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March 27, 2005

Easter as a Personal Experience

Back in the year 1960, Federico Fellini, the famous Italian movie director, produced a film called La dolce Vita, the sweet life.  It was a critical commentary on the decadent life of the rich and famous in Rome.

The film opens with a scene of a helicopter flying around and around over the city of Rome.  To it, attached by ropes, was a huge cement statue of Jesus Christ, arms out stretched, looking down on the city.  People down below are all staring up in the sky saying, “Hey, look, Jesus has come back.  What do you think that could mean?” Well, after a while the helicopter, with Jesus in tow, disappears off in the distance over the edge of the city and the people down below in Rome soon forget about the experience and go back to what they were doing before Jesus first appeared.  The rest of the film then traces the lives of various people whose life styles did not change very much despite the fact that Jesus had come back to the city. 

It’s pretty obvious that Fellini is making a statement on the impact that Jesus does come into the world.  The question is, what does that mean to people?

I have always thought of that film as a kind of resurrection story, Jesus returning to earth and then asking, what does that mean if, indeed, he does return. 

So, that is the question: If Jesus were to return, whether by helicopter or on his own power, what could that mean for those of us who are Christian?  Would the world be any different if we knew that Jesus Christ would come swooping down over our city some day?  That may sound like a crazy question, but I think most of us do believe that Jesus is still present in the world in some way, and that his resurrection has made it possible for him to be eternally present with us.

It seems to me then that this brings up some questions for us to consider on this Easter morning.  The first question is this:  If we do believe that Jesus Christ is still present with us, how does that happen and what does it mean?

The second question is this:  Does it do much good for us simply to sit around thinking about Jesus’ resurrection, whether at Easter or at any other time?  Or again, does it do any good simply to think of Jesus resurrection as something which only happened to him?  In other words, is there such a thing as a personal experience of resurrection, and not simply the experience of a truth or a doctrine, important as those might be?  What would that mean? How would it feel?  How would we know it is even happening?

The point is, if the resurrection of Jesus Christ cannot be a personal experience, then it is hardly worth coming here today to sing our Alleluia’s.  That is my conviction.

So, back to our first question: How is Jesus Christ still living and present in the world today?  Let me introduce that with a story from another film from the year 1977, this time by the Italian film maker Franco Zeffirelli. It was titled Jesus of Nazareth.  The story goes like this: Jesus has been crucified and is hastily buried.  Soon thereafter a member of the Jewish Sanhedrin is informed by a messenger that certain followers of the itinerant preacher, Jesus, were spreading the news that Jesus’ tomb had been found empty and that his followers were now claiming that they could still experience him present among them in some mysterious way.  At that, the Jewish temple official closed his eyes, took a deep breath, sighed and said: “Well, so it begins again. It all begins again.”  A great insight if we look at it historically.  How little did he know that his words were actually to come true?  That, in fact, is exactly what has happened:  Jesus is still present in some mysterious, but real way.  The resurrection of Jesus marks a new way of life for millions and millions of people down through history. I would like to think that this is the very reason why we are here this morning.  We are part of that crowd of millions and millions down through history who believe Jesus is still present when we gather like this, Sunday after Sunday, to remember him as he asked his disciples and us to do when he celebrated his last supper with them.  The point is, when Christians come together, Jesus comes to life again and again; resurrection happens again in the flesh and blood of his followers, all of us here today.  If that is not the case, then I would be hard pressed to know what we are, in fact, doing here.

The second question is this: Is the resurrection simply a church doctrine, a phrase in the Nicene Creed, something to puzzle over, to ask how it could ever have happened?  Or is it, must it somehow be, an individual experience, even aside from our gathering here Sunday after Sunday?  Have any of you ever had a resurrection experience?  I obviously do not mean a rising from the grave, but something you could describe as life beginning all over again today.  In other words, can resurrection be personal?  That is the central question about Easter.

But you may say, well how would I know that?  How would it happen?   Well, first of all, I think we would need to say that there is a difference between resurrection and immortality.  Immortality simply means never dying. Resurrection, on the other hand, is a daily experience, something that is actually happening, something personal you could describe as worth getting up for in the morning.  That’s resurrection!

So, what are some examples of that?  Well, have you ever known people of whom you could say:  That person is always full of life, always happy, always hopeful, always ready to find something good to say, even though things may not always go consistently well.  That’s a resurrection experience.

Or have you ever personally had a bout with some sickness over a long period of time, perhaps even being confined to the hospital and then finally being told by your doctor that you are cured and healthy again and can go home?  That’s the feeling of resurrection.

Or when two people, for instance, who dearly love one another but have had a falling out, decide to put their differences aside and love one another again…that’s the experience of resurrection.

Or, do you have a natural taste for beauty, for goodness and truth?  If you do, that’s a resurrection experience.

Can you manage to find something good to say about even depressing situations?  That’s resurrection.

Are you moved by the smile on a child’s face, a good joke or some really humorous situation?  That’s resurrection. Something has transformed your life and brought you happiness.

The point of all this is to say that resurrection is happening all the time; it’s going on at this very moment if we are aware enough to notice it, whether within ourselves or in the world around us.  Resurrection, in other words, is dynamic; you should be able to notice it when it is happening.

Finally, I think we should say that Jesus probably will not come back today to this city, whether by helicopter or any other way. But we would also need to say that he has actually never left this world.  That Jewish religious official we talked about earlier was so right:  “And so it begins,” he said, and it does begin again today, tomorrow and every day when we decide that the spirit of Jesus never dies.  It can burst forth in a million different ways in the lives of people like us, people who are convinced, like Bishop Fulton Sheen used to say, that “life is worth living.”  If life is not worth living, then there is no resurrection, simple as that.

The scriptures:
Acts 10: 34a, 37-43; Colossians 3: 1-4; John 20: 1-9 

           

Posted by Deacon Eric Stoltz at 02:40 PM.

March 24, 2005

Holy Thursday: Getting Down on One's Knees

Some years ago I had the opportunity to celebrate the marriage of two young folks of our parish, both Catholic, both having made their way through our religious formation program. I never thought of them as particularly pious, just ordinary young teenagers who had made their way into adulthood and were now prepared to enter the mysterious world of Holy Matrimony. 

I helped them prepare the marriage liturgy, choose the readings, prayers and all the rest.  When I asked them whether there was anything in the scriptures they might want me to reflect on for the homily, they said:  “Well Father, if you don’t mind, we’d like to do the homily ourselves.”  I said, “ok by me, just keep it down below a half-hour if you can.”

When the day of the wedding came around, I began to wonder what they planned on saying in the homily.  Priests always worry about stuff like that.  This is usually the time for the presider to get in a few choice words about marriage and family matters.  Actually, I already had some sense of what they might want to say  because they had selected the Last Supper event in the gospel of John, the very one which we just read here a few moments ago.

So, the gospel was read and everyone sat down, waiting for the homily.  Not a word!  Dead silence!   Much to my astonishment, the couple just sat at their chairs and began taking off their shoes and socks.  Then two of the wedding attendants brought up a bowl of water and a towel and placed them at the couples’ feet.

Well, you already know the rest:  There was no homily, not in the normal sense.  Each of them in turn simply got up and washed each other’s feet, wiped them and sat down.  End of story!  Not a word, no homily, no explanation, no reasons given.  In other words the action took the place of anything they might have said.  Then there was a period of total silence as they replaced their shoes and socks and their parents and friends sat there with their mouths open!  I’d have to say, however, that it was probably one of the best wedding homilies I had ever heard or seen!

Of course, it could have turned out to be a big show, something to impress their friends with their personal piety.  But this was not the case: They simply wanted to say or do something that would be a sign of their dedication to one another.   I’m sure they are probably still happily married and perhaps they are also still washing one another’s feet, at least I hope that is the case.

All this tells me that sometimes, often times, actions are more effective than words.  Indeed, this is what St. James said in his letter to the early Christians:  “Be doers of the word and not hearers only.”

We have just listened to a dramatic reading of another incident of foot-washing. No doubt, we have heard that reading many times and may have let it go at that.  This is just what Jesus usually did, something astonishing, something different. He was always doing such things.

But think about this:  This was the evening of the Paschal Supper, one of the most important feasts in the entire Jewish calendar.  It was all about story-telling, about eating and drinking in memory of Jewish history. There was no rubric in the ceremony about foot-washing, none whatsoever.  Everyone must have been totally amazed at Jesus turning this ancient and sacred ceremony into something personal like this.  Didn’t history count for anything?

But my sense of the foot-washing ceremony is this: Jesus might have said to himself:  “Here’s my chance to do something important.”  So, he might have said to them:  “My friends, now that I have you all together, perhaps for the last time, let me share a word or two with you.  Did you understand what I just did for you?  You address me as ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord’ and fittingly enough, for that is what I am.  But if I washed your feet---I who am Teacher and Lord---then you must wash one another’s feet. What I just did was to give you an example:  as I have done, so you must also do.”

What’s this all about?  Well, what it is all about is Jesus’ insistence that if his disciples or we wish to be his followers, we need to learn how to be servants to one another.  There is nothing more fundamental than that about being Christian.

In other words, we can talk all day about how we love one another, but unless we are willing “to get down on our knees” and be servants to one another, it will mean very little.  Actions speak louder than words.

So, how does all this break out in the context of or every day life?  Obviously, we are probably not actually going to be washing one another’s feet literally every day.  We are pretty sensitive about how our feet look anyway.  We’d prefer not to touch someone else’s feet!

But we do need to demonstrate what foot-washing means.  We do need to be servants to one another and not in a demeaning way either, but in total integrity and truthfulness. It could mean something like this:  Being honest with one another; no phoniness. It could mean speaking respectfully to one another. It could mean putting up with one another’s annoying and irritating habits. Even more, it could mean having to do what we don’t always like doing, all for the sake of others.  Actually, it’s all contained in those lovely words of the marriage ceremony:  Loving and honoring one another, especially in circumstances of riches and poverty, sickness and health, difficulties or joys, day in and day out.  That’s what serving one another should mean.

In a few moments we shall once again participate in that ancient ceremony. There is always the chance, of course, as in so many other liturgical ceremonies, that it will seem like just another ritual formality that we Catholics are so well known for.  We have to be careful of theatrics. Truly, it’s what happens after this rite is over, what happens at home, at work or wherever, tomorrow and the day after that, which ultimately counts. If we have not learned the every day meaning of this rite then perhaps it would be better that we not do it at all.

Getting on our knees is not something we do easily.  It’s a long way to the floor. Being servants to one another is never easy nor simple either.  We have to keep learning and doing it over and over again.  If tonight is the time we decide to start over again, then all we do here will have been worthwhile.

The scriptures:
Exodus 12: 1-8, 11-14; 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26; John 13: 1-15

Posted by Deacon Eric Stoltz at 02:36 PM.

March 20, 2005

Palm Sunday: Even if Good Friday Had Never Happened

Each year when Palm Sunday comes around, I must confess that I am always left a bit disappointed, not with the celebration of the rite of the palms, but because of the way it ends, that is, with the proclamation of the Lord’s Passion story. In other words, what began so well ends so badly?  A joyful parade on one day ends with the death penalty and crucifixion several days later.  Now, doesn’t that sound like a pretty big emotional jump for anyone to make?

What if we (or those who can make decisions in our church) were to simply say:  Today, on Palm Sunday we will think about the happy climax of Jesus’ work. We’ll try to imagine what it was like when he came to town and all his friends were ecstatic with joy. Here he was, in from the desert, in from the villages, rich with a lot of personal victories, ready now to receive the accolades of his friends. On Friday, the day of his crucifixion, there will still be time to think about the Passion.  Why tack it on to the liturgy of Palm Sunday? 

Obviously, I am not in a position to make those kinds of changes, but I think it would be an interesting possibility to explore.  So, we will do that, we will think a little about the meaning and implications of parades because that is the central point of this story.  We will leave the exploration of the meaning of the Passion for Friday.

I think it would be safe to say that all of us love a parade: We look forward to the day when the county fair comes to town.  If we live in Boston or New York City we are in the streets when the Yankees or the Red Sox win the World Series.  If our favorite NFL team happens to win the Super Bowl, only a grouch would sit at home and watch the festivities on television.

The point here is simply that all of us need to enjoy a break from the dull routine of a work day.  Celebrations of whatever kind give us a chance to recoup our leisure energies.

Now, the question is, what do we commonly do to celebrate special events?  We have many options, of course, but if it is something really important, a once-for-all lifetime event, we will join a parade or at least we will watch from the sidewalk as others march down the street.  But, for sure, we will not sit at home and grouse. We will feel the need to get out and do something:  Play in the band, carry a banner, throw shredded computer paper around, whatever suits our fancy.

The basic thing most people will do, however, is simply to get in line and walk. Perhaps they will also sing, play an instrument, cheer or wave a banner, but all these activities take place while people are walking, parading down the street.

So, when you think about it, walking is a very basic and meaningful human action.  Walking upright is one of the things that defines the nature of the human person.

For the most part, we walk with purpose: We walk to the office, the school, the store.  All of these are minor parades even though we often walk alone.

History is full of examples of people who have gone on long walks, on pilgrimage:  Each year two million Moslem men and women travel to Makkah for the Hajj.

If you should travel to Rome, you would find there a number of triumphal arches, particularly the famous Arch of Titus which commemorates the return of the victorious Roman armies with the spoils of the temple in Jerusalem.

Hundreds of Christians go on pilgrimage each year, whether to the cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres or to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostella in Spain.

Most of us Catholics will make our minor pilgrimage to our parish church each Sunday.

Think too of the number of minor liturgical processions in which we participate (walk) every Sunday.  We walk to the house of the Lord, at least from the parking lot. We watch as someone processes to the altar with the gospel book. We walk (parade) with our gifts to the Eucharist table.  We walk again to receive communion.  All of these are minor parades:  We walk together for a holy purpose.  It is not just a way of conveniently getting from one place to another.

Think then for a moment of that small parade that was going on in Jerusalem on that day when Jesus came in from the country with his entourage of “little people.”  They obviously did not have much to celebrate with, some palms or simply branches from nearby trees that they waved or threw down on the street ahead of where Jesus would be traveling. The important thing was that they needed to welcome their conquering hero (like the Romans welcomed Titus the general and his army back from the Middle East). No doubt, they sang songs and yelled acclamations:  “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, hosanna in high heaven.”

It is hard to know whether many of the other local citizens of Jerusalem even paid any attention to this rag-tag group of peasants.  There could have been close to 250,000 people in town for the Passover. But for this little group, it was the World Series and Super Bowl Sunday all rolled into one event.  So, why not celebrate?  The fact that someone even “commandeered” a donkey for Jesus to ride tells you something about the importance of this event.  Everyone else walked!

What is especially significant about this little parade is not its size, not its notoriety in the city, but the fact that a group of little people felt the need in the middle of a large city to pay tribute to the one whom they called their Messiah and Lord, the one who had done great things in minor villages. He was their hometown hero and nobody was going to stop them from celebrating his entrance into their city.  If people laughed at them, so what? It was their day and their parade.

So, my friends, if I had my way, here is where I would stop.  Doesn’t it make sense that all of us who are Christian should have an opportunity just once during the year to join those peasant friends of Jesus and celebrate, parading and waving our palms in memory of our hero, our king?  Yes, I know, in a few days we will also remember the Friday we call Good.  We will think about the Lord’s suffering and death. But on this day we should be happy.  If there was not so much snow on the ground, we would parade around the parking lot, waving our palms and singing “hosanna in the highest.”   Jesus is still our champion, our hero. Nothing should dampen our enthusiasm or cheering for the one who has made it all worthwhile for us to come here today. It’s our parade too. Let nothing stand in our way.

The scriptures:
Matthew 21: 1-11 (procession); Isaiah 50: 4-7; Philippians 2; 6-11; Matthew 27: 11-54

Posted by Deacon Eric Stoltz at 02:33 PM.

March 13, 2005

Fifth Sunday of Lent: Friendship as Resurrection

There is a very funny film in the theaters these days entitled “Sideways”. It is a story about two middle aged bachelor fellows who have been friends for a long time. One of the gentlemen is shortly preparing to be married.  So, the two of them decide that it would be nice if they could celebrate the memories of their long friendship together with a drive up the California coast to visit the wine country.  They are both into the art of wine tasting.

Well, the week does not go well:  Despite all the good wine they tasted, all the dinners they had, all their intellectual debates about the unique taste of different brands of wine,  et cetera, they get into some fierce arguments; they yell at one another, they crash their car.  The whole week almost ends in disaster, but eventually they decide that their friendship is too important for it to end like this.  I won’t tell you any more of the story because some of it does not bear retelling in church.  Let us just say it’s a story about the fact that life without friendships can be a dreary situation. Friendships are worth the struggle even if they do not always go well or peacefully.

We all know that, of course:  All of us have friendships. We’ve had many friendships in the past, some good, some not so good, but the fact that we do have them says something about their importance. They are the glue that holds life together.  All marriages, for instance, begin with a good friendship.  Married couples call one another friends. “I will marry my friend,” they say.

I think it would also be true to say that all of us have a deep fear of loneliness, of finding ourselves in this world without anyone to support or befriend us.  We are obviously created to be together, we compliment each other, not always well, but we do depend on one another to make it go. The Book of Genesis makes that absolutely clear:  “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will create for him a helpmate.”

It is for that reason, I should imagine, that we are saddened when friendships end, whether by choice, a falling out or especially by death. Why, for instance, are tears shed at funerals?  Because we have lost a friend, obviously.

This is exactly the situation we find in the gospel story for this Fifth Sunday in Lent, the story of the death of Lazarus, Jesus’ friend. Here is one of those rare situations where we see a touch of Jesus’ human nature, his reaction to death on a personal level. The story insists that Jesus was deeply perturbed, deeply troubled, and that he wept.  The people standing around notice this and comment on how much he must have loved him.

Tears are always a sign of our deepest emotions, how we feel toward someone.  We have all attended funerals, rites of Christian burial, and we know that when people shed tears during those rites, it is not something shallow. It is because a dear friend, a mother, a father, a family member’s friendship has been severed and we are left standing there alone, by ourselves.

But think of this too:  This story of Jesus raising his friend Lazarus to life is also what we could call a resurrection story.  What Jesus did on that day is a sign for all of us that, despite the death we will some day experience, we are assured that the death of a Christian is not the end. God is our friend and, like Jesus, like Lazarus, we will all experience resurrection. Our friendship with God is everlasting. God does not abandon those whom Jesus calls friends.

It occurs to me also to say that resurrection is not a one-for-all experience; it goes on every day of our lives:  In a sense, we are something like Jesus: By the friendship we show to others during our life we have the power to raise others up time and time again, perhaps not literally or physically but humanly, and personally nonetheless.  Every act of kindness, every act of friendliness, every good word, every act of concern for others is a sign of resurrection.

I suppose we might imagine that it would be nice if we could all call on Jesus, like Martha and Mary did, to raise up those we love who have died.  But, obviously, that is not going to happen.  We live in the here and now, the present; we have little control over life and death. But while we live we ought to be able to say, “if life means anything to me, it means that I am personally responsible for bringing even some small sign of hope into someone’s life today.”  That’s resurrection!  Resurrection goes on all the time when friends untie the bonds that prevent us from experiencing life in its fullness. If Jesus could make that happen for Lazarus, we can make it happen for one another. It’s the least you can ask of friends.

The scriptures:
Ezekiel 37: 12-14; Romans 8: 8-10; John 11: 1-45

Posted by Deacon Eric Stoltz at 02:31 PM.

March 06, 2005

Fourth Sunday of Lent: Life With Eyes Wide Open

As I often wander through the aisles of Barnes and Noble Booksellers on my day off, it astonishes me at the number of people, writers, who can produce works of five hundred or even a thousand pages of text. If it is a novel an author has written, for instance, I ask myself, how can anyone imagine everything that will go into that work beforehand:  characters, places, events, dates, and all the rest?  Does it just come to mind as the person types at his or her word processor, or does the person have some sort of grand scheme, intention or vision at the start and then gradually puts all the elements into place as he or she types along?  I have great admiration for people who can do that. I’m sure that I personally do not have the breadth of vision to go much beyond three pages of typed text.

As I often begin writing a scripture reflection, for instance, I look at the blank computer screen in front of me and wonder what will eventually fill that space in the next few hours.  Sometimes it takes a while even before one thought comes to mind. “Writer’s block” they call it!

I suppose it would be true to say that anything we do in life has to start with a thought, an idea, even a plan of action. Surely we don’t have the final product in our mind all at once.  So, a creative process has to go on as we work. Indeed, we have to be stimulated by some idea in life and then try to work that out during our creative years.

But it all boils down to vision, imagination, outlook.  The Germans have a word for it:  They call it “Weltanschauung,” world vision, a way of looking at life, a perspective.  Perhaps that is the answer to many things: What’s your life vision?  How do you look at life?

What is critical in life, of course, is that we do not go through life sleeping. Doubtless, sleep is a wonderful, restful experience.  We will not be much good for anything creative if we get too little sleep. It doesn’t do any good, for instance, to begin reading a book only to find ourselves nodding after a few moments, or to go to a concert and doze off during the first movement, or sit through a Sunday homily half awake.  Better had we stayed at home to watch the opening quarter of an NFL game!

So much in life therefore depends on how awake we are, what kind of mental vision we have of what is going on around us, in short, how we see things in life.

That is also the question for the Christian:  How do we see life? Is our vision any deeper or broader, any different than other folk who may never give a thought to the serious things in life?

There are some ideas about sight and insight, vision, seeing and not seeing, darkness and light in our scriptures for this Fourth Sunday in Lent.

Before we go into that, however, we need to recall that the gospel stories, particularly those of the last two Sundays of Lent are meant particularly as lessons for the listeners, the catechumens, those who are preparing to be welcomed into the church through baptism at the Easter Vigil. Last Sunday they (and we) heard water stories: Moses’ discovery of the spring in the desert and Jesus being given water at Jacob’s well by the woman from the village of Samaria.

Today we hear a story about a man who was born blind and all the troubles he encountered when Jesus cured him of his blindness. This is really a very interesting story inasmuch as it portrays for us two different kinds of people, two different visions, two different ways of looking at life.  The young man born blind represents one side, one vision.  He knows that he was born blind he admits that, he has lived in darkness all his life.  But once he is cured of his physical blindness, he declares his faith in Jesus.   In other words, his eyes are opened and he sees life in a completely different way. Faith in Jesus has given him a whole new way of observing the universe around him.

The antagonists in the story are the scribes and Pharisees.  They are model Jewish religious leaders:  They know all the correct answers, are loyal to the Commandments.  Their problem, however, is that they are also living in darkness, but a different kind of darkness:  They refuse to believe that Jesus, or any other religious leader, for that matter, could do something good, a cure, for instance, on the Sabbath. In the young man’s case, his darkness is physical, he cannot see.  The scribes and Pharisees, on the other hand, are spiritually blind; they refused to see.

Here is a short side-light that is interesting:  The story about the blind man actually represents a conflict in the days of the early Christian church between themselves, followers of Jesus the light of the world, and the Jewish religious authorities who refused to believe in Jesus the Light.  You can begin to understand why the scribes and Pharisees are presented as “blind men”, men who lived in darkness while the early Christians are presented as people of the light.

But what insights can we draw from this story for ourselves, Christians who claim to follow Jesus the Light?  First of all, we might ask the question:  What does it really mean to be baptized Christians?  Has baptism and enrollment in the Christian community made any difference, any impact on the way we look at life, the world?  Do we have a Christian philosophy of life?  Do we perceive life any differently than others in the world do?  That does not mean, of course, that other people are swimming around in darkness while we bask in the light.  Being Christian is not a “comparison game.” It’s a matter of being responsible to our own baptism, our own act of faith. If we say that we are followers of Jesus the Light that has to mean something.  Claiming that we are Christian is serious business!

Finally, a short word about the blindness we call prejudice. It means prejudging an issue and refusing to admit that there might possibly be another way of seeing a solution or answer. We’re all guilty of it occasionally.  There are all sorts of examples of racial, ethnic and religious prejudice that go on in the world every day  Hopefully, we who say we are followers of Jesus the Light are not guilty of such practice.  It is contradictory to all that Jesus teaches us abut light and darkness.

Somewhere I once read that there are two things in life that we would have a difficult time living without: One is water and the other is light. We know that is surely true in the physical world. Now, the question is:  What should that mean if we also call ourselves followers of Jesus the Light?

The scriptures: 

1 Samuel 16: 1b, 6-7, 10-13z; Ephesians 5; 8-14J; John 9:1-41

Posted by Deacon Eric Stoltz at 02:28 PM.