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November 24, 2007
Feast of Christ the King - "Time And Its Meaning"
I think it would be true to say that most of us can get pretty excited about new beginnings but we feel sad about endings of whatever sort.
Shortly before I began writing this piece I needed to say goodbye to two dear friends who are moving out of state. Whether I will ever see them again is hard to say. So, we shared lunch, some tears and a blessing before they left. But we all rejoiced in the years and memories that we had shared, the wine at nice dinners, the conversations. The years together were a treasure.
All this recalled for me that beginnings and endings have something to do with time. Time...that mysterious reality which only exists in our minds. Nonetheless, unless we had some way to talk about it, our lives would be total chaos. So, we talk about taking time, losing time, wasting time, finding time, being on time, being behind time, out of time, et cetera. Truly, time is only a marker of before and after events in our lives. Therefore, we use our clocks, watches, time pieces to make sure that time does not escape us and that we will use it for good purposes.
Most of our time, of course, could be called secular, worldly time, time that helps us keep the pace of our daily life and activities.
But we Christians also know another kind of time, a measurement that we associate with the sacred, God's time, Christ's time, Church time.
Oddly enough, we are celebrating a significant moment of time this very Sunday: It is an end-time, the end of the liturgical year, the year of grace. It is the Thirty Fourth and last Sunday of the Church's calendar: Fifty-two Sundays along with a bunch of feast days that have transpired this year. We celebrated the same feasts and Sundays last year and the year before, and the year before that. In a sense then the Liturgical Year never ends. It is not linear but circular. It keeps going around and around. If we missed something last year, we can pick it up this year. So, in a sense we are not sad to see one year end because we know immediately that a new year will begin on the First Sunday of Advent next Sunday. In other words, there is a sense of hope in the liturgical year; it is truly never over, never completed.
Now, we spoke earlier about the fact that certain events in our lives give meaning to time: We mark time by what is happening, what we are commemorating. Our birthdays and anniversaries mark important moments in our Iives. The same is true regarding the liturgical year: On this particular Sunday we mark a feast dedicated to Christ the King. It also happens, not by accident, to be the Thirty Fourth Sunday in the Church's calendar. More importantly, this is the Sunday when we encapsulate everything that has happened this year under that title, King of the Universe. We do so because we Christians believe all that happens in this world of ours is somehow centered on Christ.
Although we try to do our best to celebrate this feast with great solemnity: Music, incense, special vestments, processions and all the rest, this is not the kind of "coronation ceremony" you might find celebrated by royalty in London's Westminster Cathedral.
The king whose presence we celebrate is remembered not for secular royalty, but for his dedication to justice and peace, to the causes of the poor, the abandoned. He does not wear a crown, nor is he clothed in finery. He wishes to be remembered as servant and he continues to invite all of us to imitate him in this servanthood. How then can we acclaim him servant-king unless we ourselves are prepared to learn again and again, time after time, how to serve one another in the manner in which he did?
Finally the one thing we need to constantly recall is that this feast of Christ the King does not simply happen on the last Sunday of the liturgical year. This is this same Christ the Servant whom we meet Sunday after Sunday when we gather for Eucharist. It's not that we Catholics are slow to learn the meaning of all this; it's just the fact that Christ the Servant King is so important to our Christian life that we don't object to being reminded of its meaning over and over, time after time, Sunday after Sunday, year after year. Eventually, with enough time, we may get it straight.
The scriptures: 2 Samuel 5: 1-3, Colossians 1: 12-20, Luke 23: 35-43
Posted by Julie Galligan at 09:21 AM.
November 17, 2007
33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Memorials to Human Failure
If you were inclined to take a vacation around this country of ours simply to observe how the folks of cities, towns and villages commemorate important and tragic events in their history or the history of the world, I predict that you will find at least one statue or wall commemorating the history of our wars and the deaths of our most precious "commodity", human life.
What city or village does no have a war memorial plaque placed there by the VFW or the American Legion recalling the lives of their fellow soldiers.
I am writing this on the 6th anniversary of 9/11. Cities around the country are reading the lists of the people who were killed in those terrorist attacks.
In the morning paper I read of the millions of people who have fled Iraq because of the violence there. Our fallen soldiers in Iraq number well over 3000 now. Iraqi civilian deaths number in the tens of thousands. In Western Europe and the United States there are continual threats of violence.
Adding to all these catastrophes, a series of earthquakes has once again struck the islands of the South Pacific. All this in addition to the threat of Global Warming and its effects on life on this planet.
Sad to say, it seems as though we humans are determined to make every effort we can to destroy ourselves and all living creatures on this planet earth. It would seem that our human history is like a scene from an Apocalypse.
We have, of course, the normal group of apocalyptic writers who wish to convince us that The Son of Man, the Christ, is about to return swiftly and bring all things earthly to a final end. That prediction, obviously, has been going on for centuries: Each time a flood, earthquake or some other natural catastrophe occurs there is a prediction of end times.
My conviction, however, is that if Christ were planning to return any time soon and destroy the earth, he would surely warn us. What is more certain is that we ourselves are doing a pretty good job of bringing all things earthly to a catastrophic conclusion.
It has always seemed a great mystery to me why our human community tends to be so violent, so destructive, so vindictive, so malicious, bitter and mean. Every age seems to have its own history of destruction and devastation, natural or human. Is all this built into our very nature? Is this the normal way we are?
I bring all this to our attention because the scriptures for this 33td Sunday in the Church's calendar speaks so graphically of Apocalypse, of end times.
These readings, of course, were chosen precisely because we are nearing the end of the liturgical year. What better time to call up apocalyptic literature? You noticed, I'm sure, Jesus' prediction of the destruction of the magnificent temple in Jerusalem, blaming it on the decadence of the religious leaders. His prediction, of course, was correct: The Romans under the leadership of Titus, the general, son of the emperor Vespasian literally did not leave a stone upon a stone.
We all know, of course, that all things human come to an end: It is part of the very nature of the universe and our place in it. There is a certain rising and falling occurring at all times: Seasons come and go, children are born, the elderly pass on. Morning happens and evening follows. It is all part of the normal process of life and death, growth and decay.
Each of us knows well that we are part of that earthly birth and death syndrome. We Christians do not consider it as a punishment but rather as a way that God speaks to us about the incompleteness of all creation. Death is seemingly built into all things human and earthly.
The more important question to ask, of course, is this: Given the gift of life that we are and that we have, what are we doing to bring some semblance of sanity to this world, some hint of hope for our future? In a sense we are all responsible for some part of the life on this planet, for good or ill. Indeed, we all know that there is only so much time to accomplish all of this. Each of us is part of that universal experience of life and death that goes on around us.
Back to those memorial walls and statues: In a sad sense, they are really signs of our failure as a human race to be able to respect life and all living beings. Would it not be a hopeful sign if we were able some day to say: No more war, no more killing, no more memorials to the dead. We have learned enough about death. The end is not yet. There is still time to capture the goodness that is left in this world, and, of course, there is lots of it, enough for everyone to have a part.
The scriptures: Malachi 3 19-20a, 2 Thessalonians 3: 7-12, Luke 21: 5-19
Posted by Julie Galligan at 05:24 PM.
November 10, 2007
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Heavenly Thought
For the greater part of my adult life I have lived in domestic circumstances where pets were not easily accommodated. As a youngster on our family farm, of course, we had dogs, cats, geese, lambs and many other domesticated animals. We loved them all and took extraordinary care of them. Once I moved to the city, however, and particularly during my eight years in the seminary, dogs and cats in a dorm room would have been a great inconvenience and messy as well.
Ever since those seminary days, of course, I have lived in rectories and apartments and other conveniences, and I am sure my housemates would not have been comfortable with a dog yelping in the middle of the night.
Nonetheless, it is interesting to notice how much care people take of their pets, particularly dogs. People here in Alaska become greatly disturbed when there is news of some someone who runs sled dogs and does not care for them. If a dog dies on the Iditarod Trail each spring, there is always the threat of an investigation.
It may sound extreme, but I have known people who have sort of vague sense that their pets go to heaven! An aunt of mine once owned a nice little cocker spaniel for many years. When he died, she had him buried in a pet cemetery and each year on the "anniversary" of his death she would go and visit his grave. Whether she prayed for his eternal salvation, I do not know, but she could not bear the thought of this little dog dying and being forgotten forever.
This leads me to an even deeper reflection on the meaning of death and resurrection. It is my sense that most people, whether Christian or not, have this deep sense that life in this world, on this planet, cannot possibly be the only life there is. Even though we have no direct experience of heaven, our intuition tells us that when life in this world comes to an end there must be another life (of whatever kind) in a next world, call it heaven, the kingdom or whatever. In other words, I believe we have a sort of "built-in" instinct that prompts us to long for a life beyond this world. For Christians, of course, this is prompted by an act of faith in a God whom we cannot imagine abandoning us at the end of life in this world. I suspect even non-Christians must hold this same conviction.
This is the sense we get, for instance, in the scriptures for this Thirty Second Sunday of the Church's calendar. The first reading comes to us from those times in Israel when the religion of the Jewish people was being threatened and scorned by the invaders of Greek culture. In this case a king, Antiochus Epiphanes N was insisting that the strictly conservative Hasidim Jews give up their dietary customs, particularly the proscription against eating pork.
You noticed the response, of course: They replied that they would rather die than eat pork. They believed in a life that was eternal and it was worth suffering to attain it.
In the gospel as well, Jesus faces some questions about the reality of heaven. He is debating with the Sadducee sect, upper class citizens who might be called "secularists", as opposed to the Pharisees who were conservative religious laymen. These Sadducees, obviously, knew that Jesus as a rabbi believed in the resurrection and the next life. Hence, they pose this silly issue for him regarding the woman who has been married seven times during her life. To whom will she be married to in heaven, they ask? Jesus simply puts them down with the response that we are talking about two different states of existence when we talk about heaven and earth. It is a moot question because we have no idea what heaven is, but one thing for sure, it will be a kind of "spirit-life" as opposed to our human and physical existence here in this world.
It is my sense actually that Jesus did not deal much with the question of heaven or the resurrection except in this one instance although he obviously did believe in the resurrection.
But Jesus was also a person of this world and most of his concern was with life as we know it here and now: He dealt with human realities: Suffering, poverty, oppression, justice, peace, sickness and health, all those sorts of things, those mysteries we face and try to make sense of every day.
The point for us Christians, of course, is to assume the reality of the resurrection and eternal life, but first to ask the question about how our life in this world can impact the reality of heaven.
In this regard I always remember the insightful line from my friend and philosopher at Notre Dame, John Dunne, C.S.C. His question was this: "If I must some day die, how can I satisfy my desire to live?" In other words, how can I live a full and meaningful life in the span of years allotted to me so that the question of heaven will not be a great mystery to me? Questions about life on this side of the grave are always more interesting and engaging for me than questions about heaven of which I (and we) know so little.
In the last analysis, of course, our belief in the resurrection and the kingdom of God should give us a hopeful sense that how we live our lives here and now is already an assurance of what heaven must be like. The proof will come later!
Now, what happens to pets of various sorts after their decease is a question I am not about to deal with. I have other questions of more importance.
The scriptures: 2 Maccabees 7: 1-2, 9-14, 2 Thessalonians 2: 16-35, Luke 20:27-38
Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:38 AM.
November 04, 2007
31st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Ostracized
I am currently re-reading Thomas Merton's classic autobiography entitled The Seven Storey Mountain. I remember reading it when I first entered the seminary at Notre Dame in 1948. Merton, as most folks know, is remembered today as the scholar and world traveler who became a famous monk at Gethsemane, Kentucky. The book is still as well read today as it was in the year it was first published.
The reason why I mention it is because there is a story in the chapter entitled "Prisoner's Base" that reminds me of the story of Zachaeus in today's gospel. Merton is only 9 years old and he hung out around with a group of youngsters his own age. They have built a "club house" in a vacant lot near his home on Long Island. Thomas also has a younger brother named John Paul, a timid little boy who desperately wants to be with his older brother. So he approaches Thomas and his little gang one day at their clubhouse. Well, what does Thomas and his gang do? They yell at him to go home; they even throw rocks at him to drive him away. But he continues to stand there, saddened, tears running down his cheeks, wondering why he has been excluded from this exclusive group.
I imagine many of us have had experiences like that, wanting to be part of a group, but having the feeling that we are not wanted. The word we often use here is "ostracized", unaccepted, even cast out. I imagine there is no lonelier feeling than to be publicly scorned, held in contempt. This is probably even more significant among teenagers for whom identity and acceptance is so important and rightly so.
Of course, there are many people in the world who are scorned: The history of the civil rights movement in Little Rock, Arkansas, for instance, is an example, the story of the 18 youngsters who wanted so badly to be accepted in so-called "white schools." I imagine Hispanic people must feel the same way today when they come here to work but are trucked back to Mexico. Child molesters are labeled as public enemies; their names are on a "watch list" in whatever
neighborhood they choose to live. Catholics who live in "irregular marriages" are told that they may not approach the communion table. You will recall other examples, I'm sure.
Then we come to the famous story of a man in the gospel of Luke who is described also as being ostracized in his own town because of his chosen career: His profession is to work as a public servant, a tax collector in the employ of the Roman government. Tax collectors, of course, have always had a bad reputation especially around April 15th each year. In this case, however, he enforced the burdensome tax laws on his own neighbors. Not a good job to have in a small town where everyone knows you. The story as you have already heard has Jesus passing through Jericho, Zachaeus' hometown. He is determined to see this famous miracle worker for himself. So, being small of stature, he crawls up into a convenient tree for a look. To his surprise, Jesus happens to notice him and calls him down. Not only that, Jesus invites himself to Zachaeus' home for dinner. "Horrors," say the crowds. "Rabbis don't sit across the table from public outlaws." So, you see what happens: Jesus himself turns into the ostracized one along with Zachaeus.
But here is one of those instances where we truly get a deep insight into Jesus character: He didn't mind being different. He didn't care what people thought. His response was that Zachaeus was just like any other Jewish person, a son of Abraham. He was no moral ingrate, no sinner. He was just in a different line of work, tax collecting. So, the point Jesus is making by getting invited into a "sinner's" house for dinner is to insist that he chooses to speak face to face with anyone, no matter what the person's reputation might be. Human character goes deeper than the kind of work one chooses to do. Now, Jesus might not have liked tax collectors any more than the other folks in Jericho, but he was not about to ostracize him outright. The proof of that is in his willingness to sit across the table from Zachaeus and have dinner with him.
There is something transparent, I think, in the choice one makes to sit down to eat with someone. There is an implicit acceptance of the character of that person whom you eat with, an assumption that this person, no matter what his life work, is worthy of acceptance. At the very least, one can expect to learn something about the deeper qualities of that person's life. The point Jesus is making by eating with Zachaeus is to say: "This man is `savable' (Salvation has come to this house.") He may not have a good public image locally, but humanly speaking he is a good person. The lesson here is not for Zachaeus but for the local townspeople who had already made up their minds that this man was not savable.
So, what is the lesson in all this for us? My sense is that most of us would probably fit into the image of the crowd who were scandalized by Jesus' decision to have supper with a sinner. I think it is true that many of us have the tendency to judge others by superficial characteristics: color, ethnic background, choice of work, life history, et cetera. But to understand the true character of a person, his or her inner dimension, takes insight, time and patience. Perhaps the most important thing is to be determined that we shall not make assumptions without truly knowing something deeper about a person. I think that is what may have happened at that dinner table that night. Both Zachaeus and Jesus discovered something about each other they may not have known before. For Zachaeus, I'm sure he was happy to know that somebody in that town liked him! Couldn't that be true of all of us? Wouldn't we all prefer to be liked, accepted? Being ostracized surely doesn't do much for one's self-image, does it?
The scriptures: Wisdom 11: 22-12:2, 1 Thessalonians 1: 11-22, Luke 19: 1-10
Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:50 AM.
