27th Sunday

27th Sunday Ordinary
October 3, 2004

“How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen!” (Hab 1:2-3, 2:2-4). “’Increase our faith’…We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.” (Luke 17:5-10).
The prophet is complaining to the Most High that his prayers for relief are not being heard. Jesus responds to his disciples' request that he do something about their lack of trust in him and his Father. He uses an analogy between discipleship and the life of a servant who deserves nothing more than to continue waiting on the master without complaining about when it might be his own turn to eat and rest.
This seems to be a strange, even hostile response from the master to the disciples' request. Something like, "do your duty, don't complain, and don't think about your own needs". Jesus was apparently responding to some nuance in the disciples' "request", and scolding them for avoiding responsibility. Were they asking him to do something for them that they should have been expected to do for themselves? By referring to the tiniest bit of faith as being enough, was he saying that they already had everything they needed as far as faith is concerned, and now should get on with living in it? Apparently it was no easier for the prophets, or the disciples who were close to Jesus, than it is for us.
How much faith do we need? Notice that the disciples asked for an increase of faith, implying that they already had some, but not enough. I wonder if sometimes we don't think of faith as "you have it or you don't". Jesus comments to the disciples seem to suggest otherwise. Faith is a living and growing thing, always there within us to one degree or another, waiting for us to accept it for what it is rather than for what we want it to be. Perhaps this idea would be more accessible if we focused on "faith" less as acceptance of doctrines (as important as these may be) and more on its original biblical meaning of "trust".
My brother Steve reminded me this morning as we were doing my morning "get me up" ritual, of my panic reaction when I first lost control of my body posture, afraid I would fall forward and do a "header". I have gradually lost my fear of falling, trusting in those who look after me to be there to prevent that. He also reminded me that they would continually reassure me that I was not in any danger. Until I had the experience of safety for a period of time, I could not internalize these reassurances. A little bit of trust is developing into a way of life. Is this like "faith", growing over time and experience? Less satisfying immediately, but more permanent and pervasive in our lives over the long term. Like the servant in Jesus' story, we are obliged to serve as we grow to maturity and trust in the Most High.

26th Sunday

26th Sunday Ordinary
September 26, 2004

Woe to the complacent in Zion! Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches... they shall be the first to go into exile" (Amos 6: 1-7) "If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.'" (Luke 16:19-31)
This week the readings draw our attention to the gulf between rich and poor. The prophet Amos again has stern warnings for the comfortable and complacent, especially when it is at the expense of the poor. Psalm 146 echoes this theme "Blessed the one who... secures justice for the oppressed, (and) gives food to the hungry... "
Jesus tells the story of a rich person, once selfish with his wealth and position, now bargaining from his place of torment with Lazarus, once wretched and miserable, now resting comfortably in Abraham's bosom. But it is too late. Nothing can be done, even to warn this person's family about what they are doing. They are "invincibly ignorant", (i.e., "clueless"), rendered totally incapable of any insight into their behavior by their immersion in self-indulgence. If they could not hear Moses and Amos, why would they pay any attention even to an angel from heaven, or the risen Christ himself?
It seems that far too often that we use stories and lessons from our sacred writings to support our inclination to point fingers about which groups are to blame for all of our problems. Conveniently these groups are rarely the ones with which we identify closely. This appears to be especially true about "rich and poor". If we are "rich", we blame the "poor" for being lazy; if we are "poor", we blame the "rich" for being selfish.
The chasm referred to in these passages, applies not simply to "rich and poor". The "rich" are much too easy a target for our envy. And where is it written that the rich are always selfish? A wealthy man did pay for Christ's burial. Wealth does seem to make it more likely that one would be complacent and unaffected by the plight of others. Poverty can breed smoldering anger and resentment. We cling to the myth of individualism that whatever we possess has been earned entirely by our own efforts. As if good fortune, birth, being in the right place at the right time, and the support of others, play no part in our success.
Perhaps the real chasm is the one between the generous, who understand that their possessions have come as a gift from the Most High, and the selfish who foolishly think that what they possess is really theirs. Probably most of us at various times and places are in the position of both Lazarus and the rich person. The gulf is within our own souls and in the myths of our own religious, social and political ideologies. We might do well this week to reflect on how we are using our personal and corporate wealth to advantage, and disadvantage, of other people and of the earth which supports all life.

25th Sunday

25th Sunday Ordinary
September 19, 2004

"Hear this, you who trample upon the needy and destroy the poor of the land!...Never will I forget what you have done" (Amos 8: 4-7). "And the master commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently." (Luke 16: 1-13)
Amos, the prophet of the poor, warns Israel of the consequences for extracting the most from those least able to afford it. It is hard to avoid the implications of this for our own times. We have not learned much in the 2500 years or so between Amos and now. "Doing well" still often implies getting rich, and getting rich happens far too often at the expense of the poor. (On the other hand Oprah Winfrey apparently just bought brand-new vehicles for everyone in her audience! All is not lost) The prophet promises that the Most High will not soon forget. Justice will ultimately be done, but apparently not right now.
Jesus tells the story of the "unjust servant" who, by being clever and dishonest with his master's wealth, avoids personal disaster and even gets promoted instead of losing his job. This story is complicated because it contains Jesus' actual story followed by explanations of it's meaning. The last familiar line about the impossibility of serving God and money, while no doubt true, does not seem to fit the story as originally told. Jesus' idea seems to be that we need to be as clever and flexible in spiritual matters as the servant was with "worldly" problems. I am reminded of Jacob tricking his father Isaac into giving him the blessing intended for this oldest brother, thus furthering God's plan for his people. Does this mean we should practice deceit to further our spiritual goals? Obviously not. So what are we to learn from the unjust steward?
We have a saying: "Whatever it takes". This could be applied to gaining the kingdom of heaven. Maybe we don't have to be perfect in affairs of the spirit, after all. Perhaps the Most High will take a check written on insufficient funds. The steward secretly wrote off part of what was owed to his master in order to save his own skin and was rewarded for doing so. It was not exactly fair, but it got the job done. In the Lord's prayer, we say "forgive us our sins (often translated as "debts") as we forgive those who sin against us." We all hold on dearly to hurts, slights and offenses which are very difficult to let go. Could we "write off" the apologies we know must come to us before things can be made right?
We tell our kids on a regular basis that "life is not fair", but often have a hard time accepting this ourselves. Adult experience is full of examples of the unjust prospering and the just suffering. The steward was rewarded unfairly, but to his credit he knew how to take care of himself. Perhaps another application of this story includes an implicit rejection of the idea that our notions of justice and fairness always prevail. In the kingdom of God the Master rewards forgiveness even when it is not "fair".
Loris Buccola

24th Sunday

24th Sunday Ordinary
September 12, 2004
"So the LORD relented in the punishment he had threatened to inflict on his people." (Exodus 32:7-14) 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice... your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" (Luke 15:1-32)
This Sunday it is hard to avoid the spirituality of losing and finding. God's favorite people seem hopelessly lost and alienated from him, but Moses pleads successfully with the Most High to relent from his threat to punish them for wandering away from his love and care. This well-known story of losing our way focuses on Moses' intervention on behalf of his people and portrays the Most High as angry and vengeful. In many other places in the Hebrew and Christian Testaments the Most High is also portrayed as a gentle, solicitous parent who wants the best for us, even when we act foolishly.
We are at times, like our spiritual ancestors in the desert reveling in the forbidden, destroying ourselves, and taking more from the earth than we give back, not even aware that we are lost. This could be the most frightening prospect of all: not listening or discerning the signs, and courting disaster in our personal and corporate lives. Perhaps at these times God may also "panic" at the possibility of losing us?
Jesus tells stories of the lost being found, a shepherd leaving the rest of his flock to go after one lost sheep, a woman looking for her lost savings, a parent welcoming back a lost son. The third of these stories ("the prodigal son") makes it clear that Jesus wanted us to understand that it applies ultimately to restoring us to the fullest life (symbolized by the banquet for the returning son). The father is the same Father God with whom Moses pleaded, welcoming us back. Even the older son, sulking childishly with anger and envy, is gently reminded of his father's persistent love. This is really a story of lost children trying to find their way back to integrity, hope, and the Holy One, our source of life.
A close friend and I reflected this week on the feelings of panic which accompany losing something of great value. It seems that life from the beginning (and by necessity?) presents us with abundant opportunities for losing and being lost. Many of us have felt that panic over relatively small things: losing keys or a wallet. We have identified with parents of missing children, in a panic over the possibility of losing what is most precious in our lives. Anxiety seems built into our human experience. Is the root of this anxiety the fear of permanently losing our connection with God, the source, center and goal of our lives? If so, we would do well to remember the words of the father to his child, "you are here with me always". In truth the Holy One is always there, never gives up on us.