Part 4 (1/2)

The fact is that the Fathers of the Church were practically unanimous in understanding the fourth pet.i.tion of the Our Father as a eucharistic pet.i.tion; in this sense the Our Father figures in the Ma.s.s liturgy as a eucharistic table-prayer (i.e., ”grace”). This does not remove the straightforward earthly sense of the disciples' pet.i.tion that we have just shown to be the text's immediate meaning. The Fathers consider different dimensions of the saying that begins as a pet.i.tion for today's bread for the poor, but insofar as it directs our gaze to the Father in heaven who feeds us, it recalls the wandering People of G.o.d, who were fed by G.o.d himself. Read in the light of Jesus' great discourse on the bread of life, the miracle of the manna naturally points beyond itself to the new world in which the Logos-the eternal Word of G.o.d-will be our bread, the food of the eternal wedding banquet.

Is it legitimate to think in such dimensions, or is that a false ”theologizing” of a word intended only in a straightforwardly earthly sense? There is a fear of such theologizing today, which is not totally unfounded, but neither should it be overstated. I think that in interpreting the pet.i.tion for bread, it is necessary to keep in mind the larger context of Jesus' words and deeds, a context in which essential elements of human life play a major role: water, bread, and, as a sign of the festive character and beauty of the world, the vine and wine. The theme of bread has an important place in Jesus' message-from the temptation in the desert and the multiplication of the loaves right up to the Last Supper.

The great discourse on the bread of life in John 6 discloses the full spectrum of meaning of this theme. It begins with the hunger of the people who have been listening to Jesus and whom he does not send away without food, that is to say, the ”necessary bread” that we require in order to live. But Jesus does not allow us to stop there and reduce man's needs to bread, to biological and material necessities. ”Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of G.o.d” (Mt 4:4; Deut 8:3). The miraculously multiplied bread harks back to the miracle of manna in the desert and at the same time points beyond itself: to the fact that man's real food is the Logos, the eternal Word, the eternal meaning, from which we come and toward which our life is directed. If this initial transcendence of the physical realm prima facie tells us no more than what philosophy has found and is still capable of discovering, there is nevertheless a further transcendence to consider: The eternal Logos does not concretely become bread for man until he has ”taken flesh” and speaks to us in human words.

This is followed by the third, absolutely essential, transcendence, which nevertheless proves scandalous to the people of Capernaum: The incarnate Lord gives himself to us in the Sacrament, and in that way the eternal Word for the first time becomes fully manna, the gift of the bread of the future given to us already today. Then, however, the Lord brings everything together once more: This extreme ”becoming-corporeal” is actually the real ”becoming-spiritual”: ”It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail” (Jn 6:63). Are we to suppose that Jesus excluded from the pet.i.tion for bread everything that he tells us about bread and everything that he wants to give us as bread? When we consider Jesus' message in its entirety, then it is impossible to expunge the eucharistic dimension from the fourth pet.i.tion of the Our Father. True, the earthly nitty-gritty of the pet.i.tion for daily bread for everyone is essential. But this pet.i.tion also helps us to transcend the purely material and to request already now what is to come ”tomorrow,” the new bread. And when we pray for ”tomorrow's” bread today, we are reminded to live already today from tomorrow, from the love of G.o.d, which calls us all to be responsible for one another.

At this point I would like to quote Cyprian once again. He emphasizes both dimensions. But he also specifically relates the word our, our, which we spoke of earlier, to the Eucharist, which in a special sense is ”our” bread, the bread of Jesus' disciples. He says: We who are privileged to receive the Eucharist as our bread must nevertheless always pray that none of us be permanently cut off and severed from the body of Christ. ”On this account we pray that 'our' bread, Christ, be given to us every day, that we, who remain and live in Christ, may not depart from his healing power and from his body” ( which we spoke of earlier, to the Eucharist, which in a special sense is ”our” bread, the bread of Jesus' disciples. He says: We who are privileged to receive the Eucharist as our bread must nevertheless always pray that none of us be permanently cut off and severed from the body of Christ. ”On this account we pray that 'our' bread, Christ, be given to us every day, that we, who remain and live in Christ, may not depart from his healing power and from his body” (De dominica oratione 18; 18; CSEL CSEL III, 1, pp. 280f.). III, 1, pp. 280f.).

AND F FORGIVE U US O OUR T TRESPa.s.sES, AS W WE F FORGIVE T THOSE W WHO T TRESPa.s.s A AGAINST U US.

The fifth pet.i.tion of the Our Father presupposes a world in which there is trespa.s.s-trespa.s.s of men in relation to other men, trespa.s.s in relation to G.o.d. Every instance of trespa.s.s among men involves some kind of injury to truth and to love and is thus opposed to G.o.d, who is truth and love. How to overcome guilt is a central question for every human life; the history of religions revolves around this question. Guilt calls forth retaliation. The result is a chain of trespa.s.ses in which the evil of guilt grows ceaselessly and becomes more and more inescapable. With this pet.i.tion, the Lord is telling us that guilt can be overcome only by forgiveness, not by retaliation. G.o.d is a G.o.d who forgives, because he loves his creatures; but forgiveness can only penetrate and become effective in one who is himself forgiving.

”Forgiveness” is a theme that pervades the entire Gospel. We meet it at the very beginning of the Sermon on the Mount in the new interpretation of the fifth commandment, when the Lord says to us: ”So if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift” (Mt 5:23f.). You cannot come into G.o.d's presence unreconciled with your brother; antic.i.p.ating him in the gesture of reconciliation, going out to meet him, is the prerequisite for true wors.h.i.+p of G.o.d. In so doing, we should keep in mind that G.o.d himself-knowing that we human beings stood against him, unreconciled-stepped out of his divinity in order to come toward us, to reconcile us. We should recall that, before giving us the Eucharist, he knelt down before his disciples and washed their dirty feet, cleansing them with his humble love. In the middle of Matthew's Gospel we find the parable of the unforgiving servant (cf. Mt 18:2335). He, a highly placed satrap of the king, has just been released from an unimaginably large debt of ten thousand talents. Yet he himself is unwilling to cancel a debt of a hundred denarii-in comparison a laughable sum. Whatever we have to forgive one another is trivial in comparison with the goodness of G.o.d, who forgives us. And ultimately we hear Jesus' pet.i.tion from the Cross: ”Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34).

If we want to understand the pet.i.tion fully and make it our own, we must go one step further and ask: What is forgiveness, really? What happens when forgiveness takes place? Guilt is a reality, an objective force; it has caused destruction that must be repaired. For this reason, forgiveness must be more than a matter of ignoring, of merely trying to forget. Guilt must be worked through, healed, and thus overcome. Forgiveness exacts a price-first of all from the person who forgives. He must overcome within himself the evil done to him; he must, as it were, burn it interiorly and in so doing renew himself. As a result, he also involves the other, the trespa.s.ser, in this process of transformation, of inner purification, and both parties, suffering all the way through and overcoming evil, are made new. At this point, we encounter the mystery of Christ's Cross. But the very first thing we encounter is the limit of our power to heal and to overcome evil. We encounter the superior power of evil, which we cannot master with our unaided powers. Reinhold Schneider says apropos of this that ”evil lives in a thousand forms; it occupies the pinnacles of power...it bubbles up from the abyss. Love has just one form-your Son” (Das Vaterunser, p. 68).

The idea that G.o.d allowed the forgiveness of guilt, the healing of man from within, to cost him the death of his Son has come to seem quite alien to us today. That the Lord ”has borne our diseases and taken upon himself sorrows,” that ”he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities,” and that ”with his wounds we are healed” (Is 53:46) no longer seems plausible to us today. Militating against this, on one side, is the trivialization of evil in which we take refuge, despite the fact that at the very same time we treat the horrors of human history, especially of the most recent human history, as an irrefutable pretext for denying the existence of a good G.o.d and slandering his creature man. But the understanding of the great mystery of expiation is also blocked by our individualistic image of man. We can no longer grasp subst.i.tution because we think that every man is ensconced in himself alone. The fact that all individual beings are deeply interwoven and that all are encompa.s.sed in turn by the being of the One, the Incarnate Son, is something we are no longer capable of seeing. When we come to speak of Christ's Crucifixion, we will have to take up these issues again.

In the meantime, an idea of Cardinal John Henry Newman may suffice. Newman once said that while G.o.d could create the whole world out of nothing with just one word, he could overcome men's guilt and suffering only by bringing himself into play, by becoming in his Son a sufferer who carried this burden and overcame it through his self-surrender. The overcoming of guilt has a price: We must put our heart-or, better, our whole existence-on the line. And even this act is insufficient; it can become effective only through communion with the One who bore the burdens of us all.

The pet.i.tion for forgiveness is more than a moral exhortation-though it is that as well, and as such it challenges us anew every day. But, at its deepest core, it is-like the other pet.i.tions-a Christological prayer. It reminds us of he who allowed forgiveness to cost him descent into the hards.h.i.+p of human existence and death on the Cross. It calls us first and foremost to thankfulness for that, and then, with him, to work through and suffer through evil by means of love. And while we must acknowledge day by day how little our capacities suffice for that task, and how often we ourselves keep falling into guilt, this pet.i.tion gives us the great consolation that our prayer is held safe within the power of his love-with which, through which, and in which it can still become a power of healing.

AND L LEAD U US N NOT INTO T TEMPTATION.

The way this pet.i.tion is phrased is shocking for many people: G.o.d certainly does not lead us into temptation. In fact, as Saint James tells us: ”Let no one say when he is tempted, 'I am tempted by G.o.d'; for G.o.d cannot be tempted with evil and he himself tempts no one” (Jas 1:13).

We are helped a further step along when we recall the words of the Gospel: ”Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (Mt 4:1). Temptation comes from the devil, but part of Jesus' messianic task is to withstand the great temptations that have led man away from G.o.d and continue to do so. As we have seen, Jesus must suffer through these temptations to the point of dying on the Cross, which is how he opens the way of redemption for us. Thus, it is not only after his death, but already by his death and during his whole life, that Jesus ”descends into h.e.l.l,” as it were, into the domain of our temptations and defeats, in order to take us by the hand and carry us upward. The Letter to the Hebrews places special emphasis on this aspect, which it presents as an essential component of Jesus' path: ”For because he himself has suffered and been tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted” (Heb 2:18). ”For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15).

A brief look at the Book of Job, which in so many respects prefigures the mystery of Christ, can help us clarify things further. Satan derides man in order to deride G.o.d: G.o.d's creature, whom he has formed in his own image, is a pitiful creature. Everything that seems good about him is actually just a facade. The reality is that the only thing man-each man-ever cares about is his own well-being. This is the judgment of Satan, whom the Book of Revelation calls ”the accuser of our brethren...who accuses them day and night before our G.o.d” (Rev 12:10). The calumniation of man and creation is in the final instance a calumniation of G.o.d, an excuse for renouncing him.

Satan wants to prove his case through the righteous man Job: Just let everything be taken away from him, Satan says, and he will quickly drop his piety, too. G.o.d gives Satan the freedom to test Job, though within precisely defined boundaries: G.o.d does not abandon man, but he does allow him to be tried. This is a very subtle, still implicit, yet real glimpse of the mystery of subst.i.tution that takes on a major profile in Isaiah 53: Job's sufferings serve to justify man. By his faith, proved through suffering, he restores man's honor. Job's sufferings are thus by antic.i.p.ation sufferings in communion with Christ, who restores the honor of us all before G.o.d and shows us the way never to lose faith in G.o.d even amid the deepest darkness.

The Book of Job can also help us to understand the difference between trial and temptation. In order to mature, in order to make real progress on the path leading from a superficial piety into profound oneness with G.o.d's will, man needs to be tried. Just as the juice of the grape has to ferment in order to become a fine wine, so too man needs purifications and transformations; they are dangerous for him, because they present an opportunity for him to fall, and yet they are indispensable as paths on which he comes to himself and to G.o.d. Love is always a process involving purifications, renunciations, and painful transformations of ourselves-and that is how it is a journey to maturity. If Francis Xavier was able to pray to G.o.d, saying, ”I love you, not because you have the power to give heaven or h.e.l.l, but simply because you are you-my king and my G.o.d,” then surely he had needed a long path of inner purifications to reach such ultimate freedom-a path through stages of maturity, a path beset with temptation and the danger of falling, but a necessary path nonetheless.

Now we are in a position to interpret the sixth pet.i.tion of the Our Father in a more practical way. When we pray it, we are saying to G.o.d: ”I know that I need trials so that my nature can be purified. When you decide to send me these trials, when you give evil some room to maneuver, as you did with Job, then please remember that my strength goes only so far. Don't overestimate my capacity. Don't set too wide the boundaries within which I may be tempted, and be close to me with your protecting hand when it becomes too much for me.” It was in this sense that Saint Cyprian interpreted the sixth pet.i.tion. He says that when we pray, ”And lead us not into temptation,” we are expressing our awareness ”that the enemy can do nothing against us unless G.o.d has allowed it beforehand, so that our fear, our devotion and our wors.h.i.+p may be directed to G.o.d-because the Evil One is not permitted to do anything unless he is given authorization” (De dominica oratione 25; 25; CSEL CSEL III, 25, p. 285f.). III, 25, p. 285f.).

And then, pondering the psychological pattern of temptation, he explains that there can be two different reasons why G.o.d grants the Evil One a limited power. It can be as a penance for us, in order to dampen our pride, so that we may reexperience the paltriness of our faith, hope, and love and avoid forming too high an opinion of ourselves. Let us think of the Pharisee who recounts his own works to G.o.d and imagines that he is not in need of grace. Cyprian unfortunately does not go on to explain in more detail what the other sort of trial is about-the temptation that G.o.d lays upon us ad gloriam, ad gloriam, for his glory. But should it not put us in mind of the fact that G.o.d has placed a particularly heavy burden of temptation on the shoulders of those individuals who were especially close to him, the great saints, from Anthony in his desert to Therese of Lisieux in the pious world of her Carmelite monastery? They follow in the footsteps of Job, so to speak; they offer an apologia for man that is at the same time a defense of G.o.d. Even more, they enjoy a very special communion with Jesus Christ, who suffered our temptations to the bitter end. They are called to withstand the temptations of a particular time in their own skin, as it were, in their own souls. They are called to bear them through to the end for us ordinary souls and to help us persist on our way to the One who took upon himself the burden of us all. for his glory. But should it not put us in mind of the fact that G.o.d has placed a particularly heavy burden of temptation on the shoulders of those individuals who were especially close to him, the great saints, from Anthony in his desert to Therese of Lisieux in the pious world of her Carmelite monastery? They follow in the footsteps of Job, so to speak; they offer an apologia for man that is at the same time a defense of G.o.d. Even more, they enjoy a very special communion with Jesus Christ, who suffered our temptations to the bitter end. They are called to withstand the temptations of a particular time in their own skin, as it were, in their own souls. They are called to bear them through to the end for us ordinary souls and to help us persist on our way to the One who took upon himself the burden of us all.

When we pray the sixth pet.i.tion of the Our Father, we must therefore, on one hand, be ready to take upon ourselves the burden of trials that is meted out to us. On the other hand, the object of the pet.i.tion is to ask G.o.d not to mete out more than we can bear, not to let us slip from his hands. We make this prayer in the trustful certainty that Saint Paul has articulated for us: ”G.o.d is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your strength, but with the temptation will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor 10:13).

BUT D DELIVER U US FROM E EVIL.

The last pet.i.tion of the Our Father takes up the previous one again and gives it a positive twist. The two pet.i.tions are therefore closely connected. In the next-to-last pet.i.tion the not not set the dominant note (do not give the Evil One more room to maneuver than we can bear). In the last pet.i.tion we come before the Father with the hope that is at the center of our faith: ”Rescue, redeem, free us!” In the final a.n.a.lysis, it is a plea for redemption. What do we want to be redeemed from? The new German translation of the Our Father says ” set the dominant note (do not give the Evil One more room to maneuver than we can bear). In the last pet.i.tion we come before the Father with the hope that is at the center of our faith: ”Rescue, redeem, free us!” In the final a.n.a.lysis, it is a plea for redemption. What do we want to be redeemed from? The new German translation of the Our Father says ”vom Bosen,” thus leaving it open whether ”evil” or ”the Evil One” is meant. The two are ultimately inseparable. Indeed, we see before us the dragon of which the Book of Revelation speaks (cf. chapters 12 and 13). John portrays the ”beast rising out of the sea,” out of the dark depths of evil, with the symbols of Roman imperial power, and he thus puts a very concrete face on the threat facing the Christians of his day: the total claim placed upon man by the emperor cult and the resulting elevation of political-military-economic might to the peak of absolute power-to the personification of the evil that threatens to devour us. This is coupled with the erosion of ethical principles by a cynical form of skepticism and enlightenment. Thus imperiled, the Christian in time of persecution calls upon the Lord as the only power that can save him: ”Deliver us, free us from evil.”

Notwithstanding the dissolution of the Roman Empire and its ideologies, this remains very contemporary! Today there are on one hand the forces of the market, of traffic in weapons, in drugs, and in human beings, all forces that weigh upon the world and ensnare humanity irresistibly. Today, on the other hand, there is also the ideology of success, of well-being, that tells us, ”G.o.d is just a fiction, he only robs us of our time and our enjoyment of life. Don't bother with him! Just try to squeeze as much out of life as you can.” These temptations seem irresistible as well. The Our Father in general and this pet.i.tion in particular are trying to tell us that it is only when you have lost G.o.d that you have lost yourself; then you are nothing more than a random product of evolution. Then the ”dragon” really has won. So long as the dragon cannot wrest G.o.d from you, your deepest being remains unharmed, even in the midst of all the evils that threaten you. Our translation is thus correct to say: ”Deliver us from evil,” with evil evil in the singular. Evils (plural) can be necessary for our purification, but evil (singular) destroys. This, then, is why we pray from the depths of our soul not to be robbed of our faith, which enables us to see G.o.d, which binds us with Christ. This is why we pray that, in our concern for goods, we may not lose the Good itself; that even faced with the loss of goods, we may not also lose the Good, which is G.o.d; that we ourselves may not be lost: Deliver us from evil! in the singular. Evils (plural) can be necessary for our purification, but evil (singular) destroys. This, then, is why we pray from the depths of our soul not to be robbed of our faith, which enables us to see G.o.d, which binds us with Christ. This is why we pray that, in our concern for goods, we may not lose the Good itself; that even faced with the loss of goods, we may not also lose the Good, which is G.o.d; that we ourselves may not be lost: Deliver us from evil!

Cyprian, the martyr bishop who personally had to endure the situation described in the Book of Revelation, once again finds a marvelous way of putting all of this: ”When we say 'deliver us from evil,' then there is nothing further left for us to ask for. Once we have asked for and obtained protection against evil, we are safely sheltered against everything the devil and the world can contrive. What could the world make you fear if you are protected in the world by G.o.d himself?” (De dominica oratione 19; 19; CSEL CSEL III, 27, p. 287). This certainty sustained the martyrs, it made them joyful and confident in a world full of affliction, and it ”delivered” them at the core of their being, freeing them for true freedom. III, 27, p. 287). This certainty sustained the martyrs, it made them joyful and confident in a world full of affliction, and it ”delivered” them at the core of their being, freeing them for true freedom.

This same confidence was wonderfully put into words by Saint Paul: ”If G.o.d is for us, who is against us?...Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor princ.i.p.alities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of G.o.d in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:3139).

In this sense, the last pet.i.tion brings us back to the first three: In asking to be liberated from the power of evil, we are ultimately asking for G.o.d's Kingdom, for union with his will, and for the sanctification of his name. Throughout the ages, though, men and women of prayer have interpreted this pet.i.tion in a broader sense. In the midst of the world's tribulations, they have also begged G.o.d to set a limit to the evils that ravage the world and our lives.

This very human way of interpreting the pet.i.tion has entered into the liturgy: In every liturgy, with the sole exception of the Byzantine, the final pet.i.tion of the Our Father is extended into a separate prayer. In the old Roman liturgy it ran thus: ”Free us, Lord, from all evils, past, present, and future. By the intercession...of all the saints, give peace in our day. Come to our aid with your mercy that we may be ever free from sins and protected from confusion.” We sense the hards.h.i.+ps of times of war, we hear the cry for total redemption. This ”embolism,” with which the liturgy enhances the last pet.i.tion of the Our Father, shows the humanity of the Church. Yes, we may and we should ask the Lord also to free the world, ourselves, and the many individuals and peoples who suffer from the tribulations that make life almost unbearable.

We may and we should understand this extension of the final pet.i.tion of the Our Father also as an examination of conscience directed at ourselves-as an appeal to collaborate in breaking the predominance of ”evils.” But for all that, we must not lose sight of the proper order of goods and of the connection of evils with ”evil.” Our pet.i.tion must not sink into superficiality; even on this interpretation of the Our Father pet.i.tion, the central point is still ”that we be freed from sins,” that we recognize ”evil” as the quintessence of ”evils,” and that our gaze may never be diverted from the living G.o.d.

CHAPTER SIX.

The Disciples In all the stages of Jesus' activity that we have considered so far, it has become evident that Jesus is closely connected with the ”we” of the new family that he gathers by his proclamation and his action. It has become evident that this ”we” is in principle intended to be universal: It no longer rests on birth, but on communion with Jesus, who is himself G.o.d's living Torah. This ”we” of the new family is not amorphous. Jesus calls an inner core of people specially chosen by him, who are to carry on his mission and give this family order and shape. That was why Jesus formed the group of the Twelve. The t.i.tle ”apostle” originally extended beyond this group, but was later restricted more and more to the Twelve. In Luke, for example, who always speaks of the twelve Apostles, this word is practically synonymous with the Twelve. There is no need here to inquire into the widely discussed issues concerning the development of the use of the word apostle; apostle; let us simply listen to the most important texts that show the formation of the community of Jesus' closest disciples. let us simply listen to the most important texts that show the formation of the community of Jesus' closest disciples.

The central text for this is Mark 3:1319. It begins by saying that Jesus ”went up on the mountain, and called to him those whom he desired; and they came to him” (Mk 3:13). The events leading up to this had taken place by the lake, and now Jesus ascends ”the mountain,” which signifies the place of his communion with G.o.d-the place on the heights, above the works and deeds of everyday life. Luke underscores this point even more vigorously in his parallel account: ”In these days he went out to the mountain to pray; and all night he continued in prayer to G.o.d. And when it was day, he called his disciples, and chose from them twelve, whom he named apostles”(Lk 6:12f.).

The calling of the disciples is a prayer event; it is as if they were begotten in prayer, in intimacy with the Father. The calling of the Twelve, far from being purely functional, takes on a deeply theological meaning: Their calling emerges from the Son's dialogue with the Father and is anch.o.r.ed there. This is also the necessary starting point for understanding Jesus' words, ”Pray therefore the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (Mt 9:38): We cannot simply pick the laborers in G.o.d's harvest in the same way that an employer seeks his employees. G.o.d must always be asked for them and he himself must choose them for this service. This theological character is reinforced in Mark's phrase: ”Jesus called to him those whom he desired.” You cannot make yourself a disciple-it is an event of election, a free decision of the Lord's will, which in its turn is anch.o.r.ed in his communion of will with the Father.

The text then continues: ”And he appointed [literally: ”made”] twelve, whom he also called apostles, to be with him, and to be sent out to preach” (Mk 3:14). The first thing to ponder is the expression ”he made twelve,” which sounds strange to us. In reality, these words of the Evangelist take up the Old Testament terminology for appointment to the priesthood (cf. 1 Kings 12:31; 13:33) and thus characterize the apostolic office as a priestly ministry. Moreover, the fact that the ones chosen are then individually named links them with the Prophets of Israel, whom G.o.d calls by name. Mark thus presents the apostolic ministry as a fusion of the priestly and prophetic missions (Feuillet, etudes etudes, p. 178). ”He made twelve”: Twelve was the symbolic number of Israel-the number of the sons of Jacob. From them the twelve tribes of Israel were descended, though of these practically only the tribe of Judah remained after the Exile. In this sense, the number twelve is a return to the origins of Israel, and yet at the same time it is a symbol of hope: The whole of Israel is restored and the twelve tribes are newly a.s.sembled.

Twelve-the number of the tribes-is at the same time a cosmic number that expresses the comprehensiveness of the newly reborn People of G.o.d. The Twelve stand as the patriarchs of this universal people founded on the Apostles. In the vision of the New Jerusalem found in the Apocalypse, the symbolism of the Twelve is elaborated into an image of splendor (cf. Rev 21:914) that helps the pilgrim People of G.o.d understand its present in the light of its future and illumines it with the spirit of hope: Past, present, and future intermingle when viewed in terms of the Twelve.