jesus’ disciples stole his body.

Women are the first to witness the risen Christ, emphasizing their role as followers and proclaimers. Mary the Magdalene was the first of Jesus’ followers to bear witness to his Resurrection in the Gospel of Mark. In the Gospel of Matthew, she and the other Mary are the first disciples to encounter the risen Jesus, who instructs them to send the disciples to Galilee. Important and powerful women!

The Gospel of Matthew concludes with Jesus meeting his disciples on a mountain in Galilee, claiming “all authority in heaven and on earth,” and commanding them to make disciples of all nations, promising his presence until the end of the age. (Matthew 28:16-20)

 

Happy Easter and warmest regards to all!

Easter is our hope and our challenge: Living in the Spirit of Jesus.

• Jack

P.S.  Taking some family Easter time. My next post will be on April 22.

 

 

 

 

 

 

All four Gospels evolved from oral traditions, passed on from person to person and from place to place. More than one single person composed the final versions of the four Gospels, as we have them today. Mark is the oldest. Matthew and Luke both drew upon Mark as a major source for their works. General dating for the four Gospels:   Mark (c. 70), Matthew (most likely c. 80-85), Luke (c. 80-90), and John (c. 90-100). 

Originally, the Gospels were circulated without titles. That changed around 185 CE, when the theologian, Irenaeus of Lyon (c.139-202), labeled the four Gospels as “Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John.” Irenaeus was the second bishop of Lyon, France from 177 until his death.

Although Mark is older, Matthew was listed first in the official “canonical” list of the four Gospels by the Council of Rome in 382 and the Synod of Hippo in 393, because the bishops mistakenly considered it the first Gospel to be written. They accepted the “Augustinian hypothesis” proposed by the well-known theologian and philosopher, Augustine (354-430), the Bishop of Hippo Regius, the ancient name of today’s Annaba, Algeria.

What we call Mark’s Gospel was composed probably after the Roman destruction of Jerusalem and its temple in the year 70. Mark was written for Gentile Christians in Rome. They suffered Roman persecution but also discrimination from Hebrew-Christians, who felt superior to Gentile converts.

In Mark’s Gospel we see, very early, a Jesus confronted with difficulties and rejection. It is a Gospel for those who are suffering and need to find consolation: people who resonate with the fearful cry of those disciples in the sinking boat (Mark 4:35-40). They were frightened by the storm. They woke-up the sleeping Jesus and asked him if he was just going to let them all drown. Jesus calmed the storm, and then said to his disciples “Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?”

Having faith in difficult times is key to Mark.

Up until the nineteenth century, and in some circles even later, the general understanding was that the author of Mark’s Gospel was “John Mark” mentioned in Acts of Apostles. (Acts 12:12 and 12:25) Contemporary scholars, however, agree that the final author of Mark remains anonymous. Although it is the oldest of the four, Mark’s Gospel is also much shorter than the other Gospels, with just 16 chapters compared to Matthew’s 28, Luke’s 24, and John’s 21.

Mark begins with εὐαγγέλιον (transliteration: euaggelion) the Greek word for “good news”: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus, the Son of God.” (Mark 1:1) As part of the vocabulary of early Christians, this word did not refer to a specific type of literature nor to a book. The term (“gospel” in English) had a more dynamic meaning. It was a proclamation of an event of major importance. The “Gospel of Jesus” for early Christians designated God’s saving actions in and through the person of Jesus.

Mark’s Gospel narration begins with John the Baptizer, who died c. 30 CE. John was an itinerant preacher, “a voice crying in the wilderness,” (Mark 1:3). His baptism was a water immersion ritual in the Jordan River symbolizing repentance and preparation for the Messiah’s arrival. John had many followers, and it appears, from Mark’s Gospel, that Jesus from Nazareth was one of them. But John said that Jesus was far greater than he: “I am not fit to kneel down and undo the strap of his sandals.” (Mark 1:8)

When John baptized Jesus in the Jordan, a voice from the heavens spoke to Jesus: “You are my son, the Beloved. My favor rests on you.” (Mark 1:11) Note, the Spirit is speaking directly to Jesus. It is his call to public ministry moving far beyond that of John the Baptizer.

Throughout his life, Jesus came to a gradual realization of who he is as Human One (“Son of Man”) and Son of God. His disciples as well came to a gradual realization of who he is, just like we do today. We grow in our faith, wisdom, and understanding.

Mark’s Gospel has no account of Jesus’ virgin birth or his infancy. The focus is on the adult Jesus as Messiah. The Gospel does mention that Jesus had brothers and sisters in Mark 6:3.

At the Second Council of Constantinople in 553 CE, when church authorities, strongly believing in the superiority of celibacy over marriage, proclaimed the perpetual virginity of Jesus’ mother, the text in Mark 6:3 became problematic. “Brothers and sisters” came to be interpreted as meaning Jesus’s “cousins.” I have no desire to get into this discussion right now but do find it interesting that the Pauline epistles, the four Gospels, and Acts of Apostles all mention the brothers of Jesus, with both Mark and Matthew mentioning the brothers’ names and unnamed sisters.

Mark’s Gospel also has a rather abrupt ending. Like the other three Gospels, Mark does report the visit of Mary the Magdalene, and her companions to the tomb of Jesus early Sunday morning. When they arrive at the tomb, however, they find the entrance stone removed and a young man (not an angel) tells them: “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” And the Gospel concludes with “And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing, because they were afraid.” (Mark 16:8)

How ironic that the first Christian leaders to proclaim Jesus’ Resurrection were women but the contemporary RCC still has problems ordaining women

Most scholars today really believe that the Gospel of Mark originally ended with Mark 16:8. Yet some scholars contend there was in fact a lost ending. Already in antiquity there were editors and copyists, uncomfortable with such an abrupt ending. They provided three different endings for Mark to “correct” the abruptness of 16:8.

Although now understood as a later addition to the text, the most favored of these added endings is Mark 16:9-20, called the Markan Appendix, or the Longer Ending. It records three appearances of Jesus raised from the dead: to Mary the Magdalene; to two disciples; and to the eleven. It mentions Jesus’ ascension into heaven and his sitting at God’s right hand.

There do remain critical questions concerning the authenticity of the verses in Mark 16:9–20 which center on stylistic and linguistic issues. When was the Markan Appendix added is a good question. Later than many think. Eusebius of Caesarea, historian and bishop, in what was then Roman Palestine and who died in 339, as well as Jerome, theologian and well-known biblical translator, who died in Bethlehem in 432, indicated the absence of the verses from Greek manuscripts known to them. 

Re-reading Mark’s Gospel, as we prepare for Palm Sunday 2026, two thoughts struck me: (1) Jesus in Mark’s Gospel is a rejected and suffering Son of God, and (2) following Jesus is a discipleship of the cross. Life is not always easy. Many people today still live, as did Mark’s congregation, in fearful and threatening times. 

Mark is clearly a Gospel of the suffering Messiah and of suffering and fearful discipleship. On the night he was betrayed, Jesus went to the garden of Gethsemane to pray. A sudden fear came over him, and he was in great distress. Like a loving child he spoke to his father: “Abba everything is possible for you. Take this cup away from me….” (Mark 14:35-36). Judas betrayed him. Other disciples abandoned him. People spit on Jesus. He is blindfolded and beaten. Even Peter rejected him three times. (Mark 14:53-65)

The Gospel of Mark’s message for us today is that fear and uncertainty, if one allows them to take control, can disable, blind, and paralyze people. But Christianity is not a religion of fear. Jesus’ words to his disciples in Mark 8:18-21 speak to us today as well: “Do you not yet understand? Have you no perception? Are your minds closed? Do you have eyes that do not see, and ears that do not hear?”

Jack

Dr. John A. Dick – Historical Theologian

 

In coming weeks, I would like to return to some updated historical-critical reflections about the historical Jesus, so greatly needed in our contemporary times of politically tainted and distorted christianity.

Jesus of Nazareth was an historical figure and attempts to deny his historicity have been consistently rejected by contemporary scholarly consensus. His existence was also documented by ancient Roman and Hebrew historians.

Jesus was a Galilean Hebrew. Most biblical scholars and ancient historians believe that his birth date was around 6 to 4 BCE. (“BCE” meaning Before the Common Era.)

Jesus was not born in the year 1 AD because of historical miscalculations by the 6th-century Eastern European monk Dionysius Exiguus, who created the AD – Anno Domini “year of the Lord” dating system. The gospels of Luke and Matthew associate Jesus’ birth with the reign of King Herod the Great, who died in 4 BCE.

Jesus lived only in Galilee and Judea, two distinct regions in the Holy Land. Judea, centered around Jerusalem, was the religious and political heartland. Galilee, to the north, was a rural, prosperous, and culturally diverse area.

Like most people from Galilee back then, Jesus had brown eyes, dark brown to black hair and olive-brown skin. Jesus spoke Aramaic and may have also spoken Hebrew and Greek. The languages spoken in Galilee and Judea during the 1st century included the Semitic Aramaic and Hebrew languages as well as Greek, with Aramaic being the predominant language.

Biblical perspectives on the historical Jesus are based on the Pauline epistles, written between 48 and 62 CE, and the gospels of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John all written within seventy-five years of Jesus’ death. Those four gospels, however, do not represent all the early gospels available. This becomes clear in studying other gospels either discerned as sources inside the official four or else discovered as documents outside them. An example of a source hidden within the four canonical gospels is the reconstructed document known as Q, from the German word Quelle, meaning “source,” which is now imbedded within both Luke and Matthew.

Another ancient Jesus document, outside the four canonical gospels is the Gospel of Thomas, which was found at Nag Hammadi, in Upper Egypt, in the winter of 1945 and is, in the view of many scholars, completely independent of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John. It is also most strikingly different from them, especially in its format. It identifies itself as a gospel, but it is in fact a collection of the sayings of Jesus given without any descriptions of deeds or miracles, crucifixion or resurrection stories.

Most contemporary scholars agree that Jesus began his public ministry when he was about thirty years old, as indicated in Luke 3:23. The New Testament does not specifically give the ages of any of the men and women who were Jesus’ disciples. Some of them may have joined Jesus as early as age 15 and would have still been teenagers at the time of his death and resurrection. Education for young Hebrews, in Jesus’ time, concluded at the age of 15.

What did Jesus do before his public ministry? We do not know. We can can only guess. Some historians suggest that Jesus, like his father, was first an early “blue collar” worker in construction work outside Nazareth. Others suggest that, after his father’s death, Jesus took over the work to support his mother, brothers, and sisters. Still others theorize that Jesus was a monk and spent years in study and prayer, before entering his public ministerial life. Frankly, I have no pet theory. I am more interested in what Jesus said and did in his public ministry.

When we look at the history and biblical testimony about the post-Resurrection apostolic community of Christians in Jerusalem, clearly the leader was James, the “brother of the Lord.” Peter played a role in the Council of Jerusalem, around 50 CE. But James was in charge and James issued the definitive judgment that converts to Christianity did not have to be circumcised. Then, according to the epistle to the Galatians, Peter went to Antioch. There he tangled with Paul, who rebuked him for treating Gentile converts as inferior to Hebrew Christians.

Peter and his wife certainly belonged to the group of young men and women, most in their late teens or early twenties, who were Jesus’ close disciples. Peter became the first Bishop of Antioch from around 44 to 51 CE. But he was never a bishop of Rome, because the early Christian community in Rome was governed not by a bishop but a group of elders: what today we would call a steering committee.

There is a tradition that Peter and Paul went to Rome and were put to death at the hands of Nero, probably between 64 and 68 CE. There has been a lot of historical development about Peter and the Papacy, in fact, over the past fifty years. The Roman Catholic biblical scholars, Raymond Brown (1928 –1998) and John P. Meier (1942 – 2022), for instance, were emphatic in their book Antioch and Rome: New Testament Cradles of Christianity, (Paulist Press 1983) that Peter was never a bishop of Rome. They wrote: “There is no serious proof that he (Peter) was the bishop, or local ecclesiastical officer, of the Roman church: a claim not made till the third century.” (We do grow in our understanding.)

The Papacy did not begin in earnest until Constantine (272–337). The first great acclamation of “Peter as a pope,” however, came from Pope Leo I who was pope from 440 CE until his death in 461 CE.

After the deaths of James, Paul, Peter, as well as others who had known Jesus face-to-face, it became essential for the survival of the way of Jesus that his words and deeds be recollected and written down. This led to the birth of the four Gospels. The clear majority of contemporary biblical scholars believe that Mark was the first Gospel to be written, sometime around the year 70 CE. The Gospels contain bits of history, parables, metaphor, symbol, re-interpreted passages from the Greek (Septuagint) Hebrew Scriptures and imagined scenarios for key events in the life of Jesus.

Next week we will explore perspectives on Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, which is simple and succinct with a vivid account of Jesus’ ministry, emphasizing more what Jesus did than what he said.

Jack

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was thinking this past week about the US astronomer and author, Carl Sagan (1934–1996). I remember his observations a year before he died: “When people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority, (with)…critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what is  true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness.”

Are many people today now moving into a post-truth state of mind? Certainly, the Internet is a goldmine of information as well as a minefield of misinformation and distortion. Facebook and other social media are hardly the sources of always reliable truthful statements.

What are the criteria for making reliable judgments about truthfulness? I look for reliable reporters, trustworthy news sources, and well-documented reports. I do not trust undocumented reports. Primary sources are crucial. We need to discern and help people discern the difference between fabricated stories and reality. We need to avoid fake history and fake news, but it is not always easy.

My own truth-seeking journey has taken several turns. As a small child I was a curious research examiner. One of my first explorations, when I was about four years old, was taking a small screwdriver and prying the back off my dad’s pocket watch to see how it worked. As an adolescent I tore apart old telephones, radios, old clocks, etc. My dad thought that was fine if I did not touch his watch. I was good at taking things apart. Reassembly was more difficult. But I could see how things worked. Or used to work.

In high school and college, I spent eight years – 180 miles from my home in SW Michigan — at Sacred Heart Seminary in Detroit. The country boy became quickly urbanized, and his intellectual and socio-cultural world expanded tremendously. In high school I reached the point at which I could write a term paper in Latin. I then moved on to learn Greek and Spanish. I also learned how to play the seminary pipe organ, with hands AND feet. It felt great. If he could have seen me, Bach would have laughed.

Seminary for me was a new world of experiences. I got used to showering every day with a bunch of naked guys but never found it a turn on. I did wonder however about some of my fellow students who had strong “particular friendships.” Some of those guys were also among those seminarians who mysteriously disappeared, usually while the rest of us were at morning prayer and mass. After breakfast, when we went to the dormitory to make our beds, we would see their lockers open and empty. Even their beds had disappeared.

Philosophy intrigued me, especially existentialism. The search for the authentic. I had to study Thomas Aquinas (c.1225-1274) of course but read as much as I could about Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) and Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980). At the same time, I was very religious. My classmates called me “Pious Dick.” I resonated with William James (1842–1910) and his The Varieties of Religious Experience. In many ways I was – for a while — a Catholic fundamentalist. I had questions but my spiritual director stressed that I should never question and never doubt. Those questions would later bombard me. 

In the 1960s, when I was in college, the “generation gap” was also very real for me. I was strongly opposed to the then developing U.S. involvement in Vietnam. Many of my older relatives, however, supported the war.

Several former friends and classmates died in Vietnam. I saw them as victims not heroes. Their parents thought I had betrayed them because I never went to Vietnam. But, for the record, I was not a “draft dodger.” I had completed my Selective Service registration when I became 18 years old. I carried my “draft card” with me but had a bonafide legal deferment because, as a seminarian, I was a divinity student.

Deep wounds last a long time. U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War began in the 1950s but escalated in 1965 until U.S. withdrawal in 1973. The American military presence in Vietnam had peaked in April 1969, with 543,000 military personnel stationed in the country. By the end of the U.S. involvement, more than 3.1 million Americans had been stationed in Vietnam and 58,279 had been killed. The Vietnam War tore America apart much more than the nineteenth century Civil War.

When I graduated from college in 1965, my bishop, Alexander Zaleski (1906-1975), who had gone to the American College seminary in Belgium at the Catholic University of Louvain, sent me to Louvain, better known today as Leuven. For me it was a tremendous eye-opening and mind-expanding experience. My father would often comment, with a chuckle, in later years: “Jack was never the same after Louvain.”  

In Leuven I began to question everything. It began early in my first year when my dogma professor, Fr. Gustave Thils (1909-2000), asked our class: “If tomorrow archeologists in Jerusalem would find the bones of the historical Jesus, would that destroy your belief in the Resurrection?” I thought of course it would. But I asked Professor Thils how he would answer that question. He said: “Of course not! Resurrection is not resuscitation.” 

I thought Thils was wrong, and so my questions began. It was in December of my second year in Leuven that the British theologian and Catholic priest, Charles Davis (1923–1999), whom I read and respected, announced he was leaving the Catholic Church. I was terribly upset. Davis explained that the Catholic Church had become too powerful and too dehumanizing and called it “a vast, impersonal, unfree, and inhuman system.” I went back to Professor Thils, with whom, I had discovered, I could really discuss my questions. I told him how upset and how sad I was because I had always considered Father Charles Davis to be an excellent theologian. Thils smiled and said: “Yes and Charles Davis still is an excellent theologian.”

Gradually I also came to a better understanding of “faith” as it appears in the Bible. It means first and foremost a relationship of trust and confidence in God. That understanding of faith still sustains me.

After three years in major seminary, and just one year away from priesthood ordination, I decided I wanted to become a non-ordained theologian and did not want to spend my life as a celibate priest. I informed my bishop. Bishop Zaleski was not happy and asked a couple of his priest friends to send me advice-letters to help me “think more clearly” about my vocation.

The priests back in Michigan stressed that many married men were quite unhappy and that, even as a celibate priest, there would always be ways for me to “have sex” with a woman or even a boy when I “needed it.” I was disappointed and angry. I was amazed that they could advocate immoral sexual behavior and be so blind to marital love and intimacy. I wrote back to the chief letter writer that love and marriage were much more than just having sex “when one needed it.” He never replied.

With the friendly help and support of professors Gustave Thils, in Leuven, and Edward Schillebeeckx (1914–2009) at the, then, Catholic University of Nijmegen, I began my journey toward becoming an historical theologian. I have never had any regrets.

In Leuven my classes were mostly in French, but classes in Nijmegen were in Dutch. Preparing for a year in Nijmegen, I spent a summer learning Dutch. My favorite teacher became my wife in 1970, and she is still my favorite teacher.

Well, enough personal history. Next week some thoughts about the historical Jesus — my theme for the remaining weeks of Lent 2026.

• Jack

 

 

On November 28, 2025, the Vatican released the following statement from Pope Leo XIV: “We must strongly reject the use of religion for justifying war, violence, or any form of fundamentalism or fanaticism. Instead, the paths to follow are those of fraternal encounter, dialogue and cooperation.” But since early 2026, however, Pope Leo has been dealing with a very specific Catholic fundamentalist problem.

 In the first week of February 2026, the Swiss-based Catholic fundamentalist group, The Society of St. Pius X, announced plans to consecrate new bishops without papal consent.

Founded in 1970 by the French Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre (1905–1991), The Society of St. Pius X prioritizes a pre-Vatican II, anti-Modernist stance, strictly adhering to the Tridentine Latin Mass and traditional Catholic doctrines. In 1988, Archbishop Lefebvre consecrated four bishops without papal consent, arguing that it was necessary for the survival of the church’s tradition. The Vatican promptly excommunicated Lefebvre and the four other bishops. In the years since the 1988 excommunication, as Nicole Winfeld reported via Religion News Service, on February 19, 2026, the Society of St. Pius X has continued to grow, with schools, parishes, and seminaries around the world. Today it has 733 priests, 264 seminarians, 145 religious brothers, 88 oblates, and 250 religious sisters.

In the United States, at least since the second decade of the twentieth century, the word “fundamentalism” has usually been understood as something quite specifically Protestant, militant, and American. Few people realize, however, that a militant and sectarian “fundamentalist” movement emerged within American Roman Catholicism in the decades after World War II. The focal point was the St. Benedict Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts, founded in 1940 to serve the growing number of Catholic students attending Harvard University and Radcliffe College.

Significant changes at St. Benedict Center came in 1943, however, when Leonard Feeney, S.J. (1897–1978) arrived as pastor. Feeney had been a literary editor at the Jesuit magazine America in the 1930s but, at St. Benedict Center, he gave incendiary speeches, leading Robert F. Kennedy (1925–1968), then a Harvard undergraduate, to write Archbishop Richard Cushing (1895-1970) of Boston requesting his removal.

Feeney had declared that in strongly Catholic Boston, he wanted to “rid our city of every coward liberal Catholic, Jew dog, Protestant brute, and 33rd degree Mason who is trying to suck the soul from good Catholics and sell the true faith for greenbacks.”

Feeney was excommunicated on February 13, 1953. Nevertheless, he and his followers crafted the paradigm for American Catholic fundamentalism as an anti-modern, reactive, and sectarian impulse that has been with us ever since.

A helpful book about American Catholic fundamentalism is Fr. Mark Massa’s Catholic Fundamentalism in America (Oxford University Press, 2025). Massa, a Jesuit Priest, is professor of theology at Boston College and for nine years was director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life. For the 2026–2027 academic year, he will be a visiting professor at Fordham University.

Massa recounts how American Catholic fundamentalists have reacted both to the teachings of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) and to the tensions of America’s pluralist, secular culture. Like their Protestant cousins, Catholic fundamentalists combine a sectarian understanding of religion with an aggressive anti-progressive stance. Their main enemies are not Protestants or secular Americans, but other Catholics who do not share their extreme views.

Like Protestant fundamentalists, Catholic fundamentalists have sought and found political conservatives with whom to make common cause on a range of issues, like the place of women in American culture, opposition to LGBTQ people, rejecting the value of pluralism within the Church and the larger culture, and rejecting the importance of cooperation with non-Catholics.

Contemporary Catholic fundamentalists merge their theological and political impulses into movements that go far beyond mere conservatism. Their fundamentalism is a rigid, ideological, and often militant approach that demands a return to an imagined pure, literal interpretation of foundational texts or beliefs.

They only listen to sources that they agree with. Their brains have stoped questioning. They no longer think for themselves. They obey their fundamentalist leaders, and have zero empathy for anyone outside their group,

Conservatism often treasures tradition, heritage, and “the way things were done” as a guiding, but sometimes flexible, framework. Fundamentalism goes farther by insisting on strict literalism and inerrancy of sacred texts and rejecting modern scholarly or contextual interpretations. Fundamentalism is dangerous because it fuels extremism, misogyny, and violence, threatening democratic values and social cohesion.

Fundamentalists view modern liberal culture as a corruption that must be erased and replaced with their specific, often archaic, ideology. While conservatives can work within democratic pluralistic frameworks and accept compromise, fundamentalists view compromise as a character flaw or a sin. Fundamentalists select and reinterpret certain specific past traditions to provide a sense of security against social change. But they really seek total control over society, including politics, culture, economics, and family life. They often adopt a combative, “war-like” stance toward opposing viewpoints, “them against us,” viewing “them” as treasonous.

By way of example, fundamentalists in the current U.S. presidential administration have embraced the “Great Replacement” theory, a far-right conspiracy theory that was first proposed by the French writer Renaud Camus (born 1946) in the late 1990s, and it has become increasingly mainstream within today’s Republican Party. The “Great Replacement” theory says that Brown and Black migration is destroying “western civilization.” It argues that such migration must be stopped and that Brown and Black people must be purged so that White Christians can dominate society and reinforce traditional religious and patriarchal hierarchies. These “Christians” ignore of course the historic fact that Jesus of Nazareth was certainly NOT a White-skinned European, but a Brown-skinned Middle Eastern Hebrew.

Contemporary fundamentalist-leaning Catholics are active in the incumbent presidential administration. Six of the nine U.S. Supreme Court Justices are Catholic, with a conservative majority. Individuals and groups associated with fundamentalist Catholicism are also among the key architects and supporters of Project 2025. The the architect of Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation’s president, has close ties with the far-right fundamentalist Catholic institution Opus Dei, which grew strongly and flourished during the thirty-six years of the Francisco Franco (1892-1975) dictatorship in Spain.

I clearly remember what the award-winning journalist and columnist Heidi Schlumpf wrote in America magazine on November 7, 2025: “That the United States now seems to be exploding with Catholic fundamentalist movements is more than a little concerning, not just for the Church but for the country, if Catholics join forces with groups and individuals advocating for Christian nationalism. It is clear that Catholic fundamentalism, with its inherent militancy, is a serious threat, especially at a time of rising ideological violence. The solutions to these broader societal issues are not simple, but understanding the religious roots and connections is critical.”

Critical times. But I am not pessimistic. We need to deal constructively with Catholic fundamentalism by fostering dialogue over hostile debate, by focusing on charity, and by providing a more nuanced understanding of Catholic tradition.

We need to promote good education and encourage critical thinking, helping people understand that fear of questions and change can lead to rigidity, while true faith often involves grappling with complex questions.

• Jack

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What strikes me as I re-read Matthew 5:1-10, is Jesus the Great Teacher. Today I offer my own commentary. Jesus goes up a hill with his disciples and begins to teach what we have come to know as the “Sermon on the Mount” and the “Eight Beatitudes.”

The Teacher then said…

 

1.How blessed and fortunate are those people, who are humble in spirit.

The humble in spirit realize that greatness is achieved through service not domination. Power and control over people have no place in the community of faith. We do not sacrifice people nor the truth to preserve the “good name of the church.” The humble in spirit realize they are not masters of the universe. They understand they cannot survive on their own. They need to collaborate with sisters and brothers. They need to listen to the Spirit and be attentive to the signs of the times.

2.How blessed and fortunate are the gentle.

The gentle people are the meek: those people who can make room for someone else, even for the “losers.” They are neither so arrogant nor so self-centered that they see only what they want to see. Arrogant and crude belittling of other people has no place in the behavior of those who claim to be followers of Christ – even when they sit in high political office or wear colorful clerical uniforms. “You know that among the pagans the rulers lord it over them; and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you.” (Matthew 20:25-26)

3.How blessed and fortunate are those who mourn, because they have compassion.

The compassionate can feel the pain of another. They put an arm around the fearful and the oppressed. They lift oppressive burdens from the shoulders of the old, the rejected, and the impoverished.

4.How blessed and fortunate are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires.

We are fortunate if we have noble ideals, strong values, lofty goals, and the motivation to build up what is best in others and in ourselves. But the temptations are strong: to conform, to do what everyone else does, to simply read the news, and then not rock the boat.

5.How blessed and fortunate are those who show mercy to others.

Merciful love is assistance without conditions. Genuine Christians are not fear mongers who scapegoat gays, or feminists, as many conservative Catholics are doing and some militant “Christians” are doing. Then the Biblical concern for widows, orphans, immigrants, and the poor gets lost.

6.How blessed and fortunate are the pure of heart.

The pure of heart are honest-hearted. They are not two-faced, with hidden agendas or secret desires to advance themselves by using and abusing other people. They do not brag and joke about the different or unfortunate. The pure of heart honor and search for truth. They do not lie and fabricate phoney “facts.”

7.How blessed and fortunate are those who work for peace.

Those who work for peace do not erect walls. They are bridge builders. They cooperate rather than compete. They struggle to resolve political, social, and religious polarization through tolerance, dialogue, and mutual respect. To paraphrase, in contemporary style, Matthew 25:52, “put your guns away, for all who draw their guns will perish by guns.”

8.How blessed and fortunate are those who suffer persecution because they truly live the Gospel.

There are a lot of phony Christians in high places these days. They love to denigrate their critics. They profess love of Christ; but in reality they only love themselves. Matthew’s Jesus is adamant about this. He spoke of religious leaders who wore impressive religious garments and talked God’s values but never lived God’s values. “Do not do what they do,” Jesus said “for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them. Everything they do is done for people to see. (Matthew 23:3-5)

Jack

_____________________

Dr. John A. Dick 

 

 

PS. I will be away from my computer for a few days for what, in Belgium, is called “Krokusvakantie” (Crocus Vacation) a one-week holiday typically held in February around Ash Wednesday. It acts as a break during the dark winter months and signals the approach of spring. I will return in the first week of March.

 

 

 

 

“The Hill We Climb” is a poem written by the young, black, and contemporaryAmerican woman Amanda Gorman. It was first recited by her at the presidential inauguration on January 20, 2021. Thinking about socio-political developments in today’s America, I find her poem a call for wisdom and hopeful action. It may or may not be a great poem, but I like it because it addresses national division and trauma but emphasizes healing, unity, and the opportunity to build a better future, declaring: “For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.” Exactly what we need today.

 

 

The Hill We Climb

 

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow, we do it.

Somehow, we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so, we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the West.

We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked South.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover. And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.

The new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

_____________________

Jack

Dr. John A. Dick 

Historical Theologian

“History gives answers to those who know how to ask questions.”

 

 

First some wonderful news! Dame Sarah Elisabeth Mullally, an Anglican bishop and former nurse, was officially confirmed on Wednesday January 28, 2026, as the first female Archbishop of Canterbury and the first woman to head the Church of England, the mother church of the 85-million-strong global Anglican communion. She has become the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury.

Today however I really want to focus – for the last time since I have addressed this already, but many new readers of my blog have asked me to write about it — on women’s ordination in my Roman Catholic tradition.

According to a 2025 Pew Research Center study, close to 64% of U.S. Catholics believe the Catholic Church should allow women deacons and priests. Officially, however, the Catholic Church still does not approve of women’s ordination.

A Vatican commission studying the possibility of female deacons reported that the current state of historical and theological research “excludes the possibility of proceeding” toward admitting women to the diaconate. In a letter sharing the results of its work with Pope Leo XIV and released by the Vatican on December 4, 2025, the commission reported a 7-1 vote in favor of a statement concluding that the church cannot currently move toward admitting women to the third degree of holy orders, the diaconate. The argument was that “the masculinity of Christ, and therefore the masculinity of those who receive Holy Orders, is not accidental but is an integral part of sacramental identity.”

Well life goes on. We need to build a better future; and women’s ordination is an essential part of that.

First, I offer a bit of older church history. In 1994, to officially stamp-out what he considered a rapidly spreading “deviant behavior” and unorthodox thought and teaching, Pope John Paul II declared women’s ordination a closed matter. In his  letter Ordinatio Sacerdotalis, he wrote: “Wherefore, in order that all doubt may be removed regarding a matter of great importance…I declare that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and that this judgment is to be definitively held by all the Church’s faithful.” The Roman Catholic prohibition of women’s ordination argued from a perception of divinely-constituted gender roles: the belief that masculinity was integral to the ministry of both Jesus and the apostles. Being a woman is fine, the churchmen said, but if a person is going to act “in persona Christi” (in the person of Christ) that person needs to have male genitalia.

Pope John Paul II, Pope Benedict XVI, and apparently Pope Francis have all believed, when it comes to priesthood, that there is an essential difference between being male and being female. They believed that maleness is necessary for priesthood just as water is necessary for baptism. Why? Because, they argue, that’s the way the historical Jesus set it up. All of this is summed up in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (issued by Pope John Paul in 1992): “Only a baptized man (vir in Latin) validly receives sacred ordination.” The Lord Jesus chose men (viri) to form the college of the twelve apostles, and the apostles did the same when they chose collaborators to succeed them in their ministry. The college of bishops, with whom the priests are united in the priesthood, makes the college of the twelve an ever-present and ever-active reality until Christ’s return. The Church recognizes herself to be bound by this choice made by the Lord himself. For this reason, the ordination of women is not possible.”

Interesting. I remember very clearly the official declaration of the Pontifical Biblical Commission in 1976 that no valid scriptural reason existed for not ordaining women. With all due respect, even popes need remedial theological education. Or they at least need well educated and up-to-date advisors and ghost writers. The Pontifical Biblical Commission was formally established by Pope Leo XIII (1810-1903) in October 1902. Its purpose was and has always been to “ensure the proper Roman Catholic interpretation and defense of Sacred Scripture.“

Very often those who oppose women’s ordination argue that Jesus chose only male disciples so therefore all priests and bishops must be men. The historical testimony, however, does not confirm this. The historical Jesus was not a male chauvinist.

Jesus’ disciples were a dynamic group of young men AND women, most probably in their early or late teens. We know from the Martha/Mary account in Luke chapter 10 that Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus, was truly a disciple. 

In each of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ Resurrection, there is a common thread: the first witnesses to the reality of the empty tomb were women. 

Yes indeed, among Jesus’ disciples, later called apostles when sent out to preach the Good News, there were men and women. Certainly, Mary the Magdalene was a key disciple and has often been called the “apostle to the apostles.” Paul, in his Letter to the Romans, refers to Priscilla and Aquila. He praises the woman Junia as a prominent apostle and Phoebe, a leader from the church at Cenchreae, a port city near Corinth.

As far as ordination is concerned, as I have often written, the historical Jesus did not ordain anyone. Ordination came several decades after Jesus’ Last Supper. When it was established, it was not about sacramental power. It was simply a form of quality control insuring qualified and competent ministers.

In the early Christian communities, long before ordination came into being, male and female leaders, selected by the communities, presided at Eucharistic celebrations. There were male and female ministerial leaders. Much later in the history of the church, misogyny slipped in and an all-male clerical culture took over. Priesthood then became male-hood.

A major development in the contemporary experience of women’s ordination came in 2002 with the ordination of the “Danube Seven,” a group of seven women from Germany, Austria, and the United States who were validly ordained as priests on a ship cruising the Danube River on 29 June 2002. It was an historic moment. A year later, two of the original group were ordained bishops.

The Danube Seven launched what has become a prophetic Roman Catholic women priests movement.

Although officially excommunicated, the RCWP (Roman Catholic Women Priests) and ARCWP (Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests) are two branches that have developed from the ordination of the seven women on the Danube. Both groups have members in the U.S.A., and both are international. RCWP women priests and bishops minister in over 34 U.S. states and are also present in Canada, Europe, South and Central America, South Africa, the Philippines, and Taiwan. Today there are 270 Women Priests and 15 Women Bishops worldwide.

Some Roman Catholic observers suggest that it might be better right now to focus on women’s ordination to the diaconate. This was the focus of the 2011 book: Women Deacons: Past, Present, Future, by Gary Macy, Phyllis Zagano, and William T. Ditewig. Right now, however, Pope Leo XIV is not inclined to move in that direction.

In an interview with Elise Ann Allen of Crux a few months ago, Pope Leon ended up talking about about women deacons. “At the moment,” he said “I do not have any intention of changing the teaching of the Church on the topic.”  Nevertheless, there is ample evidence of women deacons in the East from the earliest days of the Christianity to this day. We know women deacons existed early in the West as well. In fact, there is ample evidence of women deacons for over half of Christian history, until the twelfth century.

The historical diaconate was both male and female.

“Study after study has investigated the evidence concerning women deacons in both the Eastern and Western Churches, leaving little doubt that women deacons existed for centuries in Christianity.” Gary Macy, American theologian and historian specializing in medieval Christianity and the history of women’s ordination in the Western Church. He is professor emeritus of Theology at Santa Clara University.

The earliest reference to women as deacons appears in the Letter of Paul to the Romans: “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae, so that you may welcome her in the Lord as is fitting for the saints, and help her in whatever she may require from you, for she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well.”  (Rom 16:1–2)

The most famous woman deacon in the Western Church was Queen Radegund, from the German land Thuringia, the wife of King Clothar I (511–58). She dramatically left the king in about 550 and demanded that she be ordained a deacon by Médard, bishop of Noyon in northern France, who, despite his fear of the king’s retribution, complied.

So, women deacons were there, working in both the Eastern and Western Churches for centuries before slowly disappearing from the scene around the twelfth century. Historians are sure they were there.

The ordination ceremony for the ordination of a woman deacon was dropped in the thirteenth-century Roman Pontifical — the official liturgical book of the Roman Rite in the Catholic Church containing rites, ceremonies, and blessings performed primarily by bishops — and does not appear again. Not surprising, the twelfth century also contains the last reference to a woman deacon, Heloise of Paris. By the thirteenth century, this office had disappeared from the Western Church. So, women deacons were there, working in both the Eastern and Western Churches for centuries before slowly disappearing from the scene around the twelfth century.

It seems that the major reason women stopped being ordained deacons in both the East and West was the gradual introduction of purity laws found in the Hebrew Scriptures. I call it religious misogyny. Menstruation and childbirth, very strangely,  were seen as impediments to women serving at the altar or to their eventually being ordained.

This is not the end of the story. With correct history, courage, and conviction, we move forward.

 

• Jack

 

Dr. John A. Dick – Historical Theologian

Email: jadleuven@gmail.com