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September 26, 2005

The Second Oldest Profession: Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

People who know more about such things than I do, tell me that vineyard cultivation is one of the oldest professions in the world, despite what some may say about other "professions" holding the record for being the oldest. Indeed, there is evidence in fragments of ancient Middle Eastern documents which say that wine-growing was already flourishing long before it is mentioned in Genesis 9: 20: "Noah, a tiller of the soil, was the first to plant the vine." The Genesis author is also not afraid to add that "Noah imbibed freely of the fruit thereof and became drunk." I leave it up to you to read the unseemly consequences of that inebriation.

Granted that wine-making, like other agricultural pursuits, can often prove to be a risky profession, it is, nonetheless, considered by many who treasure a fine glass of Merlot, Burgundy or Zinfandel, to be a lofty vocation. Wine has a kind of natural dignity about it. Even the names which growers attach to the bottles tell you something: Chateau Neu du Pape, Clos du Bois, Mouton Cadet, Sutter Home. I'm sure you will agree with me that even the popular brands of beer do not carry the same sophistication: Schlitz, Miller Lite, Hamms. These seem more appropriate for "tail-gate parties than the genteel atmosphere of a quiet banquet. Wine is not guzzled, it is savored for its character.

It also has a rich biblical history as well: The best wine is brought forth when covenants are made, when important events are commemorated and toasted. You will remember, of course, the famous wedding feast at Cana in Galilee. King David, the musician and psalmist, speaks of wine as "gladdening the heart." Actually, the word translates better as intoxicates the heart. It is interesting and predictable too that Jesus, when he celebrated his last Passover supper with his disciples, should follow the normal Jewish religious custom of pronouncing the Berakah (blessing) over the bread and the wine.

Given all that, you may already have noticed in our scriptures for this Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary time that the common theme is not precisely about wine, as such, but about vineyards, wine-growing and, more specifically, about those individuals who have the responsibility to care for the precious vines.
Isaiah the prophet, whom we learn was also a singer of love songs, relates a story about a friend who had a precious vineyard. He did all he could to tend it carefully so that it would bear fruit. But, unfortunately, despite his best efforts, it produced sour grapes. In frustration, he decided he had done all in his power to make it grow. His only option, then, was to let the land grow fallow. At the end of the story, however, Isaiah shocks his audience by telling them that it's all an allegory and it is not about wine and vineyard keepers, but about themselves, about Israel and its religious leaders. "You have not produced the fruits of justice, peace and compassion for the poor. Therefore God will let your vineyard go to weeds. Your responsibility is terminated!"

All this, of course, indicates how important religious leadership was for Isaiah, indeed, how important a role it is in every age. People expect great things from their leaders.

Jesus picks up the very same theme again in the story he told in the presence of the chief priests and the elders of the people. "Let me tell you a story about some tenant farmers who were entrusted with the care of an owner's vineyard. Being out of sight of the owner, they lay in the shade all day and let the vineyard deteriorate. Even a warning from the owner's son seemed to do no good. Finally, the owner says, “I’ll get rid of these guys and hire someone else who will show more responsibility."

At the conclusion of the story, Jesus, like Isaiah, "drops the bomb" and tells them that the allegory is not about vineyards or grapes, but about themselves the religious leaders, who have shown no concern about their peoples' religious training or life.

The fact that both these stories are allegories allows the listener to figure out the meaning for himself. "If the shoe fits, wear it", Jesus would say.

The important thing about allegories, of course, is that they fit every age and many different circumstances. Hence, even in our own day, it is worth asking the question about contemporary "vineyards," and their "cultivators," about churches and religious groups, about their leaders as well. Most of us will agree, I'm sure, that communities are important, even precious to us: They give us a sense of belonging and support, a feeling of protection from harm. All the more reason then that those who choose to lead those communities be held to the highest standards of conduct and responsibility.

In our American church, as we all know, there have been many instances of dereliction of duty by priests and bishops in recent years. The fact too that lay Catholics have risen up and demanded justice from bishops for those who were

abused, tells you that the Catholic faithful have a deep love and appreciation for their vineyard, their church. They are not about to let it go to weeds simply because their leaders have shown such shoddy responsibility.

Both of these stories, therefore, can remind us about our own responsibility for the Church we love and the important role we play in keeping it spiritually healthy and alive. Unfortunately, if we place the entire responsibility of leadership on the shoulders of priests and bishops, we may end up with a weak, ineffective Christian community. Church, as we all know, is more than the building down the street where we worship each Sunday. Churches are, or should be, living bodies where leaders and congregations get together, not only to attend to their own needs but to the needs of the people in the communities around them. After all, they are also part of that "vineyard" we call the world. There's really only one vineyard, when you think about it, and that's God's entire world. Of course, the vineyard we know best is the family, the relatives, the neighborhood, the village, et cetera, and that's where the work starts and spreads out from there.

Well, all that might be worth thinking about the next time you enjoy a good glass of Chardonay with your friends.

The scriptures: Isaiah 5: 1-7, Philippians 4:6-9 Matthew 21: 33-43

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:00 PM.

September 21, 2005

Hey, It's Not Fair: Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

There seems to be a kind of instinctual sense in our human nature that all things in God's world must operate in a predictable manner and, indeed, always in our own best interests. The moment, however, that those expectations are not forthcoming, a giant whine is heard. "Hey, it's not fair."

It starts early in on in our human development: Listen, if you will, to conversations on an average school playground: "Hey, how come I don't get to bat first?" Or in the classroom: "How come I didn't get an 'A'? Practically everybody else in the class did." The tendency even works its way up into the young adult stage of life: "Why wasn't I accepted into my first choice of a university? Harvard or U.C. Berkeley or Stanford? I had perfect test scores. I'm as smart as the rest of those people who got in!" And on into adult life we hear it. "I missed getting that job because of "reverse discrimination! Whites don't have a chance in the business world anymore. it ain't fair!

Obviously, there is no malice intended in any of these complaints. It's simply our human tendency to protect our personal life-interests. Perhaps it's even a very normal pattern in life, a sense that everyone alike should have an equal "shot" at life's best opportunities. Aren't we all part of the human family? Perhaps there is even a "theological sense" that God must love us all alike; therefore we should all get an equal slice of the pie.

Sadly, where this feeling of fairness often surfaces is in tragic situations where someone falls seriously ill, or indeed, when the sudden death of a young person afflicts a family. The normal response is a cry for understanding: "Why this young person who had so much potential, such a great future?" "Why the accidental death of the four scout leaders in Virginia? They were trying to do such good things for those young people." "Why the catastrophic drought in Africa at this time, with thousands dying each day?"

It's all a great mystery, of course, how events in the world work themselves out and how we fit into this vast mix.

Perhaps, much to our own undoing, we often imagine that God must have a plan, an agenda, if you will, because, God, being all knowing and all powerful, is totally in charge. In that case, when so-called "good" things happen to us, there is no question. But when misfortune invades our lives, we are left asking why God is unjust? It's a normal reaction to our ingrained desire for fairness.

The Old Testament scriptures for this Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time raise precisely such a question by the Jewish people who were displaced from their land and lived in Babylonian exile. "Why us," they said, "what have we ever done to deserve this?" "Well," Ezekiel, their spiritual mentor and critic, pointed out, "you people have a whole religious history riddled with a bad attitude. You imagine yourselves to be God's 'chosen', and if you are God's 'chosen', you wonder why all this happening to you. 'It isn't fair,' you say." Ezekiel responded to all this by asking: "Who's unfair, God or yourselves? If you were to change your ways and live justly, there would need to be no question about fairness. Stop your whining."

The gospel has another interesting insight from Jesus who, as we know, insists that the last, the lost and the least are favored in God's eyes. "Isn't that a little unfair?" the religious leaders asked.

Interestingly, even Jesus seemed to have a sense of fairness, that the last, the lost and the least should have an equal or even favorable access to God's eternal love. Hence, like Ezekiel, Jesus would say: "if you religious leaders would change your ways, your attitudes, you would have a better understanding of God's fairness."

The great dilemma we face, therefore, in the question of "divine fairness" is the assumption that our human standards must match the standards that God holds.

The fact is, of course, we know only several things: First, that if God is God, God is infinitely just. Justice is God's name. Secondly, being part of the human family, we also know that we are deeply flawed and deeply undeserving of God's overwhelming grace. Our own attitudes toward one another in our communities often call into question our insistence on fairness. Ezekiel's question keeps popping up: "Who's really unfair, we or God?" We already know the answer, I'm sure.

So, what is the ultimate answer to the question of fairness, whether God's or ours? Is there even an answer First of all, it seems to me, that we will need to live with the dilemma, or better, the mystery of why everyone does not seem to be treated equally by God. The only answer I have is that the world is a messy place; it is not yet, nor will ever be that perfect experience of justness that we so ardently long for. Ultimately, I think our hunger for fairness says that we would truly like for everyone to share in the abundance of God's grace but we have no insight as to why this does not happen. Many catastrophic events seem to happen almost indiscriminately. A great mystery, no doubt about it.

But one thing that should not be so mysterious is the ability all of us have to bring about fairness in the little worlds in which we live. If God does not do it, for whatever reason, then it is up to us to “level the playing field,” to make sure that all in the small communities we know best have a “shot” at fairness. Fairness is truly in our hands and under our power. We can change life for the better in countless ways.

In the end, therefore, the question of human fairness gets dumped back into our own laps. Let’s let God be God and then we will have the opportunity to do the work of God that still needs to be done. Isn’t that exactly what Jesus came to do? If we follow his example and his efforts to attend to the last, the lost and the least, the issue of what’s fair and what’s not fair will rarely disturb us. We’ll just be too busy “leveling the playing field.”

The scriptures: Ezekiel 18: 25-28, Philippians 2: 1-11, Matthew 21: 18-32

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:16 PM.

September 16, 2005

It Ain't Fair - Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lots of years ago, when I was a young priest teaching theology at a Catholic boy's high school in the suburbs of Chicago, decided one day to read to my senior students the story of the land owner who decided to hire laborers for his vineyard, the very passage from Matthew's gospel which is read for the Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

I simply read the story straight, no commentary, and no sermon. After finishing the reading, I asked them to join in small groups and discuss the moral implications of the story as they saw them, particularly the part about the last-hired being paid as much as those hired first. I had a hunch about the conclusion that they might come to, but I wanted to convince myself that it was so, that they were the product of the business world out there.

After some internal wrangling over it, most of them agreed that it was evidently unfair of the landowner to put everyone on the same pay level. Their main objection was that it simply wasn't fair. Everyone would surely agree that the people who had endured the sun and the longer hours should have been paid more, even though, mind you, that they did not bargain for that. The landowner should least have had the moral good sense to give it to them out of fairness and the generosity of his heart.

"On the other hand," the students said, "the lazy guys", who had nothing better to do than stand around the square until the day cooled off, did not deserve to receive a full day's wages." "No free lunch”, they said "you get what you work for; everyone has to carry his own load; you either work for a living or starve!" Simple economics!

Eventually, after some discussion, when I pointed out that these were the words of Jesus Christ, they responded by saying, Hey, that's the kingdom of heaven, this is the real world. God can do whatever he wants, but it is still not fair!" There was no way I could convince them that there might be a theological implication in the story.

I have often thought about that little experiment in "social justice and it occurs to me that those young teenagers of the Fifties were probably not so different from most adults of that time or any time, for that matter.

Humans have a natural sense of rightness and wrongness, of fairness and
unfairness, of justice and injustice. We cannot bear to hear of someone who gets something for nothing. The welfare system has always been very unpopular, at least with a certain segment of our population. We may not always practice the principles of just living, but we are convinced that there has to be equal justice for all. Everybody should have an equal chance at life if they have worked for it. If they haven't worked for it, then they just have to figure out something else. Fairness seems to be part of the process of living together in community. Unless you have fairness, there will be chaos. Why have government at all, why have a police force if people can do whatever they want to do and get away with it? That is the sort of question lots of people ask.

The second question I asked the students was this: "Why was the money so important? After all, everyone at least had a job; they could go out in the evening and buy supper for themselves, right?" The answer to the question was also not very surprising to me. Most of these youngsters lived in the suburbs of the north side of Chicago and, although their parents were generally not wealthy, none were poor. They were upper-middle-class economically. But because they were not wealthy, money made all the more difference to them. If you work hard, as their parents did, you should get compensating pay.

For these teenagers and, indeed, for many people money governs much of their life, indeed, even their self-perception. If your neighbor has a Lexus automobile, you should also be allowed to have one. Money and wealth give you status in the community. If you don't have money, you are a nobody at least that is the perception many people have. So, you can begin to see why this gospel passage did not "set well" with those budding young entrepreneurs. Some of them drove Thunderbirds and XR7's to school every morning, much to the consternation, of course, of those who had to take the bus. "But they earned it," they said, "So what's the problem?"

The third task I put to those young theologians was that of explaining to me the meaning of the first line of the story: "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard." What could that possibly mean? Their sense was that kingdom of heaven is where you go (hopefully) when you die. "Things are different there," they said. "It's not like here on earth."

But then I retranslated the passage a bit differently: "Read it this way," I said: "Kingdom of heaven means here is the way God looks at life in this world: The first are last and the last are first. Everyone gets a chance; everybody receives something.
That led to a very interesting discussion about how life in the world could be if one looks at the world from God's point of view. (that is what kingdom of heaven means.")

In our discussion, what we discovered was that the story is ultimately not about economics or politics, not about hours or wages, not about labor relations, indeed, it has nothing at all to do with hours or money. Money is just is just a symbol which stands for something else. The story is really about people, about the quality and the life of people in the eyes of God. In the mind of God, all people, the early workers and the late workers, are all equal. It does not matter whether you come first or last. There is no hierarchy, no upper class or lower class in the mind (the kingdom) of God, no competition for top spots in the kingdom; everyone is equal.

"Well, that's not the way it is in the world though," they said. "True enough," I replied, "but wouldn't it be nice if it were so, if the world were a place where everyone was treated equally and fairly?"

From there we went on to discuss whether the kingdom of God is a reward for working hard or whether it could be about grace, about God's free gift, a gift that none of us deserves or earns, whether in the early morning or late in the afternoon. In short, could it possibly be that God is always fair even though it may not seem so, judging by our earthly ways.

Well, all that happened one day in a fourth period, senior theology class. I truly hope those youngsters grew up to realize that they could be truly happy in their life and work even though the ways of God's kingdom don't always seem fair. It takes a while to learn all that.

The Scriptures: Isaiah 55: 6-9, Philippians 1: 20c-24,27a, Matthew 20: 1-16a

Posted by Julie Galligan at 08:00 PM.

September 06, 2005

UNFORGIVEN? - Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Forgiveness: Such a pious-sounding word in our spiritual lexicon, isn't it? "It's what God does, or what the priest `gives' in Confession" we say! Sure enough, but, at the same time, we "give it out" to others too, practically all the time, don't we? Other people need our forgiveness because we are constantly being offended by someone every day! At least that is our sense of it. Forgive is what we are expected to do, at least if we are Christian!

The question is, does it work the other way round? What does it take to forgive ourselves? Obviously, we have need of it.

I can remember an occasion when I was about fifteen years old, getting into a very violent confrontation with my father. I said some things that should have been left unsaid In the middle of it, my mother, always the peace-maker, intervened and I suddenly became overwhelmed with guilt. I went to my room and I must have recited the Act of Contrition a hundred and fifty times while I cried. I don't remember sleeping very much that night. I had no idea what my father would say at the breakfast table the next morning. I was expecting the worst. As it was, he did not say a word about the incident. All he said was, "well, it's getting late, let's get to work. That was the end of the affair. Even though my father did not formally ask me to apologize, I was afraid he might ask me to do that. But he simply let me struggle with my own guilt, which, of course, I did for a long time. It did not occur to me that at some point I would need to get my "act" back together and forgive myself for my anger and my violence. I still struggle with the memory of that incident to this very day. Forgiving others? No problem! Forgiving ourselves? A tough job.

It would be safe to say, I think, that practically all violent offenders in prison are there because of anger. Indeed, it seems to me that most violent actions in the world today must have their roots in a personal anger, a sense of vengeance, the desire to even the odds, to convince the rest of the world that a hurt has been inflicted.

That seems to be the motive for most of the terrorist bombings around the world: Whether justified or not, these individuals feel that a great injustice has been done, if not to them, then to the people they represent, politically, culturally or spiritually. Obviously, none of us here today would resort to physical violence if we feel we have been offended but that does not mean that we cannot feel anger and the desire for retribution. It's part of our human nature. Why would that be?

It seems to me that, deep in our human psyche, there is a sense or feeling that we are truly good, that we have value, that someone should pay attention and show respect for our feelings, our rights. When that is not forthcoming, a deep anger sets in.

Although many violent people may not say so, it may be true to say that their anger comes from a religious or spiritual conviction, the persuasion that God has done nothing to protect them from human harm.

At any rate, there surely seems to be a lot of anger afoot in the world today; perhaps it has always been so. We humans have such a hard time believing in one another's goodness. We would often rather believe that everyone has it "in for us!" Not true, of course, but that's often the way it appears to us.

All of these thoughts are contained in the scriptures for this Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary time which speak so eloquently about being forgiven and how hard it is.

Sirach, the Old Testament wisdom writer, lays the issue out clearly: "Wrath and anger are hateful things; the vengeful will suffer the Lord's vengeance. Forgive your neighbor's injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven. Think of the commandments, hate not your neighbor."

Notice, all these suggestions are about me, the neighbor and God. Sirach makes an interesting comparison: He says, "If you can't forgive your neighbor, how can you expect God to forgive you?" In other words, Sirach makes the point that God operates on principles similar to our own. Forgiveness is the only answer; other wise life becomes a combat zone. Who wants to live in that condition?

Jesus tells a story about forgiveness: It's a story about a generous-minded king and a servant, who has seriously fallen in arrears with his debts. The king says: "Well, we all have our problems; you can forget about it."

Some while later, the forgiven debtor meets one of his own neighbors who is also in debt, in this case to himself. Does he follow the king's example of forgiveness? Not at all; he sticks it to the neighbor. No forgiveness there.

Again, the point of both passages is that God is the model of forgiveness and that should be our model as well, tough as it might be.

As I pointed out above, I think one of our problems with forgiveness of others is that we have such a hard time forgiving ourselves. We're always hitting ourselves over the head for something. Therefore, if we have such a hard time with our own guilt, how much more difficult will it be for us to forgive others? Our human relationships are so complex; we all want so desperately to feel good about ourselves; we want to feel that we are really okay, even if it means angrily putting someone else down in the process. It makes no sense, but that seems to be the way we are, unfortunately.

At any rate, the whole issue of forgiveness began with a question to Jesus by Peter about numbers. (Peter, seemingly, was a bean-counter.) Thinking about how often people hurt each other, he wondered how long this should go on. There obviously had to be a limit. So, he suggests the solution of the seven, the "perfect number" in Jewish life. Nobody should have to go beyond that, right? In turn, Jesus offers him another solution, the "super-perfect number:" Seventy times seven, four hundred and ninety times. I'm sure that must have shocked the heck out of Peter, but it gave Jesus the opportunity to back it up with the story about the forgiving king and the unforgiving servant.

So, what is the significance of the four hundred and ninety times? Obviously, this is not about higher math. Rather, it's about attitude: Forgiveness, in other words, is not a matter of numbers but about a way of life. Once you start counting up incidents of forgiveness, then it's all over. "What you need to do," Jesus would say, "is to live forgiveness rather than count forgiveness. It has to be part of your human nature."

"Not an easy matter," we say. Obviously not, because situations change from moment to moment. We never seem to be quite ready to meet a new challenge. My personal feeling, however, is that if our attitude is positive, if we believe in our own goodness, even if we have fallen a few times, chances are we will not find it so hard to forgive or be forgiven. Life is process, it continues on, nothing is forever, there will always be the opportunity to start over. Thanks be to God that God can forgive and forget. Now it's our turn to forgive, and there will surely be endless opportunities, you can bet on that.

The Scriptures: Sirach 27: 30-28:7 Romans 14: 7-9 Matthew 18: 21-35

Posted by Julie Galligan at 08:41 AM.