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July 28, 2009

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 2, 2009]

While I still lived in Alaska, I would drive to work each morning on a route that passed a large commercial bakery; I think it was Wonder Bread. If I was still sleepy at that hour of the morning, you can be sure that I’d wake up mighty fast as the odor of bread being baked came pouring in through the car window. I don’t think there is any more pleasant sensation than this. Even though I had had my breakfast only a short time before, the smell of cinnamon rolls would put me right back into the mood for more breakfast.

It is true, isn’t it, that the baking of bread is one of those universal signs that life is good. If there is anything that is abundant for everyone, it will surely be bread; it may not always be fresh but it will satisfy the taste and the bodies’ hunger nonetheless.

At least in our own country, bread comes in various kinds; indeed, it is so abundant that we never have to worry whether our own favorite brand will be available at any time. If we can’t find it at our favorite super market, we can simply go to the little specialty shop down the street for Polish rye or German barley bread. Sunday mornings, we may stop on our way from Mass to pick up a half-dozen sweet rolls. Ahh, that’s the life!

Ah, but it is not that way everywhere in the world. Some people have to be satisfied with a few crusts each day; they can’t even imagine what Danish pastry tastes like. And we, on our part, hardly even think about having to go without our special brand. It will be there on the shelf whenever we want it.

It all comes down to the fact (so I believe) that bread has lost its importance for us, indeed, it’s very sacredness. I imagine we could only gain that appreciation back again if we had to go without for a time. But as it is, we often gripe when we find that the specialty bread we prefer is missing from the shelves on a particular morning.

All that brings up another, deeper question: Could it be that bread is a sign of something beyond that material thing which satisfies our human appetite? If you consider the question from the spiritual point of view, perhaps we could say that bread stands for life in general, for whatever gives nourishment, whatever satisfies our deepest longing. Of course, we need to think philosophically about this, but it could be true that if someone asked us to name a common product that gives life, we probably would make bread our first choice.

That is the question, which comes up in the scriptures on this particular Sunday. Jesus has just fed the five thousand people. A short time later they come back for more. Jesus tells them that they should be seeking from something more than bread; indeed, they should be longing for something that will satisfy their every longing permanently. He calls it the longing for eternal life. They did not seem to understand all that, of course. Bread that filled the stomach’s longing was the only thing they cared out. Eternal life meant little to them when all they wanted was enough food for their next meal.

But that does leave us with a question, we who never need to worry about where the next sandwich is coming from. The question is: What will satisfy our desire for eternal life, even “eternal” life in this world?

I would imagine we would have to think about objects that have spiritual or philosophical value. What could those be? I would like to think that life itself is precious, “Just to be is holy,” says Abraham Heschel, long time professor at the Jewish theological seminary, just to live is a blessing.”

Could it be that we seldom appreciate the gift of mind, of thinking, even of seeing, hearing, feeling, et cetera? I have a hunch that we take all those for granted as part of God’s duty to us.

Again, could it be that we lack appreciation for our freedom? It is not thus in many other places in the world.

Perhaps we might also say that human communication is a kind of bread, the nourishment that holds the human community together. Do we use this gift respectfully? Are we prepared to dialogue with one another even though we may not agree on all issues? Any civilization that fails to be respectful of human differences has lost some of its interior meaning, value and dignity. Being able to communicate is what keeps us healthy as a nation (you see, bread again!)

Like the Israelites, we ought to keep coming back again and again to the source of this “specialty bread” that gives life forever.

One last point: If we assume to call on God to nourish us with bread of all kinds, physical and spiritual, it would seem only proper that we should be willing to feed each other. Again, I mean not simply with Wonder Bread, but with the bread of kindliness, graciousness, charity, gentleness, patience, and understanding. It is my hunch, again, that these will satisfy our hunger much longer than that “after breakfast” feeling we have.

Jesus truly had it right: “Humans do not live on bread only, but on every word that flows from the mouth of God. We could add to that, every kindly word and act that flows from one person to another in this world. Now, that’s true Wonder Bread, don’t you think?

The scriptures: Exodus 16: 2-4; Romans 8: 35. 37-39; Mark 14: 13-21

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:31 PM.

July 22, 2009

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 26, 2009]

People around the United States who read about the story thought of it as a human tragedy, a young man loses his way in the wilderness of Alaska and ultimately starves to death.

Folks, however, in Fairbanks and the environs where the event took place, simply shook their heads and said “ Well, just another tourist who didn’t know how to take care of himself in the wild. They get lost and starve to death.”

Yes, it was sad, this story of Chris McCandless, son of wealthy parents who lived in suburban Washington, D.C. He had only months before graduated with honors from Emory University. His family held high hopes for his future.

But being young and idealistic, he decided to put behind him the easy ways of suburban life, empty his bank account of $25,000, sent it to Oxfam, the world food service, and then set out to follow the great adventure of his life, his great bliss, the wilds of Alaska.

Unfortunately, he had little experience with wilderness life. He took only a small-bore rifle, a sleeping bag, some basic food and clothing, his diary and set out in whatever the direction the Stampede Trail would take him

Initially, his journey went well; he crossed a river, came upon an old, rusty school bus that he chose for a temporary shelter and settled in for the time being.

It was only after some weeks that he decided to head back to his starting point, only to discover that the river had risen considerably and was no longer negotiable.

As time went by, however, it became clear to him that the situation was not about to change, the river was not about to subside and he was swiftly running out of food.

The account in his diary indicates that he knew he was dying of hunger and he began to write goodbyes to his family in suburban Washington.

Some two months after his death, two moose hunters found his body wrapped in his sleeping bag, still in the bus where his journey initially started and ended. A sad tale, indeed, with many implications for the minds of those who read the story.

But there is also a redeeming quality in this adventure that ended so sadly. Chris McCandless had never needed to worry about anything in his life. He was smart, everything came easily to him, perhaps too easily, indeed, to a point where he felt no need to be responsible for his life or the world around him. In short, he had no goals, no vision.

It was only after college then that he began to ask the true questions of life’s meaning and where he fit into the scheme. It occurred to him that everything he had thus far considered so important was truly unimportant. So, this was the reason for his flight into the wild: This would be a place and an environment where he could ponder the things that really mattered.

It turns out, as I see it today, that he was honestly searching for the “bread of life”, nourishment that would last for all eternity.

Tragically, of course, it all came to a bad end. He ran out of bread and starved to death. Nonetheless, his heart was in the right place: Life’s true meaning was on his mind the whole time.

I wanted to use this sad story as a metaphor for life in this world because I see life as a journey to find one’s bliss. The scriptures for this Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary time speak so clearly of that reality.

We start off with Elisha the prophet who also is on a journey to find his bliss, Mount Nebo, the sacred peak. Like Chris McCandless, however, he did not prepare well for the trek and soon ran out of bread and water. Fortunately, however, as the story has it, an angel saves him from starvation and thirst. He was secretly given a barley loaf and a jug of water that ultimately helped him complete his journey through the desert of Mount Nebo. Where he finally found his bliss.

The gospel also speaks so clearly about the search for bread. The crowds swarm around Jesus for an entire day to hear him speak. It is now evening and the people are hungry. Jesus asks his disciples to provide the people with enough bread until they should find their way home. So, it was done: Those who came out into the wilderness looking for a word of promise, some good news, were also afforded bread for the body. In some sense, then, the people who gathered found “double bliss,” food both for the body and the spirit. As in the Elijah story, so too in the gospel, nourishment came at the last moment.

Not so, of course, with Chris McCandless. At his death he had only the consolation of knowing that he had pursued the goal he had longed for so many years. He had set the world aside, and it was only because of lack of good judgment that the bread he sought ended out of his reach.

That prompts us to ask the question about our own search for our life’s bliss. What sort “bread” is it that we search for? Do, we like young Chris McCandless, ever reflect on the values that we hold so dear? Are they truly life-giving. Could it be true that we sometimes, like Mr. McCandless, starve ourselves on bread that is not truly bread, but a false hope.

Perhaps, in the end, the goal of life must be to go out and find that one thing that will give us eternal peace. Or again, perhaps this will simply be a life-long quest for the meaning of eternal life. That will be okay. God will nourish us for that journey, not with wheat, rye or barley bread but the satisfaction of realizing that we had the courage to start out on the journey of our choice believing all the while that our God will never abandon us. It’s all about the quest for eternal bliss.

The scriptures: 2 Kings 4l 42-44; Ephesians 4: 1-6; John 6: 1-15

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:46 PM.

July 14, 2009

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 19, 2009]

There have been times in my life when I have thought seriously about heading off to some remote monastery and try to live as a monk. Sometimes life in this world, even the life of a priest and religious seems overwhelmingly oppressive. We are all called in so many different directions; demands are made of us that we can hardly bear. The noise of the modern world seems to drown out all possibility of contemplation, much less some time simply to read poetry, listen to some quiet music, or just the opportunity just to escape into some wilderness of our choice.

I sometimes think about all this and wonder what it would be like in a monastery or even if I have the vocation, much less the stomach for the life, which is so, structured and leaves so little time and opportunity to explore the deeper matters of life.

Then, of course, there is the sameness of that life each day: Work and pray, work and pray, and always the silence, always the silence.

In my small library of compact disks I have a copy of a beautiful three-hour story of life in a Carthusian monastery. It is titled: Into Great Silence. A German filmmaker named Philip Groning produced it. Some years ago, Groning wrote to the abbot of the eleventh century Carthusian monastery in France, the Grand Chartruese, to ask whether he might come and quietly film the daily life of the monks without disturbing their exercises, the liturgy or their work. The Abbot wrote and said that he would get back to the Mr. Groning after he had consulted with the monks. He did get back to him, sixteen years later! Obviously, life in a monastery does not move so swiftly. So Philip Groning, spent a full year with the monks and watched them live their daily lives.

The result of the film is spellbinding. You will sit there for three hours and it will seem like an hour to you.

As I watched it, I said to myself, this is Medieval religious life at it’s best and most enriching: Regularity, predictableness, quiet, the opportunity to work with one’s hands and mind, the opportunity to escape the intrusions of modern life, time to read.

But when it was all over, I knew that the monastic life would never be my cup of tea. I’m too much of an activist. I need to get things done; I need to see results of my work. I also have a hard time keeping my mouth shut for five minutes at a stretch.

But does that mean that one cannot learn to appreciate the monastic life? Does it mean that you are not even allowed to imagine what it would be like if you had the choice of living the monastic life on your own?

Here is my sense of it: I think there is a time and place within the active life of the ordinary person for quiet and contemplation. There has to be, otherwise one would go mad.

I am saying all this because I have read the scriptures for this Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time and I find Jesus struggling with that same issue: How does one continue to exist in this world without quiet, without, rest and relaxation? How does one keep one’s sanity. If one cannot find a way, there is the danger of simply being overwhelmed by those in the world who need you but have no sense how important your own life is to you.

It is interesting to notice that at least four or five times in one or other of the gospels we see the gospel writer saying that Jesus would go out into deserted areas, into the mountains and hills simply to be back in touch with his God.

It is just such a situation that we find in the liturgy for this Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time. The pressure on Jesus and the disciples had been overwhelming: People wanted to hear him preach; they wanted to be healed; they simply want to see him, to see what he looked like.

But it just became too much after a while. So he asked his friends to come aside for a while and rest. I’m sure they did not have a problem with that.

But notice what happens: The retreat does not last long. People found out where they were and flocked after them. You get the sense at this point that Jesus simply says, Okay, let’s go back to work. They won’t let us alone. Perhaps that short time, maybe even a half a day was enough to restore Jesus’ and the disciple’s energy. So, it was back to work!

What I draw from all this is that even though we may love the work we do and feel that we are doing much good, we still need to refresh ourselves occasionally in whatever way we choose: It could be a quick weekend, a day or two away from the office, maybe calling in sick or even just some free minutes during the day to gaze out the window at something beautiful in the world outside.

Obviously, our own psychological and spiritual welfare is important too. We need to be able to live with ourselves and on into our future. Even Jesus did not seem to think that he was a slave to the needs of others.

I started all this out with the description of the monastic life and its beauties. I still love monastic life, but, if you will, from a distance, maybe even sitting in a recliner, watching the film, Into Great Silence. That will be enough for now.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 23: 1-6; Ephesians 2: 13-18; Mark 6: 30-34

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:04 AM.

July 06, 2009

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 12, 2009]

In the days when I was still young and robust, it was my common summer practice to gather several worthies and plan a backpacking trip into the wilds of Wyoming.

As the time for the trip would grow nearer, the discussions always centered on the issue of what to take and what to leave at home. Everyone, of course, was responsible for the weight of his/her own load. So the discussions mainly concerned personal taste or the brash assumption that you could carry any load that you could load in your pack.

Going lightly, therefore, was never an issue. Canned goods, of course were out, but anything else was fair game. All this was a great game of who’s the toughest packer.

As the years went by, however, I noticed that more and more of these one-time Herculean giants gradually turned to other modes of transportation: Professional horse packers, llama packers, even spot packing by small airplane. Twelve-mile hikes with 75 pounds of stuff on your back were now a thing of the past.

Interestingly, of course, it took these folks years to get over their hubris and find ways to back pack and have fun doing it. If they had had the good sense to do a little research (This was before the days of Google, of course) they could have learned from the Native American Tribes or even done a bit of research on life in the Middle East where, for thousands of years, nomadic people have made their way across the desert. They learned to go lightly the hard way. All nomadic tribes have learned that your very life can be in jeopardy if you cannot take your house (tent) and household belongings with you on the way. Experience can often be a cruel schoolmaster.

Two of our scripture lessons for this Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time speak rather interestingly about the necessity of going lightly through life.

Our first lesson comes from the book of the prophet Amos. Being the good and observant Jew that he was, he decided to take on the false prophets of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. But, you see, the king of that area already had his own coterie of prophets with all their paraphernalia. So, he did not take kindly to this outsider coming into his territory and outfoxing his own prophets.

Amos, of course, has a ready answer: “I am no court prophet, he says. I am a simple shepherd and a tree trimmer, nothing more.” So, he brushed off the king’s objections and proceeded to preach to the people in his own simple manner.

The implication we can gather from this is that the work of prophecy does not work well with people if you represent the king or the local ruling interests. Ordinary folks will seldom pay you heed. In other words, the more encumbrances you have, the less effective will your ministries. (As I think of it also, pastors owning a new Cadillac each year will not attract much cooperation at the time of the Annual Fund.)

As you might expect, the gospel follows the same theme. Jesus sends his disciples out to preach the good news of the kingdom to all who would listen. Mainly, of course, their listeners would be poor desert dwellers. Therefore, these itinerant preachers were instructed to travel in such a way that their very manner of living would attract people rather than dispel them. No walking stick, no food, no backpack, no money in their purses. The point of all this being that your very way of life will speak your message. St. Francis of Assisi told his friars much the same: Proclaim the gospel; use words if necessary.

Perhaps few of you folks who read this are planning either on backpacking or going on the road to bring the good news to your neighbors. There are already worthy preachers who carry on that task. There are also retreat centers in most cities.

Nonetheless, it is the everyday demeanor that we carry in our community that makes the difference in our Christian effectiveness. The Jesus image, the St. Francis image, the Mother Theresa image will win you more followers than all your well-tuned homilies. Of course, preachers do not necessarily need to travel like paupers, but people should be able so notice a certain restraint in the way you dress or the way you deport yourselves. This applies especially to priests and religious who travel in public. Their very humble presence should attract a ready following and an open mind among their listeners.

Now, finally, if you are a messenger of the good news, you’d also better have something convincing to say, dressing shabbily will only make you appear odd

The scriptures: Amos 7: 12-15; Ephesians 1: 3-14; Mark 6: 7-13

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:50 AM.