« February 2006 | Main | April 2006 »

March 26, 2006

Fourth Sunday of Lent - Light For Our Darkness

Every year around this time when light is contending seriously with darkness and we can expect spring to emerge once more, 1 get a sense that peoples' attitude seems to change for the better. Its not that Alaskans are "sourpuss" people, it just that the long winter months of darkness seem to have a negative effect on peoples' lives. They call it LDS, Light Deprivation Syndrome. It's no wonder then that people smile at each other in the supermarket or on the street. Light has an effect on our emotions, indeed, on our whole bodily system. It is obvious then that the world in which we live and we ourselves too depend on light for our very existence. We're not cave dwellers.

On the day I am writing this in late January, NASA lifted a space capsule off the pad in Florida and headed it off to Pluto at 8 miles a second. Even at that speed, it will be 2015 before it reaches Pluto which is out in an area of darkness called the Kuyper Belt, an area which the sun itself does not reach.

It is interesting to note how well we humans have been able to conquer darkness and use light to our best advantage, literally because without it we die. So we are indebted to good old Ben Franklin for teaching us about electricity which brings the brilliance of burning light bulbs to our very living room.

Darkness, in whatever form we experience it, is something which we cannot live with. We will do whatever we can to overcome it, not just in the physical sense, but more importantly in the spiritual realm as well. Darkness is a negative reality, light is something positive. Light gives life, darkness means death.

Did you ever notice how artists, photographers, painters, film makers and others often depend on light and darkness to say what they want to say? I personally still prefer the old black and white films of yesteryear. The contrast conveys the whole mood of the film. The great directors like Ingmar Bergman and Frederico Fellini have made some wonderful films that use light and darkness to convey a message. Pablo Picasso, the great painter had his "Blue Period" when all his paintings were dark purple, perhaps conveying how he was feeling about his life at the time.

And all the rest of us too would say that when we are feeling good, it's a bright day. When we are feeling down, it's a dark period. It makes sense!

It is not unlikely then that the sacred scriptures that we use for our spiritual "enlightenment" have used the metaphors of darkness for many centuries to talk about God and God's ways with us. It is interesting, for instance, that the author of the Book of Genesis has God creating light early on in the story of creation, realizing perhaps that all living things depend on light for their existence.

The New Testament authors also use light and darkness to convey the struggle between good and evil in the world. The point they make is an obvious one: Evil deeds are dark deeds; good deeds convey light and truth.

And Jesus himself, when attempting to describe his role and reason for being in the world claims the title "Light of the world." St. John, in particular, refers to Jesus many times in terms of light. In today's gospel, for instance, he says "Light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light because their works were evil. Everyone who does evil things hates the light. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God."

Many of you who may remember the Mass before the Second Vatican Council will recall the prologue of the Gospel of John at the very end of Mass, when we thought Mass was already over. It speaks of Christ coming into the world as light shining in darkness, a light that darkness could not overpower.

So, we have this great human and spiritual struggle that has been going on for all the years we have been on earth, the struggle between two powers: Good and evil, described as light and darkness. That describes our life in this world. We are in a constant battle with the two sides of ourselves, the dark side and the light side. Some would call it the battle between sin and virtue, goodness and evil.

No matter how we think of it, it seems true that we know the difference between good and bad and much of our life is spent trying to make sure that we are on the track toward the light and stranded in the tunnel of darkness.

So, you might ask, why all this talk about light and darkness at this time of year? Actually, there is something going on in the church these late days of Lent that is connected to the notions of light and darkness: Thousands of people are in the last stages of their preparation to come into the Church on the great night of Easter. When they are baptized, the minister will pray that the light of Christ will guide their lives. He tells them that in baptism, light will over come their darkness, sin will be forgiven and henceforth they can live in the light of Christ.

Most of us have probably been baptized for a long time and I don't suppose many of us think much about the implications of that great event in our lives. But what baptism into the Church actually means is that henceforth for the rest of our lives we are automatically linked to Christ the light, which means that we must be "light bearers." We all know, of course, that the battle continues daily because darkness is always out there in so many forms.

Perhaps when things are going badly, we could be reminded to sing that little ditty we once learned in grade school: "This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. In that case, darkness will never have the last word.

The scriptures: 2 Chronicles 36: 14-16, 19-23 Ephesians 2: 4-10, John 3: 14-21

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:52 AM.

March 19, 2006

Third Sunday of Lent - Creating Space For God

I am sure that there are many experiences or memories from our past that we could say have given us a sense of identity, a sense that we belong somewhere, that we have something that gives us reason for existence.

The first of these, I should think, would be our home, especially the house where we lived and grew up in our early years. There must have been a sense of stability that we enjoyed in that place. Perhaps there were even special rooms that we could call our own, where we could be alone to think and play.

I have a memory of such a house. It was a large Victorian-style house, with lots of rooms. 1, being the only child in the family for a number of my early years, could claim the whole place for myself. It was my personal castle where I could pretend I was king or at least a prince and everyone else was my subject. Later on, of course, I had to share it with other brothers and sisters, but I can still remember every nook and cranny of that place. I don't think I have ever lived in any other house that has had the same impact on my life. I still hold a vivid image of it in my mind.

Why should that be so important for me? Well, I think it has something to do with a sense of place, a sense that we belong somewhere specific, a place where there is warmth and protection, an assurance that we are safe there. I'm sure most of us would raise our voices in protest if someone decided to take it from us. We might even think of that home as a sort of sacred space where we prayed with our parents, where we first leaned our catechism, et cetera.

The second building that we may remember from our youth and that may have left an imprint on us might be our church. We always say that churches are "our's" because in sense we know we can go there whenever we like and that we will be welcomed, if not by an ""usher", then surely by the God whom we were told dwelt there in the tabernacle with the lighted red candle-lamp burning nearby. It was quiet there; there was a sense of awe and holiness when you came in. It may even have had the smell of incense or the crowds of people that packed it each Sunday. Churches do seem to have a unique odor of holiness!

It is again interesting that we could call this church our very own: It was the Irish church or the German or the Lithuanian church. Other folks had their churches and we had our's. We might not even have felt comfortable in one of those other churches. This is the place where family events took place: baptisms, first Communions, Confirmations, weddings and funerals. We could expect that our spiritual needs would be satisfied there.

So, theologically, why are churches so precious to us? Well, I think it is because we have the deep sense that here is where we meet our God. Here is where God takes up residence with us when we come. No other building can compare with this one; it has a special ness we call sacred. That is why we give them special names, names of the saints or one of the mysteries of Christ. Here is where our Christian character is formed. It is also a place which we would defend against all harm.

It would not be out of place, therefore, to say that Jesus also had his favorite church, a place where his character was formed by the teachings and rites that were held there. It was the great temple which King Herod constructed over a lot of years. Parts of it still remain standing today. People come to pray at the so-called Western Wall every day.

So, we learn something in the gospel for this Third Sunday in Lent how Jesus felt about this temple where he had learned something about God when he was twelve years old.

By the time he was about thirty, of course, he had felt a special call from God to preach good news, to heal the sick, raise the dead. But he also had the need to pray at the temple occasionally, to experience the quiet of the sanctuary, perhaps to make an offering.

It was this need for quiet time with his God that drew him to the temple on a particular day. Perhaps he had not been there for a while. At any rate, when he walked in he found that commercial enterprises were being transacted there, at least in the outer courts. Now, we do not have many evidences that Jesus got really angry during his life, but this is one that stands out very clearly. Jesus seemed genuinely shocked at the sight of the selling of animals and birds for sacrifice, at the money that was changing hands. When you read the details of the event you say to yourself, "Jesus really lost it; he became violent. It must truly have been a ferocious scene, tables flying, money scattered across the pavement, birds and animals running wildly about, people yelling. It would have made a good subject for a film, and it actually has.

The odd thing about all this is that most of the other people, who came to the temple to pray, seemingly did not get agitated by all the commercialism going on there. This tells me that Jesus had a deeper sense of the sacredness of the temple than many others of his day, and he was willing to go to extremes to defend its sacred character. We also know from reading further in the gospels that this event got Jesus into a heap of trouble with the temple and civil authorities. It led eventually to his passion and death.

So, what does all this have to do with our sense of church today? Obviously, we do not have ushers sitting in the entry way, making change or charging "pew rent!" Tickets for parish functions are sold outside or in the hospitality rooms of the church, or wherever.

But churches today are also places that serve a variety of human needs: Hospitality, surely. But they are also places where we should have the freedom to meet God on our terms. Aside from the common liturgy, we should be able to drink in the meaning of the symbols that surround us. We should be able to come away from this time with God refreshed, quieted and satisfied spiritually. There should be no distraction. At the same time, we should feel free to take part in the sacred liturgy with passion and delight along with our fellow-Christians because we come there as a community, not as individuals. In a sense, churches are places where there is room for everyone's devotion, everyone's spirituality. We need to make room for each other. In short, churches, like "houses are places where, if you go there, they have to take you in."

The Scriptures: Exodus 20: 1-17, 1 Corinthians 1: 22-25, John 2: 13-25

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:46 PM.

March 07, 2006

Second Sunday of Lent - "Thou Shalt Not Kill"

"Thou shalt not kill" Three words, the Fifth Commandment of the Decalogue, God's own Word. You can't get it much clearer than that! No killing, period! But isn't it interesting that in the history of the human race, we have probably had more violations of that commandment than any of the other nine.

I suppose we would not have needed God to tell us that killing is wrong. It is obviously part of the natural law. None of us would want our life taken from us; so what should give us the right to take someone else's life, for whatever reason? Of all things that are precious to us, life stands in first place.

Perhaps that is why we Americans in particular have been struggling with the death penalty or capital punishment for so many years, indeed, until this very day. What bothers many is that we have found that in too many instances innocent people have been put to death. One innocent death is already one too many.

I must confess to you that I believe that the death penalty is unjust. Granted, murders of innocent people are a horrible and unjust act. However, I always wonder if one death deserves another? Moreover, does capital punishment actually deter violent crime? I have no evidence one way or the other on that. Moreover, most violent crimes which take life occur because of anger, vengeance or retaliation. That is no excuse, of course. Punishment of some sort should follow, life in prison at the least.

The important question always follows: Does capital punishment harden our sense of compassion and forgiveness?

Well, this is a depressing way to start a homily, even on the First Sunday of Lent. But we cannot pass up the question because our first reading from the Book of Genesis contains that famous and very puzzling story of God's call (?) to Abraham to offer up his son Isaac in sacrifice. I have read all sorts of explanations for that atrocious act: God didn't really mean it. He was just testing Abraham. Or, the fact that God relented is a proof that God forbids the human sacrifice of children, an act that many cultures had practiced for centuries. Read the stories in National Geographic that describe the sacrifice of little children in the high places of Peru.

My own understanding of those primitive cultures is that the life of a child was the most precious thing they possessed. The very future of the family or clan depended upon the life of this youngster. Hence, if they wished to please their god, the life of a child would surely suffice, horrible as that may sound. For centuries the human race has felt the need to appease God (gods) with their most precious gifts.

For those of us in our own times, of course, some theological questions arise about God and sacrifice: If God wants sacrifice, wouldn't grain or animals do? Why would a good and just God, who brings all human flesh into existence, suddenly want us to sacrifice the most precious being on earth? A human being? Moreover, why should God want to test us anyway? If God gave us a human mind and will, could God not simply trust us? Or, finally, does God expect human sacrifice at all, or is it just a desire on the part of humanity to appease God?

Well, fortunately, in our own time, child sacrifice is history. Were we not all shocked when the lady in Houston some years ago drowned her 5 children because she thought God was calling on her to do so? We all knew that she must have been mentally ill.

But let us be honest about this issue as well: The lives of children are being taken every day in our country and in our world. Abortion may be legal, but it is, nonetheless, a horrible crime of murder.
What is equally heinous today is the crime of pornography wherein little children are made the subjects of peoples' sexual fantasies. Why are little children made to suffer this inhuman form of recreation?

More and more today we also learn from news accounts of the numbers of children who are battered by their parents, sometimes killed. Why take advantage of a defenseless little child?

And as Catholics, we cannot pass over the fact that priests have taken advantage of their position and sexually abused youngsters in their teens or younger. Again, why are young people the ones who are abused by adults? Is it because they seem more vulnerable, or that they will not speak out in their own defense?

The point I am making is that we may well read in horror the biblical story of Abraham's willingness to take the life of his son Isaac, while at the same time we think little of the taking of life in the womb or the abuse of children and teenagers by adults that goes on day after day in our own time.

So, what has all this to do with Lent? Lent, obviously, means a lot of different things to different people, and we all have our little projects to fill up the Forty Days: It may be something as small as abstention from chocolate or whatever our other little "evil spirits" are. On a more positive note, we may wish to get serious again about the age-old practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Stations of the Cross or Lenten Vespers put us in liturgical touch with others. But whatever practice we may choose, these are not ends in themselves. They are meant to help us understand transformation, turning around again. That, indeed, is what Lent is about: The Greeks call it metanoia turning completely around again. Doubtless, this will not be a final turning around, given our human inclination to be slackers.

But if we care to link Lent to that first reading about the sacrifice of little Isaac, we might well think about transforming our attitude toward the preciousness of life in all its various and beautiful forms. Transformation is always a matter of the head and the heart. Given that we are always a little slow and sluggish about changing our ways of thinking and doing, perhaps the Forty Days will hardly be enough, but they will be a start which may carry us all the way into the days of summer...at least.

The Scriptures: Genesis 22: 1-2, 9a, 1-13,15-18 Romans 8: 31 b-34 Mark 9: 2-10

Posted by Julie Galligan at 12:26 PM.