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March 29, 2010

Easter Sunday [April 4, 2010]

I have a friend, a confrere in the Congregation of Holy Cross, who is a fine painter and an art teacher. I watched him paint one day and, when he decided to take a break, I asked him whether he had any notion in his mind how the painting would look when it was completed. He said, “well before I put a brush to canvas, I have some idea of what I want it to look like, but only gradually does this mental picture become a reality. I think there was a point before I began when I had this tremendous insight, this mystery of the finished product and as I continued to paint, it gradually became clearer to me.

But at times, I also began to wonder if my vision was true. Many a time, I have brushed out certain sections of the work, because my insight became clearer and clearer as I went along. But I never forgot my original insight, my idea of what I wanted this painting to be. Would it compare with Picasso or Cezanne or some other famous artist? I doubt it. But gradually I had to convince myself that it did not make any difference whether my painting looked like the works of any of those great men. I had to stick with my own vision; and usually, I was happy with the result. But I must tell you I have never painted anything that I could say was truly finished, perfect; nothing in this world is perfect, everything is in process of becoming”

I have thought a lot about that conversation and now I think of it as a kind of parable or an analogy of the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

There was once a time in my life as a priest and theologian when I struggled to make sense out of Jesus’ rising from the dead and how I might make it part of my faith life and help others do the same.

I have long since decided to give up the effort to theologize about the resurrection. There is neither saint nor a theologian in all of history who has been able to explain the happening by itself, the reason being that resurrection is both an event and a mystery. Better perhaps to say that it is an event that is at the same time mystery.

My suspicion is that no two people, either in ancient times or in the modern age have the same sense of what the resurrection means.

What each of us does have, however, is a dream, an image, and an analogy of what it originally might have been and is today. That is as close as one can come to mystery. Each of us imagines it in our own unique way, but we are also part of a community that believes together that Christ is truly risen.

This is the experience that the early Christians had on the first Easter Sunday morning. The women who were part of Jesus retinue discovered that the body was gone but had no idea how it happened. They simply believed that he was still living.

I would like to believe that all people, at least all Christians, have this same experience. The public word (gospel) of centuries tells them this event happened, but we are not utterly disturbed if we do not understand it immediately.

What happens, I believe, is that we gradually come to a measure of peace with resurrection without being able to explain it. What happens is that we can claim that we have had resurrection experiences of our own or have heard of such occurrences happening to others

We realize that resurrection analogies happen all the time: Children are born to those who thought that such was not possible. People recover from cancer; Spring springs forth every “spring.” We escape from depression by pure effort. We miss a near accident.

These are merely analogies or metaphors of resurrection, likenesses, events in which we detect new life springing up. In some cases we might even call them miracles. In some sense, I believe that faith in the resurrection is literally built into our genes. We cannot disbelieve the fact of it in our lives.

Did this intuition happen all of a moment? No, we became more and more aware of it as time went on. It is similar to the insight of the painter. He has a vision of some object when he begins, but it only comes nearer to reality as he looks at it again. I must confess that a similar experience is happening to me as I write. When I set the first keystroke to this piece, I had a vague vision of resurrection, but as I continued pounding away at the keys, the mystery became clearer to me.

Finally, It must be true of all of us that we have our own unique sense of the sacred character of this day. Why do we get dressed up specially, why a festive dinner, why do we participate in the liturgy with gladness and joy? I think it has something to do with our subconscious sense that resurrection is true and even if we do not understand it, it is still too important not to celebrate it.

The scriptures: Acts 10 3-4, 37-42; 1 Corinthians 5: 6-8; Luke 24: 1-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:07 AM.

March 22, 2010

Palm Sunday - Sixth Sunday of Lent [March 28, 2010]

Is there a person in the world, old or young, but especially the young, who does not love a parade? I doubt it! Many a time I have reserved a seat for myself on the curb, waiting for the festivities to begin, for the hard candies to start flying.

The Fourth of July, of course, the feast of our independence is always the most celebratory: Vehicles of all sorts creep by: high -powered cars, old tractors, home made “go-carts. Then, of course, along comes the Queen of something or other with her ladies in waiting. And somewhere in the middle of that long retinue comes the center piece of the event: the mayor and members of the city council, followed by fire trucks with horns blaring, some people clapping wildly, others, perhaps, less enthusiastic about politicians and politics, bearing up as best they can.

Without doubt, however, everyone seems happy to celebrate a day off from the burdens of work and a time to pretend that the world is really okay, at least for today.

We do not have much reliable evidence of patriotic parades in ancient times, except on those occasions when a Roman general with his victorious troops came home after defeating “the enemy” whomever they might be.

An instance of a parade, much smaller and less pretentious, is described for us in the gospel of Luke for the Sunday that we, oddly enough, name for tree branches, palms. Palm Sunday, we call it.

As in most parade-celebrations, and in this instance as well, an important personage was making his entrance into the city of Jerusalem. He had already gained considerable renown as a preacher of good news, being also one who did marvelous deeds of healing the sick and offering hope to the downtrodden. His name: Jesus, the man from Nazareth.

Over the preceding months he had gained considerable attention, both by the common folks and suspicion by the religious and civil authorities.

Nonetheless, this particular day and its festivities belonged to the “folks,” the common people who had seen or heard of his great exploits. Hence, as the text points out so graphically, they laid their coats, blankets and tree branches on the dusty street as a sign and acceptance of this humble man who seemed to be the promise of a happier future.

In only a short time, however, all this gala celebration would be forgotten. This man who promised liberation would be dead at the hands of the Roman army in collusion with the religious authorities.

And so, the crowds soon forgot him. However, a small group of close-ups (disciples, apostles, hangers on) could not forget him. They soon became known as Jesus Followers. They formed themselves into small prayer and worship groups, who, after a short while, began to grow. They could not forget Him. After all, he held out such great promise for them. Through these small prayer and worship groups, his memory would continue to grow over the years and centuries until this very day, Palm Sunday, when all of us Christians gather whether in marching ranks or sitting on sidewalks to remember this man who has meant everything to us.

Given all this, it seems to me that Palm Sunday is not simply an effort to recall the past but also a parable for the future. It appears to me that grand events often peak for a short time and then hopes are dashed, but only for a while.

This has happened many times in history: just when people began to think that their hopes were useless, suddenly, or over a period of time, the importance of this person and his vision begins to flower and hope begins to return.

Let me give you several examples of this phenomenon. Thirty years ago, in the month of March, the Archbishop of San Salvador, Oscar Romero was shot through the heart by a designated soldier of the Salvadoran army while he, Romero was celebrating Mass at a convent of sisters. The reason for this atrocious act: he was doing his best protect the campesinos, farmers and local artisans from the threat of the military dictatorship: There was always the suspicion by the government that they were Communists, agitators.

Today, however, the Salvadoran people consider Romero a saint. A film is being shown in mid March here at the University of Notre Dame titled Romero on Romero. Romero’s story by Romero himself. It is expected to be shown around the United States and especially in Central America as a tribute to the little people whom Romero defended.

I think of this as a Jesus parable: Just when we thought all was lost in El Salvador, new life sprang up from the grave of that great man.

One last parable: thirty years ago, also in El Salvador, four American churchwomen were raped and murdered. Their only crime: being agitators of the people, communists deserving death. In fact, however, like Archbishop Romero, they simply stood in companionship with the poor and the oppressed.

Today, they are considered saints and martyrs. Once again, an example that when all seems lost, hope springs up anew.

This, I think, is the message of Palm Sunday: There may be instances in our own lives when we feel that life is a parade, a gala event until, suddenly, all our hopes are dashed. Only much later, after much perseverance, however, does the hope of new life return for us.

In some sense all our lives are a parable of death and resurrection. It simply takes a while to see the sunrise after a long night of darkness.

The scriptures: Isaiah 50: 4-7; Philippians 2: 6-11; Luke 22:14-23: 56

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:50 PM.

March 17, 2010

Fifth Sunday of Lent [March 21, 2009]

It has occurred to me many times when reading Jesus’ stories that he had a keen sense of human relationships. Many of his stories are concerned with the life of families. Perhaps the best known among such stories is the one we have come to call The Prodigal Son, the son who had everything life could provide but left home, wasted it, then came to his mind and returned to his father for reconciliation.

All of us, being members of families, know from personal experience that fathers-sons and mothers-daughters relationships can be stressful. It is often said that fathers compete with their sons and mothers with their daughters. From my own family experience, I believe that to be true. My father and I were never very close. I cannot ever remember carrying on any deep and sensitive conversation with him. Such was not his style nor choice. I believe that was much to my disadvantage in my struggle to grow into manhood.

Later on in college, during my so-called “Russian period,” I read a novel by Ivan Sergeevitch Turgenev entitled Fathers and Sons, hoping to find some light regarding my own parental relationship. Alas, the book turned out to be too political for my tastes.

Speaking again of my own experience, I believe that I struggled mightily to grow up and made many mistakes in the process. All this was a great sadness for my father, I’m sure. He had high hopes that his eldest son would carry on the tradition of the family estate. My decision to enter the seminary seemed something of a disappointment to him.

So, what about the story of the prodigal son? You will notice that it is sandwiched into a conversation Jesus had with the scribes and Pharisees regarding his habit of welcoming sinners and eating with them. Such association with “sinners” (non Jews) was particularly repugnant to conservative Jews.

The prodigal story is also part of a three-some concerning “the lost”, the lost coin, the lost sheep and the lost son. All three demonstrate Jesus deep concern regarding those whom conservative Jews considered lost, outside the realm of salvation.

Jesus, on the other hand tells each story in such a way that the woman who loses the coin, the shepherd, the lost sheep and the father his son will go to great lengths to recover that which was lost. That is God’s way, Jesus seems to say. No effort is too great to find whomever or whatever is lost. In modern parlance, Jesus is preaching God’s “Lost and Found” policy.

The lost son story also has stored within it the notion that the God of Jesus is a patient God. Nothing in this world moves rapidly, particularly human growth. Becoming human simply takes a lifetime. God is willing to wait until we finally find our way back home. It’s called forgiveness,

So a question arises from the story: What is gained if the father simply tells the son: “You ruined our family name and heritage. Don’t ever come back here?” In that case both sides have lost everything.

In a sense, then, none of us should consider ourselves as estranged from God; we may feel alienated, but are never lost.

There is still one last small mystery in this story: What of the elder son? He seems to have been completely overlooked. Most us, reading the story would feel compassion for him. After all, he supported his father from his youth, never a party of any sort; then “the wastrel” comes home and the partying begins. Where is the justice in this? My personal interpretation of this element in the story that the elder son was never lost; the younger one was lost. This is a story about “lostness” and recovery; Jesus simply wants to get a point across to those who have placed certain members of the human race outside the availability of salvation.

Interestingly, I should imagine that most of us would come down on the side of the younger son, despite his scandalous ways. It is against our deepest sensibilities to see a son or daughter punished when they demonstrate their desire to come back into the fold and be one of the family again. Of course, it does sound a little extreme, doesn’t it? A shower, new clothes, a party with the best food and drink. dancing and the rest. But now tell me, wouldn’t you go out of your way to welcome home one of your own? Sure you would! After all, we can’t be petty about such things. Hey, we’re all a little bit lost, aren’t we?

The scriptures: Isaiah 43:16-21; 10-12; Phil 3:8-14; John 8:1-11

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:20 PM.

March 08, 2010

Fourth Sunday of Lent [March 14, 2010]

It is obviously a bit late for me to be thinking about changing careers. Even if it were possible, however, the one occupation that would not attract my interest would be Law. I do not have many friends, who are judges or attorneys, but it occurs to me that Law is a calling that involves a high level of intelligence, deep compassion while making those serious decisions that can realistically affect another person’s life. Indeed, judges and juries in many instances have the power to take or spare another person’s life. Without doubt, therefore the legal profession carries with it great power but also great peril. A wrong decision can make a difference for a lifetime.

It should also be said that a case of law should have no room for assumptions. Life and Law have to do with provable facts. There is no room for superficial assumptions about guilt or innocence.

It occurs to me also that on a personal level, all of us can fall into the trap of making assumptions about others that ultimately turn to be false or at least highly questionable. I can truthfully say that I have often been guilty of making such harmful judgments, much to my own embarrassment afterwards.

We have such a situation of false judgment and happy ending in the gospel for this Fifth Sunday of Lent. It is the well-known story of the woman taken in adultery. Interestingly, it is a kind of case history. The elders of the temple consistently tried to trap Jesus in his judgments regarding civil cases. And so, in this instance, they bring before him the woman found to be in an illicit relation with a man. (By the way, the man is not accused in this instance, which makes for another interesting legal situation.) Nonetheless, the elders place the legal case before Jesus the rabbi, teacher. If he decides that the woman should go free, he could be accused of violating the Law of Moses, which specified that a woman caught in adultery should be stoned. If, on the other hand, he should find her guilty, they would accuse him of contradicting the human law of compassion. In other words, the elders wanted to trap Jesus on the basis of his own judgment.

It is at this point that the wisdom of Jesus is clearly seen. It is clearly a case of gender discrimination. Jesus puts the elders on the defensive by asking them whether there is any among them who has never committed a sin. Silence befalls the crowd and, one by one they crept away. The only assumption one can make is that the elders themselves were guilt of sin…adultery? Who knows?

I’m sure that many people hearing this story will say, “All right. Justice is served!”

I have thought of this as “Second Chance Theology,” or the risks of false accusation. In any case, it is a happy ending story.

Notice, by the way, that the of reconciliation story is included in the liturgy of Lent; all of which invites us Christians to think about our habit of false accusation or false assumption, a tendency we have in relation to others. It is so simple to throw rocks, real or metaphorical, at others. It is true, I believe, that all of us are consistently growing up throughout our life. Every transgression is an opportunity for atonement.

It occurs to me that wherever we walk, there are rocks under our feet, a good reminder that they should be left to lie exactly where they are. Now, baseballs are a different story. One can throw and catch them without danger.

The scriptures: Isaiah 43: 16-21; Philippians 3: 8-14; John 8: 1-11

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:08 PM.

March 01, 2010

Third Sunday of Lent [March 7, 2010]

Let me begin this reflection on the Third Sunday of Holy Lent with an assumption that I feel is almost certain. My assumption is that everyone, without exception, is capable of experiencing God. Secondly, everyone experiences God in his/her own unique way. There is the Catholic experience, the Christian experience, the Jewish experience, the Islamic experience and others too numerous to mention.

I would also like to assert that even atheists experience God, not my God or yours, perhaps, but God in some unique form known and interpreted only by the individual.

Over the past several years there has been a number of self-identified atheist authors who have made new assertions regarding the existence of God: the three best known in the group are Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and Daniel Dennett, all scholars in their own particular field of science. Lest we imagine that these gentlemen are doomed for their position, let me quote two interesting statements from their works; here, for instance, is what Sam Harris has to say: “I still use words like “spiritual” and “mystical”…People have self-transcending experiences. And people have the best day of their life when…they seem to be one with nature.” Some may say, “That’s not God!” True enough, perhaps, from our Christian perspective, but it is an experience, nonetheless, of the sacred, the transcendent.

Here is a short paragraph from Daniel Dennett: “(The God experience) is the best moment in your life and it’s the moment when you forget yourself and become better than you ever thought you could be, and see in all humbleness the wonderfulness of nature. That’s it! and that’s wonderful.”

Most of us, I should imagine, would agree that there is something transcendent about nature: the sun, for instance keeps us alive, rain that provides water for thirsty creatures, clouds, thunder and lightning, storms of all sorts help us to imagine the God of Christian faith.

Finally, there is the well-known experience we read of from the Book of Exodus. Moses is wandering about in the Sinai desert herding his father-in-law’s herd of sheep and suddenly comes upon a bush that is afire and yet does not seem to diminish. Then comes the divine experience: A voice from the bush warns Moses not to approach any farther because he is already standing on holy ground.

I’m sure Moses must have felt all the more bewildered and perplexed over this experience: talking bushes must have been rare in those times as they are today. Nonetheless, he interprets it as a divine intervention in his life. He will not consider himself a simple sheepherder from that moment forward. His life was now changed forever.

Scripture scholars are at a loss to explain the divine phenomenon except to say that although physically unique, it was interpreted by Moses and others after him as a God-experience.

As we mentioned above, all such experiences are exclusive to the individual. That is what makes me think that no two people on this planet have the same perception of God. We are literally left to our own devices.

It is for this reason that certain so-called burning bush experiences in life are worth considering and remembering. Many of us have heard of individuals who have turned their lives around after some particular event that happened to them. My sense, however, is that this is a rather rare occurrence and not to be duplicated for ourselves.

More common, I believe, are the so called every day experiences that at first sight seem to be nothing more than accidents: the sunset that made you stop on the way home from work and simply stare until the sun disappeared below the horizon. I myself have had several close-call automobile accidents that awakened me to the real world and made me realize that only God could have protected me from my careless driving

Perhaps you will agree with me, therefore, that there are such occurrences in that at first seem may simply seem to be a “happening” but, indeed, on reflection, turn out to have immense meaning.

What really matters at such moments in life is that we pay attention and search for the deeper meaning that lies deep within the incident.

Many people feel that the God-experience is in the details of life. I believe that to be true, but it applies particularly to perceptive people, folks who try to appreciate the extraordinary in the ordinary, the sacred in the worldly. That is why I still insist that folks who call themselves atheists may yet be people of faith whether or not they believe it to be true.

Let me add, however, that If any of you who are reading these words claim that you have seen a burning bush in your back yard that talks, let me know, I need to come and do some closer investigation.

The scriptures: Exodus 3: 1-8a, 13-15; 1 Corinthians 10: 1-6, 10-12;
Luke 13: 1-9

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:09 AM.