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by the Rev. Francis T. Gignac, S.J.
November 1, 1998
Our first reading on the Feast of All Saints, from chapter 7 (2-4,9-14) of the book of Revelation reminds us that Christian discipleship is not just a stoic endurance of suffering for a good cause. It is suffused with hope hope in what is to come.
The book of Revelation is a type of literature foreign to us today. It is a work written in code to encourage Christians who are suffering for their faith to persevere. It is obscure. The author resorts regularly to expressions and categories of thought that have long since ceased to be used in literature and cannot be understood apart from their historical background. Symbols, so cherished by apocalyptic writers, are everywhere
The imagery in Chapter 7 depicts Christ, the victorious Lamb who was slain, holding in his hands a document containing the mysteries of God's will. The document is sealed perfectly with seven seals: thus no one can tamper with it or change its contents. Before the seventh and final seal is broken, the author inserts this passage as an expression of hope to contrast the members of the faithful protected by God with the inhabitants of the earth, who are seized with panic at the approach of judgment.
First, the mythical protecting angel appears in the east, the source of light, holding the seal of the living God. According to the custom of the ancients, oriental lords impressed the seal of their ring on their belongings; whatever was marked by the seal belonged to the lord and was under his protection. Whoever bears the seal of the living God will be his property, though not free from persecution and death.
Then the members of the faithful are numbered: 144,000 (the square of 12, the number of Israel's tribes, multiplied by a thousand); this is symbolic of the new Israel, the people of God who embraces those "from every nation, race, people, and tongue." These are depicted as clothed in white robes and bearing palm branches, symbols of joy and victory respectively, as they appear in their glory, victorious over persecution. They break into a hymn of joy that will recur twice later in this book: at the fall of the dragon, the symbol of evil, in chapter 12 and of Babylon, the symbol of Rome, in chapter 19.
They ascribe their salvation to God, who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb. These are the people who have survived the time of great distress; they have washed their robes and made them white (an allusion to baptism) in the blood of the Lamb (an allusion to the eucharistic liturgy).
Our second reading from the so-called First Letter of John (3:1-3) shows us that the greatest sign of God's love is the gift of his Son that has made Christians true children of God (cf. John 3:16).
In the truest and most absolute sense, God's gift of love has been the gift of his Son. This is what has made it possible that we be called children of God. This relationship is a present reality and also part of the life to come; true knowledge of God will ultimately be gained, and we Christians have to prepare ourselves now by virtuous lives in imitation of his Son.
The relation between this present reality of being God's children and that which is to come is now brought out. We Christians are already children of God; yet there is a fulfillment toward which we look, in which our relationship to God will be completed. When Gods revelation is complete, we will indeed be like Christ, whose relationship to God is unique. As yet, this vision is a hope, the reality of which is shown in our striving for virtue. This is the down payment on eternal life with God, since by imitating Christ we already begin to live that life.
The gospel passage (Matthew 5:1-12) gives a secondary version of the beatitudes. A more original form is in the gospel according to Luke, in which four miserable human conditions are paradoxically pronounced blessed: "Blessed are you poor. Blessed are you who are hungry. Blessed are you who weep. Blessed are you when people hate you." This is as if to say that our happiness, our blessedness, does not depend on external circumstances.
But the author of the gospel according to Matthew turns these stark paradoxes into a moral code. "Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness." He then uses them to introduce his topical arrangement of sayings of Jesus dealing with the new righteousness of Christianity as opposed to that of Jewish law. This righteousness is fundamentally an interiorization of law. It is illustrated by six antitheses. "It was said [in the commandments], Do not kill, but I say to you, Do not even be angry with another." In other words, do not have an attitude of mind that would ever issue into a violent or unjust act. Virtue or sin is in our attitude, our state of mind (state of soul); our actions are symptoms of our attitude.
We are called as Christians to follow Jesus, to have the same attitude of mind that he had, to share his spirit. Good parents don't need laws to govern their actions toward their children; they act out of an intuition of love. So we too as Christians are to do good, not through obedience to some external law code, but out of an intuition of love as we try to adopt the values that Jesus taught and live out our commitment to follow him.
The Rev. Francis T. Gignac, S.J., is a professor and chairperson of the Department of Biblical Studies at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C.
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