Sunday/Social Rules and Real Rules

                              Sunday/Social Rules and Real Rules

 Some significant readings this Sunday. the first is from The Acts, where the members of the early Church are trying to structure how they will live after Christ.
The Greek-speaking widows complain that the Aramaic-speaking food-ministers were short-changing them at meals in favor of the Aramaic-speaking widows. The apostles solved the problem by convening a meeting of "the whole community of the disciples" and informing them that they should be the ones to work through their problem. Their task: "Select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to the task" of distributing the food. Note the names of the chosen seven: "Stephen, Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas and Nicolaus of Antioch." Every single one is Greek.


 The Gospel is from the Last Supper. Christ is contemplating His imminent betrayal, torture, and death. Instead of the obvious, He tries to console the apostles and gives them the promise of everlasting life. Part is the "many mansions" imagery:
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.
If there were not,
would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come back again and take you to myself,
so that where I am you also may be.
Where I am going you know the way.”
Thomas said to him,
“Master, we do not know where you are going;
how can we know the way?”

 You just gotta love Thomas. Christ answers,

I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me.
If you know me, then you will also know my Father.
From now on you do know him and have seen him.


 This eternal question is handled rather casually. "Truth" is a concept that has been debated since Plato and appears with Pilate himself later in this story.
Christ's answer is simply that Truth is Him.



                        The Road Not Taken  

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;



Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.



I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.