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November 26, 2006

The Thirty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Feast of Jesus Christ King

Today, as I write this in late October, politicians are madly scurrying about the country attempting to save their places in Congress against the Mark Foley sexual scandal and the Jack Abramoff influence peddling scandal. A senator from California is in prison for using his office to make offers to people with "special interests." A senator from Ohio is in prison for the same reason. At the moment he is in an alcohol abuse rehabilitation program. These are examples only of the most flagrant abuses of power. There are many others, many of whom we don't know committed by individuals who are further down the power-ladder. The numbers prevent us from going any further into this dismal picture. But, over all, it's a pretty sad picture of the lives of some of our public officers of whom we had greater hopes when we elected them. What is there about power or office that seems to give individuals the "freedom" to abuse their oath of public office?

It seems to be an appropriate question to ask on this feast of Christ the King, the final Sunday of the liturgical year, because, ideally, we all long for and hope for good leadership in a world where human interests and human needs are very demanding and very complicated. The question is, how should that human power of which all of us have a bit, how should that imitate the power which Christ demonstrated in his life, his preaching and his works? In the ideal world, at least for Christians, that seems to be a legitimate question.

First of all, it is surely evident to all of us who watch the news each day, that there are serious abuses of power happening around the world, so serious, in fact, that the rights and lives of ordinary citizens are often sacrificed. Consider, for instance, some of the fledgling governments in African countries, consider the former government leaders in Iraq and Afghanistan. Consider the power-wars that have been fought in Eastern Europe in recent years.

At the risk of over-simplification, it seems that there is something deep in the human psyche that loves power, loves it so much, indeed, that individuals who hold power are willing to abuse the human rights of others in order to hold on to it. Why, for instance, are individuals who are campaigning for public office willing to spend millions of dollars in order to get or keep their place in congress? Why are people in political office willing to sacrifice their reputation and their future by the ways they use this privilege? Perhaps in the end we might simply say that power of any sort seems to go to go to peoples' heads. Lord Acton, the English historian (1834-1902) put it best when he said: "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Perhaps it is no surprise then that so many people seem to have become cynical about politics, why so many people do not even vote in national elections.

Nonetheless, I think people in general appreciate the need for good order in society and the need for good leadership. We all long for a society where there is peace and where everyone's rights are preserved.

That hope is as evident in the society we call Church as it is in secular world. We can all name good pastors, good bishops, good lay leaders in the Church. We also know, to our sadness, when those leaders do not live up to the vows they have made. Consider the sexual abuse crisis that still gives us reason for embarrassment today. So, we instinctively know what good leadership is and we insist on it because it has something to do with our eternal salvation.

So, what does all this have to do with the feast of Christ the King that we celebrate today? First of all, the word king does not resonate well with ordinary folks today, mainly because of our experience with the history of kingship around the world. It does not appear to us to be very effective, quaint, perhaps, but not effective.

So, why would the Church celebrate a feast honoring Jesus Christ as king? Mainly, because I think we are all spiritual idealists. We long for the highest form of spiritual leadership, the kind which Jesus demonstrated during his life. What was that? Remember, first of all, that Jesus came out of peasant society at a time when power meant domination, taxation, loss of individual rights, oppression, et cetera.

It is little wonder then that Jesus should have spoken out of the experience of his own people, the last and the least, the poor and the oppressed. It could even be said that Jesus died because he spoke out for justice for every person and confronted the lords of power, secular and religious, of his time who abused the human and spiritual rights of people.

When we say, therefore, that Jesus died for our salvation what we mean is that he died for all those human causes that we intuitively long for and that help us, the whole human race, live out the fullness of life with which God has graced us.

If Jesus is to be called king, therefore, it is kingship of the highest, most ideal and sacrificial sense that we can imagine and ask for.

Finally, I would think that this feast of Jesus kingship is not simply a model for politicians or people in secular or religious responsibility. We are all people holding some power, slight, as it might seem. Jesus had a word to describe this sort of power "Serve one another out of love." he said. If we could just learn that, perhaps all those political scandals we keep hearing about might eventually disappear. Well, anyway, it's something we could earnestly hope for.

The scriptures: Daniel 7: 13-14, Revelation 1: 5-8, John 18: 33b-37

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:04 PM.

November 19, 2006

The Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Not Over Until It's Over

I am often a bit amused at the number of books and articles that continue to be written about the imminent coming of the end of the world. Each time some geographical catastrophe occurs, someone, usually preachers who read the Apocalypse of John literally, will tell you that the end of the world is near. Of course, when the deadline has passed and the end has not yet appeared, one must wonder what happened? Is God late in coming or was the author simply wrong again for the umpteenth time? Interestingly, one never hears anything further from such preachers or writers once the crisis has passed.

In all fairness to such predictors of dire things, however, we must say that lots of people, perhaps even we ourselves, are concerned about human catastrophes and what they mean. Do they really forecast the end of all things and the coming of Jesus at the end of the age, or is it simply a matter of reading mistaken ideas to natural events?

People normally seem to ask questions about the end of the world because the world and, indeed, even the universe itself seems to be such a tenuous, mysterious and unpredictable creation. Something always seems to be going wrong, or at least contrary to our best human interests: Earthquakes, floods, storms, fires, hurricanes, all sorts of things over which we seemingly have little control. All this in addition to the chaos that scientists claim happened in outer space at the time of the Big Bang.

Is the world, the universe, really such a chaotic creation? Did God create it like that deliberately? Is it something God "sends" or even over which God seems to have no control? These are questions most reflective people have asked over the centuries. At any rate, we continue to ask the questions and wonder about it all.

Biblical authors have also been doing that for many centuries. In our first reading for this Thirty Third Sunday in the Church year, for instance, we are presented with two apocalyptic writers, Daniel, who we are told, wrote around the 2" Century (BCE) and, secondly, the author of the Gospel of Mark which was the first of the four gospel written world, after which the Son of Man (the Christ) will return once more, presumably to bring order out of chaos and hope to the world.

Many scripture scholars are of the opinion that neither of these pieces of writing are "predictions." The authors are writing about present circumstances in their communities. In Daniel's age, for instance, the Jews were struggling to retain their faith in the midst of a spread of Greek culture and customs. Their Jewish world was becoming increasingly more dangerous and chaotic; they were literally dying for their faith, either intellectually or even physically. Hence, Daniel tells is fellow citizens to "hang on": "many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth," he says, "will awake; some will live forever. So, the gist of that reading is that there will be hope after the holocaust.

It is the conviction of scripture scholars that the community for which Mark wrote was also experiencing chaos and attack. They were suffering harsh repression under the Roman emperor Nero. But, as with Daniel, Mark is not being predictive. He is not concerned about spectacular events that may happen in the future. Rather, he wishes to stir up a moral or ethical response in his hearers for the present. He is more concerned about down to earth matters. Rather than scan the horizon for heavenly signs, he asks his people to look over the earthly scene and find ways to make their world a place of peace and good order.

In short, apocalyptic literature is not about the future. It may sound like that but in reality it is about the way things are here and now and what we should be doing about it here and now. After all, it is always easier to deal with the present that we know than with the future that we do not know!

Oddly enough, it would seem that by reading apocalyptic literature there is little we can do about the future. Everything that happens in the course of world events seems to already be preordained.

The fact is, however, many of the catastrophes that consistently occur in our world are man-made. We bring much of the world's chaos upon ourselves: Think about the thousands of people, American and Iraqi who have been killed in this present war, the war in Afghanistan as well. Think about the situation in the Darfur region of Africa where thousands are dying of hunger and thirst. Think about the AIDS epidemic that is the scourge of countries around the world. Think about the violence and killing that has occurred recently in our schools in the United States. Think about the marginal standard of living in many Third Word countries because First World countries cannot decide upon a policy for a just balance of trade. In our own country as well: Think about the millions of people who are without health insurance; drug and alcoholic rehab centers close because of a lack of funding; military budgets eat up money that could be used for the building of schools or low-cost housing.

These are issues that we all could address and do something about. In other words, there is always hope if we look for the signs of the times and are willing to stop the spread of the chaos we ourselves are responsible for.

So, my sense is that we could be spending our time more usefully improving present conditions rather than worrying about future events that have not yet happened. I leave the mystery of the future to God. There is more than enough to do here on earth at the moment and, as far as we know, there is still enough time to get it done.

The scriptures: Daniel 12: 1-3, Hebrews 10: 11-14, 18 Mark 13: 24-32

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:19 AM.

November 11, 2006

The Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - In Praise of Widows

It has often occurred to me as I look back on my life in pastoral work that there have been a small but significant number of people who have left an indelible image on my consciousness, many whose names I have forgotten, but whose faith still astonishes and, indeed, shames me.

I remember, for instance, the man who came to church with his wife and two sons and who appeared to have just come from the car repair shop. I never saw him dressed in any other way than in his greasy coveralls and hard-toed work shoes. I only discovered later that he and his family did live on a rather modest budget, but that they also worked at least one day each week at the local soup kitchen. I have since discovered that he and his wife are both now living in Central America and have dedicated their lives to the economic development of the people of that country.

I remember too the single lady, mother of three youngsters who was living on a limited income while putting her kids through school. Despite the economic conditions of her family, she insisted on contributing a tenth of her income to the parish as her stewardship. She confided in me at one point that this was her way of showing her faith that God would take care of them, and, indeed God did. For a number of years now, she has held a responsible and well-paying job and her kids have all graduated from college.

And finally, I recall the many occasions (the First Fridays) when I would visit the home bound parishioners of our parish with Holy Communion. Although they lived on fixed incomes and had little more than their Social Security to keep them going from month to month, they always insisted on giving me five dollars in an envelope as I left. "It's for God and the church," they would say. I'm sure that they could ill-afford it, but it was a clear demonstration of their faith.

It sometimes shames me to think that I have never been in a situation in my entire life where I needed to live with such limited resources. Living in a religious community, even with the vow of poverty, does not compare with the life of the folks I just mentioned.
I cite the example of those three people because they demonstrate to me so clearly that there are Christian people in the world whose faith in God and their love for their church far exceeds any fear they may have about being able to satisfy their worldly needs for food, clothing and shelter, et cetera.

These, then, are examples of people whom the scriptures for this Sunday's liturgy describe as "the widows of the world."
The first reading from the Book of Kings describes the situation of a widowed mother and her son who lived in the little village of Zarephath during one of the frequent periods of drought in the Middle East. One day the famous prophet Elijah comes wandering in looking for shelter and a bite of food. "Sony, sir," she says, "we're down to the last bit of flour and oil and we're keeping that so we don't starve." So, Elijah replies: "Hey, don't worry, things will get better with next rain, make me a pancake at least. God will take care of us." The text doesn't tell us whether things got better or not, but she decided to use the last of the flour and oil to make a pancake for the prophet.

Of course, you heard the outcome. The widow was able to live for a year on the remaining oil and flour.

Whether the event actually happened exactly as it is described we don't know, but the lesson is clear: The poor who live on the edge of daily existence are often an example to others who seldom need to worry about where the next meal is coming from.

The gospel story about the widow who put her last few shekels into the temple treasury always makes me a little nervous about the way church officials (I have been one of them) distribute and use of the church's funds. You noticed, I'm sure, Jesus' comment about temple officials who parade around in ostentatious robes, all the while devouring the earnings of the most vulnerable, that is, the widows of the community.

In comparison, of course, the widow is presented as the winner: She is praised for being willing to put her "last two cents" in the collection box.

Both those two examples bring up two interesting questions: The first, who are our widows in the world today? And, second, could our churches be asking some questions about their priorities in the ways they spend the congregation's funds? Actually, both questions are about Christian justice.

Who then are the widows in our midst, the ones who disturb the social peace of civil society and the Church'? In Israelite culture the word for widows was Almanah, the silent, the forgotten or the powerless ones. Who are they in our age? Surely, single mothers trying to hold down two jobs to support her kids without the support of the husband who is now long gone. It could also be the battered wives and girl friends. It could also be seniors and minorities in general who fall through the cracks of the social security system. It could even be young runaways who are trying to make it on the streets.

The point the two scriptures bring up is not the question, what is the Red Cross, Catholic Social Services, the Salvation Army or even UNESCO doing about this, but what are the churches thinking and doing about it? Remember, both stories are about faith in God. So, this is not simply a civil or social question, but a religious question. It's a question about how we Christians, we "church-going" people take care of the widows of our world.

If the answer is, "well, it's too big a problem for me to handle," then there is still the question, how does the situation of the "forgotten ones" of the world make me feel? If we have to say, "Well, a little uneasy, a little embarrassed," then perhaps the widow who lived in Zarephath and the widow in the temple digging into her purse for her last two cents have had the last word. The silent ones of the world always seem to have a way of embarrassing us that way.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 17: 10-16, Hebrews 9: 24-28, Mark 12: 38-44

Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:18 AM.

November 05, 2006

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time - By Heart

It occurred to me the other day that I don't think very much about the Ten Commandments any more. I hope that does not mean that I'm any more the sinner for all that, but for some reason the Commandments have not played as much a part in my adult life as, say, when I was a youngster in religion "class."

I must confess that as a youngster I was not very adept at memorizing anything. Even in college when I needed to memorize some lines from Shakespeare's sonnets, I had a problem

But knowing the Ten Commandments by heart was serious business in those days. I suspect that the "good" sisters felt that if we memorized them we would automatically keep them. How I wish that had been true.

At the same time, I think that there was a certain amount of fear involved, the fear that if I did not have them memorized by the end of the catechism period, I would "flunk" religion. Now, I mean, who wants to flunk God, Jesus, the Holy Ghost and all the rest. That would be almost like "going to hell."

But in these days of my adult life, I don't think much about those Commandments that Moses was given on Mt. Sinai so many centuries ago. It is interesting, by the way, that holy laws are always given on high places, places closer to God!

But in these more recent times in my life I still don't think much about them any more.

But that does not mean, I hope, that I, like most people, do not keep them any the less because we have "graduated" out of religion class.

Here is what I think happens as we grow into adulthood: I think we simply ask ourselves at the end of a typical day, or at various times, whether there is anything that disturbs the peace of our conscience. Occasionally that may coincide with some commandment, but more often, I think, it's just a matter of our intuition, the consciousness that we have indeed done something contrary to our best instincts and, hence, we make our peace with our God. Part of the reason why I say that is because I cannot remember the last time anyone in confession ran down the list of the Commandments when they listed their sins. That does not mean they were being insincere in celebrating the sacrament. It just means that they knew by human nature what bothered them and whatever it was, it probably compared to one or other of the commandments.

The reason I am saying this is because the Commandments are all part of what we call the natural law, the law of human nature. There is a certain human power in all of us to know the difference between right and wrong. Indeed, the Israelites took many of their laws, the Commandments, from the famous Code of Hammurabi, ruler of Babylon,
centuries before Moses' time.

Now, given all this, you probably noticed in the first and third readings in today's liturgy a stress on "keeping" the commandments. The Jewish people were very strict about this: Indeed, the rabbis would wear little boxes containing the sacred words around their forehead or on their wrists as reminders so they would not forget to keep them. Whether that helped them actually "keep" the law is another matter.

I think there is actually one part of the Great Commandment that we need not memorize because it is so absolutely clear and that's the part about "loving your neighbor as yourself." When you think about it, every Commandment has something to do with neighbor, with "the other." Commandments are not simply abstract ideas; they are all flesh and blood statements. That's why Jesus could be so insistent on "loving neighbor." I doubt whether any of us ever decide to sin against God, but we surely do some sinning against our neighbor, whether that person is wife or husband, co-worker, our children, the neighbor next door or the person whose name we do not even know. Remember that famous conversation Jesus had with the scribe who asked him who the neighbor was? Jesus told him he story of the Good Samaritan, the man Jews over the years had learned to despise.

Well, what all this comes down to, I think, is this: If the "good" sisters back in religion class had pressured me a little to think about who my neighbor was rather than insisting on memorizing words like covet and adultery and such things which I did not even understand, I think I might not have been so afraid of "flunking religion."

Ultimately what I think we are all invited to do in our daily life is to put flesh and blood on abstract words. There is no way we can escape from our neighbor. They are always next door to us, reminding us of what is right and what is wrong.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 6:2-6, Hebrews 7: 23-28, Mark 12: 28b-34

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:16 PM.