Reading Francis

How are we living the dream?

Catholics celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran on November 9th every year, and the Scripture passages for that day are an interesting mix: Jesus cleanses the Temple in the Gospel (John 2), Ezekiel dreams about life-giving water flowing from the Temple in Ezekiel 47, and Paul tells the Corinthians that they (and, by extension, we) are the Temple of God.

The traditional way of weaving these three together is that Jesus’ outburst and prediction of his own death and resurrection establish that the old way of understanding things, a literal temple building as the home of God, is being replaced with a new way, with Jesus himself (and, later, his followers) serving as a more metaphorical home of God.

Another way to read these, though, is to focus more on that Ezekiel reading. His dreamlike vision of the Temple is one of “water flowing out beneath the threshold”. This is miraculous living water, such that, wherever it flows, “every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live, … fruit trees of every kind shall grow” that never quit bearing fruit. “Their fruit shall serve for food, and their leaves for medicine.”

This may be just a translation issue, but the “water flowing out beneath the threshold” seems accidental, like there’s a plumbing leak or something. You notice that even more when you put it in juxtaposition with the Gospel reading, in which Jesus flips the tables because the business of the Temple (which, instead of multiplying animals, sells them for sacrifice) is crowding out the main point of the place, worship of God. Together, they paint a picture of a Temple that is life-giving, but sometimes in spite of itself.

While it might be comforting for Christians to say, “That was then, this is now,” not so fast, my friend. If we’re honest, we can see the ways that our churches today can become so focused on institutional issues, doctrinal fights, and building campaigns that they lose sight of the point. Sociologists would tell you that this baked into the formation of institutions and is all but inescapable. Maybe so, but for whatever reason, when we find truly life-giving, transcendent love coming from organized religious practice, it can sometimes feel like an accident, a leak. Subversive, but unstoppable.

The I Corinthians reading ups the stakes on this. WE are supposed to be that life-giving water, growing forests that feed and heal. 

Look around. There is so much need for healing. There are so many levels on which people need to be fed (starting with the literal). We can catch glimpses of believers showing up to provide care, advocacy and accompaniment for the hungry and hurt, but we can also see believers siding with the systems and policies that are the cause of the pain and hunger.

What about us? Are we the ones bringing Love out into the world, or are we the ones with a mop and a bucket, trying to keep the floor clean and dry? What are we doing – as members of the Body of Christ, the institution, but even more so as individual Christians – to flow outside the walls and be life-giving to the people around us? 

How are we living the dream?