14th Sunday in Ordinary Time (July 9, 2023)

The first and third readings today easily shock us. At the very least we are greatly surprised. The Jews “knew” from their experience that kings came dressed in regal splendor with squadrons of chariots, countless warriors and retinue. Imagine how the Jews felt when they heard that their king would come riding on a jackass?

A common and almost universal error many good, religious people make is that we/they identify the holy with the extraordinary, the divine with the spectacular. Stories of weeping Madonna’s, bleeding crucifixes, and divine fireworks attract thousands -- and a media blitz. We think that being there will bring an experience of “the holy” - something may somehow rub off. Folks travel far for the mere possibility of that experience.

We heard Jesus correcting this false impression a moment ago. God’s truth, the divine message, does not have to enter our lives through the amazing and the startling, but most of the time, through the ordinary and the commonplace. As with the prophet, the Lord is not to be found in the whirlwind, but in the still, small breeze of a whisper. This is probably not the way we might think to promote the good news ourselves, but the record shows that it is clearly God’s way.

Therese Martin became a Carmelite nun in the last century. One day, she told her prioress that she wanted to be a saint. When the prioress scolded her for pride, she replied that she would be a quiet, secret saint. Her simplicity, her candor and her lack of pretense were the most notable things about her. Interestingly, Jesus’ words in today’s gospel about God revealing himself to mere children were very special to St. Therese. Her spirituality has become known as “the little way” of the little flower.

Where did she get that idea? The Carmelite charism is prayer. They do not have a model of spirituality like Franciscans, Jesuits, and Oblates. Where did she get her spirituality? Her spirituality, we are told, came from her aunt, a Visitandine nun, who taught her the way of St. Francis de Sales. Francis advised doing ordinary things extraordinarily well.

Some years ago, in the midst of global tension Samantha Smith, a fifth grader, wrote to the Soviet leader, Yuri Andropov, asking if he intended to wage war on the U.S. Samantha cut through to the heart of the matter. She asked simply and directly: “Are you going to make war?” Andropov invited Samantha to Russia. Her visit and death two years later in a plane crash received wide publicity. Samantha’s ordinariness accomplished what the “wise and learned” negotiators failed to do.

All of the above heard the words of Jesus’ prayer in today’s Gospel: “I thank you, father, lord of heaven and earth because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to mere children.”

Implied in Jesus’ prayer are two very important ideas. First - those he called “mere children” are more likely to be open to God’s word. Being ordinary or poor may not be anything particular in them to recommend them, but as it works out, these people are often the ones who are open to the word of God.

Don’t we learn from our experience that the learned and the clever sometimes have a hard time getting beyond their own learning and their own cleverness? Talk is cheap; slick talkers are ineffective in the long run; children see right through them.

Also implied in Jesus’ words is a second important idea. Isn’t it true that parents find lost children more often than the other way around? When anyone receives God’s word, it is not so much that they discover the truth for themselves, as that God has revealed the truth to him or her. In other words, we do not find him; he finds us.

When Jesus refers to his disciples and followers as “mere children” his words bring us to a fundamental truth. Our knowledge and love of God are gifts we receive rather than something we do or achieve for ourselves out of our own learning or cleverness. Why we think that we make ourselves good/ holy by ourselves and what we do or choose not to do is a mysterious aberration.

The Gospel phrase “learned and clever” seems reminiscent of that more modern phrase, “the rich and famous.” The lifestyles of the rich and famous are constantly being held up to us for envy, awe -- and perhaps imitation, at some level. Jesus tells us that “the rich” and the tabloids tell us that many of the “famous” do not have a jump on being on the right track. Even Hollywood darlings have their share of troubles.

The Little Flower, Francis de Sales, Francis of Assisi and so many other masters of the spiritual life led lives easily overlooked by the more sophisticated: true happiness can be found in what we are rather than what we have, what we do or what we long for.

In the simple, ordinary events of life, we find our Lord -- like children, with upturned faces, expectant eyes, open arms hands and hearts.

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (July 2, 2023)

Jesus’ words are initially very strong. He speaks of taking up one’s cross, of loving him more than our parents and family. These are stunning challenges. Did Jesus see the shock of his disciples? Probably. Perhaps that explains his next words:

If anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is one of my disciples, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.

It is as if Jesus is reducing his call for sacrifice to a more palatable, bite- sized piece. We may hesitate somewhat at reaching to shoulder the cross of Jesus’ experience or balk at loving him more than our family. But, all of us can offer a thirsty person a cup of water. Sharing water may seem like a very little thing - unless you are the one who is parched.

This is self-sacrifice. Self-sacrifice is the common denominator of loving actions. It calls us to move our attention off ourselves, to recognize our neighbor, be sensitive to his thirst for our water, for our time, for our talent.

Francis de sales recognized this and made this one of his basic teachings. He writes:

“Important tasks lie seldom in our path; but all day long there are little things we can do well, if we do them with all our love.” Literature and theatre provide great examples of men who have delusions of grandeur:

Don Quixote, the character in Cervantes’ play, who sallies forth to set the world aright, but tilts only with windmills. He ends without realizing his impossible dream, but -- but along the way -- gives the prostitute-barmaid her dignity and self-worth, as she becomes Dulcinea.

Walter Mitty, in the delightful story by James Thurber, “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, is a very average man who sees a humdrum situation, then daydreams his way to make himself a delusional hero of an imaginary event.

Then, there is the tragic play by Arthur miller, “Death of a Salesman.” Willy Lohman is the depressing and haunting lead in a play that shows the futility of a pitiful man, sadly imagining himself to be the man he is not.

It has been well said that great doors swing on small hinges. Relatively small rudders turn great ships, but the lack of that relatively small thing can be lethal.

What gives value to all human actions, big or small, is the heart from which acts flow and the love that expresses itself in them. Opportunities for showing compassion are very frequent. Cold cups of water, random acts of kindness, kind words change the world -- one person, one moment at a time. Our lives, like the lives of those we meet in life, turn on small acts. Don’t the Christophers remind us that it better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness?

And who knows? A pattern of small acts may dispose us to something big if the opportunity presents itself.

St. Francis de Sales recognized that most of us are unlikely to find the cure for cancer or be able to bring about world-peace. But, every one of us encounters countless small occasions for becoming Christ to others every day, living Jesus. Francis said so wisely: “Do ordinary things extraordinarily well.”

Isn’t it true that our most important memories of childhood are often not the great sacrifices of our parents? Often our favorite memories of our parents are the small, ordinary moments: moments like my parents being in pretended awe at my “magic show’” when, in retrospect, I did the absolutely dumbest tricks. Or -- being sick, falling asleep and waking to see my mother sitting quietly in a chair close to my bed. A small thing. A fond memory forever.

I’m sure you have your memories. Little things do mean a lot.

St. Francis de Sales seems to have a preferential option for small acts of thoughtfulness. This is his practical judgment. We can waste our lives dreaming big dreams of doing marvelous things that will, in all probability, never happen.

Ours is a wonderful parish, a wonderful gathering of the people of God. We are recognized by visitors as being a friendly people. Let’s try to be even more aware to welcome the stranger, to become hypersensitive to both our fellow parishioners and visitors, to be pro-active in kindness towards one another and to those whose paths we cross.

Little things mean a lot. They make up just about all we’ve got.

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (June 25, 2023)

Market researchers studied three thousand persons, asking: “What are you most afraid of? You can guess most of the responses: heights, financial insecurity, snakes, dying. The big surprise is that the #1 fear was speaking in front of a group. Today’s first and third readings deal with that fear of speaking before groups.

Jeremiah was a reluctant prophet who feared shame and death. Jeremiah tells us what his fear felt like: “Terror from every side.” His faith in God pushed him through that fear. He “did the right thing”; he spoke out for God in spite of his fear.

In our Gospel, Jesus counsels his disciples as they set out on their missionary journey to speak to their fellow Jews. They are not to fear; they are to proclaim the good news -- even from the housetops.

We acknowledge and step up for our friends when they are unjustly accused or scoffed at . . . Or we are not much of a friend. But, before we do that, we are fearful of being rejected and shunned. Pushing through those fears, we acknowledge and step up for our friends. That is a part of the price of friendship.

There are times when our god is not spoken well of. Jesus said at the Last Supper, “I no longer call you servants; I call you friends.” He calls us friends. Do we reciprocate? Do we step up for our Lord, as a friend when god is scoffed at? Are we fearful that we will be thought of as “different” -- labeled a “religious fanatic,” a “Jesus freak,” a “wacko”? Do we play it cool, do we become cowardly and give in to the temptation with an eyes-lowered- “yeah.” That would be unfaithful to our friend, Jesus. We need to choose fidelity as our “default.”

The Gospel concluded with strong words from Jesus: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly father.”

Unlike Jeremiah whom history indicates was later murdered in Egypt, unlike Jesus himself who “did the right thing” then suffered rejection, torture, and the cross, unlike ten of the apostles, who suffered death, as martyrs for their faith, we will most surely never come near to being physically tortured or killed for standing up for our Lord. Jesus never said that our worldly reputation would not suffer. Being labeled may be “the” cost of discipleship for us.

In the Gospel Jesus invites us to entertain two fears: the fear of the one who can destroy body and soul together and the fear of developing a “hardened heart.” In my experience, a hardened heart is often observable. A hardened heart is visible in one who does not have “soft eyes.” In one-on-one conversations, where the appropriate direction for someone is very clear, he hardens his eyes, inhales, raises his head slightly and looks away, avoiding eye contact. If we choose god and “harden not our hearts,” embrace his words and then enflesh his love, we will then have no one and nothing to fear in the big picture.

Let’s recall the prayer of Thomas Merton, the Trappist priest, famous spiritual author, peace activist who died under suspicious circumstances while in the Far East:

“I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end...
I know that you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.

therefore I trust you always;
I will not fear for you are with me;
and you never leave me to face my perils alone.”

If we do not look at our weak selves, but toward our god we will have the courage to face our fears. We will be able to show the world what it means to live as fearless disciples of Jesus the Christ when the occasion calls for it.

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (June 18, 2023)

Occasionally the required readings make it difficult to prepare a homily, but today’s readings provide many possibilities - I didn’t go past the first sentence of the gospel.

Some scripture words are better left untranslated: Hebrew - amen, alleluia, abba. Greek - agape, metanoia.

The Greek verb, splagchnizomai, appears today and needs some unpacking.  It sounds more like the German word gesundheit.

Splagchnizomai is a word that is not so familiar as metanoia or agape. It is more difficult to pronounce, but it is profoundly significant.

It is translated, “moved with compassion.”  Or “pity”, but “pity” conjures up misunderstanding. We appreciate compassion, we do not appreciate pity. It is found twelve times and used only in reference to Jesus and his father, abba.

Let’s get right to the root of this familiar phrase, put on your Greek ears. The root noun splagchna means “entrails of the body - our guts”. Anatomically, splagchna is located from a few inches above our belly button to where our legs come together. Splagchna the place where gut-wrenching impels us to act.

Splagchnizomai appears in all three synoptic Gospels. Translated, it is an English phrase that is so familiar, it may go unheard. A few examples to refresh our memories – the first is from today’s Gospel:

Mt 9 36 “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with compassion.”

14: 14 “When he disembarked and saw the vast throng,  his heart was moved with compassion and he cured their sick.”

Mk 8:2 “My heart is moved with compassion for the crowd. By now they have been with me three days and have nothing to eat .”

1:4 “Moved  with compassion, Jesus stretched out his hand, touched him and said: “I do will it.  Be cured.” 

Lk 7:13 “The Lord was moved with compassion upon seeing her and said to her, ‘do not cry. . . ‘”

Why my repetition of verses? To raise our consciousness of the frequency.

Divine compassion consoles us and makes it possible for us to face our sin because  assimilating it can transform our broken, human condition from a cause of despair into a source of hope.  The great  miracle/ mystery is not Jesus’ miraculous cures themselves, but the infinite compassion that is the source of his deeds. John’s Gospel wisely calls what others call miracles  or wonders “signs’ – signs of his compassion.

The heart of the matter? God is agape-love. Being more specific: God is compassion.  The compassion of Jesus, love enfleshed, invites and

challenges us to enter the life of god himself.

We hope to be able to say with Paul [ga 2:20]: “I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me.” -- in my heart, in my gut.

Compassion is not a skill, academics do not help, except to provide this small word-study. Compassion is not a virtue we exercise in special circumstances, not a noble act of charity; it is reminiscent of Rex Harrison - a “second nature” to us;  it is like breathing out and breathing in. It is the natural way of being in our world as a Christian.

We engender a bond with each another because we share his life, his compassion. We live in solidarity with each other, and God lives in us. This is a  dynamic understanding of “the mystical body of Christ.”

Jesus said, “be compassionate,” not  “do compassionate things.” Compassion is not a category of doing; it is a category of being - like faith and hope. Abba  is the source of it; Jesus is the model of it; we are the participants/inheritors of it.

Body and Blood of Christ (June 11, 2023)

The readings for this year’s cycle, used to be the only set of readings for about four hundred of the last four hundred and forty years on this Sunday. Ancient church liturgists tried to pick the very best readings from the bible. These are what we just heard today as we celebrate the solemnity of the most holy body and blood of Christ.

One curiosity of John’s Gospel is that five of the twenty original chapters of his Gospel are devoted to the Last Supper. And, yet, there is zero mention of bread or wine at the meal. Why? Because John had written extensively about Eucharist back in his magnificent chapter six.

In today’s gospel from chapter 6, we heard: “if you do not eat of the flesh of the son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. He who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” John does not use the ordinary word for “eat” in this last verse; he uses the Greek verb trogein - to tear with the teeth, to gnaw. The strongest, most vivid language! And, he uses it four times in this section for emphasis.

The earliest church communities understood these words to be literally true. The bread and wine really become the body and blood of Jesus.

In ancient Judaism this would not have been so strange as it sounds to us. Back then, there were two sacrificial practices: first, there was the holocaust, the total incineration of the animal -- asking for divine acceptance. The second practice was called a “sin offering” to achieve at-one-ment with God through the shedding of blood. While the whole animal was offered to God, a portion of the flesh could be given to the priests and the rest could be given back to the worshiper who could then feast on it. Since the animal had been offered to God, something of god was thought to dwell in the offering. Therefore, the worshiper left the feast with a sense of God within. So, there was a Jewish precedent for divine presence and food.

I’d like to make two points: one, theological and the other, personal.

First: this miracle of bread and wine changed into body and blood was later given by catholic theologians the fancy name “transubstantiation.” There are some who find this unacceptable. Real presence is just too “unscientific” for them. But, when we stop to think, is it any more difficult to accept that bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ than to accept the fact that broccoli, French fries, and chocolate ice cream become the body and blood of you and me -- using the fancy name of biologists: “assimilation”?

Assimilation is accepted as a scientific fact. Transubstantiation is rejected by some despite the biblical evidence in John’s Gospel.

Second: if we really believe that this particle, this sip, is really the body and blood of Jesus, why are we not more awed than we are when we receive our Lord?

Do we need to take time to remind ourselves of the magnificent miracle, the awesome reality of Jesus coming into you and me at mass with a fervent amen when we receive our lord and then take time to “be” with Jesus, to speak with him . . . And to listen?

The Eucharist is not about some “thing” to be “received.” It is so much deeper. It is mutual presence, at-one-ment, the relationship. This is the personal aspect of Eucharist. It is a giant step beyond the second kind of Jewish sacrifice, the sin offering. We have personal encounter with him, and we gradually change in the encounter. The encounter changes us. We eventually live Jesus.

Jesus draws us to a deeper level of spiritual truth and life. He also tries to wean us from spiritual baby food, the “things” of religion. Childish practices that, at an earlier stage, were all that we could manage, today, they would keep us undernourished. He cultivates our spiritual taste for the awesome,

And, he bluntly tells us those who eat live; those who don’t, die.

Holy Trinity Sunday (June 4, 2023)

When we read all that Jesus is quoted as saying, we conclude that god is surely one -- as the Jews believe. But God is also, somehow, three. All Christian faiths accept this truth. It is absolutely the deepest mystery, for it concerns the very nature of God. For us to discuss it is like a colony of ants trying to put a human person under a microscope and then determine what human nature really is. As ants are to us, we are to God . . . With an even greater, an infinite gap between God and us.

Our god is 3 persons so in love with one another that they are one and so in love with us that they do everything possible to share the joy of our life and love and make us one with themselves -- closing the gap to some degree.

That said, let us turn our attention to today’s Gospel. No verse of the Bible is better known than the first verse of today’s Gospel, designated as Jn 3:16. We see “Jn 3:16” on TV. --- Hanging on banners on stadium walls at sports events. It has become a sort of Magna Carta of the Christian faith. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

Everything that the church at its best believes and teaches and does --grows out of that. It is a summary statement of Christian theology, the inspiration of Christian service, the basis of Christian ethics.

To understand Jn 3:16, the context of the verse needs to be understood. The context is the relationship between Jesus and a Pharisee by the name of Nicodemus. Nicodemus appears only in John’s Gospel; he appears three times.

Nicodemus first came to see Jesus at night. In John’s Gospel, the author uses darkness to indicate unbelief. Night indicates that he was “still in the dark” about who Jesus really was. Perhaps it also indicates that he did not want to be seen by his fellow Pharisees. Perhaps, both.

We see him a second time after he saw the worth of Jesus’ words. He steps up to defend Jesus among his fellow Pharisees. He comes closer to the light.

Finally, when Nicodemus witnessed the death Jesus bravely died without recanting his words of love, Nicodemus steps boldly into the light as a Jesus-man. He brings the myrrh and aloes for Jesus’ burial. Nicodemus comes to belief slowly, but he comes. He comes out of the darkness into the light, just as you and I come in stages into deepening our belief in Jesus.

Jesus spoke today’s words to Nicodemus about God’s love the first time they met. I’d like to briefly talk about 3 words in this Magna Carta of Christianity. The material universe, in terms of magnitude, is measured in a phrase that had to be invented: light years. The spiritual magnitude of God’s love for you and me is even greater, but it is expressed here in one, puny word: “so.”

God so loved the world, not God the father was so . . . angry . . .with the world that Jesus obediently had to come to come and suffer and die to appease the father - as an older theology tries to teach us. We need to remind ourselves of the depth of god’s love from time to time because we see so much of the lack of love in our world.

The second and third words are eternal life. Eternal life in the New Testament does not simply mean perpetual existence. Eternal life is not about quantity of existence, but a new and better quality of life.

To try, albeit poorly, to illustrate, imagine that you invited three extremely talented athletic worshipers to perform a demonstration of the trinity with arms tightly linked around each other’s waists. They begin to whirl around so fast that they become an indistinguishable blur. They appear as one though they remain three distinct persons. That is the dance into which we are swept at our death. Something like that is “eternal life.”

This is not about a statement of creedal faith, which we recite. This is about biblical faith, by which we are saved. Eternal life does not come from believing that “things” are true, but from being “born from above,” believing in Jesus, throwing in our lot with Jesus, entering a sphere of existence where Jesus is number one in our lives.

We recall the holy picture of the gentle Jesus, standing outside a door with no doorknob on his side and recall those words described in the Book of Revelation [3:20]: “Here I stand, knocking at the door. If anyone hears me calling and opens the door, I will enter his house and have supper with him, and he with me.” A dinner dance!

When we open the door to our hearts to the lord, things are never the same. It is as though we are given new eyes. We have a new perception of reality, a new awareness of how things really are. We hear an echo of Jn 3:16.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

Pentecost Sunday (May 28, 2023)

Since we were tiny tots, we have been learning that some things are hot, and some are cold. We learned that it is good to know about this before we touch something. When something is hot, we say it’s hot as fire . . . Or, in August, we might say: Today was hot as hell. When something is cold, we say, “It’s ice-cold.”

Fire and ice are effective metaphors for personal, relational, and spiritual realities. In fact, we categorize our relationships by their temperatures. Our emotions are the thermometers. I hear, “She is hot stuff . . . a real hotty.” [But, what would a simple priest know about that?] “He really burns me up.” At the other end of the thermometer, ice is associated with the absence of passion. We talk about an “icy stare,” a “cold shoulder,” we speak of relationships “warming up” or “cooling off”.

With long-term relationships, couples, good friends, find a comfortable temperature between fire and ice. Warm is used for daily life. Of course, there will be occasional spikes of higher and lower temperatures - and that is normal in relationships; that is life. But. On balance, warm is good; we want warmth in our valued relationships - the warmth of security and trust, the warmth of understanding and acceptance, the warmth of devotion and care.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus and the early church -- building on human experience -- spoke and wrote most eloquently. Today, on this feast of Pentecost, we hear Luke’s spectacular account of Pentecost: hearing a noise like a strong driving wind, with miraculous communication and fire! “Tongues” - - because they would preach the word - - “as of fire,” rested on each.” Think of it! Fire from heaven, dramatic manifestations of the coming of the Holy Spirit. Almost terrifying in its drama. The drama did not occur again in this book or anyplace else in scripture - no later sounds of rushing winds and no more tongues of fire. But. There was enthusiasm; there was excitement in relationship of persons with God and God in Jesus -- and among the members of the community.

The Holy Spirit is the fire of god that inspires, incites warmth in our sometimes-chilly hearts toward each other and toward all of God’s children. Within us the Holy Spirit is the fire that stands over against the ice of our cold- heartedness, our selfishness, our deadness. The fire burns with us, not to produce some sort of visible, celestial pyrotechnics, but to incite us to be loving. We recall Paul writing to the Corinthians regarding the various gifts of the Holy Spirit; he concluded: “The greatest of these is love.”

The fire ignited at our baptism burns within our depths; it needs to be nurtured on this feast. The essence of sin is the attempt to put the flame out or say that less-than-warm is good. Is “being cool” good? ... A question for pondering.

When we speak of hot and cold in relationships, we recall the glorified Jesus spoke some scary words to the Laodiceans in the Book of Revelation: “I know your deeds; I know you are neither hot nor cold! But, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold,” --- and now the scary part --- “I will spew you out of my mouth.” Our Lord gives hope a few verses later: “Here I stand, knocking at the door. If anyone hears me calling and opens the door, I will enter his house and have supper with him, and he with me.” Warm. This is the picture on the holy card with a gentle Jesus standing by a door with no handle on the outside. We must open the door from the inside of our hearts.

Today is the feast of Pentecost. The first Christian community moved from fear and inertia to pants-on-fire enthusiasm. We have fire within us. We also have some chill within us. This feast reminds us to open our hearts to the Holy Spirit, the spirit of love who reminds us of our baptism and calls us to moments of fire and the realization of warmth -- for the long haul.

The Holy Spirit has called each of us by our own name. St. Francis de sales stated so clearly the manner of our call: “Be who you are and be it well.” Today is a day to become very aware of our gifts, not our shortfalls. A day to pray: “Come Holy Spirit.” Today is a day to examine how we are developing the individual, unique gifts that the Lord has given us. Today is a day of warmth - even of fire.

Today is Pentecost, the day of the great gathering and the day of the great sending out. We have been waiting for the spirit; let’s show our faith to the world.

Seventh Sunday Of Easter (May 21, 2023)

Has this been a glorious spring? We seemed to go from winter to summer the last few years. The bright yellow of the forsythia this year was glorious. The vivid colors of the azaleas and wisterias as they bloom in their full glory are . . . glorious.

Glory is a curious word.

Five times in the Gospel and three times in the second reading we hear a form of the word “glory”:

• ·         glory given to God,

• ·         glory received by Jesus,

• ·         glory passed on,

• ·         glory of suffering for faithfulness to God.

That word “glory” always puzzled me until I found a biblical scholar who made sense of it. “Glory” as used in John’s Gospel is “the manifestation of God’s majesty.”

Jesus is the perfect revealer of God’s glory:

• ·         his healing, a manifestation of god’s majestic power

• ·         his preaching, a manifestation of god’s majestic wisdom

• ·         his forgiveness, a manifestation of god’s majestic

• ·         his teaching, a manifestation of god’s majestic truth

• ·         his compassion, a manifestation of god’s majestic love and graciousness

Jesus’ obedience -listening - to the father was the critical mass. Listening has consequences, the consequences of his telling the truth about the father and the state of religious practice led inexorably to his passion and death.

Those who were here on Good Friday may remember the homily about the last supper being the turning point in Jesus’ life. The time of action in his life when he got up from the table and went to the garden of gethsemane. In the garden the passive voice began to be operative. Jesus was arrested, was bound, was tried, was found guilty, was stripped, was flogged, was made to carry his cross, and was crucified. All passive voice.

Action ceased and passiveness began. Passion in this context of “passion and death” is the flip side of action. Jesus had completed his actions of preaching, teaching and healing.

Now we recall the words of today’s Gospel when he prayed to his father:

“Father, the hour has come. Give glory to your son that your son may give glory to you. I have given you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. Father, give me glory at your side.”

At Jesus’ “hour of glory” passerbys scoffed at him and jeered. There was nothing outwardly glorious in him as he hung on the cross. Yet it was precisely in this “hour” that God’s glory was most present, even if unrecognized. Jesus manifested the Father’s majesty as much in his passivity as in his activity.

We glorify our father both by doing the work God sends us - action- and working through those things that “happen” to us - passion. We hear Jesus continue in his last supper discourse: “I have given them the glory you gave me that they may be one, as we are one - I living in them, you living in me - that their unity may be complete.”

We glorify God and are glorified by God in being united to him.

Spring flowers manifest God’s majesty in their visible, glorious beauty. We manifest God’s majesty in the not always visible-to-us beauty of our lives. Our glory will follow as day follows night.

Ascension of the Lord (May 18/21, 2023)

We celebrate Jesus’ departure in his physical presence today, the solemnity of the Ascension.  Today marks the end of Jesus’ priceless, first stage of God’s saving plan in Jesus, the final chapter in Jesus’ physical presence in the history of salvation and the beginning of the second stage, which involves you and me. 

The narration of the ascension appears three times in the New Testament.

Mark wrote the earliest account, and it appears in the longer ending of his Gospel – an account that was added by another author later. The addition is considered part of the inspired word. Mark’s narrative is succinct and right to the point, only one sentence, his usual style and part of the reason that his Gospel is the shortest.

The seven last words of Jesus, the topic of many a Good Friday homily, are not his last words. We hear those in Mark: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Good News to all creation.”

The mission of Jesus is complete. It now is left to those standing there to take up his mission. Jesus makes it clear in his parting words that the initial mission to the Jews is not enough; it is to be expanded. He calls on his disciples to carry the Good News not simply to the Jews, but to the entire world. There is to be no partiality shown to any people or nation or individual. The disciples are not to serve any earthly kingdom, but the heavenly one.

The story of the church begins. It is a church where, at that time, the temple of Jerusalem still stands – and will for almost forty more years. It is a church that is surrounded by the oppression of the Roman Empire – and will for hundreds of years.  In the meantime, the church will begin to spread throughout that empire and beyond -- like the quietly growing mustard seed.

Luke, in his Acts of the Apostles, narrates an element that is included in neither his Gospel, nor in the Gospel of mark [from which Luke copied before copying got the name plagiarism and became a no-no]. Luke adds to the narration: “They were still gazing up into the heavens when two men dressed in white stood beside them. ‘Men of Galilee,’ they said, ‘Why do you stand here looking up at the skies…?’”

The apparent angels equivalently proclaim: “Don’t just stand there, do something.”  Perhaps that is a good question for us on this feast of the Ascension.

Each of us is called to “do something.” The celebration of the one who inspires and energizes us will be next week, Pentecost. 

We are called to continue the mission that the disciples were given – each in our own way to spread by word and our example Jesus’ life-giving message.

Sixth Sunday Of Easter (May 14, 2023)

Easter is now five weeks behind us. Many of the flowers that celebrated Easter with us need a resurrection of their own.

We have reveled in the new life of the risen Jesus and followed his path of appearances from tomb side to Emmaus to upper room to Galilee to five hundred seeing him at one time. Today, Jesus speaks of orphans: “I will not leave you orphans.” Are we aware that “orphan,” a word used over forty times in the bible, is used only once in all four Gospels? I got to thinking about orphans and how Jesus assures us about its opposite. Would it be that he is going to leave his followers in one way [physical presence] and Jesus with us in a new way?

You have surely picked up on my worldview - seeing relationship as the basic category for talking about god and the people and things of God. The theologian and author, John Shea, is very helpful in developing the relational flow. I will use some of his thoughts in this homily. This gets a bit lofty, so fasten your seatbelts.

At the physical level we come into existence when sperm joins egg and we are nourished for nine months in a relationship with our mother’s blood. Then we pass into a new and larger womb where we are in relationship with air, and with food and drink for nourishment.

At the psychological/social level, we are cared for by others and internalize their influences to become who we are. Relationship is key in all theories of human development. We often name others in relational terms: mother, father, son, daughter, wife, husband, friend, enemy, boss, brothers and sisters, neighbors.

At the spiritual level, we may develop our belief system with a philosophy from Nazism to humanism or many another. We may choose to believe in god and follow a theology of Judaism, Islam, Buddhism or other. Or, we may choose to put our faith in Jesus Christ. At times, we may think that “we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps,” but this self-reliant posturing sooner or later gets dropped. “No man is an island.” Relationship is key.

Jesus’ greatest teaching and greatest example concerns itself with the greatest relationship: love of both of God and of others.

Now, late in Easter time we followers of Jesus hear him speaking of life after life. He tells us that the spirit is eternally present in created spirits, sustaining us in existence and filling us with life in a dance that survives death.

Perichoresis is the technical term Christian theologians have for the inner life of the trinity. It literally means a dance, a life-giving movement that goes around and round without beginning or end. It is the love and the life of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We hear in the Gospels at this time that this Trinitarian dance is not for the divine persons only. God invites human persons to this dance. It is this invitation that Jesus reveals and imparts to his followers. Jesus speaks of his father and the spirit and himself dwelling within us. Our relationship is the beginning of life after life - we are already with our God in a real way.

When we accept him in faith and respond to him directly by bringing our presence into his presence and communing with him in Eucharist. When we accept him indirectly in our neighbor by bringing our presence to our neighbor’s presence in loving response, we are never alone, never orphans.

Remember the phrase, “the state of grace”? How static and lifeless that now sounds. The dynamic reality is the presence of the father - who made us, the son - who saved us, the spirit - who makes us holy - all dwelling within us. That is grace. That is the eternal dance. We become united to them more closely than we are united to ourselves.

I hope that today’s homily may bring some peek into what “heaven” – eternal life with God - will be like.

I hope that the understanding of our eastern brothers and sisters will make more sense in their saying: “God became man so that man might become God.” It seems that the church of the east is more conscious of this reality of presence. When they greet each other, they join their hands like this, bow, and say/pray. Namaste, that is, “The spirit within me greets the spirit within you.”

With the Lord, we will never be orphans. We begin the indwelling, now we will dance forever, later.

Fifth Sunday Of Easter (May 7, 2023)

Doesn’t it seem strange to hear part of Jesus’ last supper discourse repeated during late Eastertime? It makes sense only in its liturgical context: Jesus’ words at the time of his saying goodbye.

The disciples sound much like young children when parents tell them that they are going out. Where are you going? When are you coming back? Who is going to stay with us? Did you notice that the disciples – like young children - did not ask what is going to happen with Jesus; they ask only what is going to happen to them. Our generation is not the inventor of self-centeredness.

Thomas and Philip are the disciples who are the “straight-men” in this scene of “Johannine misunderstanding.” Johannine misunderstanding is the name for a device the author, john, uses to introduce and set up a “Jesus explanation.’

Jesus is not talking about where he is going as a place with an address; nor does he call it heaven. Jesus is talking about relationship, his and our relationship with the father. Through faith, the disciples will be able to recognize the relationship that already exists between Jesus and his father. Ultimately, faith, trust in God, will allow his followers to enter fully into that divine relationship: mutual indwelling. That is “the way, the life” in his truthfully proclaiming himself: “The way, the truth and the life.”

This same reality is what he calls elsewhere “the Kingdom of the Father.” The interpenetrating of the divine and our human consciousness is “the belonging” that we all desire in the depths of our hearts. This is the heart of John’s message. A bit lofty? Absolutely! John is depicted as an eagle in Christian art because of his lofty, theological soaring, not because he had feathers.

This surely transcends a description of heaven as “pie in the sky when you die.” This is not the notion of heaven for Muslim men - being with “72 dark-eyed virgins.” Yet, Jesus’ words give us only an inkling, because it is impossible to adequately describe what being with Jesus and the father is. As Paul in 1 Corinthians said: “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on man what god has prepared for those who love him.” [1 Cor 2: 9,10]

Jesus assures his listeners that they who believe in him will do the works he does—and even greater works. The list is long: caring for the sick, forgiving, comforting those in pain, protecting the weak and vulnerable, embracing the poor, eating with sinners, defending the rights of the victimized, denouncing injustice . . . and more.

Our first reading from the acts of the apostles speaks to this and tells us of perhaps the first political moments in the new-born church where the spiritual needs of the church were not being matched by the material needs of some of the people of God. The work of the Twelve: preaching did not leave enough time for tending to the material needs; the office of deacons was created to care for needs of the Greek-speaking Christians. It was clearly a division of labor in the church. It had nothing to do with the establishing of a hierarchy. Deacons were co-workers.

The early church, open to the work of the spirit, was not slow to move to see that the material and spiritual needs were met. We pray that we the church of the 21st century will do no less. We now share in Jesus’ ministry, there is a saying in Africa: “The path is made by walking.” Each time we demonstrate our faith by living Jesus both spiritually and materially. We take another step in making our next venturesome step easier and more light-footed.

4th Sunday Of Easter (April 30, 2023)

Today is commonly known as “Good Shepherd Sunday,” referring, of course, to Jesus. But, did you notice that Jesus does not call himself the “good shepherd” – at least, not directly?

He calls himself the sheep gate - and for good reason. In those days, flocks of sheep were kept overnight in a common enclosure; the walls were stone - and high enough that the top was beyond the claws and the jaws of the wolves and other predators that prowled the countryside. Such is the case, even today. At nightfall each shepherd leads his sheep into the sheepfold. In the morning, the shepherd leads his flock out again. The sheep know the sound of the shepherd’s voice.

A visitor to the Holy Land asked why there were not gates to the sheepfolds. The guide replied, “That is an easy one; that is where the shepherds sleep.” The sheep gate and the shepherd are one and the same.

The shepherd is the only defense for the sheep. He remains at the most vulnerable point. He lies down between the sheep and any predators - to protect them and even possibly to give his life for them.

As we know, sheep are not particularly intelligent. Jesus’ point is the fidelity and the vigilance of the shepherd; it is always a mistake to try to carry a metaphor beyond the point being made; here, shepherding is the point. Jesus is not referring to us as dumb animals.

When we stop to think about it, the metaphor, shepherding, denotes a relationship, a relationship of faithfulness, of protection, of nourishment, and care. If we think of shepherds, only as an office in the church, we can become disillusioned in these our days. And who of us has not experienced that in recent times.

The chief priest in a parish is called “the pastor.” The chief pastor in a diocese is called “the bishop.” [He even carries the shepherd’s crook during liturgy]. The highest pastor worldwide is called “the Pope.”

Most of us in church this day are shepherds, leaders in one way or another: within our family, within our parish, within our community. The Gospel challenges us to look to ourselves to examine our relationship of shepherding towards those in our care. Are we faithful to our task? Are we courageous? Are we watchful of what nourishment of food and drink as well as TV viewing and computer using? Of places we allow those under our care to go? Or have we, perhaps, somewhat abdicated our responsibility and thereby abused and allowed harm to come to our lambs by our negligence?

Jesus is the supreme shepherd. He is the example to each of us in our roles as shepherds. He gave even his life for his sheep. Jesus as good and faithful shepherd inspires us to lead “ours” through the dark valleys of life.

All of us need to keep our eyes on Jesus, the good shepherd and see the institutional church as a means, not an end, to foster our relationship with Jesus. In turn, we strive to improve our Vatican II understanding of church, the people of God, so that united to Christ, we may become all that we are called to become.

As we just heard at the end of the Gospel, recognition of Jesus as supreme shepherd leads us to enjoy the promise of life in abundance. The good shepherd tells us that to give us life in abundance is why he came.

3RD SUNDAY OF EASTER (April 23, 2023)

“Two disciples were making their way to a village named Emmaus. In the midst of their lively exchange, Jesus approached and began to walk along with them.”

We know that during most of this seven-mile walk with Jesus, the two disciples failed to recognize the true identity of their travel companion. It was not until they were seated at table with him - and Jesus broke and shared bread with them - that their eyes were finally opened.

What was it about such a simple act that enabled them to recognize Jesus? Undoubtedly, it reminded them of that powerful moment that directly preceded Christ's betrayal, passion and death: the Last Supper. In addition, it may have reminded them of countless experiences of table fellowship with Jesus and the other disciples: simple, personal and intimate opportunities to understand more about Jesus' - and their own - identity. The ordinary - but profound - act of breaking and sharing bread had become for them a gateway to experiencing the divine precisely in the midst of everyday, human events. On an even broader scale, it may have reminded them of the experience of communion and community that they experienced with Jesus and their fellow travelers throughout all the ups, downs and in-betweens of living, learning and loving together.

The connection with this story to the Church's eventual understanding of communion was not lost on St. Francis de Sales. In his book entitled On the Preacher and Preaching, he wrote: "It is certain that since our Lord is really within us, he gives us brightness, for he is the light. After the disciples at Emmaus had communicated, 'their eyes were opened.'" (Page 26) In our celebration - and reception - of community, gathered around the table of the Lord, we are challenged to see both how Christ is present in the Eucharist and also how Christ is present in us.

Still, we need to expand our notion of communion in order to more deeply understand the meaning of this scene in the Gospel. Jesus is especially present whenever there is table fellowship; Jesus is embodied whenever people allow themselves to be broken and shared with - and for - others. Jesus is seen whenever people focus more on what brings them together and less upon those things that would drive them apart.

When we break bread with others - literally, or figuratively - the ongoing power and promise of the risen Christ is made manifest to us. When we choose to break ourselves open to nourish and feed others, we embody in our own day and age something of the same Jesus who companioned these two disciples so long ago.

The question is: do we recognize Jesus in our attempts to feed others? Do we recognize Jesus when others attempt to do the same for us?

2ND SUNDAY OF EASTER (April 16, 2023)

In the wake of Jesus' crucifixion and death, the apostles were locked away together in fear. They were afraid that they might suffer the same fate as their teacher.

Despite their anxious seclusion, Jesus breaks into their lives: not merely into the physical space in which they were taking refuge; Jesus also breaks into the core of their minds and hearts. Jesus attempts to calm their fears; he challenges them to be at peace; he does this in a rather confrontational and mysterious manner: by showing them the wounds in his hands and side.

The experience of resurrection did not remove the scars of Jesus' woundedness, the lasting marks of pain, disappointment, misunderstanding, rejection, humiliation, abandonment, suffering and death. Notwithstanding these wounds, however, Christ's resurrection powerfully demonstrated that pain, sadness, suffering and injustice did not, ultimately, enjoy the last word. While suffering is clearly a part of life, there is much more to life than suffering.

St. Francis de Sales wrote: "We must often recall that our Lord has saved us by his suffering and endurance, and that we must work out our salvation by sufferings and afflictions, enduring with all possible forbearance the injuries, denials and discomforts we meet." (Introduction to the Devout Life, Part III, Chapter 3)

All of us bear the wounds of failure, deception, betrayal, disappointment and loss. Our hearts, our minds, our memories - our souls - bear the scars to prove it. Like the apostles, we, too, are tempted to withdraw from others, to lock ourselves away in some secluded emotional or spiritual corner, living in fear of what other pain or disappointments may come our way. Of course, in withdrawing from life, we figuratively - in some cases, even literally - die.

Jesus clearly demonstrates in his own life that our wounds do not necessarily need to overwhelm or disable us. While these wounds may be permanent, they need not rob us of the power and promise of recovery, of renewal - of resurrection - unless we despair, unless we allow ourselves to be defeated by the nails of negativity.

The wounds of our past continue to leave their mark in our present: they don't necessarily determine the course of our future. Turn to the love of Jesus who knows what it means to be wounded and who shows us how to move through and beyond them. St. Francis de Sales wrote: “Look often on Christ, crucified, naked, blasphemed, slandered, forsaken, and overwhelmed by every kind of weariness, sadness, sorrow and labor.” Jesus triumphed over the wounds of his humanity: so, too, with God's help, can we.

To be sure, life can be tough. As was in the case as Jesus, however, we, too, can be tougher.

EASTER SUNDAY (April 9, 2023)

This, indeed, is the central mystery of our faith. Jesus, allowing himself to be consumed with passion for righteousness and swallowed by death has, in turn, conquered death once and for all with the power that is the promise of eternal life.

Christ's pathway of passion, death and resurrection was personal: it was unique. It had been fashioned by the Father from all eternity. Jesus was faithful to God's vision for him; Jesus embraced his vocation as the humble, gentle Messiah; Jesus suffered the pain of death; Jesus experienced the power of rising again.

God has fashioned a personal path for each of us from all eternity. Each of us has a unique role to play in the Father's never-ending revelation of divine life, divine love, divine justice, divine peace and divine reconciliation. Still, the way to resurrection is the way of the cross - the way of giving up, the way of letting go, the way of surrendering any and all things, thought, attitudes and actions that prevent us from embodying the passion of Christ: the passion for all that is righteous and true.

Francis de Sales offers this image in Book 9 of his Treatise on the Love of God: "God commanded the prophet Isaiah to strip himself completely naked: this, the prophet did, and went about and preached in this way for three whole days (or, as some say, for three whole years). Then, when the time set for him by God had passed, he put his clothes back on again. So, too, we must strip ourselves of all affections, little and great, and make a frequent examination of our heart to see if it is truly ready to divest itself of all its garments, as Isaiah did. Then, at the proper time we must take up again the affections suitable to the service of charity, so that we may die naked on the cross with our divine Savior and afterwards rise again with him as new people."

Be certain of one thing: the daily dying to self that is part of living a passionate life is not about dying, stripping and letting go for its own sake. No, it is that all of who we are may be purified to more faithfully and effectively live lives of divine passion and compassion. God does not desire that we die to self out of self-deprecation, but that we die to self in order that, paradoxically, we may actually be more of who God calls us to be.

“Love is as strong as death to enable us to forsake all things,” wrote St. Francis de Sales. “It is as magnificent as the resurrection to adorn us with glory and honor.”

This glory and honor is not just reserved for heaven. To the extent that we die a little each day and experience the fidelity of God's love in the midst of all adversity, trials, struggles and “letting go,” we can experience something of the resurrection every day.

PASSION SUNDAY (April 2, 2023)

St. Jane de Chantal had this to say about the passion of Our Lord, Jesus Christ:

"The Church proposes Passion Sunday to remind us of the sufferings of our Savior…in which the work of our redemption was so abundantly completed. Our redemption began from the instant of the adorable conception of the eternal Word in the womb of the Virgin, his Holy Mother, and it was completed in the passion of the Savior. This Sunday reminds us to prepare, by a holy recalling to mind of our Savior's toils and sufferings…considering what God has done for us and encourage ourselves to imitate Him. And, if it was necessary, as Scripture says, that the Son of God should enter into his glory and kingdom by a multitude of toils and tribulations, we are deceived if we think to enter there by any other way. Let us love: love our little sufferings and prepare ourselves by the consideration of those of our Lord…Let us strive to die indeed to ourselves, to our inclinations, and to all which corrupts our nature, and God will enable us to live a new life, in his grace and in his love, in this world, and then forever in his glory, giving himself as the reward for our little labors." (Conferences, Exhortation XI, page 117 - 118)

St. Jane also helps us to consider that the passion of Jesus is not only about suffering: it is ultimately about being obedient to, open to, and trusting in Divine Providence. "It is a true point of the highest and most sublime perfection when we are entirely given over, open and obedient to the events of divine Providence. If we indeed have surrendered ourselves to Providence we shall be as happy to be here as a hundred miles form here; and even more so, finding ourselves in Providence more of God's pleasure and less of our own satisfaction. It would be of no consequence whether we be humbled or exalted, to be led by one hand or the other, to be in dryness, aridity, sorrow and privation or to be comforted by divine Providence and in the enjoyment of God. In fact, we should keep ourselves in the good hands of this great God like cloth in the hands of a tailor, who cuts it in a hundred ways for use as he pleases and as he designs, while it puts no hindrance in the way. So, we should endure to have God's powerful hand cut, hammer and chisel us just as God wishes, to make us a fit stone for the adornment of his building." (Conference XLI, pp. 280 - 281)

As we reflect upon the passion of Jesus - the generosity of Jesus - the obedience of Jesus - the self-emptying of Jesus - it affords us the opportunity to examine our own passion for righteousness, our own generosity toward others, our own obedience to the will of the Father and our own willingness to empty ourselves so that our hearts, minds, attitudes and actions may more faithfully reflect the love of God who invites us each day to continue the ministry of Jesus in ways that fit the state and stage of life in which we find ourselves.

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT (March 26, 2023)

FIFTH SUNDAY OF LENT (March 26, 2023)
The sports-caster pushes through the crowd for a postgame interview. “Congratulations, coach, what was the turning point in the win?

The retired general or admiral is writing his memoirs. He reveals unknown details and strategies in the war. The most important chapter is his conclusion: his interpretation of the turning point. In the Napoleonic wars, it was the battle of Waterloo; in WWII, the battle of Midway. The author analyzes the hinge on which the large door of victory swung open. The beginning of the end.

John tells the story of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. He writes to inspire faith in unbelievers and to encourage the faith of believers.

What was the crucial moment for the writer of the 4th gospel? It is today’s gospel: the raising of Lazarus. The raising of Lazarus was the point of critical mass of his enemies’ anger; Jesus’ popularity reached its highpoint with this miracle. The level of threat to the status quo -leadership now exploded. Jesus had to go! The beginning of the end.

People will commit great evil to protect their positions of power.

--- The Watergate scandal in American politics --- The Enron executives in Houston --- Some American bishops in regard to the sex-abuse scandal --- Martha Stuart - provide examples.

Some folks, who normally attend church, hold responsible positions, treat their families and friends with kindness will commit acts of cruel deception if their power is threatened.

Jesus was a threat, absolutely. The people were judging that he spoke and acted more authoritatively than the Pharisees.

Today, Jesus stood alone, in the midst of a crowd. For Jesus to raise Lazarus was tantamount to entering the tomb himself. John sees this as the beginning of the end for Jesus

John gives us clues in the text. Although those present interpreted his tears as human tears for his friend’s death, scripture scholars argue that the reason he wept was not only for Lazarus; but he weeps in the agony of his present situation. To do what he felt called to do would bring about his death. Thomas the apostle recognized the danger before they left for Judea; he speaks of going to Judea to die with Jesus.

John writes a “high Christology;” that is, he portrays Jesus as being more god than man. Read john’s sanitized passion:

-- No mention of Jesus’ sweat of blood in the garden. Scholars say his agony was here at the tomb in john’s version of the agony “in the garden” --- Jesus defends himself brilliantly before the authorities. --- Jesus carries his cross by himself; john says so explicitly. --- Finally, john does not say Jesus dies, but “he delivers over his spirit.”

Though that day may have been bright and sunny, Jesus saw the storm clouds gathering on the horizon beyond Lazarus’ tomb. Standing alone, he saw the rising fury of the Jewish leadership. He knew that doing what he felt called to do would push them over the edge. He may have surmised that the next time he looked at a tomb - it would be his own - and he would look at it from the inside. John saw this as the final turning point, the beginning of the end.

My image of god, our father, does not allow me to believe that the father exacted from his son the torture of a crucifixion-death as payment to him for our sins. That seems to make the father an ogre, not an Abba.

I believe that the father sent his son to model for us how a person is to live a life of love - regardless of the consequences.

I believe that that is what is meant by “taking up one’s cross” taking up one’s cross does not mean to me beating oneself on the head for love of god. [To me, that is foolishness.]

As Jesus stood before Lazarus’ tomb, he knew what the loving thing to do was: he called Lazarus forth, to restore him to his sisters and relieve their terrible grief as a sign of his and his father’s love. But that, in effect, meant that he would be killed.

And us. Let’s humbly thank/congratulate him for showing us what it means to have the courage of loving conviction.

Let’s look deeply into our lives. Are we avoiding, perhaps looking the other way, distracting ourselves from loving things that we are called to do?

What will we do in these final two weeks of Lent?

FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT (March 19, 2023)

**FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT (March 19, 2023)

Many centuries ago, the church used drama to teach. We saw this even in the Middle Ages in the morality plays. The church building provided the theatre. About the year 100 A.D., when john wrote his gospel, he did so in a dramatic narrative. Today we shall present his words, just as he wrote them --interspersed with commentary.

Please be seated.

In chapter 8 of John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “I am the light of the world; no follower of mine shall ever walk in darkness. No, he shall possess the light of life.”

Chapter 9 tells the story of a man born blind, a man born in darkness. It is the story of a man who will come into the light - the light of Jesus, the light of the world. It is a story dramatized in 7 scenes. Let’s listen to the first scene with Jesus, his disciples, and a blind man.

Scene I**

N: As he walked along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. His disciples asked him:

D: “Rabbi, was it his sin or that of his parents that caused him to be born blind?”

J: 3. “Neither,” [answered Jesus] “it was no sin, either of this man or of his parents.

In the disciples’ minds, there is no question whether sin causes blindness; there is only the question of who it was that sinned. It was the teaching of the Hebrews, the old Deuteronomic code, that the sins of the individual or his ancestors were visited on the individual.

Jews of Jesus’ day asked the same question that people ask even today when they suffer affliction: what did I do to deserve this? Affliction is thought to come as punishment. Jesus rejects this notion. [Rather, it was to let god’s works show forth in him. 4. We must do the deeds of him who sent me while it is day. The night comes on when no one can work. 5. While I am in the world I am the light of the world.”]

N: 6. With that Jesus spat on the ground, made mud with his saliva, and smeared the man’s eyes with the mud. 7 then he told him:

J: “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”

N: (This name means “one who has been sent,”) so the man went off and washed, and came back able to see.

Jesus was a wise physician; he used the customs of his day to work his signs; spittle was thought to have curative power. Even today, don’t I stick my finger in my mouth if I burn it? It was not that Jesus believed that spittle could heal blindness, but it kindled expectation in the blind man.

Just as god had made light the first item of creation and then formed man from clay, so john has Jesus use clay that will lead this man to the light of day and eventually to the light of the world.

The second scene involves the blind man’s neighbors, those who frequently saw him.

Scene II

N: His neighbors and the people who had been accustomed to see him begging began to ask:

P: “Isn’t this the fellow who used to sit and beg?”

N: Some were claiming it was he; others maintained it was not but someone who looked like him. The man himself said:

B: “I am the one.”

N: They said to him then,

P: “How were your eyes opened?”

N: He answered:

B: “That man they call Jesus made mud and smeared it on my eyes, telling me to go to Siloam and wash. When I did go and wash, I was able to see.”

P: “Where is he?”

N: They asked. He replied,

B: “I have no idea.”

We shall see that the human author of the gospel tells of two miracles: 1. The healing of blindness that brings eyesight; 2. The birth of faith, through insight. He indicates the progression of the man-born-blind’s insight by the progression of the man’s names for Jesus [as in last weeks story of the Samaritan woman.] We have just heard the first of five: “that man they call Jesus.”

Scene three brings on stage the Pharisees - the villains of the drama.

Scene III

N: Next, they took the man who had been born blind to the Pharisees. (Note that it was on a Sabbath that Jesus had made the mud paste and opened his eyes.) The Pharisees, in turn, began to inquire how he had recovered his sight. He told them,

B: “He put mud on my eyes. I washed it off, and now I can see.”

N: This prompted some of the Pharisees to assert,

Ph: “This man cannot be from god because he does not keep the Sabbath.”

N: Others objected:

Ph: “If a man is a sinner, how can he perform signs like these?”

N: They were sharply divided over him.

Then they addressed the blind man again:

Ph: “Since it was your eyes he opened, what do you have to say about him?”

B: “He is a prophet.”

N: He replied.

The Pharisees, the leaders of the Jews, claim to see; Jesus broke a Sabbath prohibition by kneading spittle and earth, which a “devout” Jew would not do. Yet some were puzzled because a sinner should not be able to cure anyone. The Pharisees do not “see.” They do not understand. While their opportunity for insight increases, they become blinder.

Upon further questioning, the former blind man has a new and deeper insight; he calls Jesus a “prophet,” one who brings god’s word to humans.

The Pharisees decide to ‘broaden the investigation’ with a fourth scene as the rather wary and cagy parents of the man are introduced…

Scene IV

N: The Jews refused to believe that he had really been born blind and had begun to see, until they summoned the parents of this man who now could see.

Ph: “Is this your son?”

N: They asked,

Ph: “And if so, do you attest that he was blind at birth? How do you account for the fact that now he can see?”

N: The parents answered:

Pr: “We know this is our son, and we know he was blind at birth. But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we have no idea. Ask him. He is old enough to speak for himself.”

N: (His parents answered in this fashion because they were afraid of the Jews, who had already agreed among themselves that anyone who acknowledged Jesus, as the messiah would be put out of synagogue. That was why his parents said, ‘he is of age - ask him.’)

The parents should have been lawyers. Although there was no fifth amendment at that time, they do not implicate themselves. They sidestep the increasing frustration and anger of the Pharisees, who would use ecclesiastical penalty to vent their frustration. Jesus had previously warned his disciples that following him would mean expulsion from the synagogue. We hear his prophecy being fulfilled.

The parents wash their hands of association with their son. They will not take the chance of Jewish excommunication.

Scene V brings the Pharisees to their most violent conflict with the former blind man…

Scene V

N: A second time they summoned the man, who had been born blind and said to him,

Ph: “Give glory to god! First of all we know this man is a sinner.”

B: “I do not know whether he is a sinner or not,”

N: he answered.

B: “I know this much: I was blind before; now I can see.”

N: They persisted:

Ph: “Just what did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?”

B: “I have told you once, but you would not listen to me,”

N: He answered them.

B: “Why do you want to hear it all over again? Do not tell me you want to become his disciples too?”

N: They retorted scornfully:

Ph: “You are the one who is that man’s disciple. We are disciples of Moses. We know that god spoke to Moses, but we have no idea where
this man comes from.”

N: He came back at them:

B: “Well, this is news! You do not know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that god does not hear sinners, but that if someone is devout and obeys his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever gave sight to a person blind from birth. If this man were not from God, he could never have done such a thing.”

Ph: “What…you are steeped in sin from your birth, and you are giving us lectures?”

N: With that they threw him out bodily.

The Pharisees begin aggressively: “give glory to god,” -- a phrase used in cross-examination, which means: “speak the truth in the presence and the name of god.” A browbeating technique here.

With his progressive insight into who Jesus is and faith / trust in him, an increasing boldness builds in the former blind man, a boldness not shared by his intimidated parents. He uses the strongest of argument: it was clear Jewish teaching that god hears only the prayer of good people; the book of proverbs said clearly, “ the lord is far from the wicked; but he hears the prayer of the righteous. “ [15:29] The Pharisees were defeated by their own scripture.

“To him who has, more shall be given,” said Jesus. The man has a still deeper insight. He now calls Jesus a “man from god.”

For his faith, the man suffers the rejection that Jesus will eventually suffer -- as well as Jesus’ disciples.

The sixth scene finds the man again with Jesus. As john Chrysostom put it: ‘the Jews cast him out of the temple; the lord of the temple found him.”

Scene VI

N: When Jesus heard of his expulsion, he sought him out and asked him:

J: “Do you believe in the son of man?”

N: He answered,

B: “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”

J: “You have seen him … he is speaking to you now.”

B: “I do believe, Lord,

N: He said, and bowed down to worship him. Then Jesus said:

J: “I came into this world to divide it, to make the sightless see and the seeing blind.”

Whenever our Christian witness separates us from others, we find that Jesus is nearer to us.

The titles “son of man,” and “lord” bring the man to the fullness of faith, which results in his bowing down to worship Jesus. “Son of man” to a Jew indicates more than what we Christians hear; it indicates no mere mortal, but the one beyond us who was awaited.

Jesus had said: “I came into this world to divide it, to make the sightless see and the seeing blind.” Jesus confronts us, as were the man and the Pharisees; if we see Jesus as one to be admired, one to be desired, we choose sight and salvation. If we see in Jesus nothing to be admired, desired, followed, we condemn ourselves -- a truth that becomes transparently clear as Jesus and the Pharisees play out the seventh and final scene.

Scene VII

N: Some of the Pharisees around him picked this up, saying,

Ph: “You a re not calling us blind, are you?”

N: To which Jesus replied:

J: “If you were blind, there would be no sin in that. ‘But we see,’ you say, “and your sin remains.”

The Pharisees find themselves in the same place that the man was at the beginning of the story: blind! They have progressively lost insight. They even rejected the cure, were unwilling to admit that the man had ever been blind -- a fact that his friends and neighbors “saw” and knew to be true.

The more we know, the more we are responsible if we do not recognize good when we see it. The Pharisees are condemned because they claim to see so well and yet fail to recognize the messiah when he came. The law that responsibility is the other side of the coin of privilege is written into life. [Barclay]

John describes the increasing insights of the man: “that man they call Jesus,” “a prophet,” “man from god,” “son of man,” “lord.” The insight of faith was a gift greater than the sight to his eyes. His insight was progressive just as the insight of the Pharisees was regressive. Did you notice that the first name for Jesus the man used was the last title for Jesus that the Pharisees used: “that man.”

In human relationships, we frequently experience that the better we know someone, the more we become aware of weakness, of clay feet. In our relationship with Jesus, we find that the more we come to know him the greater he becomes. He is the light of the world and makes us shine as light to the world of others.

This story is the story of healing: from physical blindness, which was obvious to all who would see -- and healing from spiritual blindness, which was subtle and indicated by the progression of insightful names for who Jesus was.

Our Lenten journey of faith -- like the blind man’s -- is also a journey of insights into who Jesus is. Jesus heals us spiritually. He does it frequently by his words in scripture. A reflective recalling of scriptures touches our spirits with our hurts and bruises; it, like soothing oil, promotes our inner healing.

May this drama help heal your spirit with his word -- and may you take your healing words to others as a balm for their spirits.

THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT (March 12, 2023)

THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT (March 12, 2023)

Jews despised Samaritans for over 700 years. The Assyrians had conquered Israel and most of the Jews of that area fled. The Assyrians moved into the territory non-Jews who intermarried with the remaining Jews. After the exile, the returning, “real” Jews saw this as a bastardized form of Judaism. They judged Samaritan women perpetually unclean and would never even speak to them, let alone touch them. Also, in the ancient, near east, women were never to be at the well unaccompanied by a male relative.

That is the setting for Jesus’ encounter. He promptly threw away the rulebook. He initiated the conversation by asking for a drink - without even having his own cup. She played the race card and reminded him of their differences. He confronted her: where is your husband? She said she had none and, understandably, tried to change the subject to . . . Liturgy, to the appropriate place for worship. We can understand she would prefer to talk about her liturgical life rather than her rather interesting sex life. He didn’t blink; you already have had five husbands, and the man you are with now is not your husband -- So much for her attempt to derail his train of thought.

Jesus saw her at the well in the heat of the day, the worst time to face the desert sun. Women ordinarily came early in the morning for the day’s water supply. This woman was almost surely shunned by the other women because of her promiscuity. Jesus recognized her strong thirst for male attention. He did not shame her for it. He greeted her by acknowledging his own, “different” thirst.

He offered her “living water” which she first misunderstood as a supply of h20 near her door. Jesus offered her faith. She gradually accepted him -- as we heard by the progressive names for him, from “sir” to “prophet,” to “messiah.”

This obscure, unnamed woman became Jesus’ first female apostle. She went back to schechem and boldly told her neighbors about Jesus and how he reacted to her, and they -- through her -- were introduced to Jesus. She did the work of an apostle!

After the people of schechem encountered Jesus, and he lived among them for 2twodays, these “despised foreigners” said: “no longer does our faith depend on your story. We have heard for ourselves, and we know that this really is “the savior of the world” -- the final and crowning title for Jesus. Isn’t it true that we got our faith like the people in the village? We believed through the word of someone else about God/Jesus: our parents, family, teachers, -- then, we later came to believe in Jesus.

Isn’t it consoling that Jesus uses imperfect people like them and the woman and you and me as his apostles to continue his evangelization? The work of RCIA is not to be construed as the work of perfect people. It is through you and me -- especially you who have more contact with folks of other or no faith -- to draw people to our faith.

In the first reading, we heard that God used a stone to provide water. In the Gospel story, Jesus, from the stone of her heart, struck living water through his compassion and gentle teaching / presence.

The only thing that can keep us away is the hardness of our hearts. God has found us. Do we soften our hearts to receive him? To listen to him? To ask his forgiveness? To grow in love with him? To carry his love to others who are not aware of him?

SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT (March 5, 2023)

SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT (March 5, 2023)

Life is a journey. For most, it is a two-fold journey: the journey out and the journey in. The journey out is the professional journey comprising education, training, earning a salary. The second journey, the journey in is the spiritual journey. Not all make that journey. We have not seen Brittany Spears or Paris Hilton along the way. It is the journey of interiority.

Another pair of choices confronts both of these journeys: being a settler or being a pilgrim, an explorer. Like early folks in our country, some are content to be settlers; others, have a wanderlust sparkle in their eyes. They like to move on. Neither is right or wrong; it just is.

Biblical faith has surely been, basically, a pilgrim faith. We see it in today’s first reading about Abraham and his journey; we see it in both books written by Luke: his Gospel is the story of Jesus on a journey from up in galilee down to Jerusalem; his acts of the apostles is the story of the journey of Paul from Jerusalem over to the heart of the roman empire, Rome.

Explorers are tempted to hunker down, become settlers. Such views often do not take freedom or inspiration seriously. God’s will is revealed more as a light in the present moment --- enough light to take the next step on our unmapped journey.

Our maps are made one journey-step at a time in the company of Jesus. Spiritual journeys are often not mapped out clearly, ahead of time, but are seen only when we pause, turn around and look back where we have come from. Were we to have tried to look ahead when we were back on our journey, the map would have looked like the maps of ancient cartographers who drew dragons and monsters where there were no known paths or ships’ courses.

I like to liken my journey to a walk along a long, pitch-black corridor with dim, overhead lights, 40-watt bulbs at the end of long, light-chains. I walk with hand extended upward. As I walk, my hand hits another chain. I pull the chain and I can see for a short distance beyond. The journey-process continues. That image was a huge help on a personal journey several years ago.

Abram went out, not knowing where he was going. Soren Kierkegaard has well described faith as a leap into the darkness.

We find ourselves with about 10 days of lent behind us. When we turn around and look behind us, we may ask ourselves what progress in who-I-am-becoming do we see? We have about thirty days of opportunity before us. What have we learned from the past ten days that help give direction to our path ahead?

Is our hand outstretched to our lord for guidance? Have we “Put our hand in the hand of the man from Galilee?” Have we actually progressed in these 10 days? Are we becoming “settlers” or are we embracing the Christian-pilgrim image, “moving ahead” to become what we call ourselves: “Christian.”

I encourage you to pause on your journey today and look at your personal journey as well as the resurrection-community journey.

Arnold Toynbee said the most dangerous period for a civilization is when it thinks it is safe and no longer needs to face changes. I agree.

The personal is the harder issue to face; it’s always easier for us to “fix” someone else. Your personal journey will be a determining factor in the life of this faith community.