We can totally ignore this part…


The Readings for Monday, 1st Week of Lent (B2)

Et ibunt hi in supplicium aeternum : justi autem in vitam aeternam.
And these shall go into everlasting punishment: but the just, into life everlasting. 

A friend outside of Catholic Mass, gathering signatures for helping the homeless was told by a parishioner, “No, I don’t care about homeless children, homeless families, or homeless anything.” The man said this after receiving the Sacrament and my friend couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so she joked back. Sadly, the man was very serious. Really, though, why should these verses be any more important than any other part of the teaching which, for American and European Catholics from Nancy Pelosi to me in the pew with you decide we can ignore most of the time?

All post-modern Theologians from James Allison and James Martin to Rob Bell and Dominic Crossan are quite clear that God doesn’t care what we do, God loves us anyway, and that when it’s all over these random verses in the Bible are just legalistic verbiage that people use to beat each other up. We should stop using the Bible that way.

So, we can ignore the poor.

Have a blessed Lent.

Don’t worry: be happy.

If the scriptural moral code is optional, why are these verses more important? The same God who said, “Do not defraud the laborer his wages” and “when I was hungry you fed me” also said, “go and sin no more” and a whole lot of old fashioned “thou shalt nots…” we don’t like nowadays. Who is to say action X is good as compared to action Y? This is what none of my post-trad Christ-follower friends have ever been able to answer to me. Which is why I drifted trad-ward.

It’s ok: God doesn’t care, don’t worry. Be happy. Also worth noting: there are folks do totally ignore this part – and the part about unjust wages – and only focus on the other things. They’re in the same camp as the first group. And both groups pretend to be better than the other.

Author: Huw Richardson

I'm no Benedictine, but I'm too old for the Franciscans. I'm in the process of moving servers... so trying to keep both of my "linked sites" in sync until there's only one. There can be only one. Huw Richardson was born in Atlanta under a different name about 55 years ago. I never knew my father nor any of his kin. I’ve lived all over: I was never in the same house for 3 Christmases until I was over 40. I’ve not yet made it to 4. Rootlessness seems to be a way of life and every time I think I’m about to root, it ends up not happening. Yet I’ve made some amazing friends online. I’ve met some awesome people all over the world. I’ve met religious leaders and heads of state and famous movie stars. I’ve also managed to be debt-free. I’ve stood on the Hill of Tara and touched the Lia Fail. It did not cry out. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone as well, if you can’t guess. I have illicitly touched ancient, holy statues to see if anything would happen and I have never used flash photography when I should not have. I’ve been a bookseller, a call center drone, a trainer, a convert, a preacher, a monk, a planter, a secretary, a writer, and an activist. My patron is Blessed Stanley Rother. When I’m in trouble, he’s got my back. He prays for me, along with St Rose of Lima, St. Catherine of Siena, St John Henry Newman, Bl Fulton J Sheen, and Bl. William Richardson. I’m a Dominican Tertiary and a member of Courage International. This is home: I’ve found my roots by using my wings. What’s next? I don’t know. Part of me wants to just pick out a camper and gig my way around the world. Part of me wants to own a pub in Ireland and feed my soul with good music until forever. Part of me has always taught. Some part of me dances whenever the moon is full. Another part of me kneels in awe in the darkness as all the stars spin but the cross stands still.