Paul wrote:
You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly exhibited as crucified! The only thing I want to learn from you is this: Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh?
(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Galatians 3:1-3 – June 7, 2012)
I’m not sure, but those may be my three favorite words in all of Paul’s writings: “You stupid Celts!” That’s what he’s saying here. The Galatians were Celts, distant cousins of the Irish, Welsh, Scots, and Bretons. They all had their origins in the Celtic homelands of the northwestern Alps and migrated to Asia Minor, the islands of Britain and Ireland, and other places. And here Paul calls the Celts of Asia Minor anoetos, a Greek word which means “lacking understanding” and is variously translated as foolish, thoughtless, senseless, or stupid. “You stupid Celts!” ~ It is generally believed that Paul is reacting against the Galatians acceptance of the suggestion of the “Judaizers” that they needed to be circumcised before they could really become Christians. But I wonder . . . . I’ve done a fair amount of study of Celtic spirituality, at least of the western (British Isles) sort; I spent a three-month sabbatical translating ancient Gaelic religious poetry. The western Celtic understanding of Christ’s work was rather different from the Pauline notion. Paul (especially as developed by Augustine but, I think pretty clearly, originally) saw Christ’s salvific work in terms of propitiation and justification: just a few more verses and he will insist to the Galatians “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law.” (v. 13) The Celts, on the other hand, thought in terms of Jesus completing the goodness of creation; they believed much like Origen did that human beings were not so much fallen or cursed by sin as immature and incomplete, striving not for redemption but for perfection. ~ Some of Origen’s views were eventually anathematized as heretical and, though he is viewed as a “Church Father”, he has not been sainted. Later Celtic theologians have suffered the same indignity. The Irishman Johannes Scotus Eriugena believed that all human beings reflect attributes of divinity and that all are capable of progressing toward perfection, a view that Paul would clearly have disputed; Eriugena’s theology was discredited as “Irish porridge” and “an invention of the devil.” The Culdee monk Pelagius (who was probably a Breton rather than Irish) taught that humans do not have inherent sinfulness, but rather have a natural sanctity and the moral capacity to choose to live a holy life; Pelagius, too, was condemned as a heretic. ~ I sometimes wonder if this pervasive western Celtic belief in the essential goodness of humankind and in the progressive divinization or completion of creation might have been shared by their eastern cousins in Galatia. If so, it might have been this which led them to be more accepting of the Judaizer’s suggestions; after all, if the Christian goal is divinization and if circumcision put the Chosen People closer to God, perhaps it ought to be considered. No wonder Paul, who didn’t believe human beings could do anything to contribute to their own sanctification, thought them stupid and foolish! How different might the Christian church today be if the views of the Galatians, Pelagius, Eriugena, and other Celts had prevailed? One will never know. ~ I do know this, however. Those Celtic views ought to be heard and considered. None of us fully knows the mind of God and the views and thoughts of all should be valued as we struggle together to understand. They may be my favorite words of Paul, but not because they are particularly beneficial; indeed, they are not. The church today would be much better off and a much more congenial society if no one ever said or wrote anything like, “You stupid Celts!”
I have already written one of these for today’s readings (see 
Do you see that little asterisk at the end of the quoted scripture? It’s there because a footnote in the Bible tells us that “faith in Jesus Christ” is only one possible interpretation of the original koine Greek. The alternative is “the faith of Jesus Christ.” Change a preposition and you change the entire sense of the sentence! “In” or “of”? Are we saved by our faith in Jesus? Or by Jesus’ faith in his Father? I’m going to suggest that it is the latter. The faith of Jesus, the confidence he had in the God he trusted in, the commitment he made to his mission, the fidelity he had to the values he taught. That is what saves us, not anything we do, say, or believe. Salvation is a matter of grace, the unwarranted, unmerited, unearnable grace of God. ~ The reason this debate exists, by the way, is that the preposition is not even there in Greek. Rather, in Greek the ending of the noun gives an indication of meaning. In the Greek of this text we find something called the “genitive” case. It is unclear whether Paul intended the “genitive subjective” (which would support the “of” understanding) or the “genitive objective” (which leads to the “in” translation). Although the objective understanding has prevailed for centuries, a lot of modern scholars are arguing that we might better understand Paul’s meaning with the subjective interpretation. I think they have a point. ~ It is not our faith in Jesus which justifies us, but the faithfulness of Jesus Christ to his mission and to his God. What is most important about this is the implication it has for us. Faith is a gift; we are saved through faith by grace and not by any work of our own. Salvation is not from the human act of believing but from the divine act of Jesus’ obedience. Thus, our human faith is not a prerequisite for salvation but is our appropriate response to the blessing given through the faithfulness of Christ. ~ “We know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through the faith of Jesus Christ.” Of not in!
“Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” The frustration of the Preacher is something I believe we’ve all experienced at one time or another. “What is the point of it all?” is a question every adult probably has asked at least once, if not several times. ~ In the past few days I’ve been part of two committees trying to schedule meetings in the same few days; coordinating the calendars of about twenty different people, all with work schedules and personal lives, is next to impossible and leads to precisely the kind of frustration Ecclesiastes voices. What do mortals get from all the toil and strain? ~ As our world gets more and more complex, the abilities to be flexible, to think in terms of alternatives, to see different potential outcomes as equally good (stop looking for the one, best answer), to share differing visions nonjudgmentally, to let go of personal involvement and trust others to do a good job in their own way even if it is not your way, to clearly communicate and consult with others about ideas, all these will help avoid the sense of futility evinced in these verses. Perhaps the most important skill is the one specifically alluded to here, the ability to turn off one’s mind at night! ~ One of the best pieces of advice I was ever given about those restless night-time thoughts was to write them down. If a thought persists, write it down. Then when it comes back again, look at it with disinterest; you’ve written it down and you will deal with it in the morning. Can’t do anything about it late at night, anyway; it’s all vanity. ~ The world is a rapidly changing and the rate of change is accelerating. Flexibility and a good night’s rest are essential survival skills.
I’m very tempted to ask, “O come on, Paul! You really didn’t expect them to remember you after you’d gone, did you?” But, of course, he did! It seems to me that Paul here is very much like modern clergy. I think we all expect to have lasting impact on the places we serve, but the truth is most of us will not. Clergy are transients; in the past half-decade I’ve seen studies variously reporting the average length of a pastorate across denominations as somewhere between three and five years. That’s not much time to make much of an impact. ~ Now, there are exceptions. Every parish seems to have its sainted Father Usedtobehere, that one priest or pastor whom everyone remembers with great affection. He (it’s usually “he” in my denomination because we haven’t had women in the presbyterate long enough yet) was the best at visiting, best at preaching, best at organizing, best at presiding at the altar, best at remembering parishioners’ birthdays, best at whatever. He is remembered as the paragon of ministry even by people who came to the parish after he departed! There’s really no competing with such ghosts. One just has to accept that they are here and will live on in memory long after one has gone . . . and that it is unlikely that most of us will ever enjoy such exalted canonization. ~ However, I’m not suggesting that we clergy adopt the attitude of the Preacher whose writing is also included in today’s lectionary readings: “I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had spent in doing it, and again, all was vanity and a chasing after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun.” (Eccl. 2:11) As unlikely as it may be that any of us attain the celebrated status of parish patron saint, it is equally likely that we will have an impact (usually through something we think of as mundane or insignificant) on the lives of one or two people, maybe more. Most of us may not be remembered by the whole congregation as the cream of the clergy crop; the majority of the parish may (as Paul complained) quickly desert us. But those few will remember . . . and here’s the rub (as Hamlet might have said) – we don’t know who they will be, nor what action or word of ours may make the difference. We just have to try to do the best we can in any given pastoral situation, in most of which we may feel woefully inadequate, because we never know. ~ That’s what Paul should have remembered; that’s what the Preacher should have remembered; that’s what each clergyperson should remember! 
Did you listen carefully or perhaps even follow along in the Prayer Book when I offered our opening prayer today, the Collect for Trinity Sunday? Listen to it again:
Each time I read these words I think they are the wisest thing Paul ever wrote, especially the observation that those who want to be rich are trapped in things that “plunge people into ruin and destruction.” I suspect that Paul meant it is the wanna-be-rich themselves who are so plunged, but all too often it is other people. One need only observe the state of our economy today and the ever-increasing gap between the haves and have-nots to see that. It may be that those eager to be rich “pierce themselves with many pains,” but it is certain that they pierce others with hardship! ~ I spent several years in the “gotta get rich” world practicing law and earning a six-figure annual income. When I finally gave in to God’s nagging and left that life to be ordained and enter parish ministry, my spouse and I discovered that we were more deeply in debt than we had realized because no matter how much I’d earned, we’d spent more, living the life and keeping up appearances. It took several years living very frugally at a much lower income but we finally got out of that financial hole. That was painful, but I think staying in the life I had been living would have been fatal. ~ Further on in today’s reading, Paul encourages the rich “to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share” relying on God “who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.” (vv. 17-18) This is not a message that is well-received in today’s society; hardly anyone seems to believe in God’s abundance or to be willing to trust in it. I know from personal experience that one can live peacefully and reasonably on a smaller income (and even save for the future), but it’s a difficult lesson to teach others. “The profane chatter and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge” (v. 20) are so much louder than than the message of moderation, simplicity, and trusting in God. ~ For some reason, the old saying, “Try shouting into a gale and see how that works for you,” comes to mind, together with an image of wind-blown money sailing by. 
Sometimes I think the Lectionary editors play games with us and today is one of them. They have combined this advice with Paul’s admonition to the young new bishop Timothy: “No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.” (1 Timothy 5:23) Don’t drink wine. Drink wine. What’s it to be? ~ Hey! It’s the Bible. For nearly every point made somewhere in Scripture, you can find a counterpoint made somewhere else. It is possible to reconcile these two into a message of moderation, but that is often not the case and, in any case, reconciling or trying to harmonize contradictory passages of Scripture is a poor hermeneutic. ~ The Bible is an historic record and represents, among many other things, the changing understandings of God’s people. There is an arc or trajectory of understanding in scripture. There is development from bashing the heads of our enemies’ infants against the rocks (Psalm 137:9) through leaving the gleanings of the vineyard for the alien, the orphan, and the widow (Deut. 24:21) to loving your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18) and, finally, to “this wine is my blood poured out for many” (Mark 14:24). The development may be inconsistent, there may be backsliding, but as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., reminded us, “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” That moral arc is witnessed in Scripture. ~ So have that glass of wine for good health, but “do not be among winebibbers.” (Prov. 23:20)
A few verses later Matthew’s Jesus will interpret this parable, though most biblical scholarship agrees that it is Matthew (or some later editor) doing the interpreting not Jeus, that the interpretation is “nondominical” (as may be the parable itself). According to that interpretation, the enemy is supposed to be the devil, that the wheat that grows from good seed are all the people who’ve heard the gospel and responded appropriately, that the weeds that sprout from the bad seed are all the people who’ve followed the devil instead, and that when it’s all gathered and sorted (the wheat for the barn – Heaven – and the tares for the fire – Hell) it’s the last judgment. Martin Luther taught that the tares are “heretics and false teachers” who are “beautifully green and hypocritical.” But then he also said this parable teaches “that our free will amounts to nothing.” I’m not sure I buy that. ~ It seems to me that the parable in this form is a plea for inclusivity and tolerance. It’s not up to us who’s in and who’s out. The weeds depicted in this parable are probably darnels. Darnels look very much like wheat until harvest time and they cannot be told apart. Furthermore, their roots intertwine with the wheat’s roots so that they cannot be removed without significant damage to the crop. We’ve all seen what happens in a community when some group of “purists” starts trying to determine who gets to stay and who has to go. Better to let all stay and let God sort things out later than to destroy the community. ~ I remember reading some years ago that other rabbis have told a similar parable in which the mixing of wheat and weeds re-occurs over the course of several years. Finally, the owner’s steward decides to find out who the enemy is and stays up at night. When “the enemy” comes to sow the bad seed, the steward is surprised to find that it is the owner himself, sleep-walking in the darkness. This version suggests that we each sow the seeds of our own troubles, that we are each responsible for the good and often for the bad in our lives. The two versions read together underscore the reality that we frequently cannot tell the wheat from the weed, the good from the bad. Best to leave it to God to sort out!
I am truly amazed at the lengths some people go to deny that Jesus had brothers and sisters. The Greek here is adelphos (pl. adelphoi) and it means “brothers”. It could mean a countryman, a fellow employee, or someone of the same ancestral lineage in some contexts, but do any of those apply here? No! Here, some men show up in the company of Jesus’ mother and with her they are described as “your mother and your brothers”! Could anything be clearer? ~ Those who argue in favor of some alternate meaning (like “cousin”) do so because they want to preserve the supposed “perpetual virginity” of Mary. But if these men are Jesus’ cousins why wouldn’t Matthew have used the word anepsios (which means “cousin”)? The second-century writer Hegesippus, calls James and Jude “brothers of the Lord,” but he uses this word anepsios of Simeon the son of Clopas, the “cousin of the Lord”, so it is possible to distinguish the two relationships and certainly the gospellers could have done so! ~ Others argue that these men were Jesus’ half-brothers, Joseph’s boys by a first marriage. If that’s the case, where is the biblical evidence for that? Where is there even a hint that Joseph was previously married, let alone that he was bringing a bunch of kids along? ~ And as for Mary’s “perpetual virginity”, what does one do with Luke’s description of Jesus as “her firstborn son”? (Luke 2:7) Doesn’t that somehow imply that there was at least a “second born son”, if not a few others? And maybe some daughters? Both Mark and Matthew report that Jesus had sisters. (See Mark 3:32 & 6:3 and Matthew 13:56) If she’d had no other children, wouldn’t Luke have used the word “only” rather than “firstborn”? ~ And as for the virginity thing . . . . Matthew says that Mary became pregnant “before they [i.e., Joseph and Mary] lived together.” (Matthew 1:18) The Greek here is sunerchomai, which specifically refers to conjugal cohabitation! And Matthew continues, saying that Joseph “had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son.” (Matthew 1:25) I mean, really! Can the biblical witness to Mary’s non-virginal status after the birth of Jesus get any clearer? ~ Finally, there’s the cultural argument. For this “perpetual virginity” story to hold water, Joseph would have had to live a life of complete abstinence and chastity! This would not have been a societal norm and certainly wouldn’t be in accord with Jewish marital custom. Under Jewish law, sex is not considered shameful, sinful, or obscene; indeed, there is an halakhic obligation to procreate, and partners are not permitted to withhold sex from one another! Failure to abide by the law is practically unthinkable from the parents of a man who said, “Do not think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets ; I did not come to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or stroke shall pass from the Law until all is accomplished.” (Matthew 5:17-18) ~ Why is this important? I suppose in many ways it isn’t! But for me . . . . I have this idea that the Christian church oughtn’t to promote ideas that are patently absurd. If the church has to perform all sorts of silly linguistic contortions and rely non-biblical and a-historic pious legends to support its dogmas and doctrines, can we really blame those who shrug their shoulders and walk away? ~ A virgin? Perpetually? C’mon! Get real!
