The Poor
I'm
not just reading Eco.
I'm also reading Albert Gelin. Re-reading,
really. Gelin's book The Poor of Yahweh is one of my favorite books, so
I dip into it occasionally just to hear its message again. Gelin was a
Catholic Biblical scholar, mid-20th Century. The book traces the concept
of the poor of Yahweh, the humble remnant who know that they
need grace, who realize that their existence is contingent, through the Old Testament (especially the prophets) and into
the New (especially Mary's Magnificat and the Beatitudes of Jesus).
Eco would have been helped greatly if he had included Gelin's book in his legendary library of 50,000 volumes. And read it. I think he was toying around with the minutiae of his imagination in order not to read Gelin. There I go sounding like Cornelius Van Til again. Oh wait, that's the first time I've ever sounded like Cornelius Van Til. Shout out to Stephen Gambill.
Even
poverty is a complicated concept. The Bible seems to say that those in
literal poverty are the special concern of Yahweh. We might say,
sarcastically, "well, Lord, do something about it." The point, though,
has always been this. Do something about it is exactly what
Yahweh is saying to us. In a way, what "Yahweh cares for the poor" means
is that "Yahweh expects us to care for the poor." It was never a
statement designed to give us yet another interesting fact for theology.
Or another reason to pat Providence on the back.
The
poor, too, are the humble ones, those who realize and acknowledge their
need. Of course, this can be done, too, in a way that violates the
whole purpose. "Oh Lord, I'm so needy and humble, much more needy than
those other people all dressed up and going to the circus and buying
their clothes at Macy's. Like Mr. Copperfield (said Uriah Heep)."
But it can be done in the right way too. Or attempted at least, which, to use a metaphor from guitar tuning (that's a new one, right?) -- it's close enough for jazz.
Obviously,
we can't attend to this concept, and neither does Gelin, without
also hearing one of the great masters of suspicion (Ricoeur's term) of
modernity, Karl Marx. It is too easy for the church, for persons who
claim faith, to idealize poverty and the humble poor while at the same time (and perhaps for centuries) dominating
them, abusing them, and "saving their souls."
Further,
there is a too easy identification with the poor, obstructing the
claims of mercy and justice that real painful poverty makes on us. Thus,
I'm middle-class, or lower middle-class, or do not have a lake home (or
at least not a very nice one) and therefore cannot be one of the rich
ones who will have difficulty entering the kingdom of heaven.
Don't be
silly. John and Peter went up to pray in the Book of Acts and said to the
lame beggar, "silver and gold have we none." That is NOT true of us. We
are the church of silver and gold. We can't make that claim. Perhaps we
need to give everything away, as Saint Francis did and taught. Or,
perhaps there is another way. But it's not simple. Or simplistic.
So, my resolutions for ordinary time, by which I mean Ordinary Time. By which I mean . . . just read this.
1. Stop smoking. I don't anyway(s), but I always like to start swith some of the easier ones. So I can check something off the list.
2.
Lose ten pounds. I just gained it in the last month, so, again, I'm hoping
this one won't be that difficult.
3.
Become poor. Which means . . . I'm not sure yet. Figure that out or, at
least, keep it as a dialogue in mind and heart (mine and others who
strive for the same thing). Become poor within my middle-class North
American context (which is rich to most of the world). Seek to serve the
poor (which is to say, serve Yahweh) in such a way that they are both
honored and taken seriously.
4. Live life more simply, but less simplistically. Chant "what about the poor?" after reading Eco. And Aristotle.
5. Make my writing and thinking more truthful. More simple.
That will be complicated.
