The First and Foremost
After rereading my last post “Jesus, Friend of the Poor” and seeing the engagement it received I realized I have more to say, and more importantly, more needs to be said. I’m not sure how many posts I’ll do in this series engaging with Pope Francis’ message “The Poor You Will Always Have With You” but it will be at least a few more. What he does in that message is profoundly important, especially for those, like myself, coming from a Protestant background that isn’t deeply rooted in the historical theological tradition of the Church. For now, and this is at least somewhat likely to change, I plan to isolate a few striking phrases from Francis’ work (again you really should go read it for yourself) and add my reflection to it.
A Theology of the Least of These in Conversation with Pope Francis
Ok, let’s get started.
Jesus was reminding them that he is the first of the poor, the poorest of the poor, because he represents all of them. It was also for the sake of the poor, the lonely, the marginalized and the victims of discrimination, that the Son of God accepted the woman’s gesture.
The above quotation is taken from the third paragraph in Pope Francis’ message from World Day of the Poor, 2021. It is, as far as I can tell, at least three things. First, it is a kind of doctrinal statement about God’s holiness and being. From these simple two sentences, we can derive profound and faithful answers to the eternal question, who is God and what is He like? Second, it is the wholeness of the gospel message compressed, or maybe better said, concentrated, into two sentences. Thirdly, it can be read as a commentary on the opening line of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount (which he later quotes), “Blessed are the poor, theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
These three readings held together form a singular whole with each comprising a singular fiber weaving in and out from the others so as to become a unit. I’ll take each one in turn and then try to show, Lord willing, how they all are singing the same song forming a perfect melody.
Holy. It is one of the weightiest words in all of Scripture. It is the word the fills the skies, echoes through the mountains, and rings in the chambers of heaven. Uttered by angel and creature alike it is the single-word refrain of all when they see God. Holy, holy, holy cry the seraphim and cheribum. “Everyone”, the psalmist tells us, “in the temple cries ‘Holy!’”. Everyone and everything that eventually has its eyes filled with the light of God’s glory falls back to this single confession; a single word in which all that can be said about God is said.
God is holy because He is unlike any other. “Who in heaven or on earth is like you?” the psalmist wonders aloud. While every Christian affirms the holiness of God I am not sure that we all agree on what we mean by it. Admittedly, there is too much to be said than can be said here regarding God’s holiness, but Isaiah gives us some ground in which we can plant our flag.
Remember the famous passage from Isaiah 55:8, “my thoughts are not your thoughts nor my ways your ways”. This well-known prophetic line is often used by preachers to hint at a surprising future coming to us from God. He is about to do something new, something we have not seen, something we could not anticipate, and so we should be on guard for what is about to come our way. God, the preacher contends, is not like us and so we should expect the unexpected, something better than what we could imagine with our own minds.
There is a strand of truth in such a sentiment, although I do think it is misused more often than not. God is surprising. This is exactly what we mean, at least in part, by the word holy. He is holy, unlike anyone else, and therefore we are often surprised by God. The prophet tells us this just a few verses earlier in 55:5. He is the “Holy One of Israel” and thus we should not be surprised that we are about to be surprised by what He will do.
But what is He about to do? What is the surprise? What does His holiness look like when it comes to us? He tells us in the verse immediately preceeding the famous “my thoughts” passage. The prophet tells us,
“Let the wicked forsake his way, And the unrighteous man his thoughts; Let him return to the Lord, And He will have mercy on him; And to our God, For He will abundantly pardon.” - Isa. 55:7
God is holy, unlike us or any other god, because He is the One who calls His enemies to come home so He can freely forgive them. He calls (Is. 55:1) all who have left, all the wicked, all the lost, all the vagabonds, all the bound, all the weak, and all the hateful to come home and sit at His table and eat freely from His graciousness. God is holy because He liberally pardons all without limit. The surest word of God turns out to be His most surprising because of the lavishness of it. “Father forgive them” is the word of God ringing throughout the world and it will, Isaiah contends, not return to Him void. And that, the prophet tells us in the final verses of the chapter, is what remakes the world. The word of boundless forgiveness and enemey-love, which he earlier tells us is the same as His word of justice (see Isa. 30:18), is the generating word of God from which new creation comes. It is, as Paul reminds us, the kindess of God that makes men new.
And yet, while all this is true, the surprise is even more shocking.
(Enter Pope Francis stage left.)
God doesn’t simply call the thirsty, hungry, broken, sinful, wicked, estranged to come and drink from fountains of life, as if He were some kind of cosmic vendor on the street corner calling out into the crowd. No, God in Christ enters into the world as -
the vulnerable by becoming a babe
the poor unable to offer the proper sacrifice
the refugee by fleeing to Eygpt
the sinner by becoming sin
the suffering by being flogged
the dead by dying
Our jaw on the floor in shocking awe we still must say more to get at what Francis points out. He isn’t just a babe, but the first babe. Not merely a poor person, but the first and foremost of all the poor. He isn’t a refugee, but the One who eternally left His Father’s home. He isn’t a sinner among many but has become sin itself. He didn’t suffer alongside those who suffer but He clothed Himself in all the suffering of the suffering like a garment so as to cover Himself completely with it. And He isn’t simply another a dead man , but the slain lamb from the foundations of the earth.
His wounds become our healing. His open side, which the Romans opened with a spear, became the very fountain of life which Isaiah spoke. The water which poured out of His broken open body on Good Friday the new river coming from Eden. Christ became all for all.
He did this, Francis tells us, for our sake. Jesus takes every life up into His life thereby giving us His life and Spirit. And we, like the woman, offer that very gift back to Him. So He becomes the giver, the gift, and the recipient. He is the One who gives, the One given, and the reciever of that very gift given back to Him from our hands.
This is exactly what is happening every time we partake in Eucharist. At the Table of the Lord we answer the call of Isaiah 55:1 as the prophetic words of the prophet become incarnate in our very lives. At the table Christ is the giver, it is His table prepared for us. He is the gift, as we eat and drink of His body and blood. And He is the reciever as we take those very elements and offer them back to God in prayer, worship, and thanksgiving.
Lastly, Francis tells us that Jesus was “reminding” his disciples of this truth. What Christ is saying and doing to that woman is not something unknown or new to God. This is what God has always done and what He has always been like. It’s not new but still surprising.
And so may we also be reminded today of the audacious, scandalous, liberality of God’s mercy, justice, and grace; joining the heavenly chorus by crying: holy!