31st Sunday

31st Sunday Ordinary
October 31, 2004

"Before the LORD the whole universe is as...a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth...and you overlook people's sins... For you love all things that are...and how could a thing remain, unless you willed it... oh Lord and lover of souls" (Wisdom 11:22-12:2). "Zachaeus... today I must stay at your house" (Luke 19:1-10)
Wisdom acknowledges God's supremacy over the entire universe. The most recent science on the universe reveals it as vastly more immense than we could have even imagined a few years ago, when we thought that our own galaxy was the center of it. There are millions of galaxies the size of ours, each containing billions of stars in all stages of birth and death, some so distant that their light will never reach us, hurtling away from us at incredible speeds. And in spite of the unimaginable size of the universe, most of it is empty, dark, cold space with nothing in it. Yet to the Lord and creator of this universe, it is as "a drop of morning dew". Wisdom reveals and praises a being of unimaginable power and presence.
Our tiny solar system and even tinier earth are not even, as we thought very recently, at the center of our own galaxy. In reality we are not the center of anything in the universe. We are an isolated, remote outpost of an enormous cosmos. It is not all about us. Nevertheless the mighty and all present Lord of the universe has found us. The real miracle is that God pays any attention to us at all, that we are in the heart and mind of the Most High day and night. It is miraculous that we are not simply left to our own incompetence, selfishness and malice, but are loved and kept in existence in spite of that. God has decided to take up residence within and among us. How is it that we can contain this presence at all? And how can we continue to be so oblivious of it?
The story of Zachaeus can be seen as a metaphor of our life with God. Here is another outcast tax collector, trying to get a glimpse of Jesus by climbing a tree because he is too short to see over the crowd. Jesus, to the dismay of onlookers, chooses his home to visit. Zachaeus is us. Jesus "found" him just as the Most High has "found" tiny little earth in the cosmic sea, and honored our home with his presence. Perhaps soon we will figure out how to honor each other similarly and stop destroying each other with words and weapons in the name of religion and "right".
It is interesting that Jesus invited himself, not the other way around as we usually expect. Zachaeus, at first only curious, changes his way of living only after Jesus' visit. God works within us in a similar way, responding to our slightest interest, whatever the motivation. Before we know it we realize the divine spirit has been within us from the beginning. "Today salvation has come to this house..." We are all descendents of Abraham, worthy of divine presence and blessing.

30th Sunday

30th Sunday Ordinary
October 24, 2004

"The Lord is a God of justice who knows no favorites... yet he hears the cry of the oppressed." (Sirach 35:12-18) "The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself... but the tax collector stood off at a distance..." (Luke 18 9-14)
.At first reading, the contrast between the proud and legalistic religious expert and the despised and humble tax collector could not be more clear. This particular Pharisee "spoke this prayer to himself" rather than to the Most High. Many Pharisees of Jesus' day were imperious law givers and rulemakers who flaunted their piety and religious superiority. As religious leaders they could impose intolerable spiritual burdens on others. But many of them were sincerely religious and spiritual people who wanted nothing more than to worship the Most High in spirit and truth. Tax collectors in Roman times were not nice people. They purchased contracts from the Roman governor to collect a designated amount for the government. Whatever else they collected they could keep for themselves. They were greedy, cruel, selfish and imposed crushing financial hardships on the local population. Even worse, they were usually "one of our own". In this case the tax collector was a Jew himself, betraying his own people. He had plenty of reason to be asking God for mercy.
My own initial reaction to the story was to begin pointing fingers (well, not literally). Then I realized how I assume the roles of both Pharisee and tax collector in different places and situations. Like the Pharisee, I am quite capable of being sure of the correctness of my causes, beliefs and opinions, the wrongness of others', and my duty to let them know about this. Like the tax collector I am also capable of being selfish and greedy. The only real difference between the two is not that one was right and the other wrong but that the tax collector was aware of his problem and the Pharisee was not.
In this electoral season we have gotten ourselves stirred up into a mighty frenzy in the church over the "right" way to vote, with plenty of name-calling, righteous judgment and condemnation. The fact is that neither side can claim the religious and moral high ground. The only "nonnegotiable" sin is the failure to treat one another with love, respect and dignity regardless of how much we may disagree. Maybe it's time to begin examining our own consciences instead of accusing those of others'
Pope John Paul says in his recent letter on the Eucharist, “We mustn’t deceive ourselves: it’s from our reciprocal love and, in particular, from the concern we have for those in need that we will be recognized as true disciples of Christ. This is the criterion on the basis of which the authenticity of our Eucharistic celebrations will be confirmed.” The Eucharist is rendered "authentic" not only by kneeling and bowing at the correct times, but also by being on the side of the oppressed whoever they are and wherever they may be.

Time and Eternity

Time and Eternity

I have been thinking for sometime about this question of time and eternity as it relates to our notions of Heaven, Hell and "Purgatory". Here is my best attempt to describe it.
The concept of time is an artifact of our present existence in which our spiritual essence depends upon our physical being and vice versa. Our brain is not equipped to think of our existence in any other way except past, present and future. So, we conceive of eternity in terms of endless time. I once talked with a young man who ever since childhood had been terrified when he imagined this "living forever". What would we possibly due to occupy ourselves for all this time? He imagined it as "infinite boredom" Our words for the afterlife all imply time. Even "going" takes time (and also implies that it is a place). Heaven (or Hell) "goes on forever". "Purgatory" is a place where we "go" to "spend time", "before" we "go to heaven" where we will "spend eternity". (I have to confess that I have always had a problem with this concept of "waiting" after we die. It looks too much like the ancient idea of a "netherworld" where we hang around for a while before going on to our final destiny.)
Something pretty radical happens when we die. (Brilliant, no?) We no longer are creatures defined by our bodies, including our brain of course. So, the limitations of time and space presumably go away. We are no longer limited by past and future, remembering and anticipating. We live in God's world where all experience is an "eternal now", completely filled with divine perfection which was our birthright. We are "like God", although we will probably never be able to see things as God does.
So, when I die I am transformed instantly. I do not have to "wait" for anything. Not for the "last judgment". Not for my loved ones to join me. Not for any final suffering for my sins and offenses. All these things are happening at the moment of my entrance into eternity: the last judgment, the "end of the world" (whatever that turns out to be), any "purification" which might be necessary. Everyone who has ever existed and ever will exist is there with me at that very moment. So, we all reach this heavenly point "at the same time", at least from the point of view of eternity. We are all "there" together right now, at this moment. The Kingdom of Heaven is among us, "right next" to us. Contrary to our present experience, time is the illusion, eternity is the reality. I have thought of this, not simply as an intellectual exercise, but as an experience of profound comfort.
First, it is comforting to imagine that, in the experience of my loved ones who have "gone before me", I am already "there" face-to-face with the Most High just as they are now. I can speak with them intimately as if they are physically right next to me, because they are. I can see how the ancients would have had such reverence for their ancestors. I have "spoken" with dad, grandparents and great-grandparents, Father Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Jesus etc. I speak with those I love and who love me in this present life as it they were actually present at that moment with me, because they are. Further, I recently had a glimpse of the presence in my own little room of the God who cannot even be contained by the entire immensity of our universe. Pretty exciting for the few moments that it lasts, after which I have to come back to reality (illusion).
Second, this way of imagining heaven has given more substance to the often observed idea that one of the marks of spirituality is living in the present. I have, especially over the past five years, come to appreciate how important this is. In reality all we have is the present, although for now on the plane of this existence I also have to pay some realistic attention to future needs and past mistakes. Ironically, not to do so would just about make it impossible to stay focused on the present. Nevertheless these ultimately are nothing more than the illusions of the present life.

29th Sunday

29th Sunday Ordinary
October 17, 2004

"Moses' hands, however, grew tired... so that his hands remained steady till sunset. (Exodus 17:8-13). Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?" (Luke 18:1-8) "Be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient" (2 Timothy 3:14-4:2).
Here are two lessons on the importance of perseverance, remaining confident in spite of fatigue and discouragement and, and obtaining justice. The Most High protects Israel under attack as long as Moses' keeps his hands raised, with the help of his friends when he can no longer hold them up by himself. Jesus, tells a story about a poor woman extracting justice out of a corrupt judge by nagging him until he gives her satisfaction just to get rid of her. If the corrupt official could dispense justice to this woman who had nothing to give him in return, how much more will we receive it from our heavenly Father who expects nothing back for his persistent attention to our needs.
God has a great sense of humor and irony that we may miss, when we become too deadly serious about our problems and needs. Just because the Most High is the master of the universe doesn't necessarily mean we have to be excessively careful with what we say or ask for. This story invites us into more intimacy with God than we may think (or know) we deserve. Over the centuries, we may have lost contact with some of this intensely personal and familiar relationship with God encouraged by Jesus and exhibited to this day in the Jewish tradition of prayer and piety. The Most High, it seems, responds well to our insistent demands, even our nagging, for what we need.
It may not necessarily be that God is withholding from us just to see how long we can endure or how persistent we can be. Life dishes out some pretty tangled, difficult and painful situations, some derived from our own poor decisions, others from circumstances beyond our control. We might be inclined to blame or argue with God because we have not been rescued from situations we have created for ourselves. Other times however we can be legitimately upset with God remaining apparently aloof from our genuine needs. In these situations, we might do well to imitate the widow in the gospel story, nagging the Most High, for our needs.

28th Sunday

28th Sunday Ordinary
October 10, 2004

"I will no longer offer holocaust or sacrifice to any other god except to the LORD." (2 Kings 5:14-17) "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" (Luke 17: 11-19).
Nahman the Syrian, suffering from leprosy, a fatal incurable disease, follows Elisha's instructions, washes in the Jordan River and is miraculously cured. The prophet refuses an offer of payment in thanks, but does allow Nahman to take several wheelbarrows of soil from the holy land back to his native country where he says he will continue to worship Elisha's powerful God. In a strikingly similar way, Jesus sends ten people with leprosy to show themselves to the priests where they would expect to be declared unclean, but instead are cured. Only one, a Samaritan foreigner, returned to thank Jesus. Although we might be inclined to focus on the miraculous nature of these events, we might be missing other perhaps even more important lessons.
In both stories the physical cure was obviously intended to bring about a much more permanent healing of soul and spirit. Both returned with profoundly changed attitudes of faith, trust and gratitude in the Most High. The behavior of the "other nine" shows that a physical cure does not guarantee that the inner experience will necessarily follow.
In both stories it is the foreigner and outcast who are respectful, faithful and grateful, in contrast to those steeped in their religious tradition who should have known better. There is a clear contrast between the "lepers" who know they have no right to God's love, and the "clean" who are sure that they do. Neither Nahman nor the grateful leper had any right whatsoever to expect anything from God. It seems that gratitude is often accompanied by this experience of unworthiness: "What did I do to deserve all this love?" This is relatively easy when something dramatically good happens, more difficult when things are not going so well.
Sometimes we behave like the "other nine", taking for granted all that we have been given, as if it were ours by right. Could this be an underlying problem in our religious and political ideologies? We imagine that we are the chosen nation. We have a "right" to all the cheap oil, health care, housing, transportation, food and toys that we can consume, and to exercise the power necessary to maintain it. At other times we can be in awe of, and profoundly grateful for what we have been given. I often have a very comforting experience when I review all the people in my life who love and support me. The list grows as I contemplate it, to include people I have never even met, but who are unseen but nevertheless in my network of support. I recommend this as a spiritual exercise. Like Nahman the Syrian, we can take our sacred ground with us wherever we are and whatever our circumstances.
Loris Buccola