As with many common expressions, we rarely if ever think of where this comes from. One of the ways of editing in the days before computers or even typewriters was cutting a text in strips and pasting it on a sheet with glue.
That’s exactly what Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States, did with the Bible. Using a razor and glue, Jefferson cut and pasted until he had a book without miracles, hard sayings, or the divinity of Christ.
The so-called Jefferson Bible ends as the stone is rolled over the entrance to the Lord’s tomb.
It’s not widely known that the full first name of our former assistant pastor, Father Jeff, is Jefferson. Certainly, he and Thomas Jefferson were kindred spirits in one respect since he did take the time to improve some of the grammar in the King James Version during his project!
The Jefferson Bible is more than a historical curiosity: it’s a monument to a way of thinking about Christianity that’s even more popular today than it was in 1804.
Almost all of us have a sort of Bible in our heads from which we’ve cut out some of the teachings of Christ. We discount some of the harder sayings because they don’t square with modern psychology or our own ideas.
The philosopher Peter Kreeft asks, “Do we judge God’s word, or do we let it judge us?”
All too often we judge God’s Word. And that can take us dangerously close to what Kreeft calls “a new religion, a religion that comes from us, not from God.”(Food for the Soul, Reflections on the Mass Readings, Cycle C, Third Sunday of Lent.)
The second reading today would be a prime candidate for some cut-and-pasting. St. Paul reminds us of the harsh fate of the unfaithful in the Old Testament. Nowhere do we find the “bad news” of the Bible more than in the stories of the Old Testament; nowhere else do we encounter the wrath of God as much.
In fact, the contrast between God in the Old Testament and the New can lead some people to think they are two different Beings.
Yet not only does St. Paul remind us of these hard truths, but he also threatens us with the same fate as some ancient Israelites. “Do not complain,” he says, “as some of them did, and were destroyed by the destroyer.”
The hard stories of the Old Testament were recorded for our instruction, firmly alongside the merciful teachings of Christ.
Perhaps we could just forget about Paul, who was known to be rather an irritable fellow. My own father would say of something he didn’t like in Paul, “he must have hit his head when he fell off the horse.”
But we can’t forget about Jesus, who adds his own warning to us in today’s Gospel.
How many of us have long ago edited out his words “unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did”?
And Jesus illustrates his point with a story about the owner of a vineyard who has grown impatient with a fruitless tree. In the context, even the one-year reprieve from the axe is not entirely comforting.
Is there anyone who isn’t convinced that many Catholics today have become quite selective in their reading of the Scriptures and their acceptance of Church teaching?
I could convince you instantly if I had the courage. Were I to lay out in uncompromising detail two or three of the toughest teachings of Jesus there would be pickets around the church in hours—and some of them might even be members of the congregation.
I’m not talking only about controversial points of morality. My friend Ralph Martin, a leader in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal from its earliest days, has faced sharp criticism for teaching without compromise a clear-as-a-bell Scriptural doctrine.
He bases his teaching squarely on Jesus, who said that “the gate is wide, and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” Mt 7:13-14
He says, “the words of Jesus could scarcely be clearer.”
And yet despite those words, and Church teaching and tradition, many of us think the opposite is true, even if we wouldn’t stand up and say so. Hell may exist, we’ll admit, but it’s probably empty. We’re all going to heaven, whatever we think, do, or say.
I’m a sinner myself, so I like that idea as much as anyone. It’s just that we can’t square it with what Jesus taught.
The idea that most if not all of us will be saved has specific consequences. For starters, if we don’t believe that the message of Jesus is a life-or-death matter, we have little reason to share it with those who don’t believe. And if we’re all going to heaven, there’s little reason to stand up or to grieve when our children or siblings embrace an immoral lifestyle.
And, of course, there’s much less reason to resist sin in our own lives.
This mid-point in Lent is meant as a wakeup call for us. One of the reasons for Lent and penance is to remind us that the road to life is not easy.
Ralph Martin writes that “All around us we see men and women shutting out the truth of the gospel and settling for a way that seems easier. You can have more of what you want now. That’s what the world tells us. You can disobey the commands of God seemingly without consequence.
“You can add those things of
God that attract you to the things of this world. You can compromise on the truth
and get away with it. You do not need to deny yourself, to take up your cross
and to follow Christ.
“You can take the easy way.”
We should be grateful for God’s patience, God who always seems willing to give us extra time to produce fruit that shows our repentance. But we should not try God’s patience. As St. Paul says, “now is the acceptable time… now is the day of salvation.”
If we’ve walked the wide and easy path thus far in Lent, it’s time to change course and to head in the direction that leads to life.
We can do that in several ways. First, by starting or renewing your Lenten penance. If you got off to a bad start, as I did, now’s the time for a fresh start.
Second, by reflecting on what our second reading says about those thirsty Israelites who drank water from the rock during their journey through the desert. St. Paul tells us that the rock was Christ, who calls himself the living water.
If you’ve been complaining, or dry, or in some way displeasing God, come to church this Saturday at 7 for an evening of peace and prayer, asking God to reorient your heart. It’s no accident that our Lenten adoration event is called “Water in the Desert.”
Finally, by looking at our schedule of regular and extra confessions with its many options and marking your calendars as a firm commitment to meet the Lord in this healing sacrament.
Whatever you do, don’t play the busy-ness card. God called Moses in the middle of his workday, while he was tending his father-in-law’s sheep. Moses took his eyes off the sheep long enough to look towards the burning bush and was rewarded by an intimate revelation of God.
Cut and paste that moment into your own life, and God will reveal himself if you’ll stand beside him on holy ground during the remaining days of Lent.
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