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October 29, 2006

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Walking in the Other Person's Shoes

I think most of us have heard the well-known quote which I think comes from Black Elk, the Native American Indian philosopher, and which goes like this: You cannot truly know another person unless you have walked in his (her) moccasins. I hope I have that quote close to correct!) Anyway, correct or not, I think it is true, whether it's moccasins, shoes, sandals or flip-flops we're talking about, it's still true.

Actually, as you may have already surmised, we're not talking here precisely about shoes, but about identifying with another person, the whole person and not someone's feet.

When you think about that, about identifying with another person, it is really very difficult. You obviously can't get into another person's skin. So, identification ends up being a mental process, an imaginary pursuit, a matter of asking one's self, for instance, the question "I wonder what it's like being a little kid again? I wonder what it's like not having the use of one's arms or legs as so many of the veterans from the Iraq war do not, or I wonder what it must be like not being able to see?" These are questions, obviously being asked by someone who does have all these faculties.

These are also questions which came to mind last July when so many men and women who are physically handicapped came to Anchorage, all riding their nice little electric cars and getting along just fine. I asked myself then, "what does it mean or how does it feel not to have the use of one's limbs?" Again, one does not know how it feels, but it is important nonetheless to ask the question for many reasons.

First of all, the reason I even bring up this subject in a homily is because of the lovely little story in today's gospel about Mr. and Mrs. Timaeus' son, who was blind (his own name is not given). He is sitting along the road begging; he obviously has no other source of income; perhaps his parents were dead or they had little income themselves. At any rate, here he is sitting in the dirt along side the road begging when Jesus happens along. Hearing that Jesus of Nazareth, the healer, was passing by, he yelled out "Son of David have pity on me." You know the rest of the story: People standing around got a little irked at him for bothering the Rabbi and so they say to him, "Why don't you just shut up? But that didn't stop Bartimaeus. He did not "shut up", indeed he yelled out the louder until Jesus finally asked him what he wanted. "I want to see," the man said. (What else could a blind man say in those circumstances?) So, Jesus simply said, "go your way, your faith has healed you." Because you wouldn't let the crowd silence you, you are healed. He was healed. We'll never know what he did after that, but I'm sure he will remember what it was like to be blind.

There are lots of implications, as usual, in that short story and I have more questions than answers. But the questions are very revealing in themselves. There are also lots of similarities to life in our own day.

First of all, obviously, the man was handicapped, and as a result he probably got into other peoples' way occasionally. He may even have embarrassed them by making friends with Jesus the healer, the worker of signs.

I can remember a day in our own American history when handicapped people were a bother to the rest of the populace, insisting on approaches to the sidewalk so they could manage their wheel chairs. They yelled loudly like Bartimaeus, until they got what they wanted, so too bathroom facilities, doors that they could manage and many other common necessities. But it was not until they yelled some more that the Federal Government finally passed the Americans With Disabilities Act. Obviously, the reason why it took so long was because those who had no disabilities could not understand why this was so important. They did not place themselves in the other person's shoes.

Finally, all this leaves me with some questions (few answers). For instance, could it be true that when we say, "I know how you feel," that we really do not know how the other person feels? Do we even know how we ourselves often feel about something?

Could it be true that we are sometimes a little impatient (irked) when we need to wait a little longer for a person in a wheelchair make his or her way through the checkout counter?

Could it be true that we often see the world around us purely from our own perspective, and not from the other person's?

Could it be true that we sometimes think of handicapped people as being different from "the rest of us?" Are they really so different?

Is it not true to say that we are all a little handicapped (perhaps very handicapped without admitting it?) There are obviously few of us who are perfect human specimens, physically, mentally, psychologically or spiritually? So, in the last analysis, perhaps being handicapped is a relative term.

I have no answers to all these questions except to say that life in this world could be a happier situation if occasionally we tried to see life around us through the mind and heart of others. It might happen that we would find ourselves looking in a minor and saying, "Hey, that person doesn't seem that much different from me! What a discovery that would be!

The scriptures: Jeremiah 21: 7-9, Hebrews 5: 1-6, Mark 10: 46-52

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:41 AM.

October 22, 2006

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Being Number One

There was a time in our seminary training for the priesthood when our superiors thought it rather important that we learn something about humility "because." they said, "being humble was a very important part of our life as future as priests."

I can still remember two incidents from those days which I do not think made me any more humble but at least they taught me something about being a servant.

The first was a tradition or a task which all seminarians needed to do at some point in their religious life, namely, serving at table. At the end of our novitiate year, in the heat of August, on our return to the seminary to the Notre Dame campus we were all assigned to serve table at a huge men's retreat. (I think it saved the Holy Cross community considerable money!) At any rate, we served at table in our wool cassocks in the 90-degree heat for a period of three days. We could not wait for all this to end, of course, but the Catholic men making the retreat thought we were all being very pious, keeping silence, doing our work of service. A few men even fried to pay us for our sweat!

The other incident happened at my graduation from Notre Dame. Our class of seminarians was elected to serve at the graduation Mass in the Notre Dame Stadium, again in the heat of Indiana summer. Somehow, I was chosen to serve as the archbishop's trainbearer, the one who held up the long trailing vestment so it would not become grass-stained as he walked in procession into the stadium. Even then, I said to myself, "this has to look pretty stupid to all those folks up in the stands." Other seminarians may have thought it a privilege. I thought it was simply dumb.

But the fact that I can still remember those two incidents so vividly tells me something about humility and service. Actually, I have been humbled in other ways and many times since then, but mostly because I deserved to be humbled. I may be a slow learner.

I suppose humility and service go hand in hand because most of us end up having to do a lot of things in life that we might not choose to do but they are important to someone's life and on many occasions we do not have the freedom or the opportunity to ask why this is important. We just do it because it is the Christian and the human thing to do.

I am mentioning all this because the gospel which is assigned for this Sunday relates an interesting incident about two of Jesus' close associates, up and coming politicians, who thought that he (Jesus) would some day become a very important person in government, the military or even religion. So, they "made their move" early on demanding of Jesus that they (his special friends) be accorded the privilege of sitting at left and right hand in his kingdom, just like all those other civil servants did in King Herod's court.

Jesus surprises them by letting them know that this would be a possibility as long as they would be ready to "take the heat", the persecution and possible death in the process. Then Jesus went on to give them a little lesson in humility and service. In so many words, he told them, “In my kingdom we don't operate like the kings of the world operate. If you want a place in my kingdom, you need to learn how to serve people. If you want to be a `big shot', learn first how to start on the bottom of the hierarchy."

I'm sure that did not go down well with those two aspiring politicians, at least not at the time, because they had an entirely different sense of service. They only learned the real meaning of humility and service later in their careers when Jesus time of persecution came.

But let me then give you an example of a modern-day humble church-servant, who actually died only a few years ago, Bishop Kenneth Untener of Saginaw, Michigan. All the while he was bishop; he lived in mobile home which he used every week to visit all the parishes of the diocese. If there was a social event connected with the trip, he never used his position to sit at the head table. He insisted on sitting with the folks, so he could get to know them better. If he were asked to "say a few words" he would begin by saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Ken Untener and I will be your waiter this evening.

This may sound a bit odd for a bishop (you don't often hear it said publicly), but he was truly sincere in using those words because he believed that a bishop should, indeed, be a trusted servant. In fact, he always made the point that it was not only bishops who were supposed to be servants. This was to be a model for the whole Church, all Christians. If the Church is anything, it is to be a servant community. "If we are Catholic Christians," he would say, "we have an obligation to our brothers and sisters whether they are Catholic or not. People should recognize Jesus the servant in us." It's simple as that.

If what Ken Untener said is true, and I believe it is, then perhaps we still have more to learn about how to be Church together. Unfortunately for us, we often think being Catholic means taking care of our own personal life and letting everyone else take care of theirs. But if Catholic means anything, it means being universal, all of us together, doing the Lord's service. It's not an easy thing to learn, of course, because we have such a long history of personal, individual piety.

I have to tell you that I am still learning humility and service every day, despite the fact that once I served meals at a men's retreat in a sweaty cassock and carried an archbishop's train in a liturgical procession. Perhaps humility and service are hard things to learn or maybe they are sort of contrary to our human nature. Whatever it is though, we have to keep learning it, at least if we want sit on Jesus left and right hand in his kingdom. This is not about politics, you see!

The scriptures: Wisdom 7: 7-11, Hebrews 4: 12-13, Mark 10: 17-30

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:36 PM.

October 15, 2006

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Treasures

From time to time (actually pretty often) I have twinges of concern over the stuff I have or own. I don't actually have a lot of stuff, and it's not exactly a feeling of guilt I have in my own regard, but rather a question about the great gulf between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have nots in this vast world of ours. It's really a great dilemma for me when I sit down to my dinner over a nice salad, a salmon steak and vegetables and reflect on the fact that some little kids in Darfur have nothing more to eat than a dish of barley soup, if that. This realization doesn't make the food taste any better, that's for sure. And yet, there is always the great dilemma of knowing what one should do. The problem is so vast that even governmental agencies are unable to solve it. Perhaps, in the end, it comes down to a matter of being able to live with ourselves with a sense of peace with what we do have.

Obviously, this is not a problem which I alone face. Most people in the world have something; some have more and some have less, but we all face and live with the fact that a great disparity does exist in the world. Perhaps the solution is being able to have things without allowing them to be the reason for our life and existence. In other words, the issue is not allowing these things and possessions to "own" us. I should think that this is concern that causes us some conscience problems.

If the scriptures for this Sunday's liturgy are any evidence, this is not a problem unique to our own age. Indeed, there are two words; two ideas in those scriptures that can help us gain some insight about all this. The words are wisdom and eternal life. The author of the Book of Wisdom, our first reading, says that he prayed and prudence was given to him. He pleaded and a spirit of wisdom came to him. In comparison, he says, riches mean nothing to him, gold and priceless gems are as sand. Knowing the difference and living with the difference for him was wisdom. He was aware, obviously, that material things could be lost in a moment, but wisdom was everlasting, perhaps even everlasting life.

The same question about material possessions comes up again in the gospel. It is the well-known story of the young man who comes to Jesus, the teacher, the wise sage, the rabbi, and asks him how he can obtain everlasting life. This question is of great concern to him, he says, because he has vast possessions and he is probably worrying about how he can obtain everlasting life and still retain these possessions. Perhaps he was also asking the question because he felt that he could not possess both at the same time.

That may also be a question we in the Twenty First Century need deal with. How can we be rich and still get to heaven? None of us would like to believe that having earthly possessions would make eternal life impossible for us. Again, everyone in this world needs something to exist on, small or insignificant as it might be.

Getting back to the rich young man as a metaphor for us all, we who have or own things in this life. Perhaps what the rich young man was asking Jesus was not "how do I get to heaven (eternal life), but rather, is there anything more to life than this...these things, this money, or whatever?" Or even a better question: "Does life itself have any meaning? If I must some day die how can I satisfy my desire to live, live fully, at peace, not in the next world (whatever that might mean) but rather in this world, here and now?

So, you see, it is the wisdom question we talked about a moment ago, the question of what is really important in life, what really counts and how we live with that?

There are actually a lot of things in our life that make this question one we need to ask. Things such as our concern over wealth, power, privilege, family, status, security, appearances, consumption, domination, competition and a host of other things, do any of these help us appreciate life in its deepest and fullest meaning? Could we get along without them and still find peace? Or could they short-circuit our need even to ask the question of eternal life?

Perhaps in the end it is not a question of what we have but how we feel about what we have. Do we own them or do they own us? If they own us, then eternal life ceases to be an issue at all. We already have everything we need now, and we don't need anything more. Of course, I hope that is not the case with most of us. (Maybe it is a question only for folks like Donald Trump or George Soros with their millions!)

So, again, like the situation of the rich young man, it's all about being brave enough to ask the right questions. If we do ask those questions, it is likely that we will find that everlasting life does not lie somewhere, some time in the future. It has actually already begun here and now. I would like to think that this answer might settle my anxiety about the stuff I have; we'll see.

The scriptures: Wisdom 11:7-11, Hebrews 4: 12-13, Mark 10: 17-30

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:39 AM.

October 08, 2006

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Cure for Loneliness

I don't often frequent the city malls, but when I do, I notice, especially on weekends or holidays, that they are packed with young people, teenagers mostly. Observing the size of the packages they are carrying out of The Gap or Banana Republic, I assume that they have probably spent considerable cash.

But another thing I notice is that they hang together, arm in arm or arms around waists. (You know what I mean) It almost seems that they are afraid to be walking the malls alone, paying closer attention to the quality of the clothing they intend to purchase. (It's almost always clothing!)

You may well say, "What's so peculiar about that? Most people, adults and youngsters alike, hang out together in some form or grouping. We all gravitate toward others with whom we feel we have an affinity."

It has often occurred to me that this grouping is not simply a matter of finding company. I think it has something to do with our deep-seated (I think it is deep-seated) desire not to be caught up in loneliness or isolation. It seems as though we are afraid that if we have no one whom we can call friend or companion we will lose our way or not be able to say where we fit in this universe. The word "companion, by the way, means "the one I dine with.)

Despite this innate hunger for companionship, however, it does seem true that we all spend a great deal of our time in life being alone. Notice, for instance, the number of people on their way to work in the morning: Mostly, they are riding alone in their cars. Perhaps it is mostly a matter of convenience, but, nonetheless, they are alone. Or if you work in a large office complex, you and most of the other workers there are relegated to small cubicles. Again, it's a matter of convenience and privacy or space, but privacy is also aloneness. At any rate, we spend most of our day working alone, being alone. Sometimes it almost seems like a distraction when we need to communicate with others.

But to return to the young crowds at the malls and other places as well: What they are doing is a perfectly normal thing. It is a human habit we are born with and which we practice in some form or other during our entire life. Indeed, this trait is what we might call humankind's most fundamental need, namely the longing or desire to be with someone, not just occasionally at the malls but permanently, for our entire life: It is called marriage; it could also be called some form of intimate relationship. But whatever form it does take, it is a sign that we are human and normal and that our attraction to one another is God-given.

Our scriptures for this Twenty Seventh Sunday in the year seem to bear all this out because they speak of man and woman's innate human desire to "cling to one another." It's the well-known story of the creation of man and woman in the early chapters of the Book of Genesis. Whoever wrote the Book of Genesis surely knew something about human nature because it occurs to him that life in this world is incomplete without "the woman." Hence, the author immediately imagines that God needed to create a partner for Adam. So we have Eve, "the mother of all the living." And then the author adds an interesting insight: "That is why a man leaves his mother and father and clings to his wife and the two of them become one flesh."

It is interesting that he uses the word cling.

Why would a man cling to his wife? You might say, "Well, the woman is all he has to cling to. Without her, life would be utter loneliness."

So, we might say that this author is giving us his personal insight about the naturalness or the sacredness of marriage, or perhaps it is even something deeper than that. It is holy because God created the man and woman to cling to each other and that is what gives meaning to their lives. Without that relationship, who knows what life would be like?

Although the Genesis author does not say so, we could add that this is, indeed, why people marry: We look for someone who will fill up, complement, whatever is incomplete in us. In a sense, the author seems to say that we are not even fully and completely human by ourselves. We need another (an other) to make us more human than we already are. We might even add that we will never be happy or fulfilled unless we search for that other, that one who will ultimately satisfy our search for meaning.

Given all this from Genesis, it is interesting that Jesus referred to it when someone asked him one day about the matter of divorce. "Is it permissible for a person to divorce his (her) mate?" Jesus does not allow himself to be pulled into a trap, looking for another exception, another Legal option. He raises the question to a higher level: He asks, "What was it like in the beginning when God created man and woman? What it was like was that God created them one flesh, one spirit? You already know what it was like. They were created to be one.

Therefore, what God has joined together, let no human person set apart."

All this, according to Genesis and Jesus, is the ideal in human life: Man and woman join one another and when they do, they are no longer two, but one.

The author of Genesis and Jesus also insisted that this is the eternal human ideal, this oneness. But as we all know, despite our best and most honorable intentions and sincere efforts, some human relationships do not last. The human will is sincere, but often weak. Hence, it sometimes seems better that they separate so that they will be able to continue living with some semblance of peace. Nonetheless, the fundamental desire of people is that that they will be able to support one another for life. Separations are never easy; indeed, they often appear as a failure. Life is messy. It must truthfully be said at the same time that priests along with men and women who make vows in religious communities also find that the vows they made at an earlier time in their lives are also now unsustainable and so they ask that they be released from then so that they can pursue another way of life. Again, the best of human intentions sometimes cannot be fulfilled.

Despite all that, however, I think it is still true to 'say that all of us somehow desire to cling to one another because we are convinced that life without another person or persons will be a long loneliness. Clinging to one another is our salvation, our best and only choice. At any rate, until now, it seems that no better option has come along. I'm sure we are all happy to know that.

The scriptures: Genesis 2:18-24, Hebrews 2:1-11, Mark 10: 2-12

Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:37 AM.

October 01, 2006

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Finding A Place

I imagine that there are many adults here in the assembly today who may wonder how they ever ended up doing what they are doing in their lives. How did this career or job ever become the one that you have been pursuing all these years? It is all a great mystery.

I suspect most of us when we were young imagined that we would be doing something totally different than what we are, in fact, doing today. In a sense, that is good because it tells us today that we had great hopes, great expectations, that we trusted our intuitions and our giftedness.

The problem, of course, is that we gradually found out that there wasn't room for us in this or that career or that when we examined it, it didn't fit with what we had in mind. We may even have said to ourselves: Why should I join this organization, I can already do what they do and do it better. I think that is true many times: We all know our own gifts; our talents and we would rather have the freedom to follow those instincts. We may have said to ourselves, there should be room for me to do what I feel best qualified to do. Why do I have to fit in some sort of box that someone else has constructed? There should be room for me in the world somewhere.

The problem, of course, is that we often find that we can't be individualists. There isn't room in the world for everyone who wants to "do his or her own thing."

With all that, I want to call attention to a situation mentioned in two of our readings for the liturgy today. It's the question of how we get to do what we love to do and are capable of doing when we find out that someone else is already doing that, someone else has already set up a plan or program to cover that field.

That was the situation described in the first reading from the Book of Numbers when two men in the Hebrew camp decided to begin preaching purely on their own, despite the fact that others were already responsible for that. One of Moses' trusted assistants brought this to his attention, assuming that Moses would put a stop to this business of "free expression." But Moses, in all his wisdom simply says: "Relax, don't worry about it. They are doing a good thing.

Wouldn't it be great if everyone could preach? Wouldn't it be nice if God inspired everyone to do this and not just the assigned preachers? In other words, Moses is saying that there ought to be room for everyone to find a place to do what he or she like to do, even if someone else is already doing it.

The same scenario appears in the gospel: John, one of Jesus' favorites, notices that someone was doing exorcisms, so he brings this to Jesus' attention. "I thought that was our job", he says. "This guy is not of our group; he shouldn't be doing that."

Again, Jesus, like Moses, in his great wisdom simply says: "Let him alone. If he's not against us, he must be for us. He can't be all-bad if he is doing something good. End of discussion.

It has often occurred to me that in the Church, over the centuries there has been a lot of unused talent! There are so many lay folks who are skilled, who have natural gifts and talents who never get a chance to do what they are so qualified to do. There are many who simply feel that because they are not ordained or have not taken vows of poverty, chastity or obedience, as nuns do, that they are not qualified or that there is no place for them and for their Christian giftedness.

Well, I must qualify that a bit because, in fact, we know, first that many Christians, Catholics do have natural and grace-filled gifts to offer their Church and that they are already exercising those ministries. Practically every Church in the United States has lay people doing a variety of ministries; we have them in this church too. Without such folks the Church would be the poorer for it. So, my point is that there a "slot" for everyone, for ever Catholic, not only to do the more formal ministries that we are used to at Mass each Sunday, but also ministries that are done out there in the world every day: Caring for the poor, visiting the sick, setting up peace and justice services, et cetera. Most of these do not require permission from anyone; folks just go out and do these ministries because they need to be done, and there is room enough even though someone else is already doing something similar.

I think what we need to realize in the Church is that we are not in competition with each other. There is room for everyone to bring to the table whatever they feel will be of value to the community as a whole.

So, as I mentioned at the beginning of all this: If you don't think you have found your niche in the Church yet, there's still time. Check in with your local pastor. He'd probably tell you, "Sure, there's plenty of room for you. You didn't even have to come in and ask for permission!"

The Scriptures: Numbers 11:25-29, James 5: 1-6, Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47-48

Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:30 AM.