Sunday Reflections

Second Sunday of Advent

2006-12-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

Second Sunday of Advent
December 7, 2003
"Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery… For God has commanded that every lofty mountain be made low, and that the age-old depths and gorges be filled to level ground...". (Baruch 5:1-9)
The reading from the prophecy of Baruch, originally written to console those left behind after Israel's leaders were deported from their homeland, is full of hope and expectation. The people at first in mourning, now dressed in the clothing of celebration and royalty, are ready to greet the returning exiles. They prepare for their triumphal procession by leveling the road so nothing will impede the progress of their return. Yahweh is returning from exile with them.
In the not-too-distant past we thought of Advent as a penitential season. Now we see it as a time of expectation that something great is about to happen, of God about to come into our lives in a new and wonderful way. This is cause for quiet joy and eager expectation, along with some pain and anxiety Our attitude might be compared to a couple awaiting the birth of a child; someone preparing for death in the hope of restored life, or in the throes of personal loss, darkness and chaos. We trust beyond even reasonable hope that all suffering is temporary, that the cloak of fear and mourning will be replaced with clothing of celebration. In these experiences we both know, and do not know, the outcome. Trust assures, experience doubts
The Holy Spirit initiates every good thought, experience and action. Every day we are given an opportunity to create a welcoming, inviting path anticipating that God will enter and fill up our lives. This work of completing what has already begun in us is a process which requires a lifetime of patient expectation. Even those of us who have experienced some dramatic conversion know that it is only the beginning, an invitation, to make the path straight for the Spirit to enter in. I have a dear, respected friend of 40 years who has had more than her share of adversity in her life. Some years ago she had a heart transplant which her body now may be slowly rejecting. She has already survived far beyond medical expectations. My friend has learned from her painful life experiences that the valleys of criticism and judgment of herself and others must be filled in with peace and unity of body and spirit. Faced with the prospect of another transplant, she says "there can only be one heart". Her heart's desire is to find again "the innocence within my one heart".
We have opportunities daily to create a world of "mercy and justice". Every time we make a decision to advance the cause of mutual acceptance, for justice, and against violence and aggression within and around us we continue the process of making the way straight for God's coming.

First Sunday of Advent

2006-11-29T08:51:00.000-08:00

First Sunday of Advent
December 2, 2006

I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land. (Jeremiah 33:14-16). May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all… “ (1 Thessalonians 3:12) “And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory”. (Luke 21:25-28).

This Sunday begins our preparation for the three comings of Christ: to the church and the world in the present moment, mystically into our hearts and minds, and at the end of time. This is a season of hope and patient expectation. We get a glimpse of all three in this Sunday's readings.

The prophet is longing for the restoration of the Israelites from captivity. We have always regarded this reference to "a just shoot" of David as pointing us to the coming of Christ, to lead us out of captivity to our human inclination toward sin and depravity. We do not have to wait for this to happen, it occurred once and for all in the person of Jesus. In this sense our "waiting" in Advent is symbolic: preparing to celebrate the present, remember the past and anticipate the future.

St. Paul is exhorting early believers who were confident that Christ's return was literally going to occur "before this generation passes away". He focuses our attention on the qualities of mutual love and courage necessary for us who still wait. So, how do we allow ourselves to be prepared personally for the divine presence which is already within us? This is the Holy Spirit's doing, not our own. Perhaps by praying to be made into the empty vessel into which He may come. This will place us at odds with the culture of Christmas which encourages us to be filled up with things, as if these presents and the present are all we have.
...
Jesus speaks of the third coming of the Son of Man in glory. We are being reminded again of the "last things" which are to come, first with its many trials and tribulations and then with the culmination of all our hopes and dreams. And we are brought back to the first coming of Christ in history which we will celebrate soon, the beginning of new hope for humankind

With our minds and hearts focused on this great mystery, being surrounded by God's presence on all sides in time and space, how could we be content with merely celebrating a cultural Christmas? Rather than wasting our time criticizing it, perhaps we could instead commit ourselves to paying more attention to the spiritual richness of the season. How is the divine presence in my life, in the life of those close to me, and on this beloved earth of ours evident at this very moment? What can we do to advance this divine presence and in so doing hasten the coming of the kingdom?

Christ the King (34th Sunday)

2006-11-21T09:40:00.001-08:00

Christ the King
November 26, 2006

"I am the Alpha and the Omega... the one who is and who was and who is to come, the almighty... the firstborn of the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth..." (Revelations 1:5-8) "My kingdom does not belong to this world." (John 18:33-37)

This is the "last" Sunday in the sacred cycle of the liturgical year. We are directed to the final goal of history, Christ's "enthronement" in the kingdom of God. Monarchs in antiquity were universally believed to have divine origins and authority. In Jesus' time the Roman emperor was addressed as "Lord", "Savior" and "son of God", as acts of piety and pledges of loyalty and allegiance.

Although we have formally rejected this idea, consider how we endow our religious leaders, presidents, entertainment, and sports figures with godlike or demonic qualities. We "love" or "hate" them and argue knowingly about their personal merits and demerits without ever having had any personal contact with them. We seem to be fascinated by the power which goes with wealth and fame, identifying closely with it and distancing ourselves from its darker side.

Jesus consistently described himself and the kingdom of heaven as very different from these "kingdoms" of wealth, power and fame. He had very little interest in establishing a religious organization, cultivating a wide audience of followers, or taking political or economic advantage of his remarkable personal strength and authority. He did however intend that his lordship was to be a direct confrontation of the values of all earthly kingdoms -- including our own -- when they give priority to the wealthy, powerful and beautiful people.

Jesus' "kingdom" is not a place, and we do not have to wait until we die to experience it. It is a state of being in oneness and communion with God's heart and mind. This is a kingdom of relationships and connections which mirror the way the Most High relates to us every moment of our lives. It is found even in this life when we are loving, open to others and nonjudgmental of the beliefs, cultures and lifestyles of others. It is found wherever we worship, pray, work and play together in spirit and truth. It is found whenever we resolve our human differences without resorting to physical or emotional violence. It is found whenever we give priority to the poor and defenseless. It is found whenever we give priority not only to human beings but to all creation.

This kingdom is already here while we are waiting for its perfection and culmination. We cannot wait passively for this moment to occur, as if God is going to rescue us from our ignorance, blindness, anger and fear. It is our task to envision, desire and build this new world now. This is what we mean when we pray "thy kingdom come".

Thirty Third Sunday

2006-11-15T09:14:00.000-08:00

Thirty Third Sunday Ordinary
November 19, 2006

"... then he will send out the angels to gather in his elect from the four winds..." Daniel (12:1-3). "... they will see the son of man coming in the clouds with great power and glory." (Mark 13:24-32)

Jesus almost directly quotes the prophet Daniel, referring to himself as "the son of man" of the prophecies. It was the term used most often for himself. Going back into his Jewish origins, he was steeped in the tradition of hope for a heavenly human figure who would come to rescue Israel from its persecutors Jesus clearly warns his disciples not to try to predict when this final deliverance would come. For good reason, not even "the son" knows the time. Only the Father knows and is not sharing that information with anyone including Jesus.

.No sooner than he was gone we forgot, or ignored, what he said. The early Christians tried to take his words literally, expecting that this heavenly rescue operation would happen before they died. We have never stopped since then attempting to extract literal predictions out of the Bible. Since they do not seem to be literal predictions of an immediate historical future age, what are they? It could be that it will happen literally as Jesus describes, just in some indefinite future age. The present order of the universe is not how it will be always. We already know that cataclysmic cosmic events are occurring right around us all the time. Our earth will disappear into the cosmic void millions of years from now. These images can also be understood as warnings to be vigilant because we never know when the Most High will appear in our lives in a radical and unexpected way. There have already been innumerable "comings of the son of man" historically and individually and there will be many more to come.

I can certainly identify a few of my own! One of them is happening right now as my own breath fails and my reliance of machinery increases. Last night we had a wind storm blowing like there was no tomorrow, and had to make sure we had a plan in place to keep me hooked up in case of power outage. Several key people have been appearing almost out of no where to help us prepare for this and accommodate to another "end of the world".

Perhaps the transformation we have been looking for is happening now, some times very slowly, some times rapidly. Maybe this is less satisfying than the hoped-for magical quickfix but perhaps more consistent with how changes occur. How might each of us be contributing to the buildup to the "end of the world" in chaos, violence, waste and destruction? Instead, how can we be a part of creating a "new heaven and new earth"? Maybe the Father is waiting for us as a race to come around on this before it is al brought to completion. However it all happens, the son of man will be there with us as we drove through it.

Thirty Second Sunday

2006-11-08T09:13:00.000-08:00

Thirty Second Sunday Ordinary
November 12, 2006

"...the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, " ( I Kings 17: 10-16) For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood." (Mark 12: 38-44)

The prophet Elijah, traveling about during a time of famine, meets a poor nameless widow and asks for water and some bread. In spite of her extreme hunger -- to the point of death by starvation -- she honors his request and is repaid with food enough to survive the drought.

Jesus is instructing his apostles while they are at the temple, pointing out how the religious professionals who should know better abuse their authority and status. This is quite a contrast to the scribe whom he had just previously declared to be not far from the kingdom of heaven. Not all church professionals deserve condemnation, then or now. Jesus then points out a poor nameless widow contributing a pittance from her meager survival income to support the temple professionals who despise her.

Although these are great stories sometimes exploited for church, synagogue and mosque stewardship drives, they are much more. Value in this life unfortunately is most often measured by money, and generosity by how much of it we sacrifice. They are also stories about self-sacrifice, which is not limited by any means to financial resources. Both of these destitute women gave all they had and became wealthy. God's abundance is endless, especially for those with nothing obvious to share except their very lives. Beyond even the material sustenance there is enough of God's life for everyone -- and forever.

There is more than one way to identify with these widows. Several recent experiences have reminded me that generosity is not limited to the piety of the poor. There are also countless acts of anonymous self-sacrificing spiritual and material generosity, by people of substantial resources, which happen daily without us ever seeing or knowing about them. I personally am aware of this when I review nightly all the wonderful people who contribute in one way or another to my survival and that of others, God's little people. There is probably as much quiet goodness and benevolence going on behind the scenes unnoticed as there is public greed and shameless grasping for power. I wonder if there is some cosmic balance by which these millions of anonymous acts of love by wealthy and poor alike save our race from annihilation.

Thirty-first Sunday

2006-11-01T08:50:00.000-08:00

Thirty-first Sunday Ordinary
November 5, 2006

"Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone!" (Deuteronomy 6: 2-6) "To love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself..." (Mark 12:28- 34)

Moses imparts the first and greatest commandment along with a clear reference to the one and only G-d of Israel, the Most High. Jesus answers the question of the scribe about the greatest commandment by quoting Moses directly. This high-ranking temple official who agrees with Jesus is told that he is "not far from the kingdom of God." Is there a clearer statement anywhere of the Israelite-Jewish roots of Christian religion? Jesus was Semitic by birth and Jewish by faith. Anti-Semitism is inherently a betrayal of Christ, his teachings, and the church built upon them

Whoever prays to the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is praying with Christ and Moses, regardless of what name we use. If there is only one "one God", then there can be no rival god competing for supremacy, whether Jewish, Christian or Muslim. What happens then to the claims if that "God is on our side"? The one God is always on the side of freedom, justice, benevolence, tolerance and mercy. Whoever loves God, by any name, and other people, is "not far from the kingdom of heaven".

Commitment to the love of fellow human beings is acknowledgment of the one true God. How can we love our fellow human beings without also regarding with similar reverence the natural environment which sustains us? Moses and Jesus call this attitude of mind and heart a "commandment", not because we keep it out of duty or obligation but because it is the essence of all true religion. There is no separating love of God and love of God's creation. There is no priority of one over the other, no "love God first", because there is only one love just as there is only one God.

We pray well when we simply direct our attention of mind and heart, without asking for anything, in appreciation and gratitude to God along with everyone and everything God has created. This prayer in the Holy Spirit of God can transform us into people who are able to love without distinction about who or what is "worthy". In God's "eyes" everything is worthy of being loved. What we call "evil" is only the illusion that things are otherwise than this. What a difference it could make in our lives if we were only to accept that God sees only what is good in us. Whenever we are able to do this, and even when we are not, we like the holy scribe are not far from the kingdom of heaven. In fact we are already there.

Thirtieth Sunday

2006-10-25T09:31:00.000-07:00

Thirtieth Sunday Ordinary
October 29, 2006

"They departed in tears, but I will console them and guide them. I will lead them to brooks of water, on a level road, so that none shall stumble." (Jeremiah 31: 7-9). "Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way." (Mark 10:46-52)
The prophet Jeremiah expresses the people's hope of relief from their captivity. These were dark days for our spiritual ancestors. The Temple was in ruins, their leaders dragged away in chains to a foreign and hostile land, all possibility of their return apparently gone. Jeremiah maintained his hope in deliverance, with nothing but the invisible presence of Yahweh.

In the gospel Jesus heals the blind Bartimaeus, an obscure beggar, who cried out to Jesus from his "home" beside the road. This poor man probably had very little reason to expect anything great to happen when he called out to Jesus. Perhaps he acted out of desperation rather than from any heroic faith. His deliverance came, as it did for the Israelites, because he held out for something better in spite of all the odds. This poor beggar was given his sight, but it seems that the physical miracle was the least important part of his whole experience. Like him we see without seeing. "Seeing" is realizing what has been right in front of us all along, although we could not recognize it because we were in the darkness of our desperation. This man's whole experience of life was changed by his encounter with God and there was nothing left for him to do but follow him.

Hope is as blind as faith can be. The most effective prayer may be just like the cries of Jeremiah and Bartimaeus, when we are at the end of our hope, but insist on continuing anyway. I remember as a young child being taught from the Baltimore Catechism that "the three theological virtues are faith, hope and charity". We had very little idea of what this meant, but the words were there for us to ponder later. My friend, Billy, the smartest kid in the second grade, could not pronounce "virtues". I have thought lately that hope is the most often neglected of the three. St. Paul tells us that "hope is the confidence in things unseen". Hope is what we have when there is no tangible reason to expect that things will ever be different than they are right now. Hope is what we have when nothing else is left. It is a sign of mature spirituality in every religious tradition. We are all blind. We all at sometime or other have had, or will have, experienced the desperation of darkness when we can only "hope against hope". It may be the only way that we can be brought to real faith by the touch of the Holy Spirit.

Twenty Ninth Sunday

2006-10-18T08:49:00.001-07:00

Twenty Ninth Sunday
October 22, 2006

“Because of his affliction he shall see the light in fullness of days" (Isaiah 53:10-11): "We have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens" (Hebrews 4:14-16) "Can you drink the cup that I drink?" (Mark 10:35-45)

The readings this Sunday suggest a meditation on the relationship between power and weakness in the kingdom of heaven. Isaiah articulates the disillusionment of the people with their priestly class, unable to lead them into anything beyond additional suffering and disappointment. After 2500 years of more of the same, "solutions" based on war and power politics, we are no closer to peace and security than we ever were. The prophet instead anticipates a different kind of high priest who will lead by submission and non-violence. God's self-sacrifice makes all other sacrifices meaningful. Together with the Son of Man, we the people of God become the high priest of renunciation and love.

Jesus' disciples ask him to grant them anything they desire. Instead of granting their wish he replies with a question. Are they prepared to participate in his powerlessness over pain, loss and death? They say they are and he tells them that nevertheless, their wish is not his to grant. Mature adult spirituality is less about asking for favors from God and more about living in God's life. Jesus again addresses the mistaken notion of his followers that their loyalty somehow guarantees a high place in the kingdom of heaven (as if there are "high" and "low" places there at all). Christ, the high priest, in a great reversal of the order of things, forgoes all divine power and authority to join the weakest and least of all. From now on this is the pattern for anyone who desires a place in the kingdom of heaven. There the powerful become weak and the weak become strong.

Our God is a God of weakness and love. We are reminded of this every time we see the innocent suffering, brutalized and sacrificed. God does not will this to "teach us something" as we often say, but suffers and grieves with us. Our pain and weakness are our redemption from the human condition, bringing our persecutors with us. There is no room in this new world for vengeance or retribution even if we often quite understandably desire this. I have had ample opportunity over the past seven years to think about this truth, observing myself and others attempting to assimilate the reality of advancing weakness and powerlessness of every kind. I have been tempted to strike bargains with God, wishing to be granted a return of former power and strength. This approach does not work any better in individual spiritual life than it does on a global scale. Most of us will have many chances to accept our weakness, and most of us will not do it until forced to by some "untreatable" circumstance beyond our control. Jesus' kingdom is ours when we like him participate in his renunciation of power, where true spiritual power is to be found. Easy to say, difficult to learn.

Twenty-eighth Sunday

2006-10-11T08:30:00.001-07:00

Twenty-eighth Sunday
October 15, 2006

"I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me... I deemed riches nothing in comparison with her" (Wisdom 7:7-11). "Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." (Mark 10: 17-30).
Wisdom is more valuable than health, attractiveness, or wealth. More than learning, spiritual insights or technical training, it is divine "common sense", practical knowledge about living well. What or how much we possess is of little consequence without the generosity of heart and mind which accompanies wisdom. We often refer to people being "successful" or "doing well" when they are wealthy or famous and attribute wisdom to their opinions simply because of this. The myth of the "self-made" individual does not hold up to the scrutiny of God's wisdom.

Jesus meets this wealthy young man who thinks he has already mastered the challenge of living according to the commandments. Does he equate his wealth with wisdom? In any event he now inquires about what more he can do to make sure that he will inherit eternal life. Jesus looks at the man "with love" in spite of his obviously shallow grasp of what wisdom requires of the disciple. He tells him that he is "lacking only in one thing" and then proceeds to invite him to a more spiritual attitude than simply to obey the law. He must renounce the "one thing" to which he is overly attached -- his money. Oh, my, anything but that. Divine wisdom would have advised him that his wealth did not belong to him. Instead he "went away sad" that he could not possess the kingdom of God in the same way that he imagined that he possessed his wealth. All wealth is a gift, on loan for us to use to build the human community.

Yahweh's prophets, Jesus, and the church teach that property rights, individual initiative and the free market are meant to be exercised for the benefit of the whole human community. We have a sacred responsibility to make sure that our society is organized so that every person on earth, not just the clever "deserving" or fortunate, has their sacred right to freedom, justice and the necessities of life. This value is too central to be left solely to impersonal market forces. These powerful forces need to be used to accomplish the higher goals of the kingdom of God. The free market is for people, not people for the market. How we accomplish this is a subject for public debate. Whether we do it, at least for those of us who want to pursue a spiritual path, is not.

Whatever inordinate attachments keep us from wholeheartedly embracing the kingdom of God, need to be left behind. If not wealth, then perhaps other attachments: reputation, learning, looks, the admiration of others, being right. What stands between each of us and inheriting eternal life? It is easier to see it in others than to see it in ourselves unless we listen to others who love us.

Twenty-seventh Sunday

2006-10-04T08:50:00.000-07:00

Twenty-seventh Sunday Ordinary
October 8, 2006

"This one at last is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh." (Genesis 2: 18-24) "But from the beginning of creation, God made them male and female... the two shall become one flesh" (Mark 10: 2-16)

Genesis offers this beautifully poetic description of the beginning of the human race. God creates the first human and then realizes how lonely and isolated he is among all the other dwellers of the earth. The "suitable partner" can only be another of the same species, another human being: Sometimes when we experience the many differences between male and female we can forget that these differences are intended to be complementary. Human nature requires both male and female energies, thought processes and spiritualities. From the beginning neither was intended to dominate or be superior to the other. Neither is complete without the other. No wonder that this principle is the key to successful relationships of all kinds, but especially to marriage. Male and female do well together when each affirms and supports the strengths of the other rather than trying to "convert" the other into something neither was meant to be.

In the Gospel Jesus does not Institute marriage as a sacrament because it existed from the beginning of creation. Instead he brings it under the new rules for all relationships in the kingdom of God. The disciples were understandably puzzled because this contradicted Moses' law on divorce. Jesus' hard teaching about it expresses how radical our relationship with God should be. From now on marriage will express the inseparable relationship between us and God. The bond between married couples is as intimate and permanent as the bond between God and all creation. "What God has joined together, no human must separate". No other human relationship has the capacity to express this reality as clearly as marriage.

We know, of course, that in spite of all our best efforts, we sometimes are not able to live up to Jesus' teaching on divorce. He often, and with equal force, cautions us against passing judgment on those who for one reason or another have not been able to adhere to this teaching. It is possible to obey the letter of the law and let the spirit die by staying technically married in a lifeless and mutually destructive relationship. We all need to adapt to the changes in our intimate relationships which inevitably occur as aging and unforeseen events occur. Anyone who has endured the pain of marital separation and divorce will know that it is among the worst of life's experiences, the death of a dream which brings a harvest of guilt, sadness and anger. The healing process often takes many years, and depends on how well we avoid passing judgment. Our place is to reach out to one another across the gulf of loneliness, alienation and isolation, without judgment or condemnation.

Twenty-sixth Sunday

2006-09-27T08:54:00.001-07:00

Twenty-sixth Sunday
October 1, 2006

"Would that all God's people were prophets. Would that God might bestow his spirit on them all." (Numbers 11: 25-29). "Your wealth has rotted away... your gold and silver have corroded" (James 5:1-6). "There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me..." (Mark 9: 38-48)

The first reading recounts an event in the life of our ancestors in the faith, as they wandered in the desert guided by the presence of Yahweh. Seventy elders are chosen, and anointed with the same divine spirit which had been given to Moses. Two of them had not been there for the actual anointing, so the others claim that they have no right to speak in Yahweh's name because of this technicality. Moses corrects Joshua's mistake. The same sentiment is echoed in the gospel when Jesus cautions John not to judge those who are doing good, using Jesus name, but are not officially one of his disciples.

The Spirit of God apparently cares little for our credentials when it comes to speaking words of truth and performing good deeds. Neither Moses nor Jesus were impressed with claims of formal authority. Jesus often cautioned his disciples about being too exclusive with who should be included in the Kingdom of God. Religious traditions often begin with individual charismatic authority and only later create formalized rules, roles and rituals. It is difficult for us to keep both going at the same time. Formal designation to a prophetic role does not guarantee authentically spiritual life or words. Nor does every self-appointed prophet speak the truth.

We need more people, not fewer, living prophetic lives regardless of their affiliations. "Whoever is not against us is for us." We have been inclined over the centuries to think that we have some exclusive right to the possession of Christ and the Holy Spirit, and the right to speak the truth. How can we possibly afford to continue with this illusion that we possess all spiritual correctness? We have a great treasure in the tradition of faith and ministry going back to the apostles. But it is not exclusively our possession. Our theological tradition in the Constitution on the Church is clear on this matter. All of us who are actively seeking God, the spirit of truth and goodness, are "linked to the Church" whether or not we call ourselves Christians, or are officially within the Church.

St. James and Jesus both are clear on a second point, again this week. The rightful heirs to the Kingdom of Heaven are the "little ones", the poorest, the weakest, the least respected. If we do not stand with them, we persecute the body of Christ, the Church. How long can we support public policies which exploit the poor, dispossessed, and the earth and its resources to preserve our affluent lifestyle before we face the day of reckoning?

Twenty-fifth Sunday

2006-09-20T09:19:00.001-07:00

Twenty-fifth Sunday Ordinary
September 24, 2006

"Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us" (Wisdom 2:12-20) "The wisdom from above is first of all pure, then peaceable, gentle, compliant, full of mercy...." (James 3:16-4:3) "What were you arguing about on the way?” (Mark 9: 30-37)

The readings this Sunday seem to point in the same direction, encouraging us to pursue a life of virtue and humility, and to avoid the more gross forms of selfishness, competition and envy. Wisdom quotes those who set out to put the Just One to the test to see whether adversity will deflect him from his mission. This passage has always been taken as referring to the Messiah, a foreshadowing of the coming of the suffering servant, the Son of Man.

The letter of James reflects on the contrast within the human soul between envy and aggression on the one hand and peace and self-acceptance on the other. The truth is that, unlike the Just One, we all are both victim and persecutor. We are all good people who have made poor choices which have hurt ourselves and others, and been undeserving recipients of harm from others.

Jesus in the gospel is addressing the issue of his trials to come, wanting to have his disciples understand their meaning and purpose. Apparently they are more interested in other things, like which place they will hold in the Kingdom, what it will be like to be the disciples of a victorious Messiah, and who will be the greatest among them. No wonder he told them not to talk to anyone! Jesus, hoping to jolt them out of their complacency, tells them that in the Kingdom all predictable priorities are reversed. The smallest children (who counted for very little in the ancient world) will be in the greatest places and those who aspire to being first and greatest will have the least stature.

It seems that no matter how often we hear words like this from Jesus, we still compete with each other about who is the smartest, or the most beautiful, or the wealthiest, or most in possession of the truth. Much of this is fueled by envy, one of the most subtle and destructive of human impulses. We become angry and resentful about what other people have -- or appear to have. Our economy of consumption thrives on the resulting competition. Whenever I get into that mode, realizing I cannot separate what I want and don't want in another person's life, I ask myself if I really want someone else's life? Invariably I conclude that I would rather have my own life and problems, thank you very much.

We can say with David, "The Lord sustains my life" (Psalm 54). We have the right to call upon the Spirit to uphold our lives when we deserve it and when we don't. Divine wisdom invites us to see and love the truth about ourselves, to be content with what we have and who we are. We pray daily with Jesus' words, "Lead us not into temptation" ("Do not subject us to the test").

Twenty-Fourth Sunday

2006-09-13T08:32:00.001-07:00

Twenty-Fourth Sunday Ordinary
September 17, 2006

"See, the Lord GOD is my help; who will prove me wrong?" (Isaiah 50: 5- 9). "The cords of death encompassed me; the snares of the netherworld seized upon me; I fell into distress and sorrow... “O LORD, save my life!" (Psalm 116) "But who do you say that I am?" (Mark 8: 27-35)

These verses from Isaiah seem to welcome the humiliation of their oppression in exile because it means that God's suffering servant is there to deliver them out of it. Isaiah pleads Israel's case before Yahweh's "court": who is stronger than our God who comes to the weakest? The Psalm echoes the people's depression and hopelessness in exile and their prayer for rescue from it.

Jesus questions his disciples about who they and other people think he is. The people want him to be Moses or one of the prophets. Peter comes forward as the first to acknowledge that Jesus is "the Christ", but then argues with him about the need for the Son of Man to suffer and die. Like everyone else, Peter has his own expectations about who Jesus should be and what he should do. How could it have been otherwise? No one at that point could have imagined what would happen later. Nor can Peter be judged too harshly for not wanting his beloved rabbi to even suggest the unthinkable, that he would be taken away from them as Isaiah described. Wouldn't we all prefer the all-conquering superhero Messiah to the suffering and repudiated Son of Man? Jesus is very clear that as the Messiah he will be a liberator of the spirit, of souls, hearts and minds. They only way in to the divine world of the Messiah will be embracing repudiation, suffering and death as he would do.

The disciples only gradually came to understand and accept the whole picture as it unfolded. The answer to Jesus' question changes depending upon our historical and personal perspectives. We see this in how Christ is portrayed in art over the centuries, changing as our spiritual needs and experience shift one way or another. Christ suffering, teaching, healing, rising in glory, judging, liberating. All of them are incarnations of God. I remember the Christ of my first adult religious discoveries as a young man. He was my "Lord", and "master". I was without uncertainties of any kind, but with many anxieties. There was so much life, so many choices ahead. I needed the certainty that there was only one correct Jesus. How different it is forty-five years later from the vantage point of all that has happened to me and to those I have known and loved. Now he is my brother and teacher. It is wonderful getting older, less certain about the right answer to Jesus' question, because there are so many right answers. We become less clear about the details, more confident about the essentials. Certain faith gives way a bit to certain hope that the promise of Isaiah will come true. Which Christ do we need at this moment? They are all there for us. All we need is to pray, "Oh Lord save my life" and the "cords of death" are broken.

23rd Sunday

2006-09-06T08:47:00.001-07:00

Twenty-third Sunday Ordinary
September 10, 2006

"Here is your God...who comes to save you." (Isaiah 35: 4-7). "God choose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith..." (James 2:1-5). "And immediately the man’s ears were opened...and he spoke plainly." (Mark 7:31-37)

Isaiah has a vision of Israel's liberation from exile in a foreign land. This hope was eventually realized and the people returned to their homeland thanks to a friendly Persian emperor (Cyrus). Things did not turn out quite as they had hoped. There was no golden age of peace and prosperity upon their return. There was a good deal of difficult work rebuilding a Temple in ruins, and restoring the people's devastated morale. There would be more times ahead of bloody conflict among themselves and with more powerful occupiers. Political and military "liberation" rarely if ever lives up to its promise.

Isaiah's vision of being “saved” refers also to spiritual liberation. Salvation is more than "going to heaven". It is God coming with liberation from the consequences of our personal failings, what others have done to us, the ravages of time, disease and physical injuries. It promises release from our fears that life is meaningless or limited to what we experience now. The prophet’s vision is a heavenly one where none of these exist any longer and where God’s radiance penetrates every corner of our world, inside and out. All that Yahweh requests of his people in return for this promise is patient fidelity and hope.

In the gospel Jesus is presented with a man who has a speech and hearing impediment. He cannot hear the word of God nor speak of it to anyone. Jesus takes him away from the crowd of curious onlookers and gives him his hearing and speech. I know a number of people similarly “locked in” from birth or by diseases and accidents. We often referred to these as tragic. The real tragedy is being locked within ourselves without transcendent meaning, hope or vision. The most remarkable thing about the healing of this man was the unlocking of his spirit. I wonder if we don’t act like the curious crowd, eager for the next spectacular sign, and missing this point Touched by the Spirit, the man was now able to publicly proclaim God's presence in a broken world. The miracle in these stories is always that the kingdom of God is among us, even when there are no obvious or spectacular signs. We don't have to wait to "go to heaven" for our salvation Every day we have opportunities to experience the presence of the Holy Spirit and what it means to be "saved".

We might want to look for the miracle in our lives this very day, this very moment, beyond the limitations imposed by life as it was before we knew the Holy Spirit. Let us pray that may be brought to appreciate the miracles right in front of us as much as we long for the dramatic divine interventions.

Twentysecond Sunday

2006-08-30T08:26:00.000-07:00

Twenty-second Sunday Ordinary
September 3, 2006

“Now, Israel, hear the statutes and decrees which I am teaching you to observe," (Deuteronomy 4:1-8). "... Welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls" (James 1:17-27). "Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile." (Mark 7:1-23)

Moses speaks to the people about the commandments of God's law. This version of the story (there are several) emphasizes that the commandments are written on our hearts, not merely “in stone”. The first letter of James makes this very clear: “welcome the word that has been implanted in you”. By the time this tradition became a part of our religious heritage, we had come to realize that God's words and commands are not found outside of us, but rooted in our being from the beginning. We have been offered an intimate relationship with the Spirit which includes the opportunity to be “wise and intelligent” in the application of the law. Leading an authentic spiritual life, then, is not a matter of purity or perfection in the observance of laws and regulations but of adherence to divine presence within and around us.

Jesus builds on Moses' words and corrects misconceptions of religious professionals about the spiritual life in the kingdom of God. He often reserves his most sternly worded warnings to those who might think that a religion based only on perfect obedience to laws and rules (whatever "enters from the outside") has any place in his kingdom. The spiritual life is guided from the inside out One of the most destructive ideas in religious thinking is that there is a "best and purest" way to God. It permeates every religious tradition and destroys whatever was originally good within them. Goodness derives from the Spirit of the one God within us and is found uniquely in every human person.

I recall as a young man looking for a spiritually superior vocational path. I, like many others, believed then that this meant only one thing, to pursue the life of "perfection". We imagine that there is a hierarchy of vocations, some better than others by their very nature. I decided that this meant I should pursue the "best" life in a monastery. It was a painful process to be forced to relinquish this illusion. No one there was perfect and neither was I. Like St. Paul, Martin Luther and so many others, the harder I tried to achieve perfection by observance of the rules, the more anxious, frustrated and unhappy I became and unhappy. I am grateful to those monks who were patient enough to let me discover this. It was there that I took another step toward freedom and discovering the God in my heart.

True religion is a love affair with God and other people in the human heart. The Spirit pursues us and we pursue the Spirit, the source of all freedom and happiness. The Kingdom of Heaven is found in the perfection of the Holy Spirit which makes God present to us every moment of our lives.

Twenty first Sunday

2006-08-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

Twentyfirst Sunday Ordinary
August 27, 2006

"Decide today whom you will serve." (Joshua 24) "Be subordinate to one another... husbands, love your wives..." (Ephesians 5:21-32) “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." (John 6: 60-69)

Joshua organizes the tribes of Israel for battle and places before them their choice of which god they will worship. This era of Israel's history, not unlike today, will be filled with fighting over which god and people possess the land. "Gods will" justifies the most brutal violence on innocent and guilty alike from both sides. How often a similar scenario has been played out across the centuries and in many places over the earth. Our American ancestors hungry for land invoked a similar argument (divine and manifest destiny) to justify the deliberate brutal extermination of Native American peoples and cultures. The end justifies the means. Might makes right. God is on our side. In fact, there is no choice. There is only one God and one side. God is on everyone's side, and only desires that we start acting more like this was true.

St. Paul writes about marital relationships from his perspective of ancient ideas and practices. This passage has often been lifted out of context to support preconceived ideas about the proper roles of men and women. It begins with the principle of mutual subordination and love which should apply to all relationships. Nothing justifies domination of one individual by another. In many relationships this spiritual principle was either never learned or lost as conflict and blame escalated. In the most successful relationships partners learn to trust that each will respect the other's freedom and individuality. This is how God loves us.

The disciples are struggling with some of Jesus' more enigmatic and difficult teachings, which seem many times to contradict each other if taken literally. As a result many former disciples went away. He asks the apostles if they are still with him and Peter responds poignantly, "Where else would we go?". This is a marvelous summary of trust in a God when life as it is presents us with ambiguous and puzzling dilemmas. We do not like confusion. We want certain answers to ultimate questions of existence. But there are none if we look to "the flesh". Reason and observation hide as much as they reveal. New scientific and historical discoveries, as important as they are, always lead to more questions. Jesus gives us this principle for making sense of ultimate things: "It is the Spirit which gives life". True religion is less about finding answers and more about trust in the Spirit. I read recently that faith is not so much believing in God as it is believing God. The Spirit is trust, love and hope.

Twentieth Sunday Ordinary

2006-08-16T10:38:00.001-07:00

Twentieth Sunday Ordinary
August 20, 2006

"Wisdom... has spread her table... Come, eat of my food... Forsake foolishness... advance in the way of understanding." (Proverbs 9:1-6). "Watch carefully how you live, not as foolish people but as wise...." (Ephesians 5: 15-20). "I am the living bread... whoever eats this bread will live forever." (John 6:51-58).

Divine Wisdom is a personification (a woman in this case) of God, who builds a house and sets out a meal of teachings to sustain us in daily life. The foundation of all wisdom is a God who is both good and all-powerful. We also know from experience that bad and good things happen to the deserving and undeserving alike. No one has ever been able to figure out how or why a good and all-powerful God could allow this. Wisdom tells us that it is foolish to try to understand it with intricate philosophies. Some things are simply beyond our understanding in spite of all we have discovered about our world. Perhaps there is no "theory of everything". A wise person learns how to live contentedly with the ambiguities and uncertainties of life. Ironically the deepest understanding comes from not trying to understand more than this. Wisdom, like a good mother, bypasses philosophical discussions and gives us nourishing practical guidance about living successfully. "Mother said there would be days like this!"

Jesus makes a most outlandish statement which must sound like foolishness to many who hear him. He is claiming that anyone willing to be totally united to him, body and soul, heart and mind, will be given God's own life for eternity. Like the "meal" of Divine Wisdom and the Word of God when we hear it with our hearts, so in the Eucharist we "eat" God whose very self becomes part of us. God completely permeates our entire world and our inner selves. Nevertheless our individual selves are not lost but live forever with God. This is not to say that we can ignore present problems of life. Far from it.

No one is independent of other people, the earth, or the Spirit In our personal lives it is foolish to wait for adversity to strike before starting to develop a spiritual attitude and a community of friends and family. By the time it does, it is too late to begin. This is also true globally. We can no longer afford to foolishly ignore the mounting evidence that the earth's resources are rapidly being depleted. Are we really willing to risk everything on the foolish illusion that success and happiness is measured by the size of our armies, bank accounts, cars, houses or how much stuff we accumulate?

St. Paul cautions us not to get caught up in the foolishness of the world around us. We are willing to appear foolish in holding on to the hope that we have a future with God beyond this life and that it must begin here and now. The Most High may not come out of the heavens to rescue us from our foolishness if we refuse to respond to the invitation to the table of Divine Wisdom. It is

Twentieth Sunday Ordinary

2006-08-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

Nineteenth Sunday

2006-08-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

Nineteenth Sunday Ordinary
August 13, 2006

"He prayed for death saying: “This is enough, O LORD! Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” (1 Kgs 19:4-8) "I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” (John 6:41-51)

Elijah holds a special place in Jewish history and lore. He has no known ancestry, something very rare in the Hebrew Scriptures. His name contains the sacred Hebrew letters of God's name. He "stands before God" all by himself with only his faith in the Most High. He opposes Ahab and Jezebel and their foreign God (Ba'al), sending a drought on the land and slaying 450 priests of their cult. This is another good reason not to take everything in the Bible literally. We would certainly not want to return to this primitive stage of religious thought and practice where violence is sanctioned as being the will of God. Tragically it is still happening in our own day. The story is that Elijah did not die but ascended into the heavens on a fiery chariot. In Jesus' time it was widely believed that his return from the sky would be a sign of the coming of the Messiah. Recall that he was seen with Moses when Jesus was revealed to the disciples as God's favored one on the mountain of the Transfiguration.

In our passage Elijah is being chased all over the countryside by Jezebel's henchmen. She wants to kill him for interfering with her plans to hold on to the power and wealth of Ahab's court. Exhausted from the ordeal, he sits down under the shade of a tree and starts to whine and complain to Yahweh to just let him die rather than go on with his miserable life. The angel of God who appears to him in a dream, patiently listens and encourages him persistently to go on.

We, too, love to whine. I am a master of the art. A little bit of it can be very therapeutic, especially when done in fun. We all have a right to complain and feel sorry for ourselves. Sometimes we don't remember that a suffering person needs to be heard before being corrected. But a little of it goes a long way and too much drives a wedge between us and God and between us and other people. God's patience is endless but even our closest friends and family have their limits. Most of us have too much to whine about ourselves to listen to others for very long. Like Elijah's angel, good friends know when to listen to us complain and when to tell us that enough is enough. One of the arts of suffering is to discern when to complain, when to ask for help and when to suck it up.

Elijah, after eating a meal provided by God's angel, was strengthened to continue his life. In the same way God provides food for our journey to sustain us especially when we are weary and hard-pressed to continue by ourselves. The Spirit and the Sacrament is that food which Jesus refers to in the gospel. The people of God are that food when we support each other on the journey.

Transfiguration of Jesus

2006-08-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

Transfiguration of Christ
August 6, 2006

"I saw one like a Son of man coming, on the clouds of heaven..." (Daniel 7: 9-14). "He was transfigured before them." (Mark 9:2-10)

The prophet Daniel has a vision of the "Son of Man" (the term Jesus uses most often in the Gospels to refer to himself) coming to lead the people to their final destiny. These mystical visions are not necessarily to be taken literally. They are a promise that the misery of the present life can be transformed.

Jesus again takes his disciples up on a mountain, where their heavenly Father reveals his true identity. We have from the beginning understood this as one of the defining events in Christ's life, a glimpse into our future with God. The disciples' confidence in Jesus allowed them a brief vision of this divine reality. Then Jesus instructs them not to say anything until the "Son of Man has risen from the dead"! Even they could not understand the full significance of what they had seen and heard. How could they have possibly imagined that they had not only experienced Jesus' future but our own?

The Transfiguration story reveals something beyond the obvious fact that God had something very special in store for Jesus. We might be inclined to do as the disciples wanted, and stay gazing, overwhelmed and in awe at Jesus' special relationship with God. It is clear however that we, like Jesus and the disciples, will have to eventually return from this marvelous vision, without forgetting it, to the every day challenges of the life of faith.

There are wonderful transformations, God being revealed to us, daily if we have the eyes to see and ears to hear them. A courageous friend recently wrote a last sermon to her congregation because of advancing Parkinson's disease. She has lost a daughter, been divorced just this year, and daily works her addiction recovery program. She prays: "God of my emptiness, so often you have used my emptiness to draw me to you. Do so again. It is the emptiness that tells me you are there waiting to complete me. I am suspended in this place, not always able to feel your touch, but knowing by my aching that you can embrace me... I am a woman incomplete".

We all have similar transformations occurring in ourselves and those around us. God is as surely present here as on the mountain of Transfiguration. How different our worlds could be if we saw them all. We will all be transformed into the perfect realization of our potential as daughters and sons of the Most High. The second reading today says it beautifully, "You will do well to be attentive...as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts." (II Peter 1: 16 -19)

Seventeenth Sunday

2006-07-26T08:49:00.000-07:00

Seventeenth Sunday Ordinary
July 30, 2006

"And when they had eaten, there was some left over, as the LORD had said." (II Kings 4). "The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs." (Psalm 145). "So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. (John 6: 1-15)

A man brings an offering of barley loaves to the prophet Elisha. He is told to give them to the people instead of to the priests. To his amazement there is enough to feed a large number, with some left over. Jesus has compassion for a large crowd which had followed him and the disciples to a remote place. The crowd was following him hoping for a miracle. They get much more than they could have hoped.

The details are important. Jesus is on a mountain (like Moses on Mt. Sinai) giving a "new" Law. It is "close to the Passover" when the people celebrate their liberation from slavery by eating the sacred meal of unleavened bread. The place is lush with green grass. Food is provided by a boy with some barley loaves and fish which becomes enough for everyone. Jesus "raised his eyes" to see the people he loved. He then gave thanks, blessed and distributed the bread to the people. This is a sacred meal in which God even provides the protein along with the starch. More than the people would have expected.

Twelve baskets of food collected after the meal call to mind the twelve disciples and the tribes of Israel. Even the leftovers from God's generosity is more than enough for his people. There is plenty of divine compassion for everyone, even from small and apparently inadequate beginnings. The people of God are fashioned from the leftovers. How can we not have the same compassion for each other?

Although they probably did not understand it clearly, the people were hungry for more than bread and miracles. My own experience of advancing physical weakness and disintegration is teaching me about which "signs" to pursue. We often spend a great deal of time asking for this or that affliction to be taken away. When they are not removed, we complain bitterly that our prayers were not answered. While we are looking at what has not happened, we may miss what the Spirit is already accomplishing within us. Beyond our physical needs, the Most High has compassion for our spiritual hungers: faith and trust, a forgiving heart, appreciation for the truth and beauty in every human person, peace of mind, respite from emotional and spiritual weariness, a sense of meaning and direction. If we have these gifts, we can manage a great deal of adversity. The permanent miracle is cure of heart, mind and soul. God's abundance is for our spiritual sustenance in the kingdom of heaven. "The hand of the Lord feeds us". It is enough for us.

Sixteenth Sunday

2006-07-19T11:39:00.001-07:00

Sixteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 23, 2006

"I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them..." (Jeremiah 23:1-6) "For he is our peace, he... broke down the dividing wall of enmity..." (Ephesians 2:13-18) "... his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd..." (Mark 6:30-34)

The prophet Jeremiah speaks for the Most High that the people ("my flock") scattered and displaced from their homeland by their adversaries will be reunited and protected from further harm. St. Paul says that the Christ will bring peace and destroy the wall of animosity. We are the people of peace. The attitude and language of hatred and violence has no place among us. If we may be forced at times to defend ourselves against unjust aggression, we do not have to do it by making the aggressors out to be subhuman demons. This is the very attitude we reject when it is applied to us. Even advice from successful military leaders indicates that underestimating, misunderstanding or disrespecting our adversaries can lead to our own undoing.

Jesus and his disciples are exhausted from the constant pressure of the crowds who want to hear and be touched by them. They have not even had time to eat. He suggests that they take some time off and they go by boat to a deserted place hoping to be able to rest and recharge. People find out where they are and are there waiting for them! In spite of fatigue he has compassion for them and does not send them away. Jesus gives us examples of both selfless generosity and prudent regard for our own limitations. Good pastoral care for each other includes taking care of one's self. If we are exhausted and depleted, we will become useless for others.

Jesus remarks that the crowd is "like sheep without a shepherd". We pray for wise and compassionate pastors and then dare them to try to fix the enmity and divisions which threaten us. We appear to want our pastors to fix others who are opposing our own ideas about what we should be teaching and preaching, what kind of art and music we should have, when to sit, kneel or stand, and which words are correct. These issues are certainly important. We might also do well to keep them in perspective. Entire continents of God's flock are in the agonies of poverty, disease, starvation and violence. They are our people, too.

In a popular TV program dog owners ask for help from an expert about how to fix their pet's behavior problems. He turns the issue back on to the owners, helping them with their own attitude adjustment first. This new approach with their pet will take daily time, attention and patience. We may not be able to directly solve national or global problems, but we certainly can transform our own church, work and school communities, starting with prayers for transformation of our old self with all its aggression and anger.

Sixteenth Sunday

2006-07-19T11:39:00.000-07:00

Fifteenth Sunday

2006-07-12T08:46:00.000-07:00

Fifteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 16, 2006

"The LORD took me from following the flock, and said to me, Go, prophesy to my people Israel.” (Amos 7:12-15). "He chose us in him, before the foundation of the world...." (Ephesians 1: 3-10). "He instructed them to take nothing for the journey..." (Mark 6: 7-13).

The prophet Amos is tossed out of the king's palace by his paid professional prophet, Amaziah, who despises Amos' humble origins (he is a farm worker) as unworthy of the attention of important people. The prophet claims that it is the Most High who has chosen him to speak the truth to the royal court. History has forgotten Amaziah but remembers Amos, the great prophet of Yahweh's love for the people of the covenant. The title "prophet" refers to someone who speaks the truth about how people are responding, or not, to the divine presence in the context of current events. Their reputation for seeing into the future was based on their uncanny ability to discern the direction that current events were taking in relation to God's plan. This ability is a divinely appointed vocation given to a few, often eccentric, and often ignored or despised. Most of us are inclined to assume an informal, self-appointed, prophetic role whenever we make predictions about the future based on our observations of current events. Judging from the certainty of our opinions, it would appear that many of us mistakenly appropriate prophetic powers to ourselves.

In the gospel Jesus sends his apostles out to spread his words and interpret the signs of the times to all who will listen. They go in pairs to support, encourage and correct one another. Just like Amos, their only credentials are God's designation. They are not professionals. No salary, retirement program, advanced degree, certification or license. No authority but divine truth. Their lack of possessions allows them to be faithful only to this truth. They owe nothing to anyone else. They are allowed only their companion, the clothes on their back, a walking stick and their sandals. If they are ignored or rejected, they do not argue or persuade. They just move on to another place, allowing the dust from their sandals (i.e. their walking away) to be their only response. We might want to remember this the next time we are feeling the urge to argue the rightness of our cause too vehemently.

I have been reminded this week by the serious illness of a close friend of the "prophetic" role of those who can only manage to quietly await the final call from God into eternity. Sometimes the most convincing statement about the meaning of life in our times is the silent testimony of suffering. Prophets without words. Like the apostles, we all go with nothing to encumber us on that journey, clothed only with what God provides and accompanied by our close companions.

Fourteenth Sunday

2006-07-05T09:12:00.000-07:00

Fourteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 9, 2006

"Hard of face and obstinate of heart are they to whom I am sending you." (Exodus 2: 2-5). "... for power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Corinthians 12: 7-10). "... they took offense at him... So he was not able to perform any mighty deed there, apart from curing a few sick people." (Mark 6: 1-6)

Yahweh warns Moses, in fairly direct language, about his people's tendency to resist accepting what he has to offer them. Whether or not they receive his words, they will know that they have heard the truth about themselves and their relationship with the Most High.

Jesus, in a way similar to Moses, turns up in his home town preaching to the synagogue and, again, the locals cannot believe that one of their own could speak with as much divine authority and power. They are unable to allow him to have any influence on their lives and therefore leave him powerless. We are told that the people "took offense" in spite of recognizing how persuasive he was. I can only think that there was more than a little envy contributing to their response. How could anyone who grew up in such humble circumstances, and therefore easily ignored, possibly have anything worthwhile to tell us. Jesus can only register amazement at this and, apart from a few sick people he leaves them alone. The sick are healthy and the healthy are sick.

We locals know just about everything there is to know. How could anyone (family, coworkers, parishioners, students in other cliques) we have known for years possibly have anything to tell us? We do this to "conservatives" or "liberals", as if the opposing group of outsiders has anything to add to what we already know for sure. We limit our local prophets to what is familiar and acceptable. A great way to stay comfortable, ignorant and isolated.

St. Paul mentions his “thorn in my flesh”, probably referring to some unnamed physical affliction, and declaring his willingness to allow this weakness to become the way God will successfully intervene in his life. Sickness is health, health is sickness. As anyone successfully recovering from an addiction (drugs, alcohol, food, smoking, pornography, anger, etc.) will tell us, acceptance of the problem and powerlessness over it are necessary for healing and recovery. "Willpower" by itself usually does not work. It only sets us up to continually cycle through promises to do better, followed by failure and more guilt, shame and withdrawal from those we love most. I could say something similar about my own affliction. Trying really hard just makes me tired, frustrated and cranky. Acknowledging what I cannot do for myself and asking for help (from the Holy Spirit and other people) energizes me to accomplish things I can actually do for myself. Weakness is power, power is weakness.

Thirteenth Sunday Ordinary

2006-06-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

Thirteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 2, 2006

"God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living. For he fashioned all things that they might have being; and the creatures of the world are wholesome.." (Wisdom 1: 13-15) “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” (Mark 5: 21-43)

The book of Wisdom expresses delight at the goodness and beneficence of the Most High and the wholesomeness of creation. Remarkably, this idea that Divine Wisdom is a God of life and creativity, rather than death and destruction, is difficult for us to take at face value. We seem to want to project on to God our disappointments about how life turns out and our aggression toward those who may have hurt us or provoked our anger. How would things be different if we actually took this passage literally, and saw all of creation as wholesome?

The gospel passage presents stories of Jesus touching and being touched. He is going to lay hands on the dying daughter of a religious official. On the way a woman who has been hemorrhaging uncontrollably touches his cloak. Obviously desperate, she would have been considered unclean and untouchable and not permitted to approach Jesus directly to ask for help. She would have to be healed before asking! She chooses an approach that would not compromise Jesus' adherence to the law by asking him to touch her. He is not even aware of her touch until he feels something "go out" of him. She is terrified when he calls to her but he recognizes her great faith. Imagine the trust this required, that she would be OK without him even needing to know about it. As usual his chosen disciples, those closest to him, are the last ones to figure out what is going on.

The story reminds me again of the power of touching and being touched.
I wonder if we give enough consideration to this power to hurt and heal, to alienate and unite. Touch can bring life or death. God's touch brings only life. I am the fortunate recipient of touches from the moment I awaken until I go to sleep. These touches include those which quite literally keep me alive and well, and those which have no other purpose other than to express love and affection. There is no clear division between the two. I feel something very powerful go into my body and soul and return to the other person each time this happens. (I wonder if this was part of Jesus' experience when he felt the woman touch him.) Often I am not even aware of it until I think about it later. I am sure this touch accounts for the fact that I have lived this long. If this is true of human touch, how much more of the divine which it mediates. Others are waiting patiently for us to reach for them in ways that heal, and for the presence of God.

Twelfth Sunday

2006-06-21T09:40:00.000-07:00

Twelfth Sunday Ordinary
June 25, 2006

"Thus far shall you come but no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stilled!" (Job 38: 1-11). "... the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come." (II Cor 5:14-17). “Why are you so terrified?” (Mark 4: 35-41)

This passage from the end of the story of Job reflects his "conclusion" about where God has been during all of his suffering and losses. After considering all the possible theories, there really is no satisfying explanation for why people seem destined to undergo painful losses and life-threatening situations. Even the oceans with all their apparently limitless power and unpredictability are subject to the surpassing authority of God. The power and "reasons" of the most high are simply beyond us and we attempt to go beyond them to our peril. Life as we know it comes with named and unnamed terrors, and questions unanswered.

Jesus and the disciples are in a small boat together when a violent storm suddenly comes on. There are "other boats" out there with them. Jesus is sleeping peacefully as the boat takes on water and threatens to capsize The disciples are terrified and wake him up wondering why he has not done anything to help save them from drowning in the sea. At Jesus' command, the storm dies down quickly. They are of course impressed with his power. In spite of this miracle however, the disciples continued to encounter other storms throughout their lives. They must have wondered how Jesus could be so apparently unconcerned, sleeping through the storm. He later rebukes them for allowing their terror to get the best of them, their trust sinking beneath the waves. There must be something even more miraculous behind this command of Jesus to calm the storm than simply power over natural forces.

There is no avoiding the fact that we are all on dangerous crossings. We all sail precariously on our oceans of dread. Like ancient mariners we call out reassurances to our shipmates in our own and in other boats across the waves. The times of calm are sweet but fleeting. There is always something anxious "out there" waiting, threatening. We know all of these "somethings" by heart. How will we ever make it through safely? Why is God sleeping when I am in such danger? The real threat is our panic about being swamped beneath our fears and anxieties, about being left behind for dead. The most threatening storms are those of the heart. The spiritual task is to remind ourselves that the Holy Spirit is peacefully there close at hand. Here is where the most miraculous events occur. Jesus, completely possessed of the Spirit of the Most High, invites us into the world of calm, riding the waves of the storm instead of asking God to make them go away. As Paul says, perhaps something new will emerge out of the death of our old ways of life,

Body and Blood of Christ

2006-06-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

The Body of Christ
June 18, 2006

"This is the blood of the covenant that the LORD has made with you" (Exodus 24:3-8). "Take it; this is my body... This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many." (Mark 14)

We are all familiar with the story of the Exodus, how in Egypt the angel of death passed over the houses of the Israelites which had been marked with the blood of the Passover Lamb. Yahweh thus forged another link in the chain of the sacred covenant of liberation with the people. Jesus, himself an observant Jew, was quite aware that his words reflected Moses' words. In a recent address after his visit to the site of the Holocaust Pope Benedict said, "Auschwitz must not be forgotten, and the other 'factories of death' in which the Nazi regime tried to eliminate God in order to take his place!"... We must not cede to the temptation of racial hatred, which is at the origins of the worst forms of anti-Semitism." How, in our day, a Christian could possibly be anti-semitic is a total mystery.

The gospel quotes Jesus at the Last Supper on the eve of Passover, giving the sacred bread and wine to his disciples, referring to it as his own body and blood. It is also a foreshadowing of Christ's bloodshed on the Cross, another chapter in this story of liberation The Holy Spirit makes this covenant present and available to all creation whenever this sacred meal is celebrated.

Here is one of the central mysteries of our faith about which we have uttered endless anathemas and shed rivers of innocent blood over the centuries in the name of God and truth. We have begun to realize how perverse this has been and to recognize that the Eucharist should bring us together rather than separate us. We take these words of Christ seriously. The Eucharist has an absolutely central and sacred place in our tradition of faith and worship. It is what makes us Catholics. It is true that we Christians disagree about the precise literal meaning of Jesus' words. Nevertheless, it is interesting to see which passages of the Bible we decide to take literally, and what we mean by "literal".

Some of the most significant spiritual events in my life have been participating in the Eucharistic with Christians of other denominations which take this mystery seriously. I recall with particular warmth preaching for and participating in Eucharistic services with Lutheran congregations on Reformation Sunday over the years. I also recall our own congregation participating with other local churches in a joint Eucharistic service on Palm Sunday some years ago. These religious experiences have brought me beyond the idea that we Catholics own the Eucharist. The body and blood of Christ creates unity when we allow it to do so. The blood of Christ, and of every martyr to God's faithfulness, is a pledge of our ultimate liberation from bondage.

Trinity Sunday

2006-06-07T09:11:00.000-07:00

Holy Trinity
June 11, 2006

"Did a people ever hear the voice of God speaking from the midst of fire, as you did, and live? (Deuteronomy 4 32-40). "For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but... a Spirit of adoption, through whom we cry, “Abba, Father!” (Romans 8:14-17). " I am with you always...." (Mt 28: 16-20)

Moses asks a rhetorical question expressing wonder and gratitude that the Most High would invite human beings to directly experience the power and love of God. The marvelous events of the deliverance of God's people from slavery have culminated in hearing the divine voice offering a new relationship based on mutual respect. Our God is not a capricious deity out to manipulate and frighten us into submission. We no longer fear being destroyed by hearing and seeing God. This is a revolution in religious experience previewing a second creation in the Spirit.

Jesus leaves the apostles with the promise that he and his Father will always be with us in his Holy Spirit. This is the "commissioning" of the church and its leadership and authority in it. Even more, it completes the promise given through Moses of a permanent and mystical relationship with the one and only God of heaven and earth. As St. Paul says, we now have the right to call on "My Father", and as we say in Jesus' prayer, "Our Father". God is ours. Adoption has all the rights of biological birth. It has the additional advantage of being a special kind of parental choice which brings unanticipated love to both parent and child. Here we have the fulfillment of that revolution in religious experience already given to us through Moses.

I was thinking about this as I was praying last night, using "Holy Father... Holy Son... Holy Spirit" repeated rhythmically with my breathing, as a background to going back-and-forth from God to the people I love. Not asking for anything in particular, praying with as well as to God. It is distracting trying to remember every little thing which I and everyone else needs and which the Spirit already knows about anyway. Much more comforting to just allow myself to imagine being loved, and loving in return with My Father. Not to suggest that God is limited by our notions of number or gender. We probably should not get too literal about this. There is a reason why the Scriptures have so many names for God. Each of them describes a facet of the limitless "jewel" of the Most High. They are all poetic approximations of a reality beyond rational conception. I sometimes pray with my divine Mother, Sister, Brother. Whatever works! The wonder is that God, love and creation know of no limits. The wonder is that we can do this with God without being annihilated, but instead re-created, brought directly in to perfect love, truth and beauty.

Pentecost

2006-05-31T09:01:00.000-07:00

Pentecost
June 4, 2006

"... suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind... Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire..." (Acts 2:1-11). There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit" (I Cor 12). "He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. (John 20: 19-23)

Pentecost comes at the end of the Easter season and it is the beginning of the mystery of the resurrection. There have been times in my life when I have had difficulty with the divine Christ. Then I remember that Jesus said that he must go away so the Spirit could come. That has always been very comforting, losing something and getting even more back. This coming of the Holy Spirit is richer than our words or thoughts. We come closest to grasping it when we describe it with images.

The Spirit comes like a "tongue" of fire. God transforms our speech and the thoughts which speaking represent. Sometimes the best words are those which go unspoken. In this sense, those of us who experience the diminishment of voice and speech may be fortunate. Painful and purifying. Destroying and creating. I'm also reminded each time I successfully dictate another document into my computer in spite of diminished voice volume, how precious is the gift of speech and how easily it can be wasted. "Create a clean heart in me, oh God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me".

The Spirit comes like a "driving wind", powerful, overwhelming, frightening. We see and feel what it does but we cannot see the wind itself. We know only by an act of trust that something even more powerful is there just beyond what we can perceive. Jesus breathes his own spirit into the disciples and they become new beings. Breath is life, fragile but tenacious. The Spirit comes like Yahweh the creator breathing life into the oceans, bringing about living beings which reflect divine beauty. I've become aware of this when the rhythm of my friendly respirator, now an almost constant companion, supports my diminished capacity to do it for myself. I am receiving the breath of life made possible only by the generosity and technological genius of others. In reality we are all completely dependent upon the Holy Spirit for every breath we take.

The Spirit comes when, like the apostles, we are all together. Then the fire of the Spirit divides and differentiates bestowing its presence on each individual in a special and unique way. The result is unity and individuality in the same moment. Neither can exist without the other. Each fulfills the other. The Spirit holds the entire web of life together. "Come Holy Spirit and renew the face of the earth." Let us be part of the creative process which brings life and freedom to our planet.

Ascension of Christ

2006-05-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Ascension of Jesus
May 25, 2006

"... Why are you standing there looking at the sky." (Acts 1:1-11). "... They will drive out demons, they will speak new languages. They will pick up serpents with their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not harm them" (Mark 16:15-20).

The angel who remains behind as Jesus is to be taken from them, apparently for the last time, asks the disciples why they are standing there gazing up into the sky. They seem momentarily paralyzed, but then are assured that he will return. In the meantime they and we must go about living with "only" his spiritual presence. The spiritual life is as much about looking around "down" here as it is looking "up" to heaven

The signs that will accompany faith in Jesus calls for some mature discernment. Simple literal interpretations have led to some rather bizarre practices, dramatic but of questionable everyday relevance. Perhaps we are to see these as signs of the spiritual courage of believers. God is a part of our lives when we confront threatening and terrifying realities far more dangerous than poisonous snakes. Spiritual language is more than strange sounds uttered for a privileged few. A few examples come to mind.

Facing a painful, debilitating or life-changing illness or injury.
Praying when surrounded by nothing but hopelessness and doubt.
Risking one's body, health, convenience or treasure for the sake of another.
Having the courage to openly oppose the poison of injustice, oppression and prejudice, even when these occur among our own families, friends, churches, workplaces, communities.
Getting old, frail, confused, isolated, useless.
Losing something or someone of great value, especially when it comes as a surprise or at the worst possible time.
Enduring emotionally excruciating abuse or abandonment, or remembering this suddenly, and not being believed.
Looking at one's own mistakes instead of others'
Being open to a world beyond church and religion.
Speaking and hearing the language of love, compassion, truth, wisdom and self-restraint

The Ascension of Christ is much more than an amazing story of defiance of gravity. It is a part of the true story of death and rebirth, loss and gain, hope out of despair, light out of darkness, of God's fidelity in spite of all appearances to the contrary.

Sixth Sunday of Easter

2006-05-17T08:46:00.000-07:00

Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 21, 2006

“In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him.” (Acts 10) "... not that we have loved God, but that he loved us." (I John 4: 7-10) "It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you." (John 15:9-17)

The disciples had their first disagreement over who should be eligible to be called followers of Jesus. Should it be only for observant Jews, or for non-Jews (i.e., everyone else) as well? Peter, after prayer and reflection during this time of conflict and confusion is led to the conclusion we read here. "God shows no partiality.". Jesus' words and life are for all humankind. God's benevolence and favor are available for everyone. This issue of whether divine life is "just for us" or universally available regardless of the form it takes is still present in our own time. It seems that the teachings of many great religious figures get distorted by our need to possess and control them for ourselves only. This is a kind of spiritual and religious tribalism: only our own words and rituals count for anything. We will torture, kill and consign you to hell if you do not accept this.

We would like to believe that we are especially chosen to spread the truth. We are, and we are not. One good way of assessing whether we are fooling ourselves is to ask how certain we are about the rightness of our cause. Certitude is a strange phenomenon. The stronger it is, the less likely it is to be close to the truth. There are always many more questions than answers. Another personal spiritual self evaluation might be to observe how much and how many we exclude from our ideas about who God is choosing. As we mature in the faith and the spiritual life we become more open to the many ways which God chooses people, and the many forms of truth. The way of the world and the flesh is to become less so.

Jesus expresses a fundamental spiritual truth: God chooses us. Our decisions are secondary to that choice. Our Catholic tradition has reflected on this issue many times. During the 16th and 17th centuries for example, we argued about whether true spirituality was a matter of exercising free will and ascetical practices or of waiting for God's initiative constitute the true spiritual way. Which comes first, our choice or God's? What we came to was: the Spirit moves, we respond. We would like to think that our efforts and sacrifices bring us closer to God. Only God brings us to God. I am reminded of this every time I must, because of my total physical dependence on others, wait for them to take the initiative to provide even the simplest needs, like the placement of my head, hands and arms. All I can do is smile and acknowledge that I am OK. Surely this is a metaphor for our total dependence on God's initiative in the deepest recesses of our souls. The only adequate response is gratitude.

Fifth Sunday of Easter

2006-05-10T08:20:00.000-07:00

Fifth Sunday of Easter
May 14, 2006

"... But they were all afraid of him, not believing that he was a disciple." (Acts 9:26-31). Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth. (I John 3:18-21). Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine so neither can you unless you remain in me." (John 15:1-8)

Paul had undergone a profound change of attitude as a result of his conversion experience. People were having a difficult time accepting that he could speak with the same authority as the original disciples specifically chosen by Jesus. Would he suddenly turn on them again? How could such a recent enemy suddenly assume the same authority as those who had been through it all with Jesus? He could not have done this by himself. Barnabas, a trusted disciple vouches for his authenticity and he is accepted as one of them. Paul is the first of those, like us, who could claim the rights of discipleship without ever having known the historical Jesus. He does this by virtue of a different kind of knowing, entirely mystical, hidden in the Spirit of God. His "credentials" are his transformation from violence and power to weakness and dependence.

Jesus in the gospel passage from John compares our relationship to Himself and his Father with a grapevine. The Most High is the gardener. Jesus is the "vine" rooted in God. We are shoots off of the plant. In some mysterious way we are as interdependent with him as he is with his Father. We all need each other for the whole thing to prosper. Religion in spirit and truth is a corporate reality based on mutual responsibilities of love in word and action. Together we live. Apart we die.

We can understand this metaphor of the vine and branches in another way. Without pruning the grapevine produces lots of greenery but little fruit. We all have personal habits of thinking and acting which no longer serve any real purpose, even if they once did. We might think of our supposedly "bad habits" in this way. To stay healthy and productive some of these shoots must be snipped away even if they have some life in them. This is a painful process. No one likes to deliberately cut away something living. I have been "pruned" of a few formerly very useful abilities, like muscle strength, breath and independence, to make room for new things. From where I am now, I would not care to return to this former way of life as satisfying as it was at the time. The pruning has had the desired effect, a much more lush plant, more dependent on the other vines in the vineyard, and productive for them. We all have similar opportunities to allow the Spirit to be with us as life presents its inevitable invitations for growth. The possibilities are endless.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

2006-05-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

Fourth Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2006

"We are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him..." (I John 3: 1-3). "I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice and there will be one flock, one shepherd." (John 10: 11-18)

The Scriptures for the past several weeks have focused our attention on issues of faith and doubt. This passage from the first letter of John provides a glimpse into the mystical (hidden) relationship between God and us, present and future. We are children of God "now", anticipating, hoping for, some future state of being but not knowing what that state will be. All we know is that we shall experience God much more directly than we do now because we will be radically changed in some way. Many of us think that we have a pretty good notion of what "God" must be like, derived from our sacred traditions, and our own little personal thoughts and experiences.

One of the most common of our traditions concerns the ineffable and unknowable nature of this being upon whom we, like children, rely so completely for our very existence All religious traditions acknowledge in one way or another how inadequate our language and ideas are when we talk or think about "God". This does not seem to keep us from arguing and fighting endlessly about something that has not yet been revealed. All we know is that it will be something much different than what we expect. When it comes to what that will be there are no experts. As I grew older I find that one mark of a mature spiritual life is my acceptance of what is and is not knowable about God. In some ways I've become more certain, in other ways less.

This leads us into Jesus' statement that he has "other sheep" to which he must also attend. Apparently our own communities are not the only ones of concern to God. History is full of examples of religious groups, large and small, proclaiming that they are the authentic flock to which all must conform in order to be "one". Somehow we Catholics have gotten it into our heads that we are the only ones who understand the truth about the way to God. The only legacy of this history is alienation, violence and death. Actually, our own teaching about this from the Vatican Council is that anyone who seeks the truth is "in some way linked to the church". We start the search for God from the truest and best in our own sacred teachings. Another mark of mature spirituality is the humility to look for truth wherever it may be found. Perhaps it would be a sign of real movement toward the kingdom of God when we are able to affirm that the flock of Christ is all human beings who long for truth, goodness, beauty and justice.

Third Sunday of Easter

2006-04-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

Third Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2006

The author of life you put to death, but God raised him from the dead..." (Acts 3: 13-19). "... He stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you" (Luke 24: 35 48)

Peter speaks to his own Jewish people about all that had happened recently, scolding them for being a party to his death even if it was done out of ignorance Until only very recently we Christians have taken this to refer to "them" (the Jews) instead of "us" (the people). This has allowed "us" to persecute "them" as the perpetrators and scapegoats. Not exactly what Peter or Jesus had in mind. We are all persecutors and all victims. As long as we project all the responsibility onto others, we perpetuate the situation which led to Jesus' death.

Peter also says something that would have astounded those who heard him, referring to Jesus as the "author of life". It was one thing to claim that he was the Messiah promised by the prophets but quite another to suggest his divinity. This would have been a very difficult idea for his audience to accept. If we really think about it, it is just as difficult for us. Nevertheless in the same breath he says that it was God who raised him from the dead.

The gospel again takes us into the midst of apostles who were dazed and confused by all these events of Jesus' death and resurrection. He appears to them with a blessing: "Peace be with you". They are terrified and think they are seeing a ghost of a dead man. It is not much different for us whenever we are threatened with the loss of someone or something precious. For example, I have discovered recently, as it requires more effort to speak, that there is some peace in letting go of my compulsion to have a verbal response to everything. Another friendly gift of ALS. We all have fears and terrors, resentments and hurts, which can be transformed by God's peace offering when we decide to accept it.

We exchange the sign of peace at mass, offering to each other a blessing extended from the altar, praying to be freed from anxiety. I wonder if the significance of these actions sometimes gets lost in the repetition, always a challenge in our liturgical tradition. Peace and anxiety are both contagious. Anxiety accompanies doubt and ambiguity. We want the certainty of definitive answers which sometimes do not exist. Like the one about whose fault is this or that, or who is right or wrong. The quest for this certitude often as not drives us further into blaming and violence. Peace follows acceptance of our human condition of fear, confusion and uncertainty about our future. When we receive and cultivate this gift of the Holy Spirit within our own hearts, we are able to pass it on as a blessing to one another.

Second Sunday of Easter

2006-04-19T09:35:00.000-07:00

Second Sunday of Easter
April 23, 2006

"The community of believers was of one heart and mind...." (Acts 4: 32-35). "And the victory that conquers the world is our faith." (I John 5: 1-6). "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” (John 20: 19-31)

The apostle Thomas can't believe the news that Jesus has not abandoned them. Thomas is my hero. As a reward for his courage in speaking up with his questions about what he was seeing, Jesus does not scold him for his doubts. Instead he invites him to touch his body in a most intimate way. In this touch Thomas came to believe that God was actually still with them.

How difficult it is to accept what is right in front of us. Are we fools for maintaining confidence that life survives death? Perhaps "atheists" are actually rejecting an inadequate understanding of mature religion and faith which excludes human reason and compassion. I myself often wonder whether we are just making up all this stuff about God to make ourselves feel better. Maybe we really are alone in the universe. Usually I am most acutely questioning this when I'm alone, motionless, in my bed wondering what would happen to me if no one was there.

Then one of my many angels appears, touching me, and my doubts and isolation evaporate. How often each day I experience this touch from those around me who do so in love and care, physically, verbally, spiritually, from near and far away. This experience brings back to mind that faith is not a solitary experience. Like the first Christians (even in the idealized version in this passage) and the apostles, they experienced the risen Christ when they were together, loving and supporting each other. No wonder Thomas had a hard time when he was not there for Jesus' first visitation to the other apostles. When we are having a hard time with faith, we touch someone or (even better) allow ourselves to be touched and are brought back to reality.

Someone recently reminded me that belief precedes proof. We believe in order to see clearly. Thomas could not have touched had he not first accepted the invitation from Jesus and decided to believe. When belief seems impossible, we decide to accept the invitation anyway. Even only wanting to believe is the Spirit's invitation to faith. One of the great counterfeits of our age is that faith should answer questions. Thomas Aquinas knew that his "proofs" work only after we believe. Faith begets faith, doubt begets doubt. Faith is not always intellectually or emotionally consoling. As often as not it is "pressing against the darkness". When we ask for God to be with us during times of the darkness of unknowing our prayer is answered. If we wait for faith to come in the form of some great insight or wonderful feeling, we might be waiting a long time.

Easter

2006-04-12T09:32:00.000-07:00

Easter
April 16, 2006

"I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD" (Psalm 118) "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God." (Col 3: 1-4) "For they did not yet understand... that he had to rise from the dead." (John 20:1-9).

The gospel describes the elation and confusion of that morning of the "first day of the week" when Jesus' friends find that he has disappeared from the tomb in which his lifeless body had been laid. Mary Magdalene, going to anoint the body, sees the open tomb and thinks that someone has taken it away. She runs to Peter and "the other disciple" (John?) with the news and they have a foot race to the tomb to see for themselves. The "other disciple" gets there first (as if this made a big difference to anyone but him) but allows Peter to actually go inside to investigate. They find nothing but the burial cloth. Just as they do not understand why Jesus had to suffer such a terrible and shameful death, neither do they understand the significance of what they are seeing now.

We know from the history of the next several centuries, indeed down to our own time, that these events caused considerable discussion, conflict, mutual condemnation, even violence, among those who hear this story and take it seriously. What does it mean? What "really" happened? Was it just a hoax perpetrated to cover up the fact that Jesus simply was another victim hopelessly lost to power politics? Was it, as the recently discovered "Gospel of Judas" maintains, that Jesus' body was only an illusion or useless burden dragging down his spirit (and presumably our own as well)?

The resurrection story is far more than a proof that "Jesus was God". Our faith is with Psalm 118 and St. Paul. "I shall not die, but live." Christ is the central figure of cosmic history. What "really happened" is no secret reserved for a few spiritual elite. No special knowledge is required. Jesus' body was not stolen from the tomb nor was it just a shell disguising his divinity. He is the son of God, and a human being just like us, transformed from death to life in an unexpected outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This transformation makes ours possible. Like Christ, our lives and eternal destiny are permanently established within God's life, beyond all proof and out of the reach of destruction by any power on earth The "evidence" is in the way we, body and soul, live every day, in Christ, hídden in God.

During this sacred season of new life, we might do well to think about how we are privileged to participate in this resurrection event. All of us have our own passion story from which we long to be delivered. What happy ending can we imagine, beyond the difficulties and disappointments of this life?

Palm Sunday

2006-04-05T09:39:00.000-07:00

Palm Sunday
April 9, 2006

"Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; and I have not rebelled, have not turned back..." (Isaiah 50:4-7) "He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." (Phil 2: 6-11) "His disciples did not understand this at first, but when Jesus had been glorified they remembered that these things were written about him." (John 12:12-16)

Perhaps the best commentary on the events we recall and celebrate this week, the passion, death and resurrection of Christ, is our own immersion in it. We are not just remembering an historical event nor, as some of us did as children, feeling sorry for Jesus or guilty about what we may have done to cause his suffering. Participating in the story of Jesus' suffering and death necessarily includes our attention to and solidarity with suffering humanity. Dwelling on this mystery apart from Jesus' resurrection (and our own) leaves the experience incomplete if not pointless. We have an opportunity to allow this mystery of life, death, and return of life to permeate our being a little more this year than last.

The prophet, six centuries before Christ, has a vision of the Son of Man one who is willing and open to suffering for the sake of God's people, and yet determined to resist the forces of death. Although he accepts whatever suffering his cosmic role will be, he also "set his face like flint". St. Paul, our earliest witness to the events of Jesus' life and death, says that Jesus was "obedient" to death.

What is this mystery of resistance and acceptance in the face of suffering and death? The gospel tells us that even his disciples, those closest to him in time and space, did not understand all this until after they had time to reflect on what had happened from the perspective of the resurrection. We know that they also underwent their own personal sufferings and death as well. If even they were confused, how much more are we? Mature faith knows there is no easy answer to the meaning of human suffering. It is found in the experience of acceptance and resistance.

I have to do it, you have to do it: today, tomorrow, until the Son of Man comes in glory. The only question really is how we live in Christ, knowing when and how to accept our own passion. As we do, certainly part of this is to avoid inflicting unnecessary confusion and suffering on others. One way of attempting to avoid of suffering is by inflicting it on others, often in the name of our own version of the truth. Instead we will do as Jesus did, comforting our comforters. Perhaps during this sacred week we might spend some time reflecting on the status of our own acceptance and resistance to the experience of suffering.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

2006-03-29T09:17:00.000-08:00

Fifth Sunday of Lent
April 2, 2006

“I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts... I will be their God, and they shall be my people…" (Jer 31:31-34). “Create a clean heart in me, O God.” (Psalm 51). "Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life" (John 12:20-33).

We are presented with a profound insight into the relationship between the divine law and human conscience. Jeremiah looks forward to a time when there will be a new relationship between God and the people of God. In this new age we will desire and do only what is right and good, not because we are told to or because it is written in sacred documents, but because it is the only possibility, "written" in the deepest part of us. Nor do we do what is right in order to "get to heaven". We do it because it is the only thing consistent with how we are made in the divine image. Until now this has not been possible because we are self-centered and obtuse about the reason for our existence, which is only to reflect the goodness, truth and beauty of the Most High. This is not something we can do for ourselves. It can only be accomplished by God essentially starting over with us, remaking creation, especially the human part of it which has gone so wrong. The Psalm reflects our desire for this to happen, to be given a "clean heart", a guilt-free conscience. This vision is not just a story from the ancient past. It is both near at hand and far away, now and in the future.

Jesus responds to a request from foreigners (Greek speaking Jews) to talk with him with an enigmatic saying about what it takes to gain eternal life. He compares our spiritual lives to a grain of wheat dying in order to produce life. John obviously wants us to understand this as foreshadowing Christ's death and resurrection. Jesus goes on to express fear and dread about what is to come yet refuses to give in to the temptation to ask for his Father to spare him. How could we relate to a Christ who did not experience all of our doubt, anguish and trepidation? All he asked was that the Most High not abandon him. This is a model of how our prayers should go

Two people very close to me have been surprised by love recently. And it is barely Spring. Knowing them both quite well, I am privileged to witness firsthand the transformation they are undergoing. Both of them have "paid their dues" faithfully over the years without expectations of any immediate reward beyond knowing they are living life as patiently and honestly as possible. Neither of them are traditional "believers". Both have an implicit sense of trust in the Spirit without fanfare. Another friend with a serious life-threatening disease has been surprised with a bit of unexpected energy. Today my respirator mask suddenly fits right. Big deal or small, we never know where and when the grain of wheat which we allow to fall to the ground and die will sprout again to life.

Fourth Sunday of Lent

2006-03-22T08:39:00.001-08:00

Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 26, 2006

"Those who escaped the sword were carried captive to Babylon..." (II Chronicles 36). "By the streams of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion..." (Psalm 137). "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved..." (John 3:14-21).

In 697 BCE a Babylonian army swept in upon Israel, destroyed Jerusalem and the temple and killed or carried off their brightest and best as hostages. There they remained for four generations until their persecutors were themselves overthrown by the Persian king, Cyrus. He allowed them to return home to begin the long process of rebuilding. His name ("Lord") became synonymous with liberation. They found the remnants of those left behind broken, confused and alienated from their sacred traditions. This exile became a defining moment in the cultural and spiritual memory of Jews and Christians. We would never be the same again, but perhaps something new and fresh could come of it.

We are more aware than ever that even our home planet exists "in exile", a microscopic obscure outpost in a cold and random universe. Earth will eventually be obliterated by the same cosmic processes which created it. Our national and cultural histories all have stories of past and present exiles, of mistreatment by powerful and malicious "foreigners". We sometimes hold on to these stories too tightly, becoming possessed by them and perpetrating similar evils on others, precluding all possibility of liberation. It is clearer with each new generation that our ancient tribal loyalties often ensure that humanity will remain a hostage in permanent exile. Every earthly kingdom imagines it will be the exception to the rule and not end in powerlessness and obscurity.

We all understand what it means to be in exile, deprived of all that is safe, sacred and familiar. Most of us know what it is like to be alienated from the fellowship and regard of others. This experience of exile from the human community seems also to follow from one generation to the next, passed along from parent to child. Even our cherished spiritual communities, churches, synagogues and mosques easily become agents of exclusion and alienation, perpetuating the cycle of exile.

In spite of all this apparent gloom and hopelessness, we have hope from an unexpected quarter, just as Cyrus delivered our Jewish ancestors from exile. The Lord of the universe has not left us alone in spite of all we may have done to each other to deserve it. We see our liberation already at hand whenever our human institutions and individuals follow the impulse to act on behalf of others instead of self-interest. We thus hasten the day when our divine liberator will be able to complete the process of redemption and resurrection.

Fourth Sunday of Lent

2006-03-22T08:39:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday of Lent

2006-03-15T08:36:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday of Lent
March 19, 2006

"I, the LORD, am your God... You shall not have other gods besides me." (Exodus 20). " Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up... many began to believe in his name when they saw the signs he was doing. But Jesus would not trust himself to them..." (John 2: 13-25)

Our father Moses receives the commandments from Yahweh, and delivers them to us as a gift for all time. All of them are based on our trust in the one God and our reverence for all that is sacred in this God and each other. This is a defining moment in human history. The commandments are rules of attitude and conduct which we would naturally follow even if they were not written down. They are "written" in the order of nature and in the human heart and mind, as necessary for life as food and shelter. Nevertheless, being distracted and forgetful, we seem to need divine authority to keep us focused on essential things.

Jesus, in a rare display of aggression, throws the "money changers" and sellers of sacrificial animals out of the Temple, even though they were performing a necessary service for pilgrims and worshipers (like Jesus himself). His disciples recognized that he was motivated by zeal for worship in spirit and truth. There are times when I would love to assume that my own aggression is similarly righteous. More often the truth is that I am indulging in self justification. Through history and to our own day our most sacred places and practices have always been at risk of being subverted by money and profit even though both are required to keep them going. When does the business of religion threaten the integrity of our worship? Consider our anger and anxiety about how much it is going to cost us to deliver justice to victims of sexual abuse by the church. We can generate considerable anger, without any knowledge of the facts, that "they are just out for the money". This attitude may reveal more about ourselves than it does about the motives of those who come forward with the truth.

Religious leaders challenge Jesus over his right to assume responsibility for the integrity of the Temple and his statement about rebuilding it in three days. This discussion is not about how long it would take to rebuild the Temple structure. It is about the rebuilding of the spirit through the resurrection. Jesus refuses to get trapped in an argument about this. People were following him for the wrong reasons. They were enthralled with his marvelous deeds and words and missing the point of his intimate relationship with the Most High. For this reason "he did not trust himself to them", because they were looking for signs and proof. We have the cart before the horse. Trust, not miracles, "proves" the power of God. This would be a good time to consider what is most sacred to us, and what brings us closer to the heart of God and each other.

Second Sunday of Lent

2006-03-08T09:04:00.000-08:00

Second Sunday of Lent
March 12, 2006

"I will bless you abundantly and make your descendants as countless as the stars of the sky and the sands of the seashore... because you obeyed my command.” (Genesis 22). "... He was transfigured before them..." (Mark 9:2-10)

Abraham, in obedience to Yahweh, takes his son up to a mountain prepared to sacrifice him but at the last minute is given a reprieve. He is rewarded for this obedience with a promise that he is founding a great multitude of descendents in faith. This story represents the childhood of our religious development when we conceived of God as someone to be placated with sacrifice (human and otherwise). It is impossible now to imagine such a capricious and bloodthirsty God who would ask this of us, or we even considering such an act. The Scriptures often tell us that God wants the gift of our devotion, love and trust, not sacrifice. Our obedience takes the form of acceptance of those otherwise unavoidable people, situations and events which bring pain and suffering into our lives. Rather than unthinking obedience to a capricious "will of God", perhaps we are "tested" by how we receive in faith the challenges of the unpredictable and catastrophic. We, just as Abraham, sometimes are asked to sacrifice what is most precious to us. His willingness to do so created the same opportunity for us his people

Jesus and three of his disciples go up on a mountain where they receive a vision of him in dazzling white garments. The details of the story were not lost on the early Christians. They see the prophet Moses and Elijah talking with them. Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the prophets. They are enveloped by a cloud and hear God expressing delight and favor with Jesus. The cloud of divine presence on this mountain would have reminded them of how Yahweh appeared to Abraham and Moses. Jesus' words and deeds will have the same divine authority as did the patriarchs of old.

Peter, impulsively as usual, wants to camp out and make this wonderful moment permanent. But just as quickly the vision disappears and they are back down off the mountain into daily reality once more. Much like some of our own religious or mystical experiences, they may have wondered if it really even happened. Was it just a dream? Can we trust such fleeting and out of the ordinary experiences? Would people think we are crazy if we told them? The disciples were reluctant to talk about this experience because they were not sure what "rising from the dead" meant. What a strange and hopelessly hopeful idea. No wonder they did not know what to make of it. Neither do we even after all these centuries of faith. Nevertheless Easter and the Resurrection to a new kind of life will soon be upon us. Jesus' Transfiguration on the mountain and in the cloud reveals something about how we will all be changed.

First Sunday of Lent

2006-03-01T09:18:00.000-08:00

First Sunday of Lent
March 5, 2006

"God said to Noah, "I set my bow in the clouds to serve as a sign of the covenant between me and the earth." (Genesis 9:8-15). "This prefigured baptism, which saves you now... (I Peter 3:18 -22). "The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert... and the angels ministered to him." (Mark 1:12-15)

After a disastrous flood which nearly extinguished human life on earth Yahweh tells Noah that the rainbow will be a sign of the promise never to do that again. Discussions about whether or not this flood literally covered the earth or whether the ark literally contained every species of life miss the point of the story. God often in human history can be both impatient and endlessly patient with us. All creation was "buried" in water which should have annihilated it. Based on our track record it would have been richly deserved. Instead these waters of destruction and despair have been transformed into waters of life and hope.

A friend told me recently that being on and close to the ocean has always elicited a profound experience of peace and freedom which otherwise was often missing from her life. This is a case in point, a marvelous individual religious experience and fulfillment of the divine promise. As we hear in the letter of Peter, the waters of the flood are completed in the waters of baptism. All of us are "baptized" just when we think we will be inundated by fear and guilt. At the last moment, when all seems lost, we emerge in much better shape than we could have possibly hoped or imagined.

Jesus is "driven" by the Spirit into a remote and threatening place. The language used to describe this suggests his journey into the desert was more than a gentle nudge. We don't hear exactly what the nature of his temptation was. Our tradition of faith tells us that Jesus was "like us in all things except sin". Was he feeling overwhelmed by the prospect of facing the burden of his future? Like him, we are all driven to face our demons in a lonely place. But then we are, also like him, visited by our Father's heavenly messengers bringing word that we are in not alone. Another threat of annihilation, transformed into hope.

I have wondered, especially in the darkness of night time, about how much longer I have, how I will know when my time is up, how death will come, etc. Then morning comes, people who love me show up (a human rainbow) and: these questions and fears have evaporated. Life looks good and interesting. I have a future again. Something new and permanent can come out of isolation and hopelessness. In forty days we celebrate our hope of transformation. If every Sunday is a "little Easter", we don't even have to wait until then. This Lent would be a great time to look again for our rainbows, human and otherwise.

Eighth Sunday Ordinary

2006-02-22T09:28:00.001-08:00

Eighth Sunday Ordinary
February 26, 2006

"I will espouse you to me forever... in right and in justice" (Hosea 2). "You are our letter, written on our hearts... written not in ink but by the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets that are hearts of flesh. (2 Corinthians 3: 1-6). " Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?" (Mark 2: 18-21)

Hosea compares our life with the Most High to a loving and dedicated marriage. Those of us fortunate enough to have a person in our lives upon whom we can rely as a life long friend, lover and soulmate have a unique window into our life with God. Not much in this life gets us any closer than this. Whether or not we have such good luck, the Holy One of Israel is courting us. Often we are too shy, fearful and reluctant to allow the kind of intimacy with which this persistent Lover pursues us.

St. Paul refers to his beloved friends in Corinth as a living letter of reference written by the Holy Spirit directly on our hearts and bodies. Accompanied by this he did not need any recommendation written on paper or law engraved in stone to be accepted by another community. How would our local and world communities look if we all carried one another in the Spirit around with us as letters of introduction? No one would be a stranger or an outsider.

Jesus answers a question about why he and his disciples do not practice asceticism (lasting) like the Pharisees and John's disciples. He says that while the "bridegroom" (the Messiah) is still present we should be in a rejoicing mode. There will be plenty of time later for fasting when he is gone. When is the Messiah with us, and when not? When should we be rejoicing and when in mourning and penitence? Are we thinking only of the Messiah's physical presence, or also about God's presence permanently living in our hearts and bodies? My own recent experience tells me that this is more than an historical reference to the life and death of the Messiah.

My Sicilian grandmother always wondered why we should deliberately deprive ourselves of the sacred gift of food when it was available. She still carried the memory of times and places in the old country when it was never certain there would be enough to eat. We should partake without guilt while it is available. Of course, we all have times when we could benefit from intentionally foregoing something good as a reminder of the unfinished business of the transformation of our world into eternity. Nevertheless this is a permanently new time with the Spirit of the Messiah in and around us. As Jesus says, "new wine is poured into fresh wineskins.” New age, new rules

Eighth Sunday Ordinary

2006-02-22T09:28:00.000-08:00

Seventh Sunday Ordinary

2006-02-15T08:39:00.000-08:00

Seventh Sunday Ordinary
February 19, 2006

"Remember not the events of the past... see, I am doing something new..." (Isaiah 43). "For the son of God... was not “yes” and “no,” but “yes”... (2 Cor 1). "I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” He rose, picked up his mat at once, and went away in the sight of everyone. (Mark 2: 1-12)

The prophet tells us that the Most High has no "memory" for our weaknesses and failures but sees what is new and fresh. There are also many places in our sacred writings where just the opposite is declared, that God remembers every fault and misstep. So, which one is it? Perhaps it is both, depending on our point of view and attitude. If we devote most of our lives to remembering every slight and hurt ever done to us, it would make sense that our image of God would be punishing and vengeful. If we have desired a forgiving heart that avoids keeping track of all the wrongs in our lives, our image of God would be similar. Most of us have some of both attitudes, much like these two aspects of God in the Scriptures. Every human image of God is inadequate. We choose the images which elicit what is highest and best in us and downplay what is not.

. St. Paul, on a similar theme, says that the son of God was only a "yes". Many of us feel a relentless oppression of guilt no matter how hard we try to be worthy of love from God and others. But freedom from guilt is not something we can earn by effort, no matter how many good deeds we do or prayers we say, God's absolutely free overlooking of our pasts is the only way out of this prison. Gradually allowing the Most High to rid us of slavery to the past allows us to experience every moment as a divine gift of something new. Embracing the Spirit's "yes" to truth, beauty and goodness within and around us is a sign that our eternal destiny has already begun.

The paralytic in the gospel story, unable to do anything for himself, relies completely upon his friends' confidence in Jesus to heal him. This, for obvious reasons, is one of my favorite passages from the gospels. Was this man also afflicted with ALS? If so, chances are he could not even speak on his own behalf. No matter, the paralytic is all of us, totally dependent on God and one another. Just as he was lowered down through the roof where Jesus was, he would later be raised up as Jesus was and we all will be. It was not only his personal trust in God, but more importantly the trust of his community of friends which brought about his transformation. This is a prototype of the human community and the church. Our healing and our future are in each other's hands and hearts. When we say "yes" to one another we imitate God's "yes" and exponentially increase the power of faith beyond anything we can do as individuals.

Six Sunday Ordinary

2006-02-08T09:17:00.000-08:00

Sixth Sunday Ordinary
January 12, 2006

"The one who bears the sore of leprosy... shall declare himself unclean... (and) shall dwell apart....” (Leviticus 13). "Avoid giving offense, whether to the Jews or Greeks or the church of God," (1 Cor 10:31) “See that you tell no one anything, but (do)... what Moses prescribed;...” (Mark 1:40-45)

In the Torah Moses tells the people about how to deal with the dreaded disease of leprosy, declaring oneself unclean and staying apart from the people presumably so that it was not spread to others. Isolating was all that anyone knew to do to protect the community. Only in the past few decades has a treatment become available and it was learned that the disease is not highly contagious. Such a disease was also considered to be the result of God's anger at the unfortunate victim. This passage is a good example of the need for caution in taking the Bible "literally" or as an infallible scientific authority.

Jesus has compassion for a man with leprosy who is pleading to be healed. Without contradicting Moses' law on the matter, Jesus nevertheless does not avoid contact with one who would have been considered unclean by his contemporaries. Instead he touches him and the person is immediately returned to health. He then is told to go and observe the legal requirement to be declared clean by the religious authorities. It does not seem to be part of Jesus' agenda to undermine the established spiritual authority. He said in another place that he did not come to destroy the law but to fulfill it.

Jesus, as often in Mark' s gospel, cautions him not to tell anyone about what has happened. But the man goes away unable to contain his excitement and talks about it with anyone who will listen so that Jesus was mobbed wherever he went. Various explanations have been offered about why Jesus often wants people not to talk about their miraculous encounters with him. Perhaps he knew that we are inclined to do exactly the opposite of what we are told, no matter what the issue. If you want something to get out, tell people it is a secret. If you want someone to act in a certain way, forbid it.

St. Paul remarks about not giving offense to anyone, secular or religious, regardless of their beliefs or point of view. Most of us have had the experience of being on the receiving end of this, treated as unworthy of belonging to the company of human beings or God. We might want to think about who we regard as "lepers". Most of us have people in our lives who we would rather avoid because they represent something "unclean", unacceptable or foreign. God's healing and compassionate touch, far from being owned by any group of true believers, is offered freely to anyone who longs for it.

Fourth Sunday Ordinary

2006-01-31T09:19:00.000-08:00

Fourth Sunday Ordinary
January 29, 2006

Moses spoke to all the people, saying:, “A prophet like me will the LORD, your God, raise up for you from among your own kin; to him you shall listen.(Deuteronomy 18:15-20)". "The people were astonished at his teaching,for he taught them as one having authority... (Luke 1: 21-28)"

Moses tells the people that their wish has been granted. They were too fearful of encountering God directly, and would rather hear what God had to say through a designated human being. This marked the end of an era after which Yahweh spoke to them through prophets. They no longer would have to face God directly and now could pick and choose which prophets and which statements they wanted to hear and which ones they did not. Moses was telling them in effect, "OK, you got what you asked for. I will speak to you through human beings and through natural and historical events. Let's see what you do with it." Israel's history, and our own, reveal the answer. We only listen for what we want to hear, and reject whatever contradicts our favorite ideas and treasured prejudices.

Here at the beginning of Mark's Gospel Jesus is portrayed teaching the Torah and healing people. What Jesus is doing gives authority to what he is saying, something not seen since the days of Moses. Jesus' entire life, his whole being, words and deeds, go together in one marvelous package so that he cannot be ignored. This reminds us that whatever authority we may have come and not just from what we say, but from how we allow ourselves to be conformed to the life of God. The man recognizes that Jesus is "the holy one of Israel" but is afraid of him. It is not him speaking but something alien and destructive that has a hold of him. Jesus repudiates the "evil spirit" and relieves him of this burden of anxiety, replacing it with confidence and hope.

Both of these passages address a similar issue: acceptance of the truth about ourselves and the life of the Most High within us. We may have developed some confusion about evil spirits, thinking that they are something separate from ourselves, inhabiting us against our wills and needing to be exorcised. We mistrust the power of God even when confronted with it directly, like the man who perceives Jesus as a threat instead of a friend and brother. It is difficult to accept the truth about ourselves and the world around us. We would rather get our truth from television, Internet, novels and movie "reality".

Nevertheless God insists on meeting us directly, looking deeply into our hearts, minds and souls, telling us about ourselves in spirit and truth. Listening to this with courage is all that is required.

Fourth Sunday Ordinary

2006-01-25T09:13:00.000-08:00

Fourth Sunday Ordinary
January 29, 2006
"Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery? ... Troubled nights have been allotted to me. If in bed I say, “When shall I arise?”... then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn... (Job 7: 1-7). "He approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up. Then the fever left her... He cured many who were sick with various diseases... (Mark 1:29-39)"

Job laments his profound misfortune. He has lost everything that could possibly give his life any meaning: family, wealth, good reputation, health. His words about the drudgery of life on earth have reflected the lament of suffering humanity through the centuries before and since. As with many of us, his nights were fraught with exaggerated doubts and fears. The ancient monks (and a few even today) rose during the night to pray and keep watch until the safety of morning light. I often have this experience of waking during the night. I find great comfort in this practice of prayer and meditation on the light of the Holy Spirit, the generosity and closeness of family and friends, God's mercy on those who are in trouble, and on suffering humanity in general.

Job's story has a tentative ending, offering little hope but patient endurance and faithfulness. The question of why this must be the condition of our lives has never been answered satisfactorily even by our best philosophers and theologians. In fact, those "friends" of Job who attempt to offer explanations for his misfortune succeeded only in further alienating him. Most of us have attempted to do something similar for people trying to deal with suffering by reassurances of this or that. It may make the one doing the reassuring feel better. The last thing someone needs is to be told why this is happening, or that it will be all better soon. We make it better by not trying to make it better. Most often simply being with others in their suffering is the most comforting, and most difficult, thing we can do.

Jesus relieves the pain of this suffering woman. We are told that he did so for many others as well. The cure of physical affliction was only the immediately obvious, outward and temporary result of God's love. More lasting is the cure of soul which brings hope and optimism out of despair. God's promise is that we are not alone. Finally in some way beyond our present experience our lives will be very different. Jesus is the embodiment of this promise, and the only really satisfying answer to the mystery of the universal experience of human suffering.

Many of us receive this healing touch daily from people who love us from close-up and far away. This is certainly an extension of the touch Jesus gives to this woman. These are the most reassuring contacts in our lives and the ones which bring hope out of what would otherwise be meaningless drudgery.

Third Sunday Ordinary

2006-01-18T09:57:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday Ordinary
January 22, 2006

“Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed,” (Jonah 3:1-10). "For the world in its present form is passing away." (1 Corinthians 7:29-31). "This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” (Mark 1:14-20).

This Sunday's passages are full of warnings and foreboding. Jonah tells the inhabitants of Nineveh that their city will be destroyed soon if they do not change their ways. In this Jewish tale, the gentiles are the ones who take these warnings seriously and do something to change their ways. God's attitude, consistently merciful and forgiving, is in stark contrast with Jonah's. Jonah on the other hand only wants God to wreak vengeance on the pagan unbelievers and anyone else who opposes him. I am reminded of some one years ago who can thought I should preach more fire and brimstone.

Jesus chooses his first three disciples while announcing that the world as we know it is undergoing radical change. The only condition of discipleship is that they accept the reality of this new world in which all the rules of survival are reversed. Repentance means, among other things, willingness to see our lives with new eyes and hearts, allowing our "invincible ignorance" to be overcome by this new reality. St. Paul says, "the world in its present form is passing away".

We have always taken these warnings as applying to moral and spiritual repentance. Perhaps they could also apply in our own day to the state of our home planet, a precious gift of God. There is a converging scientific consensus, if not yet absolute certainty, that human activity is having a significant negative impact on the ability of our world to sustain life as we have come to expect it. We are confident in our ability to control natural forces while puzzling about some signs of change around us. It is clear for example that the Arctic ice pack is melting. We fondly hope that it is simply a part of a natural cycle, so that we will not have to take any responsibility for it. Our first response is to profit from it, immediately jockeying for position to exploit the resources which will "open up". We sacrifice huge amounts of physical resources and cause massive pollution for a few ounces of gold used for little more than adornment because it is "precious". Indeed it is purchased at a great human and environmental price. I wonder if we think about this cost of gold when we continue to insist that it is the only acceptable material to hold the Eucharist.

This kind of "living in the now" is not exactly a spiritual principle. By our shortsightedness we could be creating the instrument of our own demise. Time may indeed be running out in more ways than one.

Second Sunday

2006-01-11T09:05:00.001-08:00

Second Sunday Ordinary
January 15, 2006

“Here I am,” he said. “You called me.”, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:3-19). “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you " (1 Cor 6 13-20). They said to him, “Rabbi”... “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come, and you will see.”. (John 1: 35-42).

All of our passages this Sunday seem to point toward the call of the Spirit to intimate living with the Most High. The prophet Samuel is asleep in the very place where Yahweh lives in the Ark of the covenant, the holiest of all places. We are told that in spite of this, "he was not familiar with Yahweh". Living in the house of God does not by itself guarantee that God is living in us. Samuel carries on a touching dialogue with his teacher, Eli, thinking it is he who is calling rather than God. He requires several tries before he gets it. Listening, often frustrating, puzzling and confusing, is the beginning of holiness. Samuel's persistent willingness would have profound and far-reaching Messianic effects from David's life, through subsequent generations, to Christ, and beyond to our own day. One person's "yes" can produce spiritual gifts far beyond its apparently insignificant beginnings. .

Two of John the Baptist's disciples see Jesus walking by, ask him where he lives and he tells them simply to "come and see". It is hard to avoid the impression that we are meant to take this more than literally. In the course of his life Jesus will make it abundantly clear that his Father's living arrangements are in the hearts and minds of those live in trust and hope. Buildings, as important as they are, do not last forever. They are "sacred" only as temporary dwellings for the people who live in God's kingdom. We have from Jesus an offer we can't refuse: "come and see". When we respond with open minds and listening hearts, we may be quite surprised when we discover.

Paul reflects on another "place" where God lives -- in our bodies. I think about this as I see people close to me enduring and surviving with all sorts of physical and mental diseases and disorders, some curable, some not. I sometimes think about my own apparently useless appendages and wonder if I would not be better off without them. I have joked about having my head put in a jar with electrodes attached, like in an old B sci-fi movie, from where I can continue to give orders. But seriously, folks. Our bodies, frail and temporary as they may seem now, are an enduring part of our essential being with an eternal destiny in some form yet to be experienced. We learned as children that, as Paul says, our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit where God is to be glorified. God is as present in disease as in health and "wholeness". In fact, we often observe that there is a special divine presence discovered in disease, not found in health. We carry the living God in our flesh and bones, healthy or otherwise.

Second Sunday

2006-01-11T09:05:00.000-08:00

Epiphany

2006-01-04T09:18:00.001-08:00

Epiphany
January 8, 2005

"Your light has come... darkness covers the earth... but upon you the Lord shines... raise your eyes and look around..." (Isaiah 60:1-6). "They opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh" (Matthew 2:2-12)

The prophet has a vision of a dark world suddenly bathed in light of the Most High, and invites humankind to be courageous enough to look around and see it. My brother and I were just talking about this on New Year's Day while looking at all the depressing news about chaos and violence around the world. We wondered about our fascination with it, and why we do not have a similar fascination with the beauty and peace which also surrounds us. It is not as if these two worlds exist separately, but rather, at least in this life, tied together. St. Augustine, referred to this mysterious relationship, when he asked "What has Athens (this world) got to do with Jerusalem (the heavenly world)?". He believed, as I do, and that we distort the reality of life as we know it now when we attempt too rigidly separate these two worlds. In our world of time and space, death, chaos and darkness flow in the same river with life, order and light. Each can reveal something about the other. We cannot avoid the bad news but neither do we have to be swept away by it.

The Nativity story continues with the visitation of the Magi to the child Messiah. If the shepherds represent the Jewish people, we have always understood the Magi as symbolizing the discovery of this divine event by the Gentile world. We can also see the contrast between the poverty and powerlessness of the shepherds and the wealth and power of these "kings". The shepherds had only themselves and their simple trust and understanding to give. The Magi had great wealth and knowledge of the world to give.

Some of us are shepherds. We give to each other from our poverty and God makes it precious. Some of us are Magi. We share our earthly abundance and knowledge as if none of it belongs to us because in truth it does not. Most of us are no doubt somewhere in between and do some of both. The homage of all has equal worth in the eyes of God, who recognizes no distinctions of wealth, knowledge or sophistication as long as there is love and confidence in the Spirit's presence.

All of us live out our days accepting the mysterious interaction of dark and light, good and bad, power and weakness, poverty and wealth, truth and illusion, until our ultimate birth where there is only light, love, truth and God's smiling face.

Epiphany

2006-01-04T09:18:00.000-08:00

Solemnity of Mary

2005-12-28T09:08:00.000-08:00

Solemnity of Mary
January 1, 2006

"The LORD bless you and keep you! The LORD let his face shine uponyou, and be gracious to you! The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace!" (Numbers 8: 22-27). "God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” (Galatians 4:4-7).. "Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart." (Luke 2: 16-21).

The Most High gives this beautiful blessing to Moses for the benefit of the people. The people feared that looking upon God, or indeed even uttering the divine name would result in their annihilation. But here they are promised that being exposed to God's countenance will bring peace and abundance. This is not an angry God to be feared and appeased, but one of gentleness and kindness.

St. Paul echoes this when he reflects on the result of receiving the Spirit of God. The blessing we receive is the right to address God as a fortunate child would a kindly and familiar father or mother, easily approached for what we need. How did we ever get the idea that God is a fearful and punishing judge waiting for us to make a mistake? Or that parents' primary responsibility is to be the same? Divine authority comes from divine love. Whatever authority we might have in the lives of others can only derive from imitating our divine parent. The right to advise and correct is earned by first learning to love as we are loved by God.

This is one of the compelling aspects of the story of the shepherds discovering the infant Messiah in the warmth and security of loving devoted parents. We all long for this experience and when we receive it, treasure it up, like Mary, in our hearts to keep us going when times get dark and difficult. Mary and Joseph were privileged to give birth to the Messiah. They accepted this assignment knowing, I'm sure, that they were not going to be perfect parents. They relied on their trust in a kind, gentle and forgiving God to supply the rest.

I think about this as I watch my own mom, now nearly 86 years old and doing her best to assimilate the inevitable ravages of aging. In spite of not having the benefit of this warmth and security in her own childhood, she nevertheless has been able to provide it for her children. This was no doubt in some measure due to her relationship with our dad who died many years ago but still lives in our hearts. Together they were able to surmount their human limitations enough to provide their children with the ability to believe in the God of love and kindness. Like all of us, not perfect but plenty good enough to get the job done. Their "Abba" became ours, in many different forms. Even if denied this gift of reasonably selfless parents, we all have the blessing of the kindly face of the Most High bringing light and warmth to mind and heart.

Christmas

2005-12-21T09:30:00.000-08:00

Christmas
December 25, 2005

"... people who walked in darkness have seen a great light... for a child is born to us... His dominion is vast and forever peaceful," (Isaiah 9:1-6). Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and... said to them, "Do not be afraid;" (Luke 2:1-14)

There are some times when we recognize (believe it or not!) that words fail us and we decide to allow the liturgical symbolism, and the divine reality which it carries, to speak for itself. The celebration of the birth of Christ may certainly be one of those times. The prophet's hymn of praise for the Messiah suggests this when it contrasts human darkness and the light of the Most High. No matter how many wonderful titles we bestow, the reality of God's life within and among us is always elusive even as it points us in the right direction.

There are wonderful traditions even in our secular celebrations of the "holiday season", most especially our encouragement of attitudes of peace, reconciliation, home and hearth. We might be inclined to forget how many people do not enjoy these gifts at this or indeed any time of year. The expectations for peace and joy are often pretty unrealistic. As if all the problems we encounter during the rest of the year are supposed to magically evaporate as they do in the movies. As a matter of fact many of us find that the conflict seems to increase under the weight of these expectations. Relationship problems, alcohol abuse, long-standing animosities and the like rarely go on holiday.

Yet we know there is something more to this season. Religion often strives to remove us from the darkness and confusion of this life and take us "up" to the divine. The coming of the Messiah is God's decision instead to join created reality, becoming human in every sense of the word. All of the details of our story suggest this by emphasizing the powerlessness of human experience: an infant Jesus, poor and displaced parents, impoverished and uneducated shepherds and their animals. If we miss this point Christmas becomes simply another compelling but quaint folk legend easily exploited for commercial and sentimental purposes, over and forgotten for another year on December 26.

The Most High has taken up residence within and around us. Like the shepherds, we have nothing to fear. It is already a time of peace, joy and light because our God is here with us. May we be warmed by the fire of the birth of this living God.

Fourth Sunday Advent

2005-12-14T08:33:00.000-08:00

Fourth Sunday Advent
December 18, 2005

"...Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God dwells in a tent!... I will fix a place for my people Israel..." (2 Samuel 7). "...you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus." (Luke 1:26-38)

The passage from Samuel expresses our ambivalence about where the Most High should and does live. David had a magnificent palace built for himself in Jerusalem, while God continues to dwell in a tent until his son Solomon built the Temple. His holy people eventually came to regard the Temple as God's new sacred dwelling place. But the people's heart remained attached also to the ancient tradition of Yahweh moving about with them as they traveled from place to place, living among them in a tent like their own, rather than above them.

This can serve to remind us of our own ambivalence about where God lives. We build our churches and, if we are not careful, begin to think that they are the only place where God is found. They certainly become sacred places because God and God's people meet there. Nevertheless we can become so attached to these buildings that we may forget that the true dwelling place of God is in the hearts of people of faith, wherever we gather in the faith, hope and love.

Gabriel, the messenger from the Most High, reveals that the Messiah descended from David, will live in the womb of Mary deepening the tradition of God living among us in an even more intimate way. Not only humans being given divine life, but, unbelievably, God experiencing being human. The son of God becomes one of us, living in our bodies and our communities wherever faith, hope and love are alive and well. These are fragile homes, made lasting by the Holy Spirit. In God we live now, in God we die, in God we live forever.

I have been reminded of this over the past week, as two very special people with "terminal" illness look ahead to the final moment of this life. My friend Steve White died after 10 years with ALS, in the presence of his wife Janice and his family. Steve and Janice have been a model for many of us, teaching us how to survive and thrive with this disease. They invited us to their home while I was still walking around to see what they had done to accommodate to Steve's paralysis. Now we do the same for other couples just beginning to assimilate what is and will be happening in their lives, changed by this disease. His work on our behalf, especially the Portland Chapter of ALSA and the ALS Clinic at Providence Hospital, will continue to live in our hearts and bodies. I often communicated with Steve, seeking his advice about the next step of adaptation to changes brought about by our disease. He was not inclined to get all misty eyed about this serious business but he had a great sense of humor. I will miss him, not only for his practical advice, but for his courageous spirit.

Third Sunday Advent

2005-12-07T08:35:00.000-08:00

Third Sunday of Advent
December 11, 2005

"... In my God is the joy of my soul; for he has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice...." (Isaiah 61 1-11). "Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks... Do not quench the Spirit. " (I Thessalonians 5: 16.-24)

These passages draw our attention to prophecy, divine life within us, and the prayer which emerges from it. Prophecy is not primarily about predicting the future. The prophet's visions are meant to interpret the "signs of the times" in relationship to the love and justice of the Most High. Some of us like Isaiah and John the Baptist have received a special gift for going to the heart of things. John, for example, saw something divine and unique in Jesus long before it was obvious to most others. We all have a prophetic inclination whenever we make our own observations and predictions about the times we live in. Especially when these are intended to remind ourselves, rather than others, about what is important. Our own little "prophecies" are only as true as our personal progress in allowing the Holy Spirit to overtake our most treasured opinions.

What must it be like to experience, as a permanent state, God as the "joy of my soul", to "pray without ceasing", or to be thankful for everything? These ironically are experiences obtained neither by striving for them, nor by praying really hard. We often talk of "storming the gates of heaven" with many prayers. We pray compulsively with many words, pleading, demanding, bargaining, requesting favors and indulgence. There are times when it seems as if all these words are inclined to "quench the spirit "within us, rather than evoke it. As if God does not already know what we need and don't need. As if we need to remind God about all the problems we face. This kind of prayer may make us feel better because we are "doing something".

Another kind of prayer leaves a space of silent attention, waiting to be filled with God's presence and all the wonderful things which come from it, even in the midst of adversity. Recall the familiar story of the old woman sitting in the back of the church day after day. When asked what she was doing there, she replied that she was looking at God and God was looking at her. Often the most effective prayer is simply putting ourselves, and those we love, in God's presence. Praying without ceasing is a gift bestowed upon a heart willing to speak less, try less, and trust more. It is to allow ourselves to be "clothed" in God's life, "wrapped" in divine justice. How else could we possibly be capable of gratitude for everything that happens in our lives? God, in the divine Son, has come, is coming and will come to dress us up in Christmas peace, love and justice.

Second Sunday of Advent

2005-11-30T09:26:00.000-08:00

Second Sunday of Advent
December 4, 2005

"... With the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day. The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard “delay,” (2 Peter 3:8-14) "I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” (Mark 1: 1-8).

The Gospel of Mark begins with this description of John the Baptist as a prophetic figure modeled after Elijah, complete with long hair and stern, ascetic ways, promising the divine wrath and retribution on a sinful world. By contrast, Jesus turns out to be a much different kind of prophet, without their dramatic flair and bent for asceticism. Instead, he consistently directs attention away from himself and toward his heavenly Father's tender love and forgiveness. Jesus' baptism will go beyond the purely symbolic water of John's, to bring us into the very life of the Holy Spirit.

The letter attributed to (though not written by) Peter includes the wonderful passage about the contrast between the human experience of time and God's. We are meant to take this reference to a thousand years and a day as a metaphor for this contrast. God's eternity is not time extended into an infinite future. It is an eternal present.

I am celebrating six years since I was diagnosed with ALS. It seems like a lifetime has gone away and that this is an entirely different one. It is difficult to remember what it was like, except in an occasional dream when I'm walking or driving a car, to be able to move anything but my head. What was it like to be "independent"? Was it really so, or did I just dream that? It seems that most of us experience something similar whenever we try to imagine former ages of our lives. Who was that person who was a child, a teenager, a young adult, middle-aged, sick or well, happy or sad, strong or weak, wise or foolish? Perhaps this is already the beginning of our experience of eternity.

On Thanksgiving weekend my children and grandchild, and the extended family of my friends were all here because we love each other. I felt their warmth: my five-year-old granddaughter massaging my fingers and checking on me frequently to make sure I'm OK, all of their gentle touches and conversation from getting me up in the morning to getting me in bed in the evening. The Messiah is here in flesh and blood.

There is no "time" between the promise and fulfillment of God's coming. From the perspective of eternity, we are not "waiting" for anything. It is already here. We have already died and been taken in to the eternal life of Father, Son and Spirit. We don't have to wait until December 25 for this promised Messiah.

First Sunday Advent

2005-11-23T08:55:00.000-08:00

First Sunday of Advent
November 27, 2005

"No ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him. O LORD, you are our father; we are the clay and you the potter: we are all the work of your hands." (Isaiah 63, 64)

The prophet Isaiah has a vision of faith in a God who creates and cares for us endlessly. This imagery of the Father as the potter and creation as the clay holds many possibilities for understanding this mystical relationship. For the ancient peoples pots were an essential item of survival as well as objects of artistic decoration of. Much of what we know about daily life in ancient times comes from unearthed vessels of all sizes and shapes. Our universe, the earth that supports us and we ourselves are like that, incredibly diverse, unique and intricately interconnected.

We vessels of God are made to hold things, most especially each other. When we do we serve the very purpose of our creation intended by the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless we sometimes are empty pots longing to be filled up with love, the only content that will really satisfy us. I remember climbing up hill in Rome made entirely of broken pieces of pots discarded by the ancient Romans. In extreme cases we might even feel that our vessel has been smashed into many pieces. These are the times when our most powerful prayer comes from what we lack, without any perceived love, useful thoughts and deeds, entirely dependent on the love of God. This kind of prayer has the best chance of bringing about our realization of how much the Father loves us.

Vessels are not simply utilitarian. They are also created to be beautiful, mirroring the beauty of their creator. Every time we affirm the beauty around us, within us and in one another, we are reflecting the image of the Most High. Unlike pots, however, our beauty is not only on the outside. We are beautiful at the deepest level of our being, the only part of us which God sees.

Creation is not a one-time event. Our own bodies and souls are always changing, the divine potter re-creating them every day, just as certainly as the entire universe is also in a continual state of being created. My own loss of physical powers seems to go hand-in-hand with this experience. As something old and outdated is going away, something new and beautiful is being born.

An infallible mark of the spiritual life is the habit of being grateful. It is a time to be grateful for those who hold us when we are empty and broken. This is also a time of anticipation of being renewed and created again. We are entirely dependent on God's visitation and creative power. The most powerful position is one of dependence and patient waiting for our creation to be completed.

Thirty-fourth Sunday Ordinary

2005-11-16T08:48:00.000-08:00

Thirty-fourth Sunday Ordinary
November 20, 2005

"The lost I will seek out, the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy," (Exodus 34:11-17). The last enemy to be destroyed is death... so that God may be all in all" (I Corinthians 15: 20-28). "... When the Son of Man comes... he will separate them... the sheep on his right, the goats on his left" (Matthew 25:31-46).

This week's passages offer a contrast between God's gentle nurturance of the weak and vulnerable and harshness toward the "sleek and strong". What are we to make of Jesus' repeated references to punishment for "the goats"? Sheep had a reputation for vulnerability, goats for aggressiveness and independence. We have often taken the image of the smoldering trash dump (gahenna) as a literal description of a physical place of eternal punishment. Not even the poet Dante believed that the Inferno was anything more than creative license to describe the world he lived in. We have a tradition that eternal life can be achieved simply by fear of this punishment. It does not seem to have done much over the centuries to dissuade us from all manner of personal and corporate evil. Perhaps because it is not really believable. Could it be that there is something worse than unending physical pain? There are other ways to understand the ultimate consequence of pursuing a life devoted to power and self advancement.

It is very difficult to put ourselves in the place of others consistently enough to imagine what their lives of weakness and privation must be like. In many cases this inability to empathize derives from not wanting to confront our own emptiness and powerlessness. Gahenna is not a punishment, anymore than eternal life is a reward. Both are consequences of decisions we make to accept, rather than fend off, our own diminishment The separation of sheep and goats is happening as we speak. Gahenna, like the kingdom of God, is right here where we live. What could be worse than living with alienation from ourselves, other people and God as a permanent condition which we have created for ourselves? The question is how long we want it to continue. There is a surprisingly short period of time in which to decide.

St. Paul is reflecting on our destiny when the final enemy, death, will be destroyed and God will be "all in all". I have been blessed with a continual loss of capacity for independent functioning, forcing me to embrace my own insignificance in the great sea of humanity and creation. My life is more full than I could have possibly imagined it could be when I was "independent". We are all atoms of God's life, extraordinarily important to the whole but not by ourselves. Diminishment of our sense of self-importance is the central focus of a spiritual life. The only thing that can separate us from each other and God's love is a decision not to accept that we belong with the lost, strayed and injured.

Thirty-third Sunday Ordinary

2005-11-09T08:28:00.000-08:00

Thirty-third Sunday Ordinary
November 13, 2005

"... Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize... Give her a reward for her labors, and let her works praise her..." (Proverbs 13). " For to everyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away." (Matthew 25:14-30).

Jesus tells a puzzling parable about two servants who invest their master's considerable wealth, doubling his income and earning his trust. A third person, given less because he had less ability, hides the money out of fear, making no profit for the master. The first two are rewarded, the third is deprived of what little he had. Hardly seems fair, this poor guy was just being careful. The lesson seems to contradict most of what Jesus usually said about the rich and poor.

If the master is the Most High and the gifts of the Spirit, then the story encourages us to take chances with what we have been loaned, and give back more than we receive, increasing its "value". The principle is as true in the realm of the spirit as it is economics and finance. No risk, no reward. We risk losing everything in the hope of spiritual fullness now and in eternity. The first two servants are wise in the way of the spirit. The third is excluded because of being either too cautious or too lazy with the gift of God's life.

A friend of mine has an interesting alternative interpretation. The "master" and the money is the politics and economics of power and wealth, the third servant becomes the hero of the story by refusing to play the game and being excluded from the tangible rewards of "success". This person understands that profit for some often is impoverishment for others. Again no risk, no reward. Either way, the story is true. Brilliant.

Proverbs praises the "worthy wife". Whether or not this is a politically correct sentiment, I am especially touched by it. It can as easily be applied to the male half of the partnership. Perhaps it is only after more than 35 years of marriage, and being tested by a debilitating illness which has profoundly changed the carefree retirement we thought was in our future, that I fully appreciate Jane's willingness and personal strength to go through this together. It seems that we have both decided to risk it all for the sake of something more permanent and satisfying. We have not had to wait for some "afterlife" to receive back what we were willing to lose. I do not hesitate to compare her favorably to this ideal spouse of old. Consider this my "city gate" where I announce her virtues publicly. She is my divine gift and undeserved reward. My goal is to be hers as well.

Thirty-second Sunday Ordinary

2005-11-02T08:30:00.000-08:00

Thirty Second Sunday Ordinary
November 6, 2005

"She (Wisdom) makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her..." (Wisdom 6: 12-16). "The kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise...." (Matthew 25: 1-13).

Jesus tells the story of young women, attendants to a bride waiting for the groom to arrive at the bride's house to escort her to her new home with him. They all fall asleep with their oil lamps burning. Some of them have the foresight to bring extra oil with them. By the time the others, who did not, obtain more oil they are too late to be admitted to the wedding feast. This is a story about the wisdom of being prepared and the foolishness of neglecting to anticipate the unexpected. None of the girls could stay awake, but some of them were smart enough to prepare for a long wait. Divine wisdom made her rounds and found some of them worthy of her. As a close friend of mine has said to me many times, "them that has, gets". Those who act wisely seem to receive more wisdom.

Matthew intends this story to be applied to being prepared for Christ's coming again at the end of time. Note again the warning not to try to predict when it will be. Believers of that generation were sure it would happen within their lifetime. Unless I missed something, it has not happened yet. The second coming seems to have been postponed indefinitely. Not so for us as individuals. All of us will be meeting God face to face quite soon. Divine wisdom counsels us to begin early, like the girls in the story to be prepared for her coming.

There is an art to doing this without undue anxiety about all the awful things that might happen between now and the end. Wisdom reveals that what we most often fear never happens, and what we fail to anticipate can indeed occur. Recently I have had conversations with several people with "terminal illness" who are living with the reality that our lives as we know it now will soon be over. What makes any of us foolish enough to think that we are not terminal? I find in these conversations a combination of dread and peace about what St. Paul called the sleep of death.

We all are sometimes suddenly, sometimes gradually, awakened from the forgetfulness of sleep. Divine wisdom teaches us by the experience of the unexpected. What kind of condition will she find us in when she makes her rounds? Like the wise young women, it behooves us to be prepared. We are all going to sleep and we will all be awakened to a new and fuller life than we could have possibly imagined.

Thirty-first Sunday Ordinary

2005-10-26T09:46:00.000-07:00

Thirty-first Sunday Ordinary
October 30, 2005

"Has not the one God created us? Why then do we break faith with one another..." (Malachi 1: 8-10). "We were gentle among you, as a nursing mother cares for her children..." (I Thessalonians 2: 7-13). "... do not follow their example... For they preach but they do not practice" (Matthew 23:1-12)

Jesus again scolds the religious leaders of his day who are more interested in how they look and in imposing moral and religious obligations on others rather than looking to their own inner lives. These are serious words for those of us formally designated by the church to interpret the word of God. I recall earlier in my adult life being quite enthralled with this role and the visible trappings which go with it: special ceremonial garments, titles and privileges, and being seen. I also remember in my youth, after a very difficult year of discernment, being told by a religious superior that not wearing my monastic garb was the reason for my deciding to return to secular life.

It is easy to be seduced into thinking that religious and spiritual authority comes from what we wear or are called. It is also true that religious symbols can have extraordinary power to evoke profoundly spiritual responses from within us. It all depends on how we use them. Practicing what we preach, maintaining the connection between the visible and invisible, does not come quickly or easily for any of us. Neither does discernment about when and where to give or withhold respect for authority.

St. Paul's compares himself to a nursing mother, implying a much different way of thinking about religious and spiritual authority. Pastoring one another is like being a good mother. Mothers nurse us with what they have within themselves, their "spiritual milk". Their authority is only as effective as their love We all deserve to give and receive nourishing milk when it is accompanied by genuine warmth, care and support. It is very difficult for any of us to give what we don't have.

Interpreting the meaning of the gospel is as much a matter of living what we preach to each other as it is imparting a correct way of thinking. We "break faith with one another" when we fail to link these two aspects of spiritual and religious lives. We cannot avoid the fact that inconsistencies between who we are and what we say are immediately obvious, usually to everyone else first. In this regard it takes a while to be ready to listen to what we do not want to hear. Let us pray for open minds and hearts to receive from the word of God and each other what we need to hear along with what we want to hear.

Thirtieth Sunday Ordinary

2005-10-19T08:11:00.000-07:00

Thirtieth Sunday Ordinary
October 23, 2005

"I love you, Lord my strength... my rock, my fortress" (Psalm 18). "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart... love your neighbor as yourself... The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments." (Matthew 22: 34-40)

Jesus is again approached by people who want to "trip him up", with a question about "the greatest law". They flatter him with useless titles hoping he will be seduced into saying something he would regret. His response establishes the central principle of Christian life, the "law" of love. This is a revolutionary religious and spiritual concept. Instead of a hierarchy of who or what we should love first, second and third, he places love of God, others and self all on the same level. We cannot love God without loving others; we cannot love others without loving ourselves. The three loves interact, each enabling the other two. The priority is with all of them simultaneously. God is as much within and among us as above and beyond. The choice is whether or not to desire to live our lives based on this law of love.

In actual practice, of course, this becomes a considerably more complicated matter. We are accustomed to thinking that we should love God first, others second and ourselves last. Indeed, many of our theologies and spiritual traditions suggest precisely this. Some of us live much of our lives feeling guilty and inadequate that we cannot make this principle work. We only succeed in demeaning ourselves and feeling profoundly guilty. We can develop a "martyrdom complex", ultimately producing anger and bitterness that all of our efforts to place other people's needs above our own have left us unloved and unappreciated. "I gave up everything for God and other people and got nothing back". Something deep within us seems to rebel against placing ourselves last.

It is true that others, naturally looking out for their own interests will, often without realizing it, either reward us for placing their needs above our own. Other times we may fail to earn their respect regardless of how much we try to do for them. This is a "boundary issue", the tendency to say yes when we should be saying no, or indeed to say no when we should be saying yes. It will feel awkward, selfish and unnatural when we start to reeducate ourselves to be more sensitive to feelings of unfairness and exploitation. We can learn to say no to physical, emotional and verbal abuse, exploitation in employment or misuse of religious authority. We have a spiritual right to ask for help without inordinate strings attached. Spiritual maturity is learning how to love God and others, and ourselves. It does not have to be one or the other. Love should set us free as well as bind us together with ties of mutual support. When it does not, it is a counterfeit of the real thing.

Twenty ninth Sunday

2005-10-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

Twenty Ninth Sunday Ordinary
October 16, 2005

"I am the Lord, there is no other." (Isaiah 45:1-6) "We give thanks to God always for all of you" (I Thessalonians 1:1-5) "Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God." (Matthew 22:15-21)

The prophet Isaiah succinctly expresses in this vision the essence of the Jewish, Christian and Muslim faith in the one God, creator and Lord of heaven and earth. In spite of our many differences there is still this fundamental confidence which should keep us all on the same page. The miracle is that this Great One knows and cares about each one of us individually by name.

Jesus fends off hostile questioners who try to lure him into a political quagmire. Any answer to their question would have placed him too close either to the Roman backed authority "(Herodians") or to advocates of violent rebellion against them ("Zealots"). Jesus neatly avoids the trap by answering vaguely that legitimate civil authority has its place in the kingdom of God. He does not say what that place is. In fact, somewhere hidden in his answer is a paradox, certainly not lost on his enemies. Everything belongs to the Most High. All that the civil authority claims as its own ultimately belongs to the one God. There are no "separate but equal" dominions, earthly and heavenly. Nor does Jesus endorse a theocracy where the state enforces religious principles. We should not confuse any civil authority, no matter how apparently religious, with the reign of God. Political parties and governments lie somewhere within and outside of the kingdom of God. They are always subject to the universal principle of justice for the poorest and least powerful.

The passage from St. Paul brings to mind the central role of gratitude in the spiritual life. Gratitude is an acknowledgment of our dependence on God, one another and the earth I was recently included in a study of attitudes about assisted suicide because I have ruled it out as an option for myself. The overwhelming majority of those who choose this do so not to avoid intractable pain but because they associate physical dependence with loss of dignity, meaning and purpose. Independence (as recent natural disasters have demonstrated) is one of the great illusions of our time. The universal sacramental web of natural and personal connections sustains us every moment of our lives. We do not always attend to how dependent we are on these connections until we are threatened with losing them.

You for whom I'm grateful receive these little weekly offerings in partial repayment of my debt of gratitude to you. You may not be aware of the warmth and security which your generosity of spirit and time provides for Jane and I. You appear to me nightly by name in thought and prayer. Thank You!

Twenty Eighth Sunday Ordinary

2005-10-05T09:02:00.000-07:00

Twenty Eighth Sunday Ordinary
October 9, 2005

"On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all peoplesa feast of rich food and choice wines," (Isaiah 25:6-10) "The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son." (Matthew 22:1-14)

The prophet Isaiah envisions a messianic age when all the earth's people gather in Jerusalem on the Temple Mount at a great banquet of abundance, peace and unity. This is one of many passages in the Torah and Prophets in which Yahweh's chosen people are the instrument of a transformation of all human history. There is only one God, known by many names. The human family is the family of God. God is going to be there for all of us. Everyone will be invited to the banquet.

Jesus uses another parable, a royal wedding feast, to describe the kingdom of God. The king (the Most High) invites worthy guests to the wedding of his son. But they either ignore the invitation or kill the messengers. So he destroys their city and invites the "unworthy" homeless from the highways, "the good and bad", and the wedding banquet is filled. Even then, someone appears who is not suitably dressed and he is promptly tossed out on his ear. This seems like a contradiction. Why would someone be considered unworthy just because he or she is wearing the wrong clothes? Isn't that part of being unworthy, not having the "right" clothes?

Jesus seems to be saying that in the kingdom of God as we know it right now, the "good and bad" are not so clearly distinguishable. For now we must live with that ambiguity. Maybe this is less a reference to good and bad people than it is to the paradoxical mix of right and wrong, beautiful and ugly, good and bad in every human soul. The two will be separated only when the kingdom reaches its final destiny. Nevertheless, even now we do have a choice about whether to put on the right garments so that we can be recognized as belonging to God's people.

What are the right clothes necessary to be admitted to the banquet of the kingdom of God? Perhaps they are the appropriate state of mind, What would this state of mind be? Surely it would be an attitude of grateful acceptance that everyone has a place at the banquet. Certainly it would include a perception of our own unworthiness as a condition of being worthy. This is perhaps the way we are to take the closing statement, "many are called but few are chosen". The paradox is that few of us can embrace our own unworthiness and are quick to declare the unworthiness of others. We are admitted to the banquet unless we steadfastly refuse to wear the garment of unworthiness.

Twenty-Seventh Sunday

2005-09-28T08:58:00.000-07:00

Twenty Seventh Sunday Ordinary
October 2, 2005

"The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel" (Isaiah 5:1-7). "Whatever is true...just... gracious...think about these things...Then the God of peace will be with you." (Phil 4:6-9) "There was a landowner who planted a vineyard." (Matthew 21:33-43)

Jesus expands on the prophet Isaiah's metaphor of the vineyard for the kingdom of God in the parable about a landowner whose emissaries (including his son) are sent out to collect his share of the profits. The tenant farmers kill them hoping to get the land for themselves. Instead they lose their land and their lives. This story reflects the situation in Galilee at the time of Jesus when Roman backed Jewish kings (like Herod) had seized most of the land, and profits from it for themselves. In doing so they violated the principle that Yahweh "owned" the land which was "rented" by God's people. Their rent consisted of imitating Yahweh's justice and mercy. Many of Jesus' stories and conversations with the Jewish leadership emphasized the violation of this fundamental law and tradition. It disenfranchised the poorest and least powerful of God's people for the sake of profit for the aristocracy of kings and priests. The landowner is the Most High, the farmers are the local rulers and the emissaries are the prophets and Jesus whom they murdered. The kingdom of God would ultimately be given back to its rightful tenants, those dispossessed and brutalized by their wealthy and powerful leaders. In the kingdom of God justice will prevail.

I wonder if we don't too often focus on the vineyard owner's violent retribution meted out to the bad guys, and attempt to imitate that ourselves, thinking that we are supposed to be God's avenging angel. Shouldn't we instead become expert practitioners of those principles described in the passage from St. Paul? He urges us to think thoughts of truth, justice, honor, purity and graciousness. Our tradition of the spiritual life has always affirmed the importance of cultivating these habits of thinking (the "virtues"). In a conversation recently with my brother who has just completed chemotherapy for cancer we talked about just this realization. It is remarkable how much negativity had become part of our normal lives until faced with life-threatening and life altering situations. It is equally remarkable what a transformation happens when we began to think thoughts of love, gratitude and graciousness. We really do become what we think about and dwell upon.

How would our world, our communities, our workplaces, our families and our personal lives change if we lived consistently by these virtues? For centuries we have waited for God to intervene and establish the kingdom of God permeated by justice, compassion and graciousness. Perhaps it is time to accept the fact that it will not happen until we do it.

Twenty sixth Sunday

2005-09-21T08:47:00.000-07:00

Twenty Sixth Sunday Ordinary
September 25, 2005

You say, "The LORD's way is not fair!". Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair? (Ezekiel 18: 25-28) "... though he was in the form of God, (Christ) did not regard equality with God something to be grasped..." (Phil 2:1-11). "Which of the two did his father's will?" (Matthew 21:28-32)

Jesus scolds the religious leadership on their refusal to hear the truth about the kingdom of God. He uses a metaphor of two sons, one who says yes but means no (religious people), and the other who says no but later does what is right (the rejected sinner). Besides being another lesson in how things are in the kingdom of God -- the reverse of earthly kingdoms -- this can also be applied to our personal spirituality. The first child is "passive aggressive", disguising angry rejection with expressions of compliance, making everyone else frustrated and powerless, looking good at the expense of the truth. Conversion is much more difficult when we hide ourselves from our own anger. As the prophet Ezekiel implies, when we imitate the first child we are blaming God and others in place of looking inward. The second child is the openly angry and rebellious one, who is at least honest enough to match behavior and words. Not that this child is any better than the first, but perhaps more honest about what is happening. What can be seen can be more soon remedied.

St. Paul provides a lesson in humility found in Christ's emptying himself of all pretensions to divinity The Archbishop of Canterbury said recently that, "the worst thing people of faith can do is to live as if we could never be surprised by God." Profoundly religious people are often at high risk of eliminating this surprise factor from faith. It is difficult to be open to God's surprises when we are not willing to face our own emptiness and uncertainty. If it worked for Jesus, why should it not for us? The humility of being realistic about our own strengths and weaknesses is the beginning of spiritual rebirth.

St. Paul in this same passage also advises that we should "regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others." It seems that personal spirituality includes concern for ourselves as well as others. This is not a false martyrdom, where everyone and everything is more important than me. Mature spirituality involves taking care of myself as well as of others. If I am important enough that God decided to give
me life, I'm important enough to take care of it along with everyone else.

We are all unworthy children of the Most High. We all have infinite worth.

Twenty fifth Sunday Ordinary

2005-09-14T08:41:00.000-07:00

Twenty-fifth Sunday Ordinary
September 18, 2005

"Seek the LORD while he may be found. Call him while he is near." (Isaiah 55:6-9). "Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death." (Romans 1:20-24). "Are you envious because I am generous?’ (Matthew 20:1-16)

Jesus tells the parable of a landowner who pays everyone the same wage regardless of how long they worked. How unfair it seems that everyone should get the same reward. The laborers are not used to the kind of justice which prevails in the kingdom of God. Most of our systems of political and economic justice are based on the idea that value is determined by what and how much we do. In contrast to earthly kingdoms where we get only what we earn (and not always even that), here everyone always gets all they need. If this happened in real life, what would become of our status and power based on wealth and ownership? No wonder the secular authorities regarded Jesus as a threat. In his kingdom all wealth is to be owned by God, to be shared equally among all. Envy, surely one of the most pervasive and destructive of all human instincts, stems from anxiety that there will not be enough to go around, especially not enough for me. In the kingdom of God envy makes no sense. We do have a choice about which kingdom we decide to live in, but probably can't have it both ways.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us of the nearness and immediate availability of the Most High and urges us to hold on to this presence while we still have time. St. Paul recognizes the divine Spirit of Jesus present in his own body. He seems ambivalent about his life and death. Both are desirable, the one because it reveals God's presence here and now, the other because it promises relief from present pain and sorrow in eternity.

I am quite fortunate, immobilized by neurological damage but, unlike people with spinal cord injuries, retaining all physical sensations of pleasure and pain. I can identify with St. Paul's ambivalence. Something about my situation seems to invite physical touch from people around me. Someone commented to me recently when I asked her to give me a minor adjustment of position that she thought of my body as sacred. It made me think about the many ways that people whom I love and who love me touch me every day. The awareness following on this comment of how often and tenderly this happens became a moment of bliss and enlightenment for me. At one point I even imagined myself being lifted off my bed by all these people, raised up, as it were. This abundance of physical touching has the feel of God's touch. It gives me life, hope and an incredible sense of well-being. The body of Christ giving life to my body and promising something even better.

Twenty-fourth Sunday Ordinary

2005-09-07T09:02:00.000-07:00

Twenty-Fourth Sunday Ordinary
September 11, 2005

"Remember the Most High’s covenant, and overlook faults." (Sirach 27:30-28:7).."Lord, if someone sins against me, how often must I forgive?" (Matthew 18:21-35)

Jesus responds to the question about how many times one must forgive offenses. Not the seven times required by the Torah, but "seventy times seven", i.e. Infinitely. To make his point he tells the story of the King who forgives a huge debt and the servant, the beneficiary, who proves to be selfish and vindictive with a fellow servant who owes him a fraction of what he himself was forgiven. The King is the Most High; we are the servants. The selfish servant was eventually brought to justice the hard way, a lesson for all of us when we think and act in similar ways.

This principle of endless forgiveness can be misapplied. When we or others are being misused or abused we have a responsibility first to do all we can to make sure it stops. Only then can the often slow process of forgiveness begin. Forgiveness does not happen just because we say the words. It happens when we acknowledge how we have been offended, say it clearly to the offender and engage ourselves in the process of letting go of the hurt emotionally The greater the hurt, the longer it takes. Sometimes it takes a lifetime.

This teaching is not only a principle of personal spirituality. It is the way things are in the kingdom of God in contrast to human kingdoms where the power politics of "get what you can by whatever means necessary" and "exact retribution swiftly and surely" prevail. It was precisely this kind of subversive teaching which got Jesus and many of his disciples brutally executed. Whenever we pray "thy kingdom come" we are taking this subversive position about the rules which prevail in our secular systems of politics and economics. We are clearly declaring that we are committed to what Jesus, the prophets before him and the disciples after him taught. The roots of our tradition are unambiguous: compassion and forgiveness must prevail in public and private life.

We have seen in recent days in New Orleans how quickly the rule of law can disintegrate into chaos and violence. First we had to stop the violence before the repair work could begin. We have a seen how compassionate and generous people can be in the face of human suffering. We do have a choice about how we react to the difficulties of others. We are given many chances to forgive as we have been forgiven by the Most High. But the time available for compassion is not endless. Eventually the opportunities run out and the servants will be face to face with the King. The birth pangs of the kingdom of God are long, painful and intermittent, but sooner or later it will be with us in its fullness.

Twenty Third Sunday Ordinary

2005-08-31T09:43:00.000-07:00

Twenty-third Sunday Ordinary
September 4, 2005

"You... I have appointed watchman for the house of Israel... you shall warn them for me." (Ezekiel 33:7-9) "Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another" (Romans 13:8-10) "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:15-20)

These passages center on our responsibility for each other and the expectation for mutual correction. Ezekiel is given the unenviable task of being a moral guardian of Israel. Jesus gives his disciples rules for what we might today call "progressive discipline". St. Paul reminds us that this should always be done in the context of a caring community.

Most of us would like to think of ourselves as direct descendents of Ezekiel: divinely appointed moral watchdogs of the behavior and attitudes of others. But this role in any community, church, family, or work, is fraught with many traps. Among these is the tendency to assume it before we have allowed ourselves to be corrected by others. The communities we worship, live and work in are the voice of God. The right to correct others is not given because we have attained a certain age, education or title. Moral authority is a privilege which resides in our communities, and in individuals willing to be subject to it.

I recall many years ago when I was much more of a wild man than now, being gently but firmly confronted by a wise and more mature senior colleague about my behavior. He pointed out how aggressive, intolerant and demanding I could be with students and colleagues. I had no idea how I had been coming across and at first was shocked and defensive at hearing this. But I was given this information with such obvious concern and objectivity that I could not ignore it. I don't remember his words. I do remember the pastoral way this correction was given. No moral high ground, easy analysis of why I was doing it or other implied condemnation. It came at just the right moment when I was able to receive it without instantly rejecting it. This was a moment of spiritual visitation, the beginning of a conversion process in which I slowly learned to look inward instead of toward others as the source of problems. I eventually realized that the real problem I was having was that I was angry that the institution was not running as if I owned it!

I remember many other corrections before and since, by mentors, those younger than I, and peers. The ones that were most often successful in getting through to me were those which had similar characteristics: low on aggression and superiority, high on humility, objectivity and concern. It is a difficult process to disengage from the illusion that we are the final arbiter of all wisdom and truth for others. But it is the beginning of spiritual maturity.

Twenty-second Sunday Ordinary

2005-08-24T14:16:00.000-07:00

Twenty-second Sunday Ordinary
August 28, 2005

"... I will speak in his name no more. But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart..." (Jeremiah 20:7-8). "My soul is thirsting for you, oh Lord my God" (Psalm 63:2). "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me..." (Matthew 18:21-27)

Jeremiah begins by blaming God for all his suffering, but cannot sustain his resentment and bitterness in the face of his love of the Most High. It seems clear what Jeremiah was going through. His suffering and alienation was simply getting the best of him until he could get it out of his system. Like most of us, he needed enough time to complain and blame, to lick his wounds before returning to the center of his life and destiny. He allowed his love to overcome his anger about what had and would happen to him.

Jesus rebukes Peter (again!) for presuming to oppose the order of things for God's anointed one, and anyone who wishes to follow him, Poor Peter, poor us, we just can't seem to get it right. Jesus' frustration boils over when Peter attempts to deny His cosmic destiny which would include alienation, suffering and death. I wonder if we don't often do the same with ourselves and those close to us. Sometimes our misguided efforts to protect ourselves from this reality of life turns out to bring with it more suffering rather than less. I say it isn't so doesn't make it go away. If our heavenly Father did not (could not?) protect Jesus from this, why would we think we should be any different?

Apparently there is no spiritual life without embracing loss, suffering and death, sooner or later. If no one escapes this reality, then how best to accept and even benefit from it? It has struck me over the past several years of first anticipating and then experiencing the reality of debilitating illness that it seems to be as hard to observe from outside as it is to go through it myself. Remaining outside one's self, and involved with the lives of others as they care for me seems to be part of the process of "taking up the Cross". The problems we all face, minor and major, seem to be more bearable when shared. I think this is part of what Jesus meant when he said that we all must bear our crosses if we would follow him.

The Most High may not always cause life's difficulties, even though we often hear people tell us that "God must have something in mind for you", or that our pain or deprivation is for "our own good". Maybe loss, pain and suffering is not willed by God but simply the way things are. We can learn from it to the extent that we can discover God's presence within it.

Twentyfirst Sunday Ordinary

2005-08-17T09:30:00.000-07:00

Twenty-first Sunday Ordinary
August 21, 2005

"Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways!For who has known the mind of the Lord" (Romans 11:33-36). "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father." (Matthew 16:13-20)

This week's readings focus our attention on the gulf between God's world and our own, and therefore on the nature of faith. St. Paul has a vision of this disparity which only Christ could span for us. Peter professes his confidence and devotion to Jesus. Jesus chooses him to lead his little band of disciples In spite of his many weaknesses and failures of judgment. Jesus acknowledges that the kind of trust which Peter places in him could only come from God.

We believers are often fearful that someone or something will threaten our confidence in God's rightful place in creation. We want to know for certain, once and for all, how things are in God's mind. St. Paul's reflection on the unknowable ways of God is reminiscent of the latest controversies about science and faith. How do we retain our awe of divine power and wisdom and at the same time acknowledge the truth about the cosmos as we know it from observation? After many centuries of suspicion and persecution of scientists, Catholic teaching for the past hundred years has realized that science and faith are complementary rather than oppositional. The Bible is the revelation of God's presence in the world and our lives, often expressed in beautifully poetic ways. To see it as a scientific textbook is to obscure its unique truths about the mind of God.

From the perspective of faith there is no doubt about God's creation of the cosmos and continuing care for every molecule in it. There are many questions about how the cosmos works, about how God did it, not answered in the biblical texts. Science can certainly shed light on "the mind of God" in this sense. Human beings have a right to investigate and develop theories which help us to do this. The view of the world from this scientific perspective will probably always be changing and fluid, a reflection of the limitations of the human mind. We do not "believe in" any scientific theory in the same way that we express our trust in God's presence in creation. Understanding the unimaginable complexity, size and age of creation as revealed by these observations should increase our faith rather than threaten it. The presence of the Most High is revealed in every detail of creation.

Twentieth Sunday ordinary

2005-08-10T08:22:00.000-07:00

Twentieth Sunday Ordinary
August 14, 2005

"... for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples (Isaiah 51:6-7) "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." (Matthew 15:21-28)

Jesus is in Canaanite territory, the land of ancient enemies of Israel whom pious Jews regarded as idolatrous pagans excluded from God's blessings. A persistent woman begs him to intercede on behalf of her daughter. The disciples typically want to send her away and at first even Jesus is reluctant to hear her urgent request. They engage in this somewhat strange conversation in which he compares her to a dog undeserving of God's attention. Instead of taking offense, she accepts this and cleverly takes it a step farther, commenting that even dogs have a right to scraps from the table. She doesn't seem to be the slightest bit offended by this. Her confidence in Jesus earns his praise for her faith, "greater than any in Israel".

This conversation reflects our Jewish and Christian belief that we have a special right to God's blessings, not available to uninitiated foreigners, and "unbelievers". Again, those closest to the promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob miss what is right in front of them, but it is not lost on those outside the promise. This occurs far too often in the Gospels to be ignored. The prophet's passage underscores Jesus' perspective: all are welcome at God's table and holy presence. Our history is full of examples of the kind of attitude displayed by the disciples who wanted to send the woman away After so many centuries of listening to the Gospels we should know better. Jesus says repeatedly in word and action that no one is excluded from God's table.

This is as true for us as individuals. I wonder how often we regard other people as "dogs", undeserving of our respect. How much untold spiritual and psychological damage has been done to people whom we regard as dogs to be sent away from our tables. If the truth were known, no doubt most of us deserve nothing more than the scraps. God promises that those we exclude will be heard and welcomed regardless of their religious traditions and theology. All that seems to be required is the desire for and dependence upon the mercy of the Most High. The scraps, like the loaves and fishes, multiply into a feast of heavenly abundance. There should be enough love, truth and beauty for all of us created by God. There is plenty of room at the table.

Nineteenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-08-03T08:43:00.000-07:00

Nineteenth Sunday Ordinary
August 7, 2005

"After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this,Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave." (I Kings 19: 9-13) When (Peter) saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and... Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter..." (Matthew 14:22-33)

Elijah, after looking elsewhere in more spectacular events, encounters the Most High in a subtle whispering sound alone with God on a holy mountain. Peter, frightened by a storm try to reach Jesus but loses his confidence and began to sink beneath the waves. Jesus reaches out his hand to reassure him. In both stories holy people are frightened and overwhelmed by the threat of annihilation by natural forces, or direct contact with God. When the storm passes they rediscover where God is really found, in trust and a quiet heart. God is not a threatening or destroying presence in either story but is most definitely an awesome force.

It seems that even our great heroes in the faith, people whom we presume were much closer to the Most High than we, had as much of a problem relying on God's strength and close proximity as we do. Both of them found respite in spite of doubts when God persisted in finding them. Peter in particular had a decided tendency to dissolve in fear and doubt. The prophet Elijah discovered God in an unexpected experience, apart from spectacular manifestations. Not much different than us. Maybe there was no golden age of "simple faith", except in our personal and corporate selective memories. Nevertheless, God seems to find a way to reestablish connection with us in spite of our tendency to panic when we think we have lost it.

Recently on successive nights I had dreams in which two good friends were close by. In the first I was threatened with attacks by stinging insects which finally only tickled my arms. In the second I was suspended helplessly, anticipating a lot of pain which never materialized. It occurred to me that these friends were my spiritual and physical protectors, sent by God to reassure me, just as so many other angels in human form on whom I have come to rely.. In both dreams threat and fear (the "storm" of debilitating illness) evaporates into security and confidence. I also notice that my fear of losing my voice has turned out to be somewhat premature. I'm still communicating quite normally. Could there be a connection? We insist on looking for proof that God is with us when it is often right before us with an outstretched hand. There is more than one way to experience the reality of divine presence, beyond looking for dramatic and supernatural events.

Eighteenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-07-27T09:34:00.000-07:00

Eighteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 31, 2005

"Come, without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk! (Isaiah 55: 1-3). "There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves."... and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves... They all ate and were satisfied. " (Matthew 14:13-21).

The prophet has a vision of a new age in which God's lavish generosity, without any cost to us, will know no bounds and will be available for all people. Jesus has compassion on the crowd of people listening to him, and provides a meal to go along with his words.

This story of the "loaves and fishes" can be understood on many levels. The least amazing is the physical aspect of multiplying a small amount of food to feed everyone. This is much more than the magical story of our childhood. The story is also Eucharistic: food given from the hand of God directly, nourishing soul and body. It is a story of divine compassion for people hungry for food, life and truth.

Jesus' disciples don't quite get it. They want to send the people away to fend for themselves, while they themselves stay securely close to him. There may be a lesson here for those of us who similarly consider ourselves close followers of Jesus. Those who are closest often miss what is right in front of them. The disciples appear to have been concerned with how little food was available. Jesus saw it as an opportunity to share what was available with everyone. A little bit becomes an abundance. What was limited and precious becomes copious and free.

Fear that there will not be enough seems to be rooted in our human nature, perhaps part of our anxiety that we will not survive. Not enough food. Not enough truth. Not enough love. Not enough room. Not enough eternity. Most of us have acquired these very worldly anxieties which work against our spiritual lives and frustrate our desires. This story reminds us that this is not God's perspective. There is enough for all of us, even when it does not appear to be so. What if we were able to adopt this perspective in our personal and corporate lives? A little love, a little compassion, a little understanding, a little patience, a little generosity, a little courage, could bring forth a quite remarkable transformation within and around us.

Seventeenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-07-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Seventeenth Sunday Ordinary
July 24, 2005

"Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong." (I Kings 3: 5-12). "The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field... and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Matthew 13:44-52)

Solomon prays for wisdom and understanding of right from wrong rather than a long life, wealth, or power over his enemies. The irony is that Solomon was the wealthiest and most powerful king Israel ever had. Jesus continues to instruct his disciples on the kingdom of God with metaphors about its value. He promises that those who listen and understand will be "like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old".

I remember back in the golden age of my childhood, idling away summer days reading my three foot-high stack of comic books (which would now be worth a fortune) and speculating with my friends and my younger brother Steve about what we would do if we had three wishes. We thought it was very clever to have enough foresight to use one of them for additional wishes. The wishes were usually similar to things which enticed Solomon: no more school or work, lots of stuff, freedom from death, and power over other people, especially my current enemies. The seduction of these childhood wishes is that we want them without any work or sacrifice.

One of the most difficult aspects of my situation came early on, when it occurred to me that the end of my life might not be as far off as I had planned. I was tempted to pray for a restoration of that anticipated future. We routinely pray for health, safety and prosperity, more often than we do for the treasures of discernment and of where the kingdom of God is to be found. Solomon by choosing the more difficult path of wisdom for himself was given the privilege and responsibility for making judgments about this for others as well.

There is a saying to the effect that where our heart is, so is our treasure. What we pray for is a reflection of what we regard as our treasure. In this sense we often get what we pray for, and then wonder why life seems unaccountably empty. We perhaps should be more careful about what we desire and pray for, lest we be disappointed by the result. Theologies (such as those often encountered in highly "successful" evangelistic enterprises) which promise a payoff of prosperity in exchange for contributions of prayer and money seem to miss Jesus' point. Success in the kingdom of God is not measured by financial prosperity, health or any other "rewards". The spiritual life of God's kingdom is its own reward. It is only attained when we decide that everything else is useless, and worth the cost of all our other treasures.

Sixteenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-07-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

Sixteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 17, 2005

"... Your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all... those who are just must be kind..." (Wisdom 12:13-19) '... if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; (Matthew 13 24-43)

The Wisdom author reflects on God's power and benevolence, associating power with justice and leniency, and drawing a parallel between this and a prescription for human behavior. From God's point of view strength and justice are not associated with punishment and retribution, but with love and forbearance. This might not be a bad thing to remember in this age of indiscriminate, apparently deliberate attacks on innocent people. It should however cause us to reflect on our own tendencies toward political and religious fanaticism, the conviction that we are right and everyone else is wrong and that it is our duty to purify the world. Precisely the mentality of terrorism.

Jesus instructs about the kingdom of God in parables, comparing it to a field of grain choked with weeds, a tiny mustard seed or a bit of yeast in a mass of bread dough. The disciples naïvely ask the master if he wants them to destroy the "weeds", meaning those who apparently reject his teaching. Jesus' answer is consistent with the passage from Wisdom. He says essentially to leave it all alone until his Father decides on the right time to allow the weeds to be separated from the grain. It is not for them to take this decision into their own hands. Who knows what will happen between now and harvest time.

Jane has created a beautiful English style garden in our yard against a backdrop of large fir and oak trees. Once upon a time I spent much energy trying to keep this little quarter acre of woods "under control". Now the weeds (grass) are high enough to provide food and cool shelter for a family of deer. Jane and a friend spend countless hours pruning and weeding her garden to keep it looking great. She recently remarked that she had forgotten to enjoy it fully during the brief spring blooming, so intent was she on making sure that everything was just right. Maybe there is a lesson here. What are undesirable "weeds" at one time and place may not be so at another in the kingdom of God, as in the garden. Sometimes we must allow time to discern the difference instead of jumping rashly to conclusions about what is and is not desirable. The spiritual life is full of such ambiguities The kingdom of God, within and around us is not always served best by pursuing our manias for order and purity. Better to leave the final sifting for the Most High.

Fifteenth Sunday

2005-07-06T08:09:00.000-07:00

Fifteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 10, 2005

"We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now... we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies." (Romans 8:18-23) "... the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it...." (Matthew 13: 1-23)

St. Paul continues his thoughts about body and spirit with that wonderful line about all creation "groaning" for completion. Jesus tells the parable of the seed and the sower.

We Christians have only recently begun to catch up with St. Paul in realizing that renewal and rebirth applies to more than human beings. We are only a part of God's creation. It is only in the last several hundred years that we have become capable of saving or destroying our habitat. Our own sacred earthly envelope of life is indeed "groaning" under the weight of human pressure to survive and prosper. We have a short window of time in which to cooperate with, or frustrate, the divine plan for renewing the face of the earth.

Only a few short years ago I was a poster boy for late midlife physical fitness. When that all changed, I learned that I must adapt or die. I was fortunate enough to have some advance notice that my life would become one series of adaptations. Running and walking more slowly and carefully (I still have dreams in which I'm walking -- very carefully so as not to fall); living in a wheelchair; relying on others for every daily need. Someone remarked to me early on that I would "rediscover the pleasures of infancy". True enough, along with the anxieties which accompany it. It would be easy at any point to just decide that I'm done with adapting. But I know that this would mean choosing death, something I'm not willing, or maybe even able to do. Are we, or the earth we love any less dependent on each other than I am?

The seeds of unpredictable changes in personal life and our world fall indiscriminately. It is up to us to provide an environment where they can take root and grow into something permanent. We are all faced with the challenge to adapt to new circumstances personally and as a species. Sooner or later all of us must face the reality of deteriorating strength and health. Perhaps also we must question whether we are entitled to use up the earth's resources anyway we like for the sake of our own selfish definition of prosperity. Even in eternity we do not leave our bodies behind. Our destiny is to be renewed and perfected. In fact, in a certain way, every time we adapt to new physical and spiritual challenges, we recognize how this process of completion is happening at this very moment. The final adaptation is to accepting the reality and inevitability of death as the beginning of something new and perfect.

fourteenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-06-29T08:59:00.000-07:00

Fourteenth Sunday Ordinary
July 3, 2005

"You are not in the flesh... you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you... For if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit... you will live." (Romans 8:9-13) I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones." (Matthew 11:25-30)

Jesus prays in gratitude to his Father for the spiritual wisdom revealed to common folk. Learning and education can sometimes obscure simple truth. The spiritual life is revealed, not learned in books. My grandfather, not an educated man and a self professed agnostic, often referred to "them educated idiots". As a kid I wondered how much of this was a recognition of this truth, and how much was sour grapes about his college-educated brother. Probably both. On the other hand "common sense" isn't always right. Grandpa was flat wrong in his opinions about the superiority of white people.

St. Paul writes about flesh, body and the life of the Spirit. Recall that "the flesh" does not refer to the body, but to something like "self-absorption". The life of the spirit is openness to God's life in everything and everyone, to gratitude for every experience, and recognition of our absolute dependence on the Most High for everything we are and do. Several of my friends and I have a running joke that "after all, it is all about me", which we trot out at key moments when we are feeling the most needy. There is a serious side to this. When we are feeling the least (or most) in control we are inclined to want to regress to this principle of the flesh. We do not "conquer the flesh". The spiritual life calls for a gradual absorption over a lifetime of the "little, selfish me" into the larger, more generous, expansive and accepting "me". This is the way of life over death.

In recent years I have thought quite a bit about my body and what is and is not going on with it. What is this mysterious connection between body and spirit? I sometimes hear people refer to "the battle" with ALS or cancer. I have never experienced it this way. Struggling with or against the body seems only to create anxiety and frustration, further alienating body and spirit. (This may also be true of other "battles" which we presume to wage against sin, crime, and evil. The more we battle, the worse it gets.) The military analogy does not get me very far when applied to the spiritual life. My experience tells me that there is no such opposition, even though my body does not always do what I want it to (an understatement in my case). My body is not "bad", although it does not seem to always want to cooperate with the spirit as it should.

Let us pray for a renewal of the life of the spirit in which tolerance, respect for each other and acceptance of our own and others' limitations will prevail.

Thirteenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-06-22T08:51:00.000-07:00

Thirteenth Sunday Ordinary
June 26, 2005

"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me;Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 10:37-42)

Jesus continues his instructions to his new apostles, stressing the radical demands required of people who would follow his teachings. Statements like those in this passage point up the insufficiency of "literal" interpretations of the Bible. In truth a "literal" approach is impossible as well as out of step with traditional Christian theology. The Bible was not lowered from heaven as we find it today. We understand the meaning of the words of Scripture by paying attention to the personal and historical context in which they were written. Jesus, as most rabbis of his day, used metaphor, hyperbole and contradictory statements intended to provoke deeper thinking.

If we took a this saying out of the total context of the gospel, we might conclude that loving our parents and our children is secondary to following the Spirit of God wherever it leads. In real life "Jesus or family" seems to be a false dichotomy. Don't we, at least in the vast majority of cases, know that loving and honoring our parents and children is not only obeying the commandments, but a primary way to love God? Isn't the family of faith also the body of Christ? So, in what sense are we to take Jesus' statement that we must prefer one to the other?

I was talking recently with a close friend about how changes occur in our lives, especially for us 50 and 60 somethings. It occurred to us both that some of the most significant changes in our personal and work lives must be made alone. I wonder if this isn't some of what Jesus is referring to. Following the lead of the Holy Spirit is sometimes a lonely and dangerous undertaking.

This saying of Jesus should be reminding us of an important dimension in the life of the spirit. We can "love" parents and children to the point that we avoid this frightening reality. There are times when we must let them go to find their own way to God and the world while we find ours. God is sometimes discovered most dramatically when we are willing to let go of every security, including family, when the time comes to do that. We may deprive our loved ones of this experience if we overprotect them or ourselves. In a similar way, there are also times when we can be over attached to this life as we think it should be. In doing so we will miss the opportunity for a new life in a more fulfilling way than we could have possibly imagined.

Twelfth Sunday Ordinary

2005-06-15T09:22:00.000-07:00

Twelfth Sunday Ordinary
June 19, 2005

"O LORD of hosts, you who test the just, who probe mind and heart,let me witness the vengeance you take on them, for to you I have entrusted my cause." (Jeremiah 20:10-13) "And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna". (Matthew 10:26-33)

The prophet cries out in anger and terror about what his enemies are plotting against him. This may seem like unfounded fear of persecution until we remember that Jeremiah was actually treated very badly. His prayer that his enemies be crushed and humiliated, and his delight that God has vindicated him by doing so, though not difficult to understand, are foreign to our way of thinking. This is precisely the kind of belief that fuels terrorism and warfare from many quarters. Yahweh does not necessarily have to punish our enemies to prove that our faith is authentic.

Jesus, instructing his new disciples, tells them not to be afraid of what people might say or do against them. His words strike a different chord than Jeremiah's. Gehenna, a mostly uninhabited wilderness, represents an alien and a lifeless place. If we get too literal about it we may miss the point. What we are truly to fear is anything which has the power to annihilate and exile the whole person, body and soul.

Jesus says that we should not be afraid and then almost immediately tells us what we should be afraid of. No one lives entirely free of fear. But we often fear the wrong things: not having enough wealth, beauty, youth, health or whatever else we think we must have to survive. Nevertheless it has often been pointed out that only fools are fearless. The courageous are able to move ahead in spite of their fears. There are some things we would do well to be afraid of. These include people who, in spite of our best efforts, wear away our ability to respect and cherish ourselves, and thus undermine our ability to trust God. It is easy to give them too much power out of a misguided loyalty. Some people we can only love from a distance.

God rescues even the embittered Jeremiah from his anger and paranoia. The Most High pays attention to even the fate of a dying bird, how much more to each one of us. I am reminded of this each time I wonder if this will be the last week that I will be able to write these reflections, and then given a way to do it one more time. Here is an idea of enormous importance, that the creator and sustainer of an enormous universe can be paying attention to the smallest detail of our ultimate well-being.

Eleventh Sunday Ordinary

2005-06-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

Eleventh Sunday Ordinary
June 12, 2005

"Therefore, if you hearken to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people... ." (Exodus 19:2-6). "The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out demons. Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give." (Matthew 9:36-10:8)

The Most High speaks to his people through Moses, claiming them as his own even though "all the earth is mine". Jesus calls his apostles and gives them a short definition of the kingdom of heaven which they are to proclaim to all.

I'm not sure how these passages strike you, but I get a wonderfully warm and secure feeling when I read them. Precisely the way I feel when family and friends are around to look after me. Being a part of God's dear ones, special and important, without any cost on my part. An ALS research scientist and friend of mine said recently that he was convinced that my longer than expected survival, and flourishing life is due to all the love and care around me. No doubt in my mind about that. I have noted recently how "family and friends" are no longer very distinct. Friends have become family, family have become friends. I wonder if this is not exactly what the Most High and Jesus have in mind. We are the instruments of the kingdom of heaven here and now. We are the family of God, our fate and well-being linked intimately together.

Making the necessary shifts into a 21st-century mentality, don't we have our own ways of curing the sick, driving out demons and raising the dead? Divine intervention occurs many different ways. My niece Molly was at death's door due to a stroke at the tender age of 22 barely a month ago. Thanks to rapid and competent medical treatment she is now graduating from college this week and has already given a talk to the local stroke support group. It is possible, though less likely, that this would have happened without all the medical expertise available to her. None of us escapes the physical, emotional and spiritual trials of life, or death itself. Life and health have a considerably wider definition than what immediately meets the eye. The real point is that we do not have to wait for divine intervention even if we do still have to live with the realities of life and death on our little planet. The kingdom of heaven is close at hand in the lives of Molly and her family.

Without cost we have received, without cost we give back. Jesus referred to this as a "pearl of great price". We often say to each other, barely thinking about what we say, got the best things in life are free. The more we let go of our anxieties about of what we must have to survive, the more lavishly are we rewarded in the kingdom of heaven.

Tenth Sunday Ordinary

2005-05-31T09:51:00.000-07:00

Tenth Sunday Ordinary
June 5, 2005

"In their affliction, people will say: "...He will come to us like the rain, like spring rain that waters the earth." (Hosea 6:3-6). "Jesus said, "... I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners" (Matthew 9:9-13)

The Prophet Hosea speaks words of comfort to the lowest segment of society. Jesus' teaches by word and example about who needs God's presence and healing.

Our communities of faith have always struggled to understand how this works. Who really needs God? The tradition of the prophets, culminating in Jesus, has been to speak for those who really need God the most, the "sick" who need healing. I read recently about a controversy in Butte, Montana, over whether the sad lives of thousands of prostitutes during the town's mining boom of the past should be remembered. Some apparently would rather forget about the misery of these unfortunate women. The "righteous" and "godly" have no need of rescue from anything. How then have we come to exclude them and include our righteous selves? Perhaps part of the issue is holding on to the apparent contradiction between our common sinfulness and our dignity and blessedness. It is not either/or but both/and as my brother and I remind each other regularly. We get into weird kinds of thinking when we do not embrace the "both/and". We can all be "prostitutes" in our own secret lives and attitudes.

I remember as a teenager having friends who, when I allowed it, could get me into bad situations. As parents many of us have worried about our children as they grow up. We want to protect them from "bad influences". But during that awkward stage in between childhood and adulthood, they often have other ideas about friends and loyalty in spite of our best advice. We sometimes have to learn by difficult experience how to stay connected and loyal while maintaining our own values and ideas. Nowhere do we hear that Jesus condoned destructive attitudes and behavior. Neither do we hear that he ever gave up on or left anyone behind, even those who apparently weren't interested in doing anything about allowing their lives to be changed.

Jesus was quite clear, as in this week's gospel selection, about avoiding any sense of moral superiority. I wonder if we don't all sometimes sink into being content with what is socially acceptable. True humility is accepting ourselves as we are with all of our strengths and weaknesses, mistakes and successes. This is a lifelong project. From the perspective of humility we all need the divine physician. As the prophet Hosea says, those who acknowledge their own need, and identify with the social outcast, will be the ones who receive the soaking rain of divine mercy and presence.

Body and Blood of Christ

2005-05-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

The Body and Blood of Christ
May 29, 2005

"... not by bread alone does one live, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." (Deuteronomy 8: 2-3, 14-16) "The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?" (1 Corinthians 10: 16-17) "Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven." (John 6:51-58)

Yahweh provides food for his people in the desert and Moses reminds them that their souls need nourishment also from the divine word. St. Paul tells the Corinthians that their Eucharistic meal unites them in the sufferings and glory of Christ. Jesus instructs his disciples about what it means to feed on him.

The Eucharistic bread and wine has been our spiritual sustenance, the sacramental presence of the living God among us, ever since Christ sent the Holy Spirit. Ironically it has also been a source of contention and disunity among Christians who have argued about its nature and importance in the life of the community of faith. Apparently we have not read these passages with much understanding. We Catholics are reminded by the Vatican II fathers that the word of God is as rich a spiritual food as the bread and wine of the sacrament.

Six months ago, as I reported to you previously, at the recommendation of my doctor, but sooner than I would have wanted, I had a small plastic tube inserted in my stomach through which liquid nourishment can be delivered directly when I am no longer able to swallow. A standard procedure for people with ALS. I have compared it to an umbilical cord for adults. Between this and my new fancy respirator, I will be as nearly completely hooked up as when I was a child in my mother's womb. There is a metaphor for the Eucharist here somewhere. As my son said so wisely sometime ago, "we all have our cosmic spacesuits connected for whatever time we have given to us." Aren't we all on life support directly from God through Word and Sacrament? None of us utters a word, has a thought or takes a breath without divine life in and around us. We Catholics call this "the sacrament", but by whatever name, it is the reality of divine life in, through and among us.

The people of God, the word of God and the Eucharist are the life of the Spirit. The very same people who care for me so tenderly will eventually feed me through this tube. They are the living Word and Sacrament, nourishing body and soul. The very heart of our faith is here. We are the sacrament, made possible by the death and resurrection of the son of God. This is the blessing of divine life streaming to us through food, speech and each other.

Holy Trinity 05

2005-05-18T09:42:00.000-07:00

Holy Trinity
May 22, 2005

"... Thus the LORD passed before him and cried out, "The LORD... a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity... "If I find favor with you, O LORD, do come along in our company... pardon our wickedness...and receive us as your own." (Exodus 34:4-9).

The Most High, on the sacred mountain of Sinai, tells Moses his name, passes in front of him and speaks to him of his true nature, "rich in kindness and fidelity". Moses invites God to pardon his people's failings and to "come along in our company". Our God is a lover, "merciful and gracious", not a wrathful, punisher. Our God wants to come along with us, rather than to be feared from far. There is only one God, the one who loves and welcomes us and wishes to be loved and welcomed in return. This was a revolutionary new idea about the relationship between God and human beings and it is the basis of our faith to this day. This is the foundation of all authentic religion and spirituality.

Many, if not all, of us have our own stories of religious experiences in which we see clearly, if only for a moment, the closeness and goodness of God. I have remarked often in these reflections of how I experience this in the presence of people I love and who love me. That is a typical religious experience of a grade A extrovert. Many of us will have similar visions of in solitude, in church, in some beautiful spot at the ocean, mountains or desert. Religious experiences are where they are to be found.

Our faith from Moses onward to the present day has acknowledged how poorly we often maintain this link between God's presence and our response. We seem to have a way of turning something good (religion) into something divisive and destructive. Contrary to Freud and Marx, religion is not the enemy of human progress; ignorance and perversity is. Religion is far more than or denomination. "A religion" is not something to which one "belongs". And we give religion a bad name when we use it to justify the rightness of our own nationalistic identities, social class values, or cultural and political prejudices. The purpose of religion is not to ensure public order or even public morality. This civic religion has little to do with true religion, unless it is based on a mystical intimacy with God and corresponding ties of mutual love and respect.

St. Thomas defined religion as the virtue (habit) "by which one gives God what is due to God and lives in appropriate relationship to God". Religion in spirit and truth is the pure gift of God's own self to us, and our response to it. It is our privilege and responsibility to acknowledge our dependence on and partnership with our creator. The One God (Father, Son and Spirit for us Christians) is the only source and purpose for all religious organizations, rituals and traditions.

Pentecost 05

2005-05-11T09:37:00.000-07:00

Pentecost
May 15, 2005

"...And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues... Are not all these people.who are speaking Galileans? Then how does each of them hear us speaking in their own language?" (Acts 2:1-11) There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. (1 Corinthians 12:3-13)

Pentecost celebrates the coming of the Holy Spirit into the world. These remarkable passages express a familiar theme found throughout the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. God's life and love are available for all human beings, not just for our own people. Our communities of faith have always had a difficult time accepting this truth in our Scriptures.

The Holy Spirit's gifts are as numerous and diverse as all human beings and cultures. We all find ourselves at times criticizing people who talk, think and act different than we think they should. We seem to operate on the assumption that the world would be a better place if everyone was just like me. The multiplicity of gifts among us, an infallible sign of the Holy Spirit's presence, ought to have just the reverse effect.

Of course we cherish our own traditions of faith, with which we are most familiar. The challenge is to try to imagine what the world would be like if we really embraced the idea that truth is not completely contained by any single theology or religious tradition. If we could, perhaps we might not be so concerned about drawing tight theological boundaries around our own little versions of religious rightness, and then claiming that it must be so for all. The Catholic tradition, expressed recently by Vatican Council II, is quite clear about this. All those who sincerely seek the truth (God) are linked to the church. Religious diversity is a sign that the Holy Spirit is alive and well in the human community just as it is within our own religious families.

The more we learn about the natural world, the more we are impressed with its incredible diversity of life. We human beings are quite successful at adapting to life all over the globe. Sometimes this success seems to be at the expense of this diversity in nature and culture. Competition to improve automobile performance, for example, has made all of them look pretty much the same. Success in producing enough food for everyone threatens the natural variety of crop species. In spite of this, variety and diversity will abound thanks to the promise that the Spirit will always be with us. The Holy Spirit reveals much to us when we are willing to keep our minds and hearts open to the multiplicity and unity of truth and love.

Ascension of Christ

2005-05-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

Believed Ascension of Jesus
May 8, 2005

"... In a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit... as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight." (Acts 1:1-11) "... And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age." (Matthew 28:16-20)

Many years ago one of my history professors not so sagely commented on the Christian belief in the Ascension of Christ that if it were true we ought to be able to find his body out there somewhere in space. In spite of his naïveté, it is an interesting question. Where did Jesus go? Where is "heaven"?

Much of our tradition about heaven seems to reflect the ancient cosmology based on the idea that earth was surrounded by a dome ("vault") above which heaven was thought to be located. The planets and stars rotated about on this dome, guided by spiritual beings. In one version of this cosmology the farther up one went, through increasing layers of perfection, the closer one approached (but could never reach of course) the perfect One (God). Recall St. Paul's vision of being taken up into the "seventh Heaven". In this cosmology we go "up" into this heaven to a place of light and perfection. We know now that the heavens spread out in all directions from earth. There is no "up". The heavens as we know them are nothing but cold dark space, dead stars and galaxies, black holes and exploding nebulae. Not exactly the kind of comforting place we would associate with "heaven".

I wonder if all of this does not distract us from the meaning of the Ascension. Jesus was preparing his disciples for a new and different kind of heaven, in which God would be present with us here and now in the Holy Spirit. Whatever happens when the life of earth is over, perhaps it is not any kind of "place" like what we now know in time and space. Much of our problem here is that we cannot think or imagine in any other terms. Our context of time and space is entirely inadequate to embrace the reality of Jesus' words. The same is true of our entirely inadequate thoughts and language about God to which we often cling with inordinate conviction.

The two angels who appeared to the disciples after Jesus was taken from their sight wondered why they were standing there looking up into the sky. The heaven that Jesus proclaimed, and where he "went", is in the heart of the Most High. Not out there, but in here, where we now already live, and will live eventually in its perfection. I often imagine heaven as the extension of the warmth, intimacy and love which I already experience here and now. I don't have to go anywhere to be with the Most High. Heaven, our destiny in the Holy Spirit, is much nearer than we can possibly imagine.

Sixth Sunday of Easter

2005-04-27T09:25:00.000-07:00

Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 1, 2005
"Then they laid hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit." (Acts 8:5-17) "I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you. you will see me, because I live and you will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you" (John 14:15-21)

Since Easter we have witnessed Jesus' gradually preparing his followers for life without him physically among them. He now addresses his disciples in tender words, "I will not leave you orphans...". He assures us that we will continue to be with him in the life of his Spirit. Peter and John go to Samaria to welcome a group "who had accepted the word of God", and "lay hands" on them in the Holy Spirit.

I wonder if we don't miss some of the profound reality expressed here, especially when we come to these passages already certain of their meaning based on our religious traditions. Jesus says many times that his hearers had a hard time understanding what he was saying. He seems to say very clearly here that anyone who trusts him will have the same destiny as he, unity in love with his heavenly Father. The only condition is that we follow the commandments written in our hearts by the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps Jesus was trying to say to his disciples that his departure was an necessary condition of being with us in a much more profound and permanent way. "On that day", that is, on the day when we most acutely experience his absence, we will realize that we have been drawn into the life of his Father in much the same way that he has. Our heavenly Father has the same home for us that he has for Jesus, the "home" created and sustained in an eternity of love.

This is the most real of all realities, beyond the illusions of time and space. None of this would have been possible without Jesus' willingness to fully embrace human nature in all of its strength and weakness. The heart and soul of our faith is that the Most High has not remained hidden away in heaven, above and beyond us. God has become human. We humans have a divine and eternal destiny in the Holy Spirit. This was the world into which the disciples were initiated by the Holy Spirit and which they pass on to us in the laying on of hands.

An old friend of mine wrote me today about the "reframing of your predicament". Now, when we look ahead to our own death or that of someone dear to us, we know that we all arrive together at the same moment. Heaven is not far away. Isn't the reality of eternity a wonderful alternative context in which to place our present hurts, divisions, resentments and predicaments?

Fifth Sunday of Easter

2005-04-20T08:46:00.000-07:00

Fifth Sunday of Easter
April 17, 2005

"... Select from among you seven... whom we shall appoint to this task..." (Acts 6: 1-7) "... Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house" (1 Peter 2:4-9) "Do not let your hearts be troubled... In my Father's house there are many dwelling places..." (John 14:1-12)

Stephen and six others are designated to care for the lonely and needy in the growing community of believers. Our tradition says that these were the first "deacons", people publicly dedicated and personally committed to serving the needs of the poor and isolated. Within several centuries these deacons became a powerful force in the church, some of them "pope makers" of their day, jealous of their prerogatives and dedicated more to the furtherance of their own power and prestige than to the needs of anybody else. Deacons eventually were stripped of this power, their roles becoming only ceremonial, their sacred origins forgotten. The revival of this office in the church 40 years ago was intended to restore this forgotten ministry to God's people. We deacons would do well not to forget a second time why we are ordained as "servers".

In the passage from St. John Jesus is talking to his disciples about the reality that he will be leaving them, and "preparing a place" for them to follow him. Thomas and Philip wonder how they are going to manage to find the way there without him. Jesus, somewhat impatiently, explains again that the way to God is through their trust in him. Because of this trust, he says that his followers will do "even greater" things than he himself has done.

Great things are accomplished in the house of the Spirit. Lately my voice has been losing volume as my respiratory functions continue to drop. I am thinking now about how it will be when I can no longer speak at all. (Stephen Hawking is supposed to have said that ALS has set him free to do nothing but think.) People with ALS fear being "locked in and locked out", unable to communicate but entirely in touch with the world. But we can never be locked in or out of the freedom of our spiritual home. Here is an opportunity to master new skills to communicate through my computer. More importantly it is a chance to further embrace diminishment until only loving and being loved remains.

St. Peter says that we are to allow the living stones of ourselves to be built into a spiritual house. Every individual soul has a unique and important place in the building. Jesus says that there are many houses in his kingdom. Perhaps as many as every soul who ever lived, or any group who ever gathered in the Spirit's presence. The house of the Spirit is larger and more inclusive than we have imagined. It is built of living stones of love, preparing us for our permanent home in eternity. In the meantime marvelous things are happening here.

Preparing for Death

2005-04-12T11:37:00.000-07:00

Preparing for Death

Over the past several years following my diagnosis with an incurable and degenerative disease, realizing that I will not live forever and probably die sooner than I would have imagined, I offer the following thoughts and experiences.

Death Is for the Living.

Although in one sense death is the "great divide", in another sense it is also part of being alive. To avoid thinking about our death is to avoid experiencing life to the fullest. What most of us fear, I think is not so much death itself but the pain and suffering, physical, emotional and spiritual which comes before it. All of us, I suppose, in one way hope that we will die suddenly and painlessly. On the other hand we also worry that if death comes this way we would have no chance to say our goodbyes, make amends, or otherwise get our affairs in order so we can continue to control things from the grave.

I imagine that my death, by the time I am actually there, will be a welcome and peaceful release. Although at this moment I am very much alive and glad of it, thoughts of my death are both comforting and daunting. I especially don't like the thought of leaving everyone and everything I love "behind". But, if my idea of time and eternity turns out to be correct, I will not be losing anything. From the perspective of the other side of the divide, we will all "arrive" in eternity and the full experience of God's presence simultaneously.

Keeping death "daily before our eyes".

St. Benedict recommended for his monks to make meditation on their death a daily occurrence. I must have retained this beautiful thought from the time of my religious conversion in early adulthood and few years of monastic life. I have always thought about how and when my death would come and how I would handle it if I had any sign that it was imminent. Having done this, on and off, throughout my life, i.e. mentally preparing myself for the "big one", has enabled me to cope with my own present physical decline. It was a surprise, but not for long, as I reminded myself that difficult things do not happen only to me. They are universal experiences to which I and everyone else are subjected.

I am not recommending a morbid obsession with all the bad things that could happen. I am suggesting a realistic appraisal of how life goes, while at the same time appreciating the gifts available in every moment. Part of the process of preparing for one's own death is a mental task. Another part is the willingness to experience whatever comes along without dreading it ahead of time. This is a spiritual skill which comes with time, desire, intention and prayer. Be careful what you pray for. It won't always be fun but it will always carry with it an opportunity to keep growing up, i.e. to be realistic and idealistic at the same time.

One way to follow this wisdom is to think of dying as many deaths, beginning with birth. Birth is a kind of death, to the perfect security of our mother's womb. It begins a whole life of "dying" to the illusions about the security and predictability of life. It continues every time we are faced with the opportunity to let go of the old and welcome the new. When we resist this process we preserve the illusion that our life here and now is permanent. When we welcome these changes, painful as they often are, we take another step in the direction of the final death, the entrance into the ultimate reality of eternity. A close friend of mine with a debilitating and incurable cancer wrote to me about this recently, "Still, I would go in a heartbeat w/out fear, not hating earth, but loving heaven more."

No matter how much we try to keep this fact in mind, we seem to be surprised every time another event challenges it. The Buddha was supposed to have recommended to a woman in an inconsolable grief that she go around the village collecting three mustard seeds from every house in which there had been no deaths. She came back empty-handed and grateful for the experience. She had discovered that she was not alone, that loss and death are universal experiences.

Death, Alone and Together

In one sense we must all face our own death alone. No one can do it for us. This may be one of the most frightening aspects of thinking about and experiencing our death. On the other hand, we also know that no one ever really does anything alone or isolated from the human community. Living and dying are corporate experiences. The way each of us face our own death with courage, calm and acceptance profoundly affects how the rest of us will be able to do it also.

The best "preparation" for death is a life lived with and for the body of Christ, within the oneness of all creation. This is not something that we can begin only when we think we are getting closer to death, when we are aging or seriously ill, or otherwise exposed to danger. If we wait until then, chances are it will be too late although in another sense it is never too late to get with the program.

Welcoming Life and Death

In light of the death of Pope John Paul II this week and recent discussions about moral and ethical decisions regarding life support, I offer the following comments based on my personal experience with a degenerative and untreatable disease.

The situation for most people with ALS is unique in that we retain full cognitive and sensory abilities, but lose the ability to communicate what we are thinking, feeling and needing as well as the ability to swallow and breathe on our own. There rarely is any "persistent vegetative state" unless something else occurs (heart attack, stroke, etc.). We know this ahead of time and are free to decide whether and how we wish to be kept alive. This includes decisions about whether to make use of other means of breathing (mechanical ventilation) and getting adequate nutrition and hydration (abdominal feeding tube).

Several months ago I chose to have a feeding tube surgically inserted, anticipating the time when I will not be able to swallow. I also use a breathing assist machine (BiPAP) at night to avoid respiratory failure during sleep and facilitate a good nights sleep. Both of these feel like friendly devices which make life more comfortable and livable.

Many people with ALS decide to do neither and simply allow themselves to die in the normal course of the disease when further treatment would be useless. This does not seem to be any different than someone with a terminal cancer, diabetes or chronic heart disease. I respect the right and moral choice of a person with a terminal disease to refuse further unnecessary treatment and to die as pain-free as possible.

We have always made a moral and ethical distinction between taking a life (as in assisted suicide) and allowing someone to die in the normal process of living. I believe that this position is quite clearly "pro-life". To affirm life is to welcome death as the entrance to new life.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

2005-04-12T11:23:00.000-07:00

Fourth Sunday of Easter
April 17, 2005

"... The Shepherd calls his own sheep my name... and the sheep follow him because they recognize his voice... they do not recognize the voice of strangers... I am the gate" (John 10:1-10)

Jesus compares himself to a shepherd, the entrance to the sheepfold, and us to his flock. Shepherds and their flocks would have been very familiar to people of Jesus' time. It was a life-and-death (for both shepherd and flock), intimate, uniquely personal relationship. It was not entirely equal. The sheep needed the shepherd more than the shepherd needed the sheep. Nevertheless the sheep were the shepherd's livelihood, precious and vulnerable to many dangers. The enclosed sheepfold (corral) and the familiar voice of the shepherd meant safety for both, especially at night. It was also necessary to spend their days outside the fence finding enough food to sustain life.

Perhaps the relationship between us and God is not so one-sided after all. We need God. God needs us. We are in a partnership here, even if it is significantly one-sided. We are hopefully quite familiar with our dependence and vulnerability. I wonder if we are aware of how much the Shepherd needs us. Was God in some mysterious sense "lonely" for us before creation? Does our existence in some mysterious way complete the divine plan, and therefore God's own existence? Today we are invited to explore this metaphor of the shepherd and the sheepfold as poetry as well as doctrine. To think that God might need me to recognize the divine presence is very appealing. God is in some mysterious sense completed by my response to the call of the Spirit.

This past week my 22 year old niece Molly was suddenly stricken with a stroke, her father underwent cancer surgery just ten days before, and her grandmother died only weeks ago. Just weeks ago her dad and mom were here several times a week looking after me. I now found myself looking after them by telephone and e-mail. How quickly things change. Molly and her family are doing much better now, thanks in no small part to the flock looking after its own and petitioning the Shepherd for protection and strength to endure whatever might be ahead.

It is not just poetry to consider all that we have yet to offer God and the flock, both in our living and our dying. How vulnerable and powerful we all are when we work and pray together. The more dependent we are, the greater the opportunity to be reduced to our essence: love. The flock of humanity is knit together by divine love. We respond to the voice of the Spirit, and the Spirit response to us. Blessed be the Shepherd and the flock.

Third Sunday of Easter

2005-04-08T13:04:00.000-07:00

Third Sunday of Easter
April 10, 2005

"... while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him... " (Luke 24:13-35)

In this very moving story of the two disciples walking together toward Emmaus, joined by Christ, we see again how faith gradually unfolds. Only three days away from the empty tomb, they nevertheless had as much trouble understanding and accepting what had happened as we do two millennia later. Not until they ate a meal together did they recognize who he was.

This story is often seen as a Eucharistic, encountering Christ in the breaking of bread. The road to Emmaus could also be a metaphor for our journey with each other to resurrection and eternity. We need our companions if we are to make it. We recognize God's presence in the breaking of bread, in worship together, supporting one another in our suffering and fear.

In the days when I was walking, running and cycling, some of my best times were the long conversations with my companions, filling the idle time, exchanging views and confidences, encouraging each other with humor and teasing. The best part of our long cycling trips was the eating -- anything and as much as you wanted, guilt free, while recounting the day's adventures, close calls and triumphs. These relationships endure to this day, stronger than ever. They are heavenly and eternal. God is present and revealed in them.

I am also reminded of the more than 20 road trips to various destinations in the northwest with a close friend of mine over a period of nearly 30 years. We picked a point on the map and headed there always avoiding freeways. We talked about many things, especially theological and religious. Always in search of the ultimate cheeseburger.

We have all been impressed by the gallant spirit of Pope John Paul II confronting his declining years, debilitating illness, and death this week. We have heroic people right next to us as well. I was thinking about my companions these days who are adapting to less active pleasures imposed by physical limitations of one kind or another. We still walk and talk together, sharing our thoughts and fears, pleasures and pains, questions and answers. The road to Emmaus is a highway on which we are all traveling. The destination is the same for all of us: eternity in the resurrection to new life. "Lord, you will show us the path of life" (Psalm 16)

Second Sunday of Easter

2005-04-08T13:03:00.000-07:00

Second Sunday of Easter
April 3, 2005

"They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles, and to the communal life, to breaking of the bread and the prayers..." (Acts 2: 42-47) "In this you rejoice, although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials... (1 Peter 1:3-9) Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, ' peace be with you '" (John 20:19-31)

St. Luke provides an idealized description of the early Christian community. We know from other parts of Acts that this ideal was not always in evidence in real life. The gospel tells the story of Jesus' first visit to the apostles after his resurrection, featuring the "doubting Thomas" needing to see and touch before he could believe what had happened.

Sometimes, as I lay motionless in bed at night meditating on the mysteries of our faith, heaven and eternity, and what I have always believed and been taught, I'm suddenly seized by my own doubt. Are we are just making this all up to console ourselves? Like Elie Weisel I can become overwhelmed by all the selfishness, suffering, meanness and death apparently untouched by God's hand. Maybe my midnight aloneness is a metaphor. Maybe we really are all alone in the universe. Sometimes it seems that my efforts to remove the uncertainty of faith results only in more doubt, compounded by guilt and anxiety. I'm probably the only one who has ever doubted, or felt guilty about it! Perhaps this nagging doubt is part of what Peter was referring to when he says that we may have to suffer various trials before our final rejoicing.

Then I think about how Jesus with love and persistence confronted these doubts in his followers. None of them was certain about what had happened. They had their own version of doubt. Some of us, like Thomas, need the reassurance of direct experience of the senses. How else to explain great need for signs and miracles? Others of us require internal validation of the correctness of our faith, God "appearing" in private experience. One of my favorite reassurances is to hear that I'm not the only one who has these doubts and needs. Perhaps the story of the early faith of the community (even in idealized form) of mutual trust and support is all that stands between us and darkness.

Jesus greeted his disciples with a blessing of peace. This must have been a wonderful comfort to them in their confusion and doubt St. Paul says, faith is the hope in things unseen. Jesus said, "Blessed are they who have not seen, and have believed". Faith is all that remains for those who doubt. Perhaps the best kind of support and encouragement we can provide is imitating Christ with the blessing of peace to one another. Christ is truly risen. Peace be with you!

First Sunday of Easter 05

2005-03-29T08:15:00.000-08:00

Easter Sunday

2005-03-22T09:12:00.000-08:00

Easter
March 26, 2005

"This is the day the Lord has made..." (Psalm 118) "Do you not know that a little yeast leavens all the dough? Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough...let us celebrate...with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." (I Corinthians 5: 6-8) "... They did not yet understand... that he had to rise from the dead." (Luke 24: 13-35)

The women are the first to reach Jesus' tomb, followed closely by several disciples, competing with each other to see who could get their first. (Isn't that just like us men?) They don't know what to make of what they see. The empty tomb is the symbol of our confidence and hope that life triumphs over death. We still have a hard time understanding what it means. We get distracted by making it a proof of doctrines, and lose the essential mystical truth: with God, death becomes life.

How can the stench and decay of death become the sweet smell of new life? A close friend of mine speaking recently at the memorial service for his brother wrote the following. "... We may seem to just grow old and die.... (but) when people die it is like the passage from winter to spring, when the world gets warmer and greener and everywhere flowers and trees are springing to new life. When we die, we enter into a new spring, and eventually the whole world will join us in the new and unending springtime."

Our spiritual ancestors, moving from place to place in the harsh, unforgiving environment of the desert, did not have time to wait for the dough to rise. Their unleavened bread was their sign of trust in the Most High to bring them through to safety. It was essential nourishment of body and soul without frills or anything unnecessary. St. Paul's metaphor of yeast in the bread dough also reminds me of helping my grandmother knead the dough, waiting for it to rise (it seemed like it took forever) so we could get on with the baking and the pleasure of eating warm fresh bread. The waiting is over. God is our yeast. We are the rising dough preparing for the best part, a feast of the senses.

I am made aware of this every time someone I love walks through my door. Early this morning a friend was here to get me ready for the day. Just now Jane brought me my favorite breakfast, an egg burrito. Later other friends and family will be here to help us out in many ways. I will have the privilege of seeing beloved clients. I will be in contact by e-mail and phone with many others whom we love and who love us. All our days filled with people like this. This is the empty tomb, the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, the rising dough, the promise of Spring and new life. "This is the day the Lord has made..."

Palm Sunday

2005-03-15T10:27:00.000-08:00

Palm Sunday
March 20, 2005

"The Lord God is my help... I shall not be put to shame." (Isaiah 50:4-7) "My God... why have you abandoned me" (Psalm 22) "Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself..." (Philippians 2: 6-11)

For the first few centuries of Christian history, the crucifixion of Christ was felt by many believers to be a humiliation, better forgotten. Nevertheless St. Paul, the earliest written witness to the events of Christ's life, writes often about the mystical significance of his suffering, death and resurrection. Here in Philippians, he refers to Jesus "emptying himself" of all appearance of divinity. On the Cross, Jesus expressed his desolation and hopelessness, praying in the words of Psalm 22. Perhaps Jesus, like all of us, did not have the consolation of being sure that things were going to turn out OK, and needed as much trust in his Father as we do. So, we quote the prophet today, "the Lord God is my help..." No dramatic or miraculous rescue, just Jesus in the presence of his Holy Spirit, seeing his life through to the end. He put himself in our situation, so we can call God an intimate friend as he did.

This is a model for all of us dealing with the sorrows, pains and disappointments of life. For those of us who trust that Jesus is uniquely divine and human, his death and raising from the dead was a cosmic event which changed history and transformed creation. For those who do not so believe, the way he faced every challenge of his life with confidence in the Most High is a unique life leading us back to God. Christ belongs to all of us. We all share his destiny. All that happened for him will happen soon for us. All of us are given a spiritual nature which is godlike. Through it we can have the same trust that Jesus did in the presence of his Holy Spirit.

This would be an opportune time for us to reflect on our own "passion". What opportunity do we have at this moment to see it through to completion? I daily think of you, my friends and family, and the pains, fears and quiet heroism we bear together. The spirituality of Christ's passion is corporate. We are all on the Cross together, each in our own way. Christ's passion and death is not primarily an indictment of our guilt. Neither is it only an occasion for compassion for him, apart from compassion for each other. The story of the cross is not separate from the resurrection. It is our story, and our promise of final progress into the fullness of the kingdom of God where there will be no more longing, sadness or suffering. Just us and God without end.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

2005-03-08T10:37:00.000-08:00

Fifth Sunday of Lent
March 13, 2005

"Oh my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them... and I will put my spirit in you that you might live..." (Ezekiel 37:12-14). "Lazarus, come out..." (John 11:1-45). "... You are not in the flesh... you are in the spirit..." (Romans 8:8-11).

These passages taken together almost comprise a "little Easter", focusing us on our present and future destiny: restoration to life in the spirit. The prophet has a vision of the dead rising from their graves. Jesus brings a dead friend back to life, preparing Lazarus, his family and us for our final resurrection.

Lazarus is called forth from the tomb as all of us will be. And we don't even have to wait until our physical death. Rebirth in the Spirit is occurring whenever we choose life over death, love over selfishness, trusting in the divine process instead of trying to control it. Lazarus' sisters, Martha and Mary, are gradually brought around to comprehend this meaning of resurrection. His words at the end of the story "untie him and let him go" could be understood as a metaphor for this mystical and spiritual process. As usual, there is more than meets the eye behind these stunning deeds of Jesus.

Sandwiched between these two striking images of resurrection is St. Paul contrasting life in the flesh and in the spirit. His definition of "flesh" has often been (mis)understood to refer to the physical body, in opposition to the "spirit". It also can also refer to something like "fearful, self-centered ego, looking out for number one". The goal of the spiritual life is to gradually allow the spirit to be reborn within us. The flesh is not to be eliminated -- that would be impossible even if it were desirable -- but to be allowed to be guided by the Spirit for building up the earthly community. When we resist this, we continue to live "in the flesh".

I was thinking about the decline of my own physical strength and what it feels like to be in this body which feels everything but cannot move. As I did, I realized that very seldom, if ever, does it seem like a burden. Ironically, I feel lighter than I ever did in my more athletic days when I thought I had to work so hard to stay fit. Even if we were spared the immediate ravages of earthly life, we all (even Lazarus) die sooner or later. This seems to be the limitation associated with placing too much emphasis on praying for miraculous physical cures. It can distract us from the real goal of spiritual rebirth. The Most High loves us as deeply and emotionally as Jesus loved Lazarus. We are daily being called forth from the tomb of death to new life in the Spirit.