November 16, 2008

The Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Sharing the Wealth

It occurs to me that there are large numbers of people in this world who work in the field of communication. Actually, when you think about it, we all somehow work in communication. The fact that I wrote this homily on an Apple computer, tells you that I managed to learn enough about this machine to be able to produce something with it.

Communication is absolutely important to us; how else are we to understand others and live in peace with them?

It wasn’t always so, of course: Just think for instance how the church scattered around the world used to communicate with the pope and he with us. It would take months, for instance, for a message to travel back and forth to Rome. Today, I can go on-line, pull up Google and punch in the Vatican and, boom, there is the latest letter by Pope Benedict XVI. Or, if I want a commentary on it, I can go to John Allen’s column in the National Catholic Reporter, and there it is explained for me. Or, again if I want to get further commentary on the state of the Church today, I can simply read America or Commonweal or some other Catholic periodical and there I will find some insightful author giving me his or her latest insight. Such are the marvels of the modern mind and machine.

But think about this too: Someone, some individual or even many people had a hand in bringing this piece of information to me and also to you. In some sense or other, this person truly wanted to share his insights with the world. Of course, skilled people like this person also want to earn their keep. In justice, they need to get paid, but I would also like to believe that the insights they have shared with us are equally as important as the recompense they receive. Without all this, the world would be all the poorer.

I think, for instance of people too who have a hand in helping me produce this small piece of “wisdom.” Steve Jobs, the CEO of Apple had a hand in it, so to Bill gates the founder and president of Microsoft or Michael Dell, founder and CEO of Dell Personal Computers. I think too of Carly Fiorina, the one-time head of Hewlet Packard. I might still be writing this with a goose quill without their creative instincts.

Most of us, of course, don’t fit the model of the people I just mentioned. Nonetheless, we have something to share, small as it might be, and that something will eventually make a difference in the way we look at the world. We may never know what that difference is, but, believe me, it will appear sometime in the future.

So, what difference do we make in this world. Let me suggest for you the example of the woman (no name given) cited in the first reading today from the Book of Proverbs.
She is being praised for her gifts, but it is interesting how it all comes across: The men are sitting at the city gates, discussing world affairs. The author of the book praises the man who is fortunate enough to have married a woman of many talents: She’s a “stay-at-home mom, she sews clothing for the family, makes sure the poor at her door are served, all the wonderful things a woman does naturally.

Then, at the end, the author of Proverbs makes the point that she will be remembered not for her charm and good looks, but for her industriousness. (she was a workaholic) Given those talents, he her husband, can now sit at the city gates discussing world affairs with his cronies.

The point of all this, of course, is not that she made her husband look good but that she communicated with the world. She did things that made the world appreciate her. In other words, she took the risk to share what she had with the world around her.

I hail her as a model for many women in history who have made a mark on the world. I think, for instance, of women like Dorothy Day, founder of the Hospitality Houses, of Madame Curie, the medical scientist, Hildegard of Bingen, 12th century nun, poet, painter and papal reformer. I think too of Catherine of Sienna, mystic and geo-politician and lastly of Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

I could go on and on, but the point is that these women communicated immensely to the world, whether they knew it or not.

Obviously, the same is true of women in our own time: They are university presidents, CEO’s of large companies, chancellors of Catholic dioceses. All this has been a long time in coming, but now that it is, here we are all the better for it. They risked and it paid off.

Now, briefly regarding the gospel for this liturgy: The same theme appears once again: A man of some means gives different amounts of money to three “investors.” They are asked to go out and invest it wisely. Two did and came back the richer. The third decided not to take a risk; he buries it in the ground! Two risk-takers come away with more. The one who couldn’t bring himself to put his amount on the market, loses it and his life along with it. End of a sad story.

So, the lesson we learn from all this is that our human gifts and talents are not our own, they belong to God’s world, all people of God’s world. The catch, of course, is that we need to take some risk in communicating them. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose, but it’s worth the risk.

In short, how will the world look without our gifts that is the question? At any rate it will never do the world or ourselves any good if we bury the gifts that God has given us.

I’d like to think of one more reward that unnamed woman in Proverbs received for her good works. She got her name and her work mentioned in the Bible, right? No small thing. Let’s hope, then, that each of us will be remembered too, not only here on earth but in God’s kingdom as well.

Proverbs 31: 10-13; 1Thessalonians 5: 1-6; Matthew 25: 14-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:51 AM.

November 09, 2008

Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome -

Let me tell you a little story, it’s a story about church, a small, clapboard church in the Mississippi. It’s also about a grandmother and her two little grandchildren who always walked to that church together each Sunday. As they would get nearer the old run down church, they always had this interesting little conversational ritual; it went like this: The kids would say: “Hey, grandma, there’s our church up ahead.” And the grandma would always reply, “No, that’s not our church.” “But it is, grandma, that is our church that’s where we go every Sunday” “No,” grandma would reply, “our church is underneath that church; that’s the real church we belong to.

I would be willing to bet that there are very few Catholics who would describe their church in that way. Yes, they know the name of their neighborhood church and perhaps that’s all that counts for them. Whether they are actually attendees of that church or not, they may at least drive by occasionally, they may hear their neighbors tell of the activities that go on there, they may even ask whether the pastor is a “nice guy.” In other words, there seems to be no doubt that churches are talking points in most communities. What a church does or does not do is often big news locally.

As we just said, therefore, parish churches are important to most Catholics; their consciences are formed there by what they hear or do not hear from the pulpit.

More importantly still, the spiritual life of most sincere Catholics is formed by the church itself, by the joyful celebration of the liturgy and the sacraments, by the proclamation of the word. It is good that this is so because there is so much “competition” in peoples’ lives from the world outside the Church.

It occurs to me also that the modern-day Catholics may have a somewhat different perception of the role of their local parish than a former generation may have had. Remember the old saying: “Good Catholics, pay, pray and obey. Well, many still do pay, pray and obey, but, for others, the sense of church and the role of conscience are formed by biblical reflection, dialogue with other Christians, and careful listening to the Sunday homily. All these play an important part in Christian living. Yes, they still do pay, pray and obey but now more critically and intelligently. In short, Catholics love their parish so much that they want it to be the central source of their spiritual life.

At the same time, the local parish is not as “safe” as it once was: At one time, many Catholics chose to stay close to home, their neighborhood, even though the life of their home parish might not have been very stimulating, intellectually and spiritually.

Today, on the other hand, it is not unusual for many Catholics to search for a church which seems to offer them better options than they now have; no not a quickie Mass and short homily, but rather a prayerful and beautiful celebration of the liturgy, stimulating and challenging preaching, solid catechesis for their children, opportunities for their teenagers to engage the changing world.

At the same time, if the insightful Catholic finds the church he/she is looking for, you can bet they will be challenged to rethink their notion of what Church is all about.

All of this came to mind as I examined the scriptures assigned for today’s feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. It’s not an exact model of the parish church back home, but it is definitely presented to us as a model for all Catholic churches.

A little history: A basilica is a cathedral, a cathedral plus. It is the mother church around which others are bonded. This basilica whose original dedication we are honoring today has had several names: Basilica of the Savior, but more commonly, the Lateran basilica because it was originally the home of the Laterani family who donated it to Fausta, wife of the emperor Constantine, who, in turn, donated it to the Catholic church in Rome.

Interestingly, it happens to be the pope’s church; He, therefore, often travels across the Tiber River to celebrate the liturgy in his own parish. The people who make the Basilica of St. John their parish church, can expect the pope to come in unannounced, to celebrate liturgy and preach. Wouldn’t it be nice if the pope were our pastor (well, actually, he is)?

An interesting Latin phrase appears on an interior wall of St. John Lateran “Omnium urbis et orbis Ecclesiarum mater et caput.” “The mother and head of all the churches of the city and the world.” That will tell you immediately how important the Basilica of St. John is. In a sense it is your parish church too. We are all linked to this mother church; we are all linked to the pastor, Benedict XVI. True, all this may seem a bit symbolic, but it is important to realize that the Catholic Church is one in head and members. We truly have only one pastor, Benedict XVI.

So, what should all this mean to us? I think it should mean that there is always a church somewhere that will welcome you into its folds. If you are hungry for spiritual nourishment, there is a church down the street or across town just waiting to welcome you. If you have not visited that church for some time, go and try it out. You may be pleasantly surprised. At the same time, be aware that your choice may cost you something, no, not money, not your “sacrifice” for a short homily but your full dedication to those who have welcomed you in. That’s what church is all about, or at least it should be.

The scriptures: Ezekiel 47: 1-2, 8-9; 1 Corinthians 9: 3c-11, 16-17; John 2: 13-2

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:58 AM.

November 02, 2008

Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed - (All Souls Day)

Nikos Kazantzakis, is one of my all-time favorite authors. He was born in Iraklion, Crete. He had many literary successes; in fact, he missed receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature by one point to the French author, Albert Camus. But his greatest joy came from writing about his own kind, the working class, farmers and miners. The novel I love most is entitled, Zorba the Greek. It’s the story of a rough textured man who worked with his hands but dreamt dreams of greatness.

When we meet him in the book, he is planning this grand adventure of re-opening a coal mine on the Island of Crete. Of course, nothing goes well: The trestle that was meant to carry the coal to the port collapsed. The grand venture had come to nothing

So, here is Zorba and his English friend (the narrator) sitting on the shore of the Mediterranean, drinking wine, and smoking black, twisted cigars. Zorba is still dreaming of the mine that failed. Is he despondent over it, however? No, indeed, not at all. In fact, he already has other ventures in the planning stages. So, he remarks to his friend: “How simple and fugal a thing is happiness: A glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier and the sound of the sea. Then he concludes with this amazing philosophical statement: “You know, my friend,” he says, “a man like me should live forever.” Don’t we all wish and hope the same?

At any rate, it seems like a vain wish because we know it is not going to happen, at least in this world. Nonetheless, my friends here we are this evening celebrating that very notion, life forever. We call this day the Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed. We remember with great devotion all those who have passed before us, whether they have been close relatives or people completely unknown to us, baptized or non-baptized.

I am convinced, then. that there is a sort of deep longing, indeed a conviction in all of us that, some how or other, we will live forever. Therefore, being baptized Christians, we have firm hope that our life, in some form or other will perdure the present world, as we know it.

But let me suggest also that it is not so much eternal life with God that we puzzle over, indeed, that is a mystery of its own. Rather we are left to wonder about the phenomenon of death, that experience we all must some day pass through. Science has no answer to it, neither literature nor philosophy.

So, what are we left with? We are left with faith in the God who created us, faith in the God who has sustained us and faith in the God whom we firmly believe will welcome us to the kingdom for all eternity, as his Son, Jesus promised.

But let me tell you, my friends, what puzzles me the most in all this is not the inevitability of my own death, but rather the deaths of those who have died so violently and uselessly. I think, for instance, of the senseless death of three religious sisters and their young laywoman companion, missionaries all, who were raped and killed in El Salvador. I think of the six Jesuit educators and their housekeeper who were killed under cover of darkness by Salvadoran soldiers. And I think especially of Archbishop Oscar Romero who was shot through the heart as he celebrated the Eucharist at a convent of nuns.

I think too, of course of the millions of children in the womb who have been killed (literally) over these many years. No chance for life there, obviously.

Lastly, I think of all the people, lay and civilian who have been killed in our time in senseless wars. (Dan Berrigan, by the way, the Jesuit poet, once said that nation wins wars; every war is a tragedy of loss on both sides).

Perhaps then, it is not so much that people die, but that they die senselessly and violently at the hands of their brothers and sisters. Why, in heavens name, can we not live at peace with one another?

Ultimately, in all this, it seems that we are left to our own devices. Fortunately, we have the company and the assurance of our sisters and brothers who share our common faith. This is the church that always appeals to the sacred scriptures, if not for answers, then surely for hope and a sense of peace.

This is precisely what the author of the Book of Wisdom reminds us of when he says: “The souls of the just are in the hands of God and no torment will touch them. In the view of the foolish they seemed to be dead, and their passing utter destruction, but they are at peace.

Dare we imagine, then, that this might also have been the last thought of Jesus, as he hung on the cross? Not that His Father would rescue him and raise Him up on the third day, but rather that he had struggled throughout all his adult life to bring some semblance of peace and justice to a violent world. Finally, then, he must have been at peace, knowing that he had, at least, done something give the world hope.

Dare we also believe that we can look forward to a peaceful rest at the end of our days if we have struggled, as Jesus did, to bring some semblance of peace to the small world in which we live?

In all of this, I am reminded of some lines from two authors whom I appreciate: First, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel who said this: “Throughout our life we continue to fight against dying. We have our own peculiar ways of doing that, ways that others may never understand. But this is the manner in which we personally stave off death as long as we can.”

And a second author, the poet, Dylan Thomas: “Do not go gentle into that good night,” he says. Old age should burn with rage at close of day. “Rage, rage at the dying of the light.”

That, my friends, in some mysterious way, is what I think we do as Christians on this day we celebrate in faith the memory of all the faithful departed. Armed with the faith into which we all were baptized, we fight against the dying of the light. We do it all because, ultimately we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, raised from the dead who is truly the light of the world.

The scriptures: Wisdom: 3: 1-9; Romans 6: 3-9; John 6: 37-40

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:57 AM.

October 26, 2008

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Strangers No More

It has always seemed to me that there are three absolute essentials that all creatures need to sustain life. They will fight for these and defend them to the death: One is sexuality or the desire for a mate. The second is a place to be or exist, a piece of land. The third is food and water. Without these, no living creature nor the race itself lives very long. I do not, of course, claim precedence of one of these over the other because they all coalesce for the continuance of life itself. All creatures, individuals and the human race itself want nothing more than to live. Hence they will make every effort to keep and defend what pertains to their existence, what they feel is theirs: Food, mate and place.

There is also a living instinct in all creatures to protect what they feel is theirs because that means that they will be able to continue their species into the next generation. Ordinarily, the male of the species takes it upon him or itself to carry out this defensive task. If an enemy crosses their border, he or she will be toast or roast, if you please! If you lose your territory you face extinction. That is no small matter in the circle and continuation of life.

In the human community too this protective instinct becomes very evident in our effort to have a little piece of earth that we can call our own. So, to make sure that it continues to remain our own, we fence it in, we place “No Trespassing” signs on it.

In the larger context, individual countries put up missile defense systems on their borders. They build up atomic stockpiles. (One would think a single bomb would be enough, of course, but…)

Think too about gated communities that have guards on duty twenty-four, seven! What does that say? It says, “we’ve got ours and we like it here, so don’t even think about trying to circumnavigate that gate!”

Perhaps all this has to do with the fact that there is not sufficient land and resources at this point in world history to sustain life for all the creatures that inhabit this planet or this particular place on it.

So, what happens? People migrate to another place where there is hope of finding whatever will sustain their lives. (You see, it’s always a question of life.)

I suspect migration has been happening on the planet for as long as creatures have inhabited it. Along with this migration, of course, we have the “problem” of borders and defense systems. People want to get to their destinations no matter how difficult that proves to be. People, however, who already are located on that plot of land, do not want you coming in and taking away their life’s resources. Again, it’s a matter of survival.

It is becoming more and more evident in our own times that food is running short in many parts of the world and people are beginning to move around the world at an alarming pace. Remember how the Israelites migrated to Egypt in their own time?

In the North America, for instance, as we know so well, there has been a long debate in congress over immigration, especially from Latin American countries. Given that “threat”, the United States has been building fences and walls along its southern borders to keep migrants from crossing over without proper legal documents.

It is all a great anomaly, of course, because our country needs workers who are willing to do tasks that not many Americans are willing to do, and yet we make every effort to keep these people from crossing our border. We want lettuce, tomatoes, onions, grapes and all the rest but we’d rather not harvest them ourselves!

I realize that this is a very complicated issue and there is no one simple answer to it. Our country fears an overflow of migrants (traveling people) without having the resources like education, medicine, housing, et cetera to care for them.

And so, we come finally to the scriptures for this Sunday that speak so clearly in the gospel about love of neighbor and in Moses’ words in Exodus about not oppressing or molesting the alien in your midst.

The Israelites themselves, of course, were once themselves aliens in a foreign land and depended on the courtesy of strangers to keep themselves from starving.

The early New Testament Christians, Followers of the Way, also found themselves without home, land or place of worship when they were cast out of the synagogues.

In the history of our own country we have many examples of small religious communities that have migrated from the oppressive economic and religious conditions in Europe to a place where they could live and worship in peace.

With all that, therefore, what should we make of those scriptures that speak of “honoring the alien in your midst?”

It is my sense that, despite the apparent threat to borders, food, family and land that migration often brings with it, it still continues to be necessary to bring the word of God---the love and justice of God--- to bear on this aspect of the human condition. If the word of God does nothing more than to shame us into treating the neighbor as a person with dignity, that will be a start.

How often we hear the psalms speak, for instance, of the earth and its fullness as a gift of God. That it truly is. It belongs to us all and we all should have a generous mind and heart to make sure no one is left without the resources of water, food a plot of land and a family.

Now about the elephants, lions, tigers and the rest…I guess they will continue doing what they have been doing during their entire existence. With those of us who call ourselves “human”, of course, we have to have come up with a better solution to sustain life on this place we call earth.

The scriptures: Exodus 22: 20-26, 1 Thessalonians1: 5-10, Matthew 22:34-40

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:59 PM.

October 18, 2008

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We are finally coming to the end of this long political campaign and, of course, we have heard the two candidate’s positions on all sorts of issues. But there is always one issue that is more contentious than all others and that is taxes. Candidates do lot of dancing around that issue. If there is even a hint in their speeches that they might be thinking about raising taxes, you can be sure that they will have to carefully explain the reason. For sure, you won’t get elected simply on a platform of raising taxes.

However, if a candidate were brave and smart enough, he might suggest that taxes might not be such a bad idea after all. He would take the heat for that position, of course, but in reality, if this candidate’s time in office is to be successful he has to be truthful and admit that taxes in some form are for the good of the people.

The problem is that most folks want good roads, strong bridges, good police and fire protection but they don’t want to pay the taxes that provide for all this. “It’s not coming out of my pockets,” they will say. But of course you can’t have it both ways. If you want your road fixed, you have to pay for it somehow.

There is an example of this reluctance to pay taxes in the gospel for today. It seems that taxes have been a “curse” going back to Jesus’ time and much further. Historians say that Roman taxes were much higher then than they are today. Some of the money, of course, went into the coffers of the rich while the poor continued to exist in poverty.

At the same time, however, the Romans built their famous roads and their aqueducts that brought fresh water to the cities with money that came from taxes. So, taxes, as much as we might hate them, are good for something.

So, what was an issue with the scribes and their question to Jesus as to whether it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not. Actually, the taxes were not going directly to Caesar, but, for the Jewish people, the Roman state and Caesar were one and the same.

So, it’s a question about law: What is lawful according to the Torah. The Torah says, “Thou shalt not worship false Gods or graven images. For people in the Roman Empire, Caesar was a god. Every coin minted in the realm had his face on it.

So, the traditional Jewish scribes were in something of a bind: Would they be breaking the prescription of the Torah if they paid taxes?

They take the occasion, then, to ask Jesus for his teaching on the matter. It was all a scam, of course. If he said, “no, you can’t pay taxes to the emperor”, he would run a-foul of the Roman authorities. If he said, “Sure, go ahead and pay,” he could be accused of disobeying the Torah, something no loyal rabbi would want to teach.

The interesting part about the story is that Jesus asked his critics to show him a coin of the realm. And, of course, where did they find the coin of the realm? Right in their own pockets!! So, they were already breaking the Torah simply by carrying in their pockets the image of Caesar, and admitting in so many words, that they were worshipping Caesar simply by using the coin to pay taxes.

So, the scribes were trying to put Jesus into a box by answering either-or, but he outfoxed them by saying that it could be both-and. In other words, they needed to decide for themselves what belonged to Caesar and what belonged to God. Of course, had they been a little smarter, they would have said: “Well, actually, everything belongs to God, but at the same time, it’s nice to have nice clear water and smooth roads.

I suppose in our own time in history we might tend to say, “Well, hey it’s a no brainer; we can serve God and still pay our taxes with offending our conscience. We should be able to assume that what is good and just for us, even it comes from what the government offers us as a result of the paying of our taxes has to be spiritually legitimate.”

At the same time, there is still the question that must often bother us: Where do we stand on values? What is truly important in our lives, matters of the world or matters of the spirit? Being human and living in a secular world, there might be tendency for us to get caught up in “secularism” and to forget spiritual realities entirely. But it need not be so and should not be so. All things come from God and deserve our gratitude. Even the things that are purely worldly give glory to God. The way we use what is created should tell us where we stand vis-à-vis our God.

Given all that, the next time I pull a ten dollar bill out of my pocket and look at Alexander Hamilton’s image there on, I shall not be embarrassed to buy what I am buying because it is God and not Mr. Hamilton who provided the goods. God and Caesar should not have to be in competition, at least for the person who believes that God is still in charge.

The scriptures: Isaiah 45: 1. 4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1. 1-5; Matthew 22: 15-21

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:05 AM.

October 12, 2008

Twenty Eighty Sunday in Ordinary Time - RSVP

I have to admit that I have seldom been invited to any large public banquet in my life, like at the Whitehouse for instance. Of course, I’ve been invited to a lot of smaller banquets: Wedding banquets and post-baptismal banquets, and such and I loved them; they were always a lot of fun. Everybody was just enjoying the heck out of the occasion, kids running around, people giving toasts, et cetera.

But I also need to confess that I was once invited to a special banquet that I will never forget. Not at the White House, of course.

One day several years ago, Archbishop Schwietz, Archbishop of Anchorage, walks into my office and says: “Clem, we’re heading to Chicago!” “How come” I say?” He says, “Well, the Catholic Church Extension Society in Chicago (an old and well-known missionary support group) has decided to honor you with the prestigious missionary award, The Lumen Christi. So, I say again, “Wow, how come? I’m just a little guy in this big church?” And he says, “Listen, anybody who dedicates his retirement years to ministering to Catholics out in the bush, risking his life, flying around to little villages to bring the sacraments to people, is worth some recognition, don’t you think?” I say, “Well, I guess. When do we head down?” “End of September” he says. “Get your suit pressed and your shoes polished.” “Ok,” I say, “let’s do it.”

But let me pose this question: What would the Archbishop have said if I’d replied: “Well, you know, it’s really not that important to me. Besides, I’m sort of busy right now and I’m not really all that interested.” I’m sure the bishop would have said to me. “Clem, we’re going; this award is important to all the folks in the archdiocese and to me.”

Actually, I’m sure I would never have said, “I’m not interested.” That would have been an insult to
him and to the whole Archdiocese.

So, we go to Chicago and I get this nice award along with a banquet to which some Chicago church “notables” are in attendance, like 2 bishops and one cardinal. The wine is good and the dessert better. Of course, the Cardinal Archbishop said some nice things about me that I thought were a little bit exaggerated. But anyway, I was very gracious and thankful for the entire event.

So, the Archbishop and I come home with this nice piece of Waterford crystal that I put on my desk and everybody asks, “Hey, what’s that for?” And I say, “Well, it was for some stuff I did over the years. So, I was invited to this banquet, and I went, that’s the whole story!

But it occurs to me, after reading the Gospel for this 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time and listening to Jesus’ stories about people being invited to a banquet and refusing, that perhaps there is something especially important about nature of banquets. First of all, if you are invited, the host must feel that you have done something pretty important. Your acceptance and presence lends prestige to the host himself.

Secondly, banquets are always more than simply a time for folks to get dressed up in their finery, sit with important people, drink good wine and eat lobster.

There are reasons for banquets and it’s usually the host’s opportunity to honor someone for an important accomplishment. Presidents of the United States do this all the time: They honor sports characters, jazz bandleaders, people of literary or scientific accomplishment, et cetera. So, the honoree, and the host him/herself receive recognition.

For many centuries, of course, we Christians have described the Mass as the celebration of a banquet. Lots of people who come to the banquet do not always dress appropriately, of course, the wine may not be of the highest quality and the bread is only a small morsel that does nothing to satisfy one’s physical appetite.

Nonetheless, it is a banquet. It comes from the night that Jesus himself sat with some close friends at a small banquet, ate bread, drank wine and told stories so that they could remember him after he had gone. “Do this in memory of me,” he said. We call it Eucharist; the Eucharistic Banquet that Jesus invites us to share with him each Lord’s Day.

Ordinarily, of course, many Catholics come to this banquet we call the Mass. Many more, of course, seldom “show up.” It does not seem to bother them that they have been personally invited to this special banquet and have not responded to the invitation: “Do this in memory of me”

I have often thought that we might wish to discontinue using the word Mass to describe the Eucharist. Wouldn’t it sound more appropriate if we gave it the name: Sunday Eucharistic Banquet?

Nonetheless, whether the invited people prefer to come to the banquet or not, the invitation is always out there.

Perhaps, for many who do not attend the weekly banquet, Jesus is inviting them to remember him in some other way, in some other place. I’m sure Jesus is not offended, but we are the ones who are missing something important in not attending. Maybe we should just say “Lord, you know, I just couldn’t make it today, sorry about that. No offense meant.” How about if I see you next week, ok?” I’m sure Jesus would say, “Hey, y’all have a lot of stuff to do. Come when you can; I’m always around, ok?

The scriptures: Isaiah 25: 6-10; Philippians 4: 12-14; Matthew 22: 1-14

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:20 PM.

October 05, 2008

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - Getting the Message Across

George Carlin, the comedian, died a couple months ago. The history of his life was all over the newspapers and television. I had never actually listened to George’s routine. The word around was that his skits were a little “over the edge,” language-wise, so I decided I needed to listen to something that did not offend my sensibilities.

But as I read some of the stories on his life and his career, I discovered that, despite his language, he was a sincere and clever observer of life as we know it in the world. Many of his “one-liners” are still quoted today. Here are couple examples: “By and large language is tool for covering up the truth.” “Most people are not particularly good at anything.” “No one can be sure what a deserted area looks like.” “There ought to be at least one round state.” So, you get the idea.

George Carlin spent much of his adult life pointing out the absurdities of modern life and language. He was a master of what we call “the put-down.” In short, he used his speaking talents to get across a message to people, even those who did not particularly like the way he did it. In the end most folks had to admit that he had a point.

Language is one of those human tools that can have a long-lasting effect on our lives. The point, of course, is that “straight-forward” language seldom moves us to do anything. Take the daily news, for instance. It’s news and that is it. There is not much more that you can do with it. But humor, on the other hand, can make you think differently about life. The same is true of exaggeration or what Shakespeare called “damming with feint praise.” The point is that the hearers don’t always know that they are being criticized until they begin to think hard about it.

We have two examples of how two individuals used language to make a point without getting tomatoes thrown at them: One is Isaiah the prophet. The other is Jesus of Nazareth: Both tell stories with a hidden meaning that the listener is left to deal with when he “gets it.” In this case they are stories about a vineyard. “Let me sing you a song about a vineyard”, Isaiah says. And so he goes on to say that his friend cultivated the land, discarded the rocks, built a wine press and all the rest. The result? Nothing happened, the vineyard failed to produce.

Jesus tells a similar story of a man who planted a vineyard and left it out to renters, expecting lots of good wine at vintage time. What happens? The renters refuse to hand over the produce. So, the owner throws them out.

At first the hearers probably thought: “Well, hey, that’s a nice little story.” In fact, however, it wasn’t meant to be a story. It wasn’t a story about vineyards or winemaking at all. It was a critique of Israel’s way of life. Instead of making efforts to follow God’s law and be open to the needs of the people around them, they stuck their heads in the sand and paid no attention.

So, in both instances, the story tellers were using the “song of the vineyard” to say: “Folks, it’s all about you: You are the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts. God has an issue with you. You’re not producing. Get with it.”

We can see then that the best way to get a point of criticism across is to sneak it under the veil of a story or a song. People may not “get it” immediately, but once they do, they will know that they “have been had.” The implication will set in.

The implications for us today, of course, might be something like this: As Christians, how are we like a vineyard? Are we producing what Christians are expected to produce in this secular world around us? Does anybody really know that we Christians are still around? Are we serious about making a difference in the world? If not, perhaps the joke is on us. I just hope in our case it doesn’t take us too long to figure out the true meaning of the story.

The scriptures: Isaiah 5: 1-7; Philippians 4: 6-9; Matthew 21: 33-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:16 PM.

September 28, 2008

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Life Isn’t fair

“Life’s not fair!” How often have we heard that phrase? Look back in your life, for instance, and try to remember the number of times you felt that you deserved better. Think of the times when you worked really hard at some project, hoping for a first place award. And what happens? Second place! Bummer! “You’ll never get me to compete in that project again,” we say. “I’m mad! My entry was obviously better than the first place winner!” Yes, perhaps it was, but you still didn’t win first place! Too bad!

This scenario happens all the time out there in that cruel old world. Who gets the Heisman Trophy? Who is ushered into the Baseball Hall of Fame? Who wins the women’s or men’s singles at Wimbleton? What college football team is named National Champion? Who receives the Nobel Peace Prize, or the prize for science or literature? Who receives the gold medal at the Olympics? Obviously, it is not always the person who is so sure that he or she might win. Life’s not fair! Or, maybe it just doesn’t seem fair.

Of course, we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t consider our talents or our work more prize-worthy than someone else’s. After all, who wants to be second in anything? Who will strive for the bronze medal at the China Olympics?
The question that often arises is this? Where was God in my second place award? Didn’t God have any idea how hard I worked on this project? If God is fair, where was the fairness in this?
Jesus brings up this question in the parable of the vineyard workers who were hired at various times of the day, some early, some late. The early birds obviously got their promised pay. What bothered them, of course, was that the last-hired individuals received the same pay as they did. “The owner wasn’t fair,” they said. “By rights we ought to get more.”
The point they did not seem to understand was that they actually did receive what they were promised. They were just a little jealous over the amount the last-hired received. “No fair”!
The lesson Jesus seems to be teaching here is that life doesn’t always seem fair, or at least not fair in the way we see it. Of course, we don’t always have control over life’s circumstances, so, why should we complain?
Obviously there is always some reason for the way life’s events happen. We may not know what it is, but there is a reason and usually someone else knows what that reason is.
My personal sense is that Jesus is comparing the vineyard owner to God. God is always fair in the way God deals with us. The problem (or the mystery) is that we do not know what’s behind the decision in question. Life is mysterious. Perhaps we should simply say, life is messy. No one is trying to hurt us. It’s just that we do not always understand the motivation behind decisions over which we have no control. The moment we try to compare ourselves to others, of course, we already have problems.
Perhaps then, the solution (if there is a solution) is that we should be thankful for what we get, whether it’s first, second or third place. We did our best and even that should be considered a reward. The ways of God are always just but they are not always comprehensible. So too in the world of human competition: Decisions do not always seem just to us, but I’m also pretty sure that God has nothing to do with that.

The scriptures: Isaiah 55: 6-9; Philippians 1: 20-24, 27; Matthew 20: 1-16

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:05 PM.

September 21, 2008

The Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Changing One’s Mind

Many of you may remember the fuss that was made during the last presidential campaign over “flip-flopping.” I believe it was John Kerry, the Democratic nominee, who it was said “flip-flopped” on important issues in order to protect his position. I’m sure the Republican nominee was also guilty of the same “sin,” but Kerry took most of the heat.

Interestingly, during this present campaign for the presidency, both candidates are saying: “Hey, it’s ok to ‘flip-flop,’ after all, it just means that you looked over the all the evidence on an issue and you have come to a deeper understanding of it, so, you change your mind. Isn’t that ok? So, this time, “flip-flopping is ok!

It occurs to me too that “flip-flopping” is a common phenomenon with most of us. It’s not that we are “wishy-washy” or that we just can’t make up our mind. It’s just that we have an open mind and are willing to change if that seems to be a rational choice.

Conditions of all sorts keep changing around us in all areas of life. Think, for instance, what would happen in the world of science or medicine if people in those fields were to continue using methods that were “modern” 25 years ago. They would be laughed at for their extreme conservative stance.

For that reason, then, it seems wise and prudent to examine a situation and make your judgment on the evidence you have for it here and now. After all, that’s how progress is made in any field of human endeavor.

Moving from politics to spirituality, it would seem that we have a similar situation. Jesus speaks to it in the gospel where he gives and example of two sons who were asked to head out for the vineyard and work for a day. One son immediately says “Sure” but never leaves his place in the shade. The second son says, “No, I’m not going out there in the hot son and pick grapes; pick ‘em yourself.” But then, reflecting on it, he says to himself: “Ah, why not? I don’t want to see my father out there by himself. Besides, I’m hale and hearty. I can do it.” So, he goes.

Then Jesus asks for a decision of the elders on which son did the honorable thing. “Obviously, the second son,” they say. Notice there is no criticism here over “flip-flopping.” The second son just reconsidered his earlier choice and headed out for the vineyard.

The moral here seems to be that it’s ok to change your mind if you find a more reasonable option. It may even be the more honorable thing to do.

It often seems to me that there is a certain maturation in one’s spiritual life, a changing of opinions. Most of us as young adults go through a period of alienation from anything religious. But there comes a point where we say to ourselves as adults: “This is crazy, this is nuts; why am I doing thus stuff? Why can’t I give God a chance and grow up?

And so it happens: All of us go through changes of spiritual maturity. Happily, most folks who work at it come through unscathed.

It is important, of course, that we do act like Christian adults, that we pray like Christian adults, that we make moral decisions like adults. Our earlier years are usually times of search, even experimentation. But age brings on new insights, new opportunities to act as adult Christians.

It is my own experience that the movement into responsible adulthood is a good feeling. We can look at the past and say: “Well, all that is behind me now.

It is also interesting to know that we may need to go through many more “flip-flops” during our adult spiritual life. All that means is that we are struggling to find that person who is not afraid to make mistakes and in the end to admit that life is messy but if we keep working on it, we won’t end up as a “flop.”

The scriptures: Isaiah 55:6-9; Philippians 1:20c-24, 27a; Matthew 20:1-16a

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 05:11 PM.

September 14, 2008

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

I’ve often heard it said that one should be able to tell what is going on in the mind of another person simply by looking into their face. There will be signs there to tell you whether that person is at peace or bothered by something, angry happy or sad. Just look and you will see. The face will tell you about the whole person. So, at breakfast, for instance, you will need to decide whether it is safe to talk about some philosophical theory of Nietzsche, Kant or Shopenhauer or whether you simply should stick with the latest standings of the Cubs or Sox.

The signs will be clear, in fact, signs are everywhere around us. Some are helpful, others confusing. For instance: I received a little book, a short while ago, from some friends entitled: Peculiar Signs. It’s hilarious. The editor of the book solicited photos of signs from people around the world, signs that made absolutely no sense, in fact, some would have steered you in the very opposite direction you may have wanted to go; they were obviously of no help to anybody.

By the way, if you are old enough, you probably will remember how we tried to read the Burma Shave signs as we drove along the highway. We may have eventually forgotten the words, but we still remember Burma Shave itself, the product.

One last example: Some years ago young, aggressive baseball players from Central America began showing up on teams in the Majors. Of course, they brought their own habits with them, and one was the traditional Sign of the Cross that they would trace on their foreheads when they stepped up to the plate. One day a sports reporter from the Chicago Sun Times asked Yogi Berra what he though about all that. And he replied, “Jeez, I don’t really know, but I can tell you one thing: Whatever its for, it does not seem to be improving their batting average very much.” So, what do you do if you have just made the Sign of the Cross and then you strike out?

But, of course, as we all know, Christians have been making the Sign of the Cross at certain important moments in their lives for thousands of years. My mother, for instance, when she was teaching me to drive as a teenager, would always get into the car and make the sign of the cross with the holy water she had brought with her. As you can imagine, that surely did not help my self-confidence very much.

But, as I think back even on this past year when I was still living in Alaska, I would never have thought of taking off in the airplane without tracing the cross on my forehead and saying a prayer. I did the same before landing. Of course, if I did something stupid on landing or take-off, I don’t think the Sign of the Cross in itself would have saved my life! So, the cross is not a magic savior. It is simply a sign of our trust in our God to give us the wisdom, the good sense, to do things correctly.

Well, given all that, it would be safe to say that the cross is the most identifiable sign we have that reminds us that we are Christians.

The tendency for us, of course, is to forget that the cross was once an instrument of torture during the time of the Roman Empire, perhaps something akin to the gallows today. There was nothing sacred about crosses in Jesus’ time. Every day, people were hung on crosses to warn others of the consequences of rebellion.

But it was the early Christians who rescued this instrument of torture, this sign of punishment, and turned it into a sign of salvation. Ever since then, we have been tracing this sign on our body to remind us that someone, namely, Jesus of Nazareth, died on a cross, took this burden on himself for our sake.

I think that this should remind us, then, to take special care when we sign ourselves. It is not the cross in itself that stands out as being important, but rather the Trinity to whom we pray as we sign ourselves.

Finally, I should think that it would be particularly important for us, we who are identified by the Cross and who say that the Cross is Our Only Hope, that we be publicly recognized by our devotion to this sign of our salvation because for us, like all Christians, the cross is truly our only hope. In the name of the Father and the Son and The Holy Spirit

The scriptures: Numbers 21: 4b-9; Philippians 2:6-11; John 3: 13-17

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:52 AM.

September 07, 2008

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Problem Solving

Recently, I was watching an old re-run of The Godfather, the story of the Mafia clans and their feuds. After it was over, I thought to myself: Why all this violence? Could it actually be a trait of all humanity? Maybe it’s not just limited to the Mafia or even to Italians. (sorry!) Perhaps there is something deep in the human psyche that urges to get even.

It’s true, of course, gun battles between clans have always been a popular form of entertainment, whether on the big screen of on television. Why, for instance did The Sopranos run for so many months on TV? People seem to crave violence, as long as it does not affect them.

The more relevant question, of course is to ask why all this happens in real life: On the streets of South LA, the Bronx or even in large or small towns throughout our country?

Perhaps the answer lies in our personal histories. I have no doubt that many of us have the secret desire, at least occasionally, to get even with someone or to feel gratified if someone we do not like “gets his or hers.” I know from my own experience that I have been guilty of this many times.

It seems that we cannot stand to see someone get away clean and neat from some offense, whether to ourselves or to someone dear to us.

I am not enough of a psychologist to get to the bottom of this phenomenon but I know that it exists. I do no like to be insulted or to be taken advantage of. I will not bear that situation. Of course, any good psychologist could solve this problem, but he or she is not up here preaching!

The only biblical piece of evidence regarding interrelation disagreements is the curious little gospel piece from Matthew. Jesus, or the writer, takes on the role of religious social psychologist and tries to explain an easy way out of an argument between two men. (I am assuming that it was two men. I may be wrong: perhaps it is simply an example of two fictional characters representing all humankind)

At any rate, Jesus asks the question: What do you do if you feel that your brother has something against you? Well, obviously, you do not pick up the nearest sword or spear and go at it.

You address the person politely, as any intelligent and rational individual would do and explain your position.

If that does not work, then call in a couple of other people who can give you a more objective opinion; perhaps that may solve the problem.

If even that does not work, then bring in the representatives of the church. Surely, they should be able to handle it. After all that is part of their task.

However, if the church has no solution, then the only option seems to be that you should simply call the person a bad name, an outcast, a gentile or a tax collector. That should be the end of it!

What Jesus seems to be saying here is that there are certain disagreements that can’t be solved. Of course, whether calling a person a “bad name” solves anything is still a question.

It is interesting, by the way that some people do call in a minister or a priest, particularly to solve marriage problems. It has long been my sense, however, that, even with the best intentions, priests and ministers are not always able to find final solutions to such situations. Priests and ministers and even entire church groups often have their own problems with each other! How, then, can they assume to solve the problems of others?

The major problem when a difference as rise among individuals or groups is emotion, feelings: People’s feelings have been hurt, their hearts are broken. Hence, the only solution seems to lie in their personal decision to apologize to one another. Perhaps it comes down to the point where they must say to each other: “Listen, neither of us is completely guilty; we were simply not sensitive enough to each others feelings. If we can work out the money and the property problem, we’ll have it solved and we can go on appreciating each other again.

The point of all this is to say that outsiders seldom find final solutions for the problems of others unless their client is truly ill. What counselor, priest or minister truly knows what is going on in the heart of another person? Often they cannot even understand the reasons for their own angers and resentments.

Perhaps the best that can be said is that if individuals come to us for solutions, we must first offer them compassion and listen to them. Once people hear themselves say what angers them, then perhaps the problem is already half solved.

So, after all that, I still have questions about Jesus or Matthew’s solution for interpersonal differences. But, of course, I also have my own interpersonal problems to deal with. When I have solved that, perhaps I can take on the “gospel problem.”

The scriptures: Ezekiel 33: 7-9, Romans 13: 8-10, Matthew 18: 15-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:03 AM.

August 30, 2008

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Taking the Heat

Most folks in Chicago’s South Side remember vividly the events that occurred at the Church of St. Sabina this past summer. Father Michael Pfleger, pastor there for the past 30 years, incurred the wrath of some Chicago Catholics for remarks he made at a neighboring non-Catholic church regarding Hillary Clinton’s nomination for President. Events became so heated that Cardinal George decided to give Father Pfleger two weeks off for rest and reflection.

Several points must be noted, however. First, Michael Pfleger is white although people say he thinks and preaches like black pastor.

Moreover, he has worked hard to assist the Black community improve living conditions on this Southside area: He has made war on drug dealers, reported to the police liquor stores that made sales to minors; he has prevented gun skirmishes between gangs, fought discrimination and more. The Catholic population at St. Sabina has risen from several hundred to over two thousand during his pastorate. In short Michael Pfleger has been the salvation of those who live in the area of St. Sabina. He is, without a doubt a social and religious activist.

Some say, of course, that he is a “grandstander” one who seeks attention by preaching like Black pastors. Of course, his parishioners are predominately black. So, that tells a tale.

Michael Pfleger has received a great deal of hate mail and threatening phone calls over his style of pastoring and preaching. His response is that he has fought for justice and equality since the day, as a teenager, he heard Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speak in Grant Park. That is when his mission for justice first began.

My feeling is that Father Pfleger, despite his particular style, is truly a prophet. He speaks prophetic words for which he often “takes the heat.” He’s ok with that.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 20:7-9; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:58 PM.

August 24, 2008

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time - Striking Resemblance

During a visit to my home in North Dakota last summer for the celebration of my 50th anniversary of ordination, our extended family gathered for a picnic where we discussed “old times.” Part of the afternoon was spent digging out photos and commenting on what we looked like in those days.

Fortunately, my dear sister had managed to find an early group photo of some grade school students all lined up on the steps of the school that all of us eventually attended. We looked closely at each youngster, trying to remember a name that would go with a face.

Suddenly, someone said, “Hey, Father Clem, here’s a picture of your dad and his two sisters.” And so it was! Someone else said: “You know, you still look just like your dad, same facial features and all.” I looked closely at it but I could not see any resemblance at all. Later, I took the photo home and looked at it more closely. Then I looked in the mirror and finally I said to myself: “By golly, there is a resemblance there.” Hmmm.

It does seem to me, of course, that people other than ourselves can often detect comparisons better than we can. Perhaps we should trust their judgment.

I can honestly say too that I still frequently find myself sing certain words and phrases that I remember my father using. I can almost hear his voice in mine. Astonishing!

Perhaps that tells us that the same genes run deeply in our families and our relationships.

That brings up two issues that appear (at least, for me) in the gospel for this Sunday. The first question: What did Jesus look like? Whom did he resemble? Surely no one like the Renaissance painters made him appear: Pale-skinned, well-trimmed beard, clean, white robe. No, I’m sure he must have resembled Arabic men we often see in photos from the Middle East today.

The other question is this: What was the public perception of Jesus in his time? Surely, he must have raised a lot of eyebrows. Jesus was the kind of person, after all, whom you could not simply disregard. He was different, he did and said prophetic things. Hence, some people probably thought of him as a rabble-rouser a disturber of the peace, a man who could make things difficult for his own people by inciting the anger of Rome. But some also might also have thought of him as a brilliant orator, a worker of signs, a compassionate healer?

Finally, Jesus’ curiosity got too much for him: He decided to ask his closest associates what they were hearing about him out there on the road. Some interesting answers surfaced: “Some people”, they said, “think you resemble John the Baptist, because you say some pretty hard things. You’re pretty tough on people. Others feel that you resemble Isaiah, Jeremiah or one of the great prophets of old. They too were political and religious critics.”

Then came a break in the conversation and Jesus finally asks the “insiders” what they think. After all, they have been with him for some time. Surely, they should have a deeper insight about Jesus than the crowds. Peter jumps in as usual and says. “Actually, Lord, I’m convinced that you are the Messiah, Son of the living God.” For that answer, Peter’s career was locked in. He was on his way to Rome!

Of course, that still leaves each of us with the question: What do we think of Jesus? We already know what the disciples thought. If we can truthfully answer that question for ourselves without being distracted by the various answers the world suggests, then we can be confident that we are truly living stones, part of the Rock who holds us all together. Now that’s a resemblance worth considering.

The scriptures: Isaiah 22: 15, 19-23; Romans 11: 33-26; Matthew 16: 13-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:05 AM.

August 17, 2008

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Never Give Up!

We can say many wonderful things about the human spirit: We love, we are compassionate, we are sometimes angry, we sometimes cry out for joy or out of sadness, we defend righteousness, we defend those in whom we believe. Most of all, however, we never give up, even if we feel that our cause has no chance of success.

It all starts even when we are little children: “Ma, can I have another cookie?” No!” “Ma, I have to go to the bathroom!” “Go!” “Dad, may I have the car for the prom?” “I’ll think about it.” Mom, is this dress too risqué?” “Would you wear it to church?”

Think too about congressmen and women who speak endlessly in favor of some political issue? Do they always win their causes? Sometimes yes, mostly no, but does that keep them from pressing on? Not at all. Think about Hillary Clinton and her plea for universal health care! Issues, therefore, are often personally important to them; so, they seldom give up. The fact that they persisted through hours of debate tells you where their passions are

Then, of course, there are Christians, Catholics and many others as well, who pray to God for special religious or personal human causes: “Please, Lord, do not let my daughter die! “ “Please, Lord, give my brother the strength to stop drinking.” “Please, Lord, bring my kids home safely from the prom.”

Perhaps the daughter does die, but the kids do get home safely. The brother somehow does manage to muster the courage to get off the bottle.

In other words, it is easy to thank God when the outcome of our prayer is successful. The question to ask, of course, is this: What happens when a cause does not break our way?

It seems to me that most folks, whether or not they are people of faith, usually can cope with critical issues even though some turn out to be a disaster. Do they stop praying altogether? Not at all. The fact that they persisted with their cause, even in he midst of darkness, is itself an act of faith. If they had stopped pleading with their God, what would that have meant? It would have meant failure, of course, lack of trust in ones own cause.

This is the situation we find in the gospel for this forthcoming Sunday: A lady approaches Jesus to ask if he would (or could) heal her daughter who was mentally ill. First, let me suggest that this was one tough lady. She knew that Jews considered her, a Canaanite, socially second-class. Did that stop her from pleading her cause with Jesus, a Jew? Not at all, not even after Jesus suggested that his healings (like bread) were not meant to be thrown to the “dogs.” At this point, she shows how plucky she can be: “Listen here, sir,” she says, “even the dogs lap up he crumbs that fall under the table, right?”

“You win,” Jesus says; this is obviously a cause that is deeply important to you. How can I say no to a mother who loves her little girl?”

At that point, Jesus makes a peculiar remark: “Lady, you have great faith, your wish will come to pass.” Actually it did! But what sort of faith are we dealing with here? Supernatural faith? Faith in the God of Israel? Faith in Jesus, the Jew who had just insulted her? No, my sense is that Jesus is commending her because of her courage, her persistence, and her conviction regarding the cause of her child. I can just hear Jesus muttering to himself: “Wow, here’s a lady who won’t give up. It would be a shame if I did nothing for her. The fact that she is a woman and a Samaritan means nothing to me. It would be the height of racism if I refused her plea.

Given all this, I believe there may a lesson hidden in this story, namely, if we don’t have a cause to fight for and if we don’t truly believe in it, then don’t pray. That would be an insult to God. My hunch, however, is that most of us can’t bring ourselves to do that! We do have causes and we pray for them, even if the final outcome does not fall our way. Faith in God and in yourself will do that to you.

The scriptures: Isaiah 56 1 6-7; Romans 11: 13-15, 29-32; Matthew 15: 21-28

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:36 AM.

August 10, 2008

The 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Discovering Silence

In the year 1984, the German filmmaker, Philip Groning, sent a letter to the abbot of the Carthusian order at the Grand Chartreuse, deep in the French Alps. He asked if it might be possible for him to come to the monastery and film the daily course of their monastic schedule. He would not interfere with their personal lives; He just wanted to be among the monks to get a sense of what the life of silence and penance might look like to an outsider and why an individual might choose to practice it in such a severe form.

The abbot wrote to Mr. Groning and said that he would consult with his brother monks and get back to him. He did, indeed, get back to him but only after a lapse of 16 years! Of course, the life of Carthusian monks does not move very swiftly. They are not going anywhere soon.

Philip Groning was particularly interested in understanding what drew these men to monastic life and how they could withstand the long hours and days of work, prayer and silence.

He then lived with the monks for a year and totally immersed himself in the hush of monastic life during all its seasons. At year’s end, he returned to Germany and produced the award-winning film now entitled Into Great Silence.

It has since become so popular that folks of all religious persuasions are flocking to see it. Some even say that it is a kind of “personal retreat”, all three hours of it.

It has often occurred to me that monastic life has always attracted people. It’s not that most would personally choose to enter a monastery, but the very life itself seems so fascinating, so different, so challenging. Perhaps it is the silence itself that is a mystery to some.

Of all the many human gifts, speech and communication seem to be the ones that define us as human. Hence, to voluntarily give up all this seems a great mystery in itself. Why would anyone not want to talk?

It might also seem to some that silence is a penance or that that it is meant to help the monks pray “better.” But my sense is that practicing silence as a penance is defeating its very purpose.

Rather, it seems to me, silence may well help the individual pray, but that can only happen if one can first discover his inner being, his heart’s desire, his reason for living. When one comes to such a sense of peacefulness, then prayer is already happening.

It might also be said, of course, that the regimen of silence should not be limited to life in a monastery. However, I think some people have already found ways to pray right in the midst of the hustle and bustle of city life. Many have found a personal monastery in their cubicle at work or in the noise of a manufacturing plant.

I admit that a monastery deep in the Alps might provide a more conducive setting, but places of contemplation happen where they happen. It’s what we make of them that ultimately count.

I have watched the film several times and have always come away refreshed and chastened. Would I now immediately head off to a Carthusian monastery? Not a chance! But, experiencing silence from a recliner is probably the next best thing.

Readings: 1 Kings 9: 11-13; Romans 9: 1-5; Matthew 14: 22-33

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:25 PM.

August 02, 2008

The 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Free Lunch?

There are two old sayings most of us may remember: No Free Lunch and The Best Things in Life are Free. The modern world, of course, would insist that the former is true: If you can’t pay for it, you don’t get it! The idealists among us, on the other hand, would claim that there is enough of everything for everyone to have at least a small portion.

Other idealists would add that material things are not necessarily the most precious commodities in life. So, how do the ideal and the so-called real worlds deal with these questions?

People who deal in the money and commodities markets will tell you that you have to take care of yourself: Get a job, save up, don’t waste your money, don’t run up your credit card balance. No one is going to bail you out.

For the most part, that’s how it is in the world today: You have to take care of yourself; you can’t depend on your neighbor. He or she may be kind, but kindness only goes so far. There comes a time when even kindness itself runs out.

Yet, here we have Jesus insisting in Matthew’s gospel that even if someone has only a few loaves of bread and a couple fish and decides to make them go around, they will go around even for a large crowd of people. It is also interesting to note that Jesus did not do the distribution in this case. He put his disciples to work, and, of course there was enough to go around. That little bit of instruction tells us that if we want to be declared disciples of Jesus we have to make material things go around. No miracles in this instance!

The second question is this: What is truly precious in our life? What is worth saving up? Isaiah the prophet asks the question: “Why spend your money for what is not bread, your wages on what will not satisfy? Obviously, all of us appreciate a piece of bread for breakfast, a cinnamon roll with coffee. The better question is this: What could we describe as food for the mind, for the spirit? What will last, not just between breakfast and dinner, but rather what will give our total person the sustenance it needs between birth and death?

My sense is that it has to be something more than food for the stomach. I would suggest such things as silence, quietness, a comfortable place to sit and meditate, a book of poetry, a copy of the New Testament, some music in the background, a few moments in church on your way home from work, perhaps even an occasional visit to the museum or a night at the symphony. Obviously, these are not for free, but they will definitely satisfy our hunger for things of the spirit, the deep things in life, those that will finally give total satisfaction to the whole person.

Finally, one must still say that the best things in life are truly free if we can find a way to discern what they are; and when we do, we will never be hungry again.

The scriptures: Isaiah 55: 1-3, Romans 8: 35-37, Matthew 14: 13-31

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:39 PM.

July 26, 2008

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - True Treasure

When I lived in Anchorage, Alaska, I could always tell when spring was near. It wasn’t the disappearance of the snow or the appearance of trash that had been lying beneath it all winter. Actually, it was not even the first sight of the tulips I had planted last September. The first clue I would notice was always the ragged, ill-conceived and poorly-constructed signs on the corner of my street: Garage Sale, Moving Out of Town Sale, Yard Sale, Everything Must Go . Some are fairly creative, but most were probably hastily put together in someone’s kitchen a half hour before they were placed on a wobbly stick for all to see.

Garage sales are so common and so frequent in the summer months we hardly even think much of them. For those of us who do not frequent such mercantile ventures, they mean little. However, for others, they are a way of life. Some folks spend an entire Saturday driving from one home to another searching for that one piece of treasure that will make all the difference in their lives. They are rarely very costly, but they mean something to this person, something to take home and be stored in the garage or the basement until it’s time to take the piece and sell it at another next garage sale!

The well-known saying: One person’s trash could be another person’s treasure surely seems to apply here.

The point, of course, is that we do not seem to know the true value of the things we buy or accumulate. What we thought would be a treasure, often turns out to be useless “stuff.” So, off to the next garage sale they go. Material things usually do not have much “staying-power.” Our interests change from moment to moment.

For those, however, who take the time to look more deeply into life’s human patterns, non material things often have more lasting power. Of course it takes some thought and discernment to see the difference. There is no price-tag on such non-material realities. It’s how we prize them that make the difference.

Those thoughts came to me as I read the scriptures for this 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The story of Solomon and his choice of prudence and wisdom over gold and power is an example of a man who knew the true value of life’s treasure.

Following this, we have Jesus telling several stories which compare the Reign of God to various sorts of treasures. The point Jesus is making is that the Reign of God is truly a treasure, although we seldom think of it that way.

So, what is this Reign of God? One author I read described it as how the world would look if God had his way. Sometimes the way we look at the world, of course, does not resemble any sort of treasure. The news in morning paper or the evening television will tell you pretty quickly where the world’s treasures lie.

The real question, however, is not where the world’s treasures lie, but where ours lie. We, each of us individually, are responsible for our own perception of what is of value in our lives. Running from one garage sale to the next may be an exciting venture. The real question, however, is this: What do these items mean to us, what lasting value do they have? What does the quest for having these material things tell us about the deeper meaning of life?

Granted, material things usually exert a strong attraction on us. The reign of God, on the other hand, can only be discerned if we avail ourselves of some quiet time each day to discover what is or should be important to us. Perhaps the garage sale sign on the street corner may still entice us but the attraction may soon lessen if we compare it to God’s Reign.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 3, 5 7-12; Romans 8: 28-30; Matthew 13: 44-52

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:34 AM.

July 19, 2008

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Weed by Any Other Name

I imagine most of us have heard or read the line, “A weed by any other name is a flower.” Actually it seems to be true. We give names to many things, some of which we feel are useful to us, others that are simply a nuisance. Of course, even nuisance items are useful for something if we care to look at life from the broader perspective. One person’s dessert may be another’s poison! Even poison oak and poison ivy must be good for something, although not for us humans.

So, I assume that many of our convictions about the natural world depend on our perspective, whether they benefit us or not. It would be wise, therefore, if we could develop a sense that not everything in the world is bad and not everything is good. There seems to be a mixture of goodness and badness in almost everything. The problem is that we cannot always tell the difference.

As we have mentioned in earlier homilies, Jesus of Nazareth was a keen observer of nature, not as a biologist or a botanist, but simply as a normal citizen walking along the roads of Palestine.

The difference between Jesus and other travelers, of course, was that he saw meanings in nature that no one else saw. Of course, being a spiritual teacher, a rabbi, he would also be looking for the spiritual meaning of common things. I imagine, when his followers heard these spiritual interpretations, they might have said to themselves: “Hey, I never thought of life like that.”

So, when we hear Jesus speaking to the folks about the implications of wheat and weeds, they must immediately have asked themselves, “I wonder where I fit into this picture?”

Actually, Jesus was thinking beyond the individual person. He was more interested in the human condition at large: He would ask, “What are the world’s weed issues and what are the wheat issues? The answer, of course, is that it’s pretty hard to tell. Life is such a mixture of good and bad. Besides, who really knows who is bad and who is good? Sometimes it is fairly clear but at other times its rather foggy.

The point Jesus seems to be making is this: Generally speaking we do not know what is in the mind of another or what their motivation is. Besides, it is really none of our business. We should have enough to worry about in our own regard.

It seems true to me, therefore, that it is difficult to judge the lives and motivations of other people. Perhaps they could be blamed for a bad attitude on one issue, but praised for their position on another. No one, it seems to me, fits solidly into a single category.

An individual, for instance, may be “Pro Choice” (sadly, I think) but may also be deeply concerned about other social and religious issues: World poverty, for instance, or immigration problems, the plight of people suffering with AIDS. Others may decide to travel overseas to work with Catholic Relief Services in devastated areas of the world.

So, the point seems to be that it is not wise to be a “One Issue Person” or to accuse others of being “One Issue Persons.” Goodness and evil seem to exist alongside of one another and we are not always capable of discerning the wheat from the weeds. Perhaps we should say again that the discernment is not our responsibility; it’s God’s business. Just think, for instance, how peaceful the world would be if we allowed God to do what God does best.

By the way, I still keep a healthy distance from poison ivy. Tangy stalks of rhubarb, on the other hand, are another matter. Strawberry rhubarb pie is still my favorite dessert!

The scriptures: Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19; Romans 8: 26-27; Matthew 13: 24-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:21 AM.

July 12, 2008

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Nature’s Signs

Almost everyone I know seems to be talking about the price of food today. Actually, I do not need to buy much food where I am living, but I read the papers each day and many of the commentators who write on the economy are concerned about the rising prices of many commodities.

Of course, it’s not the food itself that is more costly; it’s the price of fuel for transportation that’s driving prices up. I feel sad for the folks who need to make their living in commercial transportation. Some need to fill up the gas tank of their trucks out of their own pocket.

The same is true for people who need to drive over an hour to work each day or taxi drivers who ferry people to their destinations. The margin of profit is getting narrower.

I have one particular gripe too: Why are we raising corn for Ethanol when people around the world are starving? Do folks (mostly men) need to drive Ford F-100’s or Dodge Ram 3000’s while people around the world simply long for the corn that provides food of all sorts? It makes no sense to me. Of course, I’m not in a position to change much of this, but if I were……..

Jesus speaks of food in the gospel for this 15th Sunday in Ordinary time, food not on the table yet, but out in the field. Now, Jesus himself was not a farmer as far as we know, but he surely watched farmers in the springtime of the year seeding their fields. He also knew that not all the landscape of Palestine was fit for planting. Therefore he points out to his listeners that the farmer who throws seed on dry, rocky, weed-prone soil cannot expect much of a harvest. The smart farmer, of course, will pick out a plot of good black loam, if it’s available, and know that he will eat well at harvest.

Now, at the same time, we must remember that Jesus was not particularly interested in good soil or bad soil or about good or poor harvests. Jesus was a story-teller and a crafter of analogies. Hence, what he is teaching here is a lesson on the power of the Seed-Word of God and the human “field” which awaits that seed. Jesus, natural parable-maker that he is, makes the point that if God’s word is to have any effect on our lives, we will need to have an open mind and a correct attitude. Otherwise the power of that Word will never germinate into something that will fully nourish our spirits.

I suppose it remains true for some of us, that the human seedbed is not always so well adapted to religious concepts or truths. There are just so many other secular interests: Television, movies, the daily newspaper. All are good and profitable, of course, for the person interested in how the world turns. But somewhere we might hope that the word of Jesus might also find a place among all these other interests.

I do know many people, for instance, who can pick up the New York Times and find many “gospel” articles on such issues as justice, peace, issues of immigration and others.

So perhaps we might need to say that the word of Jesus can be found in the scriptures but also in the pages of the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times or even in your local daily paper. If that’s the case, I’m sure Jesus would say, “Ah, now you’re getting the point.

The scriptures: Isaiah 55:10-11; Romans 8:18-23; Matthew 13: 1-23 or 13:1-9

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:03 PM.

July 05, 2008

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - "Understanding Mystery"

It seems to be a common feeling among most of us that we love newborns, new newborns of every kind: Little babies, colts, calves, rabbits, baby pandas. You can add to the list. My hunch is that we love little ones because they are still whole, still unspoiled. As for little children, they are still totally innocent. Nothing spoiled has entered their tiny minds. (Wait until they are teenagers!!)

I must confess that some of the most wonderful, the most hilarious experiences have been in my association with little kids in church. In some of the churches I served in the Archdiocese of Anchorage, I would take the opportunity before the readings and call up all the kids who wanted to come. And then I would pick a short piece from the gospel and quiz them. Now, let me tell you that can be a risky thing to do. You never know what is going to come out of the minds and mouths of six or seven year olds. Sometimes even I was embarrassed and happy to know that the kids could not get near the microphone. Their parents would have been scandalized. Knowing they were kids, of course, we can let it go. Adults say worse things.

I must admit also, however, that there is a kind of wisdom that flows from the lips of children. They may not know it as wisdom; it’s just something that flows out naturally, and that is a sort of childlike wisdom.

It has often occurred to me also that, at least in church, kids will always tell you the truth. (I don’t know what goes on at home!) It may be a kind of naïve truth but it will always be truth as they perceive it.

It occurs to me also that children have an uncluttered, untutored mind and there is a kind of wisdom that manifests itself when they speak, not the wisdom of the philosophers and theologians but something that comes as though from “instant thought.” It is something that just feels right and so they say it, whether it theologically correct or not.

I always find it interesting also to read in the gospels that Jesus took note of little kids. He must have sensed their innocence as even we do today. It is also interesting that Jesus points them out as models of truth, of simplicity and suggests that adults might learn some wisdom by observing the actions of the kids.

Perhaps it might be said that kids teach us a kind of intuitive theology, something that comes not from books or even from sermons, but simply from the first thought that comes to mind.

Unfortunately, we adults, particularly those of us who make theology or preaching our business, have learned too much theology to the point where we have forgotten simple theology, the kind that comes from intuition, from the heart.

But perhaps it’s not too late. Perhaps even we adults can learn all over again to think and pray as little children. It may embarrass us, but that may also be the most truthful way.

It is interesting, finally, to note that Jesus tells his disciples that God has hidden certain things from the learned and the clever and revealed them to merest children. That has always been a mystery for me: What was hidden from adults, and what was revealed to little children? Perhaps it means that kids understand mystery and we have gotten too old for that. Perhaps the fact that you and I must still continue searching for that sort of wisdom means that we still do not have the mind of a child. I suspect that it takes a lifetime. Oh well, we’ve got time and it will be worth the effort in the end.

The scriptures: Zechariah 9: 9-10; Romans 8, 9:11-13; Matthew 11:25-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:35 PM.

June 28, 2008

Feast of the Apostles Peter and Paul - A Leader for Everybody

People around the United States, whether Catholic or non-Catholic, are still talking about the visit of Pope Benedict XVI. There is no doubt that he instilled a sense of encouragement in the American Church. His homilies are still being analyzed by both secular and religious writers for deeper meaning. I imagine it could be said that when the leader of your Church comes to town you would be anxious to hear what he says.

Some news commentators predicted beforehand that he would be critical and harsh with us. As we watched and listened to him, however, we were relieved to note that the pope displayed a kindly and attentive manner among all his audiences. particularly when he visited the six men and women who had been sexually abused by priests. In short, Pope Benedict conducted himself as a true pastor, encouraging us and giving us direction. He left us heartened and hopeful. In short the Church in America got a shot in the arm from Pope Benedict XVI

At the same time, I wondered what people of other religions were thinking as they watched the “flair:” The pope dressed in his papal finery, bishops and cardinals surrounding him at every event. This display of religious ritual is something that people of other faiths seldom see or experience. Interestingly, however, there was hardly any negative reaction from any group. It tells me that people of all faiths or of no faith are interested in the expression of religious truth, even with all the externals that accompany it.

It seems to me that there is a deep sense of respect for a religious leader such as the pope, not only for his person, but also for his role as leader or pastor. No doubt, they are interested in what he says and how he expresses universal values, which affect Catholics and non-Catholics alike. It is interesting too that what the pope says seems to have a certain kind of religious power and fervor that all people appreciate

Perhaps it may seem to us that this sense of pastoral leadership is something pertaining to our own times. The scriptures for the Feast of Peter and Paul, however, give us a sense that such pastoral concern had its beginnings during the earliest days of the Church, even in the life and Peter and Paul. The lovely story of the man who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple in Jerusalem asking for a coin was rewarded with something immensely more important. Peter tells him: “I don’t have any silver or gold, but I’ll give you what I have: Get up and walk!” With out doubt, this was a pastoral sign, a miracle. But looking deeper, we notice that Peter also simply stopped and took notice. He could have walked on, but the plight of the man deeply moved Peter to compassion. The rest is history.

The interesting phrase is Peter’s admission that he had no money but that he would offer the man something more humanly beneficial: The ability to walk and, indeed, to dance.

All this reminds me that the joy that comes from being able to walk and dance could be interpreted as a divine gift, a sense of human wholeness or fullness. Again, Peter offered this as a pastoral gift and not simply as a “quick fix.”

We all know, of course, that Paul was a “driven” man: His pastoral sense drove him all around the Mediterranean basin visiting and instructing Jews, Romans and Greeks in cities, large and small. He cared little for his own comfort; he insisted that he was able to provide his own food and shelter. More importantly, however, it was his pastoral sense, his desire to make the Lord Jesus known far and wide, that kept him walking, often in tattered sandals.

So, what are we to make of this Feast of Peter and Paul? Simply this, the work of pastors has been the reason why our Church has continued to thrive for over 2000 years. True, people of other callings have also done great things: Theologians, medical experts, scientists, healthcare workers and others. Pastoring, however, is still the foundational work that makes Jesus known throughout history.

Let us say, therefore, that Pope Benedict stands in the line of hundreds of pastoral leaders throughout Church history, beginning with Peter and Paul and others who followed them. No doubt, in years to come, Catholics and people of other faiths as well, will feel confident, knowing that pastors such as Peter, Paul and Benedict will continue to lead them to Jesus.

The scriptures: Acts 12:1-11, 2 Tm 4:6-8, 17-18, Mt 16:13-19

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:05 AM.

June 21, 2008

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - No Human Losers

I have learned over the years how to be a discerning television viewer and radio listener. I mainly prefer National Radio and Public Television because both give me the opportunity to listen and view some up-to-the minute news and hear some sensible analysis. PBS also provides some of the finest American historical material I have ever watched: I have particularly enjoyed the works of Ken Burns, the film maker who has produced such classics as The Civil War, Jazz, Baseball and others. All of them are more than simple entertainment; they make us think, remember and ask where we were when these events happened. Frontline, by the way also has some good coverage of military and political issues.

On the other hand, Double Jeopardy and other programs of this genre have never held my attention. All of them seem to follow the same script: They are all about a few winners and lots of losers. Some are concerned mainly with winning thousands of dollars in a few tense moments. Others also are about groups or individuals who are in competition with one another. One by one, they are dismissed if they cannot follow clues. Ultimately only one remains, the rest go home weeping.

Television is a tough, competitive world. Only a few “lucky” individuals come out on top.

Actually American sports are also about winning and losing. We just came through the long weeks of March Madness, the University of Kansas being the winner. Lots of others went home disappointed for this year.

Now we look forward to the finals of the NBA championships and then, of course we will eagerly await the college and NFL football season once again. So it goes: At the time of the Super Bowl, some team will be the lucky winner and others will wait until next year.

All in all, of course, these competitions are about the winner as winner and not about the winner as a unique individual, a human being with feelings and emotions loves and hates personal successes and disappointments. He or she is mainly considered a sports person, a ball player who makes the team proud or leaves it disappointed. Who really knows what goes on in the mind of that individual out there on the field or how he or she feels about life when the crowd in the stands screams for a goal.

Sports are a huge attraction in the American mind. Millions of people pay big bucks to see their team win. (They hope!)

What one can often forget, however, is that these players are all unique individuals; they are not win-lose machines or individuals who can score points or prevent the opposing team from doing so.

I wanted to insist on all this because it is all part of the American psyche of winning and losing, nothing more.

On the other hand, when I read the gospel for this Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, I say to myself: “How differently Jesus thinks about life and about the ordinary people who inhabit this planet.” For Jesus, every individual is important and unique. Jesus considered all of us as part of God’s concern and interest, individuals of great value.

He makes some beautiful remarks in his conversation with the crowds about God’s love for all creation. But he also says: “Are not two sparrows sold for next to nothing? And yet not a single sparrow falls to the ground without your Father’s consent. But, as for you, every hair on your head has been numbered. So, do not be afraid of anything. You are worth more than an entire flock of sparrows.

What a beautiful compliment to our understanding of the value of the human person.

I think it may be true to say that we do not fully appreciate how truly precious we are. How often we need to be reminded that we, each individual of us is of great value in God’s mind.

So often we seem to think of ourselves or others as mere cogs in a wheel, skilled individuals who can score points and help a team win the National Championship.

Jesus perception of us, on the other hand, is this: “You are more important than all the world’s sparrows.”

All the while, of course, we fall into the trap of self-deprecation: “I’m not much good at anything. I’ve never been a success. Everyone else seems to do better than I...

That, however, is not the way Jesus perceives us. No matter which way our life has turned, success or winning is not everything. Rather what is of greater value is to say: “I am the most unique creature God has ever created? There has never been anyone quite like me in the entire world. Maybe, in the end, I am ok. At any rate, Jesus seems to think so.”

Sparrows, of course, are ok too, but nothing in comparison to this human person, living and breathing right now in God’s beautiful world.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 20: 10-13; Romans 5: 12-15;
Matthew 10: 26-33

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:54 AM.

June 14, 2008

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - Compassion

There is a popular television program that I watch occasionally titled, “Jobs Nobody Wants.” The program takes you, the viewer, into storm drains, inside huge industrial boilers where men are scraping soot off the walls; others will introduce you to the art of bee-keeping or zoo maintenance with all the hard work that goes into that. Cleaning horse barns is also a choice attraction for this program.

Anyway, the point of the program is to let you know that there are some people in the world who are willing to do “”lousy” jobs but love it.

There is another job or a career that not everyone wishes to do, but I would not call it “lousy.” It’s the vocation of nurses. We have all spent enough time in hospitals to know all the things that they do. Some of it is glamorous (ER, for instance) Other tasks, of course include emptying bedpans, bathing patients, doing long night shifts, et cetera.

But do you ever hear them crying over it? I never have, at least not in public. They make their rounds healing patients, doing all the “grunt” work that doctors studiously avoid. I often wonder how they can maintain such composure in difficult and trying circumstances, day after, night after long night.

It occurs to me that they must call up from their deepest sources a personal dedication and commitment. I don’t think the mere fact that they have a job would be sufficient to give them a true sense of full satisfaction.

Nursing might not be my first choice as a profession. Although I consider myself a compassionate person, the care of human bodies has never attracted me. I am not comfortable, for instance, with suffering. Nonetheless some souls do choose to do these things because they are intimately connected to the human journey of all mankind.

I have a sense too that Jesus might not have preferred a nursing career either, although he did seem sensitive to the physicals and mental tortures that ordinary people were exposed to in those times.

For instance, the gospel for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time shows him being compassionate with the crowds who have been following him around on his travels. “They were exhausted,” the text says “hungry for food, thirsty for water.” On the surface, one could imagine that Jesus would have been more concerned with folks who wished to debate with him over some scripture passage rather than being distracted by stragglers and others demanding food and water,

Not so, Jesus, however. There are numerous passages where we find Jesus setting aside the preaching role for a moment to attend to someone’s domestic needs. Think about the time he healed Peter’s mother-in-law, who immediately got up and fixed a meal for him and his disciples. Or think about the little teenage girl, the parent’s only daughter who had died suddenly. Jesus could not let this moment pass: He raised her back to life.

I realize that these examples lack something inasmuch as Jesus called up special powers of healing. But my point is that they showed clearly that Jesus had a sense of compassion, as we all do, in the face of suffering. He did something about it, given the power he had.

The conclusion I draw from all this is that most of us, like Jesus, are already involved in some chosen career other than the medical profession. But for some mysterious reason we can manage to call up our powers of healing when we come upon someone who is hurting. It may be something as simple as “I’m having a bad hair day.,” or something as serious as “My mother just passed away.” Obviously, we cannot do much about the hair or bring the mother back to life. But all of us have the power of compassion. We know how to say a kind word of understanding or just to stick around and not abandon the person on the spot. Just being present is a virtue even if we can do little to obviate the suffering. If nothing else, we can stop and take notice. My hunch is that Jesus did that a lot of times, even though he often was not able to change the circumstances of the problem. In other words, he did not simply go on with his chosen career of preaching.

Perhaps that may also be the case with us. We hear or see something that stops us in our tracks. At that point we can either go on with our career or we can stop and find out what’s wrong. It’s at that point where our vocation of human healing comes into play. Someone may be changed in the process. Miracle? Who knows? But does it make any difference?

The scriptures: Exodus 19: 2-6a; Romans 5: 6-11; Matthew 9: 36 - 10: 8

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:57 AM.

June 07, 2008

Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - False Appearances

During most of the years I served as a priest in the Catholic Church of Anchorage, I lived in a pleasant part of the city’s west side called Spenard. It was actually the area where the city began. Photos of that time show it to be an “upscale” neighborhood with families out on the shores of Lake Spenard and Lake Hood on Sunday afternoons, kids having summer fun.

Over the years, however, Spenard fell on hard times: Housing gradually became rundown, seedy businesses of “personal pleasure” began to sprout up, some of which are still being shuttered periodically even today.

Many parts of Spenard, however, are very livable. Indeed, the apartment complex where employees of the Archdiocese lived was often considered the “Showplace of the West Side. We took pride in our surroundings.

Often in more recent times, as I would drive through the Spenard neighborhood, I would pass a rather fancy showroom for the Harley Davidson motorcycle business. The chrome cycles parked outside always shone brightly in the sun. So, I decided one day to stop by and have a close up look at those machines, something I had often been tempted to do even though I never had the thought of buying one. So, I walked into the parking lot and gingerly ran my fingers over the smooth shiny surface of those powerful machines...

After a few moments the manger (I think he might have been he manager judging from the cut of his Levis) came out and pleasantly asked: “You interested in a cycle, Father”? (I was wearing my Roman collar) I replied, “Well, no, not exactly. I’m barely able to drive a car safely around this city.” “Well, if you are ever interested, come on around, we have some beauties inside too.” So, with that, I returned to my car, finally having satisfied my burning interest in Harley Davidson cycles.

Several days later, however, one of my friends called and said: “Hey, I saw you the other day outside the Harley shop in Spenard, talking to the guy with the black leather jacket, the chains and all the rest. Those are pretty tough guys to be hanging around with, don’t you think?” I said, “Hey listen, he was really a nice guy. He even wanted to sell me a cycle. With the collar, I could probably have gotten a deal, don’t you think.”

It occurred to me later, however, that I probably did look a little odd in my collar talking to a guy dressed in a black leather jacket, carrying chains and all the rest. But I let it go and never gave it another thought until I read the gospel again for this Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time!

It obviously does not talk about motorcycles or motorcycle gangs but it does speak rather obviously about some folks who were considered “outlaws” by certain religious segments of Jewish society. These were the so-called tax collectors we are all familiar with, public servants. Like certain motor cycle gangs today, they were considered a bit out on the edge of polite society.

However, while I am on the subject of cyclists, I must say that most of these folks have always appeared to me as people of good will, a bit odd perhaps, but who of us is not considered odd for various reasons. Yes, I know that their annual “retreat” in Sturgis, South Dakota takes on some questionable characteristics. Nonetheless many of the “gangs” ride for good causes: Vietnam veteran’s interests, cancer or heart research, et cetera. So, you can’t paint them all with the same brush.

My point in all this is to say that people are sometimes misunderstood by appearances: Yes, they dress differently, these cyclists, wear clothes that may seem odd to us, sport dark glasses, chains and all the rest. But should that cloud their character as individual human beings?.

I have a sense that is what Jesus was trying to say to the Pharisees when he was accused of sitting at table with tax collectors, individuals employed in a socially questionable career.

Jesus’ chosen table manners tell me that he was able to pass over the common perception of these individuals. Sure, they sometimes did skim money off the top of peoples’ tax returns but does that qualify them for general public condemnation? At least one or two tax collectors mentioned in the gospels claimed that they gave back four-fold anything they skimmed.

The point in this story and the story of the Harley Davidson manager is that we often misperceive people by considering only their chosen way of life, their recreational choices, even their manner of dress. True their “careers” may not compare to the careers of bankers, realtors, clergymen and women, public officers, et cetera, but we all make life choices, do we not? If a choice of career does not harm the public good or give public scandal to sensible people, perhaps there should be little reason to criticize it. My hunch is that Jesus had a mind to bring these folks into His Father’s kingdom much as he appealed to those in other walks of life. At any rate, he made the pointed remark that he had come not to call the self-righteous but sinners. I’m sure the revenue collectors must have been delighted to know that finally someone of religious importance, indeed, a rabbi had concern about them.

Well, with all that, I am quite sure that the Hells Angels and other similar groups might feel honored to know they are called to God’s kingdom despite what the rest of us might think of them. In Jesus’ mind, it is not the appearances that count but what lies in the heart.

Despite all I have said, of course, I’m not going out any time soon to buy a leather jacket, a chain for my wallet, a pair of hard-nosed boots and a cycle. Nonetheless, I have hopes of meeting some of those guys in God’s heavenly kingdom someday. They were very cordial to me; not a word about the fingerprints I may have left on their beautiful riding machines.

The scriptures: Hosea 6: 3-6; Romans 4: 18-25; Matthew 9: 9-13

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:25 AM.

May 31, 2008

Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Words, Words, Words

I sometimes find it almost overwhelming when I walk into Barnes and Noble bookstore, or, indeed, any bookstore, and gaze around at the millions (I think it is millions) of books and periodicals stacked there. Multiply that by all the bookstores around the world and the libraries as well, and you will have some choices facing you. Unless one has a pretty good notion of what one is looking for and is able to find it without appealing to the nice person at the customer service desk, one will be lost and the errand will have been a waste of time.

My own visits to Barnes and Noble have ordinarily been efforts to find out what is new and exciting (?) in the world of theology, and, believe me, there are always new thoughts and ideas coming to light from people who make this their career.. Theologians never tire of looking for answers to the Sacred. The choices are vast, so where to start?

All authors, I should imagine, write words with the intent to say something enlightening for the world, something intelligent, earth-shaking, indeed, even something that will change the world or the reader’s sense of life. Rarely does one write simply for one’s self. (I will say something in that regard later, however.)

Of course, writing words is one of humankind’s greatest gifts, our deepest human desire next to the reproduction of the species. (There may be others) From ancient times men and women have inscribed symbols or words on something that would last: Clay, papyrus, eventually paper. All this was done to speak the author’s innermost feelings or convictions about life and the way it is lived. Whether anyone actually read those words might have seemed unimportant to the writer. Something needed to be said and the author said it without being concerned what others thought of it.

Each of these writers, whether they are skilled or not, feels the need to say something fresh and new about the world. Even a casual letter to a friend would be an example of that.

Perhaps what we write will be read by someone, perhaps many, but even if it is not read, a word has been set free to do its task in the world. The writer has taken the opportunity, even with fear and trepidation to say what is on his or her mind. Not all readers might agree with the author’s position; nonetheless he or she felt the need to say it and let the chips fall where they may.

All writing of words, whether deep or superficial, makes an impact on human society and are a service to humankind. How else could people over the centuries have been expected to discover their history and interpret it without someone having written it down?

It is sometimes said the character of any civilization can be recognized best in the works of its authors and artists. (Of course, let us not forget the work of artisans as well, those who build buildings, make roads and till the soil)

At any rate, all of us, whether we are artists or artisans, have that inbred desire to leave a mark on civilization. I think, for instance of the lovely pre-historic paintings on the walls of the caves in France. (the Lascaux etchings). They are mainly reproductions of animals of that time and age: Fierce bulls and lions and tigers fighting one another. It might be safe to say that those etchings do not simply represent animals above ground. I think they might also represent the feelings of those ancient people, their concept of the power of animals and their threat to human existence. Perhaps there was even a sense of admiration for these ferocious beasts, their power and the struggle for survival. Hence, they probably felt the need to represent their feelings in “living color” on the cave walls.

So, it simply needs to said that people of all civilizations have consistently tried to say what enlightened them, what inspired them, what frightened them, what gave them a sense that there is something beautiful in the world that needs to seen and interpreted; and, of course, we are all the richer for it.

That said, we now move from the great and powerful season of Easter into the season of the year, Ordinary Time, as it is called, that long list of Sundays that last until the Thirty Fourth Sunday and we once again look forward to the dawn of Advent.

Our scriptures for this Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time predictably also speak of words and their impact on human life. Moses, for instance, that man wise in law, tells his Israelite compatriots that the stone tablets he has brought down with him from the mountain are actually meant to be considered unimportant in comparison to the words inscribed on them. He tells them that these must not be restricted to the tablet. Indeed, they will have no power whatsoever unless they find a place in peoples’ hearts where they can be remembered and reflected on each day. “Bind them to your wrists,” he tells them; “wear them as a pendant on your forehead” so that you will never have the temptation to forget them or disobey them.

The fact, of course, that these reminders were hung on wrists and foreheads did not mean that they were always obeyed. Nonetheless they remained there as reminders of something that would “prickle” the conscience if they did, indeed, disobey them. That warning in itself would be sufficient reminder.

The question that arises from time to time asking whether the commandments should be hung on courthouse walls still stirs controversy today. In an odd sort of way, it tells us that these ancient and sacred rules of life still are taken seriously..
Jesus, in the Matthew gospel we read for this Sunday has a “suggestion” for Christians of a later age who may appear from time to time saying: “Hey look my miracles, look at the apparitions, look at the cures I have done. Aren’t we so great?

In so many words, Jesus warns such followers first to listen carefully to his words, meditate on them, interiorize them and then put them into practice. Without this, all the showy miracles will mean little. He compares such persons, who look for fast and easy solutions to life’s problems, to a contractor who builds a house on sand rather than on rock. Time, nature and human whims will wash away such a house.

I imagine it could be said of all of us, therefore, that words are often easy to come by, easy even to speak or write. The question, of course, is not what can these words do to change the world. (It seldom happens anyway) Rather, what have these words done to give me and you, the writer or the reader, an insight into life? How can I live in such a way that these words will change me? Do I gain any new or fresh insights into my life or the lives of my brothers and sisters? If not, perhaps all “words may turn out to be a house built of clay, situated on sandy soil. The waters of time will eventually wash them away, forever unremembered.

So, once again, I have written some words. They will surely not change the world, but the moments I have spent putting them together has been a real joy. I hope they will also be that for you, dear reader.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 11: 18, 26-28, Romans 3:21-25,28; Matthew 7: 21-27

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:53 AM.

May 24, 2008

Feast of the Most Precious Body and Blood of Christ

Tables! There are all kinds of them, of course; and we use them for any purpose that meets our needs. But the one that is used most often and consistently (usually three times each day) is situated in our dining room. Some prefer to sit in an easy chair before the television and take their meals but it’s not the same as sitting with someone at a table made for eating and talking.

It all begins early in life, of course with a table called, a “highchair.” We had one in our home, as I remember it, made out of wood. All of us children used it before we were old enough to sit at the main dining table. It has long since disappeared,
ending up in an antique store I suspect. Nonetheless, there must have been many memories for our mother connected to that piece of furniture as she nourished us, one after the other, with homemade cream of wheat, oatmeal or mashed potatoes and peas. (No Gerbers in those days.)

For us youngsters, it was just a chair with a lift-up tray to catch the spoonfuls of food that did not quite make it to our tiny mouths. But for our mother this was a dining table for her young family, the place where she fed her flock.

As we grew up, each of us in turn took our place around a more proper table where we learned to wait our turn, say “please” and “thank you” as we passed the dishes of food on to one another. In some unique and simple way we were being taught the meaning of personal service, waiting on each other with patience.

How else could all this have happened except at a table where food was served and shared. It is a habit we all take for granted because it happens so consistently, so unobtrusively. We sit and eat but we do not often ask the meaning of what we are doing.

But on certain occasions sitting and eating does involve a special meaning: A birthday party for a six-year-old at Chuckie Cheese, a dinner for teenage couples at a fancy restaurant before the senior prom, a quiet personal meal a couple shares on their twenty fifth wedding anniversary, a celebration for grandparents on their seventy fifth.

Most folks would agree, of course, that all of these examples are more than meals. The food and drink, even the table is only the setting to celebrate something more important, a life-event, a human occasion, a setting for memories, toasts and cheers.

Yes, it could all be done while sitting around the living room in soft comfortable reclining chairs, but it would not be the same. In truly, authentic meals there is always something that transcends the actions of eating and drinking, something indescribable.

Meals, for the most part, of course, take place in homes or restaurants. But, odd as it may seem, holy places, churches, temples and synagogues have also become “dining rooms”, locations where our religious histories are celebrated occasions when we come together to be spiritually nourished on word, bread and wine.( It’s always bread and wine!).

Most Christian churches follow the custom and ritual of Jewish history: They gather, they listen to a proclamation of their spiritual traditions, they reflect on it. Then a table is set, bread and wine, those ancient, primordial natural elements are brought forth. A designated leader praises God for the produce of the earth and the fruit of the vine. Then a Eucharistic prayer is spoken over the elements, a formal and never changing anaphora, asking God to receive them back as a sign of human thanks.

All that having been said and done, the gathered community is invited to come and eat and drink with grateful hearts.

All this seems to be such a simple set of words and gestures, but ones that also contain sacred and ancient meaning.

For most Christians the doing and saying of all this has meaning precisely because we have a religious history that begins with Jesus of Nazareth, who himself was a man deeply immersed in his own Jewish history and sacred rites.

These were so important to him that on the night before he died, on the night of Passover, he chose to celebrate the Passover meal itself with his disciples one last time. The gospels tell us it was a sacred meal with all the elements we expect to find in the sacred meals we celebrate today: A recalling of our Christian history, a giving thanks for bread and wine and fellowship, then the sharing of bread and cup and, finally, the invitation to give thanks once more, go out and be God to the world.

Why do we do all this, Sunday after Sunday? We do it because of Jesus explicit words: “When you do this, do it in memory of me.”

And so we have been doing it for well over two thousand years without interruption. We gather faithfully on the Lord’s Day to remember Jesus and to be nourished on word, bread and wine.

Finally, what seems so significant and mysterious in all this, the liturgy, the peoples’ work, is that it all depends on the recognition and meaning of some very elemental, human realities: The need for people to gather and remember their sacred heritage, the invitation to break these open again and again and then to sit at table and remember the One who died for us so that we can continue to be nourished and grow spiritually.

So, it occurs to me that life is ultimately about simple things and simple actions which in themselves contain deep meaning. Perhaps to understand it all, we need to think about that highchair again and all those times since then that we have been seated with others to reflect on life’s meaning.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a; 1 Corinthians 10:16-17; John 6:51-58

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:21 AM.

May 17, 2008

Feast of the Most Holy Trinity

Most of us could probably say that when we consider our daily existence we depend fundamentally upon such things as air and water, food and exercise. True enough. But I would also like to suggest that, in addition to those physical elements, we depend for life on mystery, not mystery stories, but rather on the sense that there is something in life beyond us, a kind of overwhelming “uexplainedness.” That may be the reason why we are never quite satisfied with life as it is or as it seems to be. We have a human hunch that there is still something more that could fulfill our deepest longings. For lack of a better word we assign that mystery to God. I suspect that even those who claim no God must still wonder whether there is anything beyond their daily human existence.

Lest we imagine that the search for mystery, the sacred, is an adult activity, I would like to suggest that it begins in childhood: A tiny baby who recognizes its mother’s face and smiles is responding mystery. When a child grabs for a colored toy in the crib, it is responding to mystery.

As children grow up, of course they begin to become aware of more abstract forms of mystery and naturally ask questions about their meaning.

A story from my own childhood history will serve as an example: Our church of St. Henry was a stately faux-Gothic structure with a high ceiling and a long nave. In the apse at the end of the nave the architect had designed a splendid stained glass window with a huge eye in the very center.

I can remember on one occasion, before the beginning of Mass, asking my mother: “Hey ma, what’s that big eye doing up there?” She said something to the effect: “That’s the eye of God and God is looking at you, so you’d better keep quiet or something will happen to you.” End of conversation (sort of). But I continued to wonder about that eye or perhaps better about the beautiful range of colors that poured out from the middle of the eye. Of course, as a six-year-old, I still had no deeper theological sense of God, but the fascination with the colors gave me a hint that beauty had something to do with God.

Perhaps, given all that, there is something deep in our psyche that tells us that we have not yet explained everything around us. Perhaps we come to realize that we are merely created beings and that a power greater than ourselves keeps us in being.

That in itself seems to speak to our dependence on the Sacred, on God. Having no simple answers to the Sacred, we wonder, we contemplate, we think, we reflect.

But throughout our life we also continue to search for clearer, more convincing answers, for a clarity that will calm our human quest and bring not final answers but a sense that we are a bit closer to what we imagine God to be.

Since the earliest days of human existence, we creatures have been fascinated by the possibility of the Other. All religions have their gods to whom they lift their eyes and offer their prayers.

From the earliest days of our own Christian faith, theologians and other learned individuals have tried to give some substance to our human faith quest. Our sources are always the sacred Scriptures which speak of God creator, of the Divine Son, Redeemer and of the Holy Spirit, wisdom and consoler. These are human words, of course, which attempt to give us a deeper understanding of all that is sacred and divine, the Holy Trinity.

But they are still words, after all, human designations. We know that God the Father is always greater, more all-encompassing than the word father. We know that the Son is always more than our human word for son. The Holy Spirit is always beyond our feeble words that can speak only of wind and fire.

In the end we admit that we are “at a loss for words.” Anything we say, any word we choose, will never compare with the reality of the Infinite One.

But if words are often inadequate to speak of God, we never tire of seeking out other sources to fulfill our eternal quest for what is sacred to us: We gaze quietly at some great piece of art and are reduced to silence. We listen to the works of Mozart or Beethoven and are overwhelmed by the sound and complexity. We listen (on a CD) to the Gregorian chant done so well by the monks at the Grand Chartreuse in France or the monks at San Domingo de Silos in Spain or, closer to home, to the monks at the Abbey of Gethsemane in Kentucky. Or perhaps purely on our own initiative, we stop at a church on our way home from work and there we simply sit and let the sense of the Sacred soak into our being.

All these works of art and other human devices, of course, are not God, but each in their own way tries to speak of the God who is beyond word or art. The rest is left up to our own imagination; we call it contemplation.

In the end, perhaps we should say that each of us is left to our own devices, our personal gifts and talents. I would imagine that even astronomers and astrophysicists with their great insights must occasionally say to themselves, “we have only scratched the surface of the source of all this.”

One might even come to the point where we could say that the God who exists from all eternity is also the God we have “created” for ourselves, out of our own rich gifts of insight and imagination. In that sense each of us must speak for him or herself when we speak of and to our God.

My hunch is that each of our efforts to speak to our God, if honestly made, reaches the heavens, the very throne of the Sacred One, and we are left with the deep consolation that, as St. Augustine once wrote, ”Our hearts are created for you, O God, and restless are they until they rest in you.”
The scriptures: Exodus 34: 4b-6, 8-9; 2 Corinthians 13: 11-13; John 3: 16-18

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:44 AM.

February 02, 2008

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Word For Losers

It has long been my conviction that most preaching probably does not change many lives. Indeed, I often wonder if the word of Jesus as preached among the faithful ever changes much in most peoples' lives or life in general in this world?. I have a hunch that most people who are consistent Sunday worshipers have heard the gospels and other scriptures so often that they have ceased to have much impact on Christian conscience. Some may say: "Well, I'm sure those words must have had an impact on somebody when they were first spoken, but, hey, we're living in a different world today. Life is a lot more complicated than it was in Jesus' day." So, I suspect that many minds may often begin to wander when many of Jesus' wonderful words are spoken year after year, Sunday after Sunday.

The fact is (I think it's a fact!) that the words of scripture and the gospels in particular always run up against modern culture (post modern culture!) and, of course, they do not always seem to address our contemporary concerns. This is a different age, we say, times with different concerns, different questions.

And yet, on the other hand, the words of scripture and the gospels in particular are transcendent, they cross all ages and cultures and even fit our age if one has the courage to listen with open ears.
Well, all this may sound like a depressing way to begin a homily, but there are some words in all three scriptures for this Sunday that I am sure will not find an open ear in the lives of many Christians.

The word that will make some listeners roll their eyes and plug their ears is the word humility. My hunch is that humility is not a word that many people would say is part of their daily experience. We live in an age where winning is everything and losing is nothing: Watch ESPN or any sports channel on television. Watch some of those other programs that portray people competing in weird ways for some paltry amount of money. Think about the financial segment on the evening news. It's all about winners and loser.

The old phrase "nice guys finish last" is probably a saying many people believe even though they would not say so publicly .
In short, most folks probably are convinced that you will never get anywhere in this world unless you are willing to get into the ring and fight it out with others. "It's a tough, competitive world out there," they will say. "Get used to it."

So, I'm wondering what thoughts were going through the pews when the folks heard Zephaniah the prophet use the word humble, humility and lowly in that reading a few moments ago? Most folks probably thought, "well, that's all very nice, everybody already believes that."

Then we hear St. Paul saying roughly the same thing in his letter to the Christian folks at Corinth: He tells them something they already know: "Not many of you are wise or powerful or of noble birth. You are the weak, the lowly, and the despised. In the eyes of the world around you, you count for nothing."

Well, all that was probably true: The early Christians, for the most part, were of the lower economic classes. But, of course, Paul was also saying: "Hey, is that all so bad? Being poor is not an insult. At the same time, it's not something we eagerly look forward to either."

And then we have those beautiful words of Jesus we have come to call the beatitudes (the "blessed").

But take a look at them: Whom does Jesus bless, whom does he call fortunate? Not the rich and the powerful, not those who can control their own lives, not the independently wealthy. No, Jesus calls fortunate, blessed, those whom the world has forgotten: The poor, the meek, the persecuted, the insulted.

Now, that really sounds pretty depressing: How could the poor ever feel blessed? That surely does not do much for social conditions in the world, telling people that it's ok to be on the bottom of the social ladder.

So, how can we deal with something that appears so contradictory, at least to modern ears? Hardly anyone who is poor or homeless or starving would claim that they are blessed!

Well, I don't have any easy answer to all this, but I think it becomes a little more clear when you compare this version of the beatitudes in Matthew to the version we have

in Luke's gospel. Luke's is a lot tougher: Luke compares the rich and the poor and he blesses the poor and curses the rich. So, it is in the comparison that you begin to get some insight about the "fortunate" (the blessed) and the unfortunate the "cursed." The question is this: In the mind of God, who is truly blessed or cursed? In the mind of God can we truly say that to be rich and independent is something that we should ultimately strive for? Should we consider the rich and famous, the independent to be fortunate simply because they are rich and independent? Is that a blessed way of life, particularly when the rich are rich at the expense of the poor? No one could believe that.

So, the beatitudes are really questions about inequality in the world: The rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak, those who can control their lives and those who have no control over their lives. When the comparisons in the beatitudes are applied to modern life, they address the problems of universal health care, the problems of education for the poor, the problem of immigration, the problem of housing, the problem of an inequitable tax structure, the problem of the destruction of the environment at the expense of the poor and peasant land-owners.

So, it is my conviction that Jesus is not praising people who are humble (that is without power). He is saying, "This is no way to live. Life in this world should not be a battle between the powerful and the weak. To be powerful is not necessarily a virtue and to be powerless could possibly be a "curse."

Hidden in these scriptures, I believe there is something, about human dignity, the value of the person, about the fact that all human beings deserve respect no matter what their so-called state in life may be. No one deserves to be poor or without control over his life.

I do not know, therefore, whether these scriptures about humility will eventually change the way life happens in this world, but I would still have to say that it would not hurt any of us to be reminded that there are lots of inequities in this world and maybe it's ok if we happen to be reminded of that occasionally. Nice guys do no have to finish last!"

The scriptures: Zephaniah 2:3, 3:12-13, 1 Corinthians 1: 26-31, Matthew 5: 1-12a

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:45 AM.

January 26, 2008

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Purely By Chance?

I'm sure most of us from time to time must ask ourselves, "How the heck did I ever end up doing what I am doing today, living where I am, married to the person I am married to, following the career I'm presently involved in?" When you think about it, so many events in our lives seem to be a great mystery, as though they seemed to have happened purely by chance. And yet, here we are, doing what we are doing hardly even questioning it.

Yet, think about it: Our life could have had many different options, it could have gone in a thousand different directions. The reason why we happen to be where we are, doing what we are doing is because somewhere in our life we made a deliberate decision to do this and not do that. So, what seems at first to be pure chance is not pure chance. It happened for a reason and the reason is in our choices.

We need to say then that many things in life are pure chance, but many others happen by intention.

I'm sure also that many of us may look back in our life and say: "Gosh, if I'd only taken that job out in Los Angeles, life would have been completely different. If I had married my high school sweetheart perhaps my life would also look differently.

Over all then we must say that the history of each of our lives is a series of choices, a choice taken or a choice declined. We simply need to live with that. The old saying, "not to choose is to choose" seems to find a place here.

In my own life I have often reflected on the reality that everything that has happened to me is somehow linked to something else. If I had not been in the right place at the right time, my life could have been completely different. Somehow that also seems rather scary!

It has often occurred to me too that there are many human events narrated in the gospels that seem to appear as pure chance. But whether they are chance or not, our lives as Christians, the life of the Church have been determined by those choices.

Let us simply look at the story in the gospel today about Jesus choice of Peter and Andrew, James and John as his first disciples. Think how coincidentally that all happened.

Let's say, for instance, that Jesus had decided to begin preaching the kingdom in a large city like Rome or Alexandria or even in less important cities like Jerusalem or the bustling Galilean city of Sepphoris. That's obviously where the action was. But Jesus deliberately chose not to do that, of course. Nonetheless, would he not have attracted many more people than he did by preaching in the small peasant villages of Palestine?

Or, let us say that Jesus had decided on that particular morning to go walking up in the hills or in the desert rather than on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Or, let say that Jesus had decided to ask several intellectual giants or high powered business men to follow him rather than four ordinary fishermen.

Would that have affected the future of Christianity? I suspect it would have.

Or, let us say that these four fishermen had responded to Jesus' invitation like this: "Hey, listen, Jesus, we're just ordinary blue-collar guys; all we know how to do is fish; we've never given as sermon in our entire lives. Moreover, we have no idea what this "kingdom" is all about." In other words, if these four had declined Jesus invitation to follow him, would that have changed the face of Christianity? Doubtless, it would have.

Again, all that sounds rather scary because it sounds so "chancy" but that is exactly the way it probably happened and history took care of the rest. There was no plan on Jesus part to pick fishermen rather than teachers or politicians. It just happened that way. It does no good to try and figure out why things happened the way they did in Jesus' life.

I think the only way to understand all these "chancy" questions is to try and place them into the context of history. The even better question is to ask is what these individuals did after those decisions were made. What did thousands and thousands of others in the history of the church do with their choices? In other words, it takes a broad perspective to understand what impact these decisions have had on the course of history.

All of this, of course, has some relevancy to our own lives. Those of us who are Christian or Catholic could ask ourselves: "How did I get this far? What makes me Catholic? Well, obviously, a lot of decisions on the part of a lot of people in our personal history brought all this about.

The better question is to ask what we are doing with these choices that have been made for us or that we have made for ourselves. From that point of view nothing is pure chance. Our Christian life looks like the way it does because we have taken charge of it and have made it look this way. That's all that counts.

Finally, all of these events can be traced back to the life of one person, Jesus of Nazareth, who made a deliberate choice one particular day to go out and preach God's kingdom. The fact is, he simply needed some help and that's where it all started.

I'm personally happy that it all worked out the way it did in the course of history. Actually, there is not much I can do to change it now anyway, even if I wanted to.

The scriptures: Isaiah 8: 23-9:3, 1 Corinthians I: 10-13, 17, Matthew 4: 12-23

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:39 AM.

January 12, 2008

Baptism of the Lord - The Sacrament of Nature

I never thought the day would come in my Iifetime when so many Americans would become seriously concerned about nature, the environment and specifically about its gradual annihilation. I can remember a time when people who expressed concern about the natural wonders of our world were mockingly called "greenies" or "tree-huggers". Those were not complimentary words!

In my entire lifetime it seems to me that we Americans have been under the impression that there will always be an abundance of material things to sustain the human race: Water, air, birds and animals, growing things of all sorts.

But surprisingly and suddenly we are becoming aware that the earth cannot sustain the human race forever unless we take better care of it. Already, some areas of the world and our own country are worrying about the availability of water. The city of Atlanta, for instance, underwent a serious drought last fall to the point where water needed to be rationed.

Scientists are seriously concerned about the disappearance of the glaciers and the Greenland ice cap. Here in Alaska, the native people of the Interior are noticing the decline in the numbers of sea life and the gradual thawing of the tundra. It's called global warming and it's caused by the amount of hydrocarbons that we have been spilling into the atmosphere since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. We never realized all this was happening until it became evident in the world around us and now many people are becoming "greenies." All to the good, of course!

I got to thinking about all this some while back and it occurred to me that perhaps Christian folks ought to be the first to be concerned about the natural world precisely because so much of our liturgy and our sacraments are symbolically related to nature. Our liturgical year follows the seasons: Easter, for instance always occurs in the spring. The end of our liturgical year happens in late fall when nature is gradually dying. Fire and water play an important in the Easter Vigil. Each year our scriptures that we read at Mass remind us that we are stewards or caretakers of creation! But whether we Christians, Catholics are better stewards than the rest of the population is doubtful.

It seems to me, however, that the power of nature can help us to understand and celebrate the sacraments. Take just two elements of nature: Fire and water. They have both been prominent in the news. In October thousands of acres of forest burned in Southern California. Many homes and businesses were lost. Perhaps better care of the environment would have prevented some of that.

We all know the word Katrina, of course, and the great floods that struck the coasts of Mississippi and Louisiana two years ago. Suddenly, we all learned the power of wind and water and the need to be prepared for such disasters.

Well, given all this reflection on the environment, we can now turn our attention to the symbolic power of water in the liturgy. We celebrate today the Baptism of the Lord, a turning point in Jesus life when he came to John and asked for the same penitential washing that all those hundreds of others were seeking.

Now, obviously this baptism of Jesus was not the same sacrament we experience as Christians today. Jesus did not cease being a Jew to become a Christian on that day. So, what is the implication of that ritual described in the scriptures for this Sunday?

The point is that people of all the ancient cultures have used water as a symbol not only of washing or cleansing, but also as a sign of inclusion. For centuries those Eastern cultures have welcomed new aspirants with some sort of initiation ceremony. That is precisely what Jesus experienced on that day in his young adult life: This was the day he recognized his call from God, his vocation.

Now, obviously, in our own times baptism is for the most part celebrated in the early years of children's lives, Some will ask, of course: Why not wait until they are young adults so that they can make their own decisions regarding whether or not they wish to be Christians?

From my own experience, I can only say that I am happy that my parents decided to make that decision for me 6 days after I was born. It was heartening to know that they cared enough about me to welcome me into the faith of our ancestors long before I was capable of making that decision for myself. Had they waited for me to do that, it's hard to know whether I would have had the good sense to ask for baptism later on. My parents decided that they would like to share all those great Christian treasures with me that had been handed on to them. If I decided to forgo all that later on, that would be my problem.

All this reminds us of the importance and power of water and of fire, those elements of nature we all take for granted. They are both part of the Christian sacramental experience. Maybe without meaning to, the environmentalists, those "greenies", those tree huggers have called our attention to the fact that there is something transcendent something sacred about the environment. We just have to take the time to look around and treasure it. It's all grace.

The scriptures: Isaiah 42 1-4, 6-7 Acts 10: 34-38 Matthew 3: 13-17

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:28 AM.

November 14, 2005

Wakeup Call: Solemnity of Christ the King

This country of ours, in its young history, has really not had very many human tragedies to deal with, events that have changed the face of the entire country. I imagine that the Civil War must have been one such event. From it we learned about the disparity between white and black people, the sin of slavery. The event we now know as Nine Eleven is another. We learned suddenly how vulnerable we were as a nation, despite our wealth and power. We also learned how much we need to depend on one another and how much compassion exists among us when our neighbors are subjected to such tragedies.

The third event that has undoubtedly changed the history of our country is one more recent: The hurricanes Katrina and Rita. Odd as it may sound, in this case nature itself taught us something about how life goes on in cities, large and small, in the United States. Of course, we have always known that there are poor and vulnerable people living along side the rich and protected. This is the way it has always been. But when the waters and the winds suddenly overwhelmed everyone, rich and poor alike, vulnerable and invulnerable alike, we suddenly realized that differences between us are only superficial. At base, we are all simply human beings, we all need food and clothing, housing and medicine, protection from the powers of nature. We suddenly learned something about how we live together as neighbors in a way that no other event could have taught us. In a sense, hurricanes Katrina and Rita were the great levelers, everyone in their paths was affected alike. Artificial divisions between upper class and lower class neighborhoods were now gone.

The news commentators I have listened to in these recent weeks have all said something like this: For the first time, Americans have learned the meaning and importance of serving one another, helping each other in times of great stress. There were countless examples of people saving one another's lives, sharing homes, food, water, clothing, et cetera. In the Super Dome, no one asked what part of the city another had come from. "We are all in this together," they said. "So, let's help each other.

Here was an example of a living sermon on the love of Christ, Christ the shepherd, Christ the servant. Sad that it had to take a hurricane to teach us how to be servants to each other, but so it was and so it is.

It occurs to me that the Solemnity of Christ the King which we celebrate today will have special meaning for us this year because we will need to ask ourselves again how Jesus chose to be remembered and what that could mean for us.

At the end of every liturgical year we are invited to think about what Christ has meant to us during these past twelve months. We want to say that Christ is the one who has given meaning to all we have done, all we have celebrated, all we have prayed about this year. We want to find a title that gives Christ the highest praise, the highest place. So, we choose "king" even though that title does not mean much in our society today.

My sense, however, is that Jesus would be a bit uncomfortable with that title. Indeed, as we know from our reading of the gospels, when people wanted to crown him king, Jesus went off into hiding because people wanted to crown him king for all the wrong reasons. They wanted someone to come and straighten out the inequities in the world that we are obviously responsible for. But that is not the reason the Father sent him.

I know that there is probably not much of a chance for changing the title of this feast at this late date, but all the scriptures for this feast talk so clearly not about kingship, but about shepherding, about servanthood, about taking care of the folks.

Ezekiel the prophet in the first reading has some tough words for the religious leaders of his time. "What God asks of a leader," Ezekiel says, "is someone who will seek out the strays, bring back the injured, heal the sick. This is exactly what God does, and this is exactly what is expected of you."

Jesus must have read Ezekiel's prophecies because he uses practically the same language Ezekiel did when he talks about the end times and how life in this world ought to be. "You will know that I am here with you when you feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick and those in prison." In short," when you take care of these little ones, my brothers and sisters, you are caring for me."

During these days at the end of the liturgical year we hear a lot about end times, about how we will know when Christ will come again. Tim LaHaye writes a lot about that in his "Left Behind" series of books. I don't personally pay much attention to those sorts of predictions. But one thing I know for certain: Jesus predicted that we would know that his coming was imminent if we tried to make sure that his brothers and sisters were being tended to. Nothing can be any clearer than that.

Is this kind of shepherding going on at this time in our history? I think it is. All you need to do is read the papers and watch the evening network news of the reconstruction that is going on on the Gulf Coast. There have been hundreds of stories of people whose lives have been given a new start. I think about all the dedicated local officials, Ray Nagin, the mayor of New Orleans, for instance, the other federal officials, even the people working for FEEMA. They may not have read today's gospel about Jesus the servant or about the "least of my brothers and sisters," but the fact that these people are doing something to help others who are suffering and are trying to bring order out of chaos, tells me that Christ is being recognized as having returned not as king, but surely as shepherd of the flock.

The fact that parishes and dioceses around the United States have contributed to those parishes which were wiped out tells me that Christ is near, even at the door.

I would be the first to say, therefore, that God does not use nature to "teach us a lesson." Nonetheless, when tragedy does strike the human community there is a sense of compassion that spontaneously arises in the hearts of people. Whether they consider themselves religious or not, they instinctively know that in moments of tragedy attention must be paid. We are all sons and daughters of the one God, brothers and sisters of Jesus the good shepherd. It seems sad somehow that it should take a hurricane to remind us of all that. But now we know better who our neighbor is and that's ultimately what counts. In the mind of Christ, we are all his little ones, his flock.

The scriptures: Ezekiel 34: 11-12, 15-17, 1 Corinthians 15: 20-26, 28, Matthew 25: 31-46

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:48 PM.

November 08, 2005

Risking for the Right Things: Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

One thing we can surely say about Americans in general is that they love winners. Even though they may not themselves be "winners" they love to read or hear about other people who have started at the bottom and are now on the top of heap. Perhaps in seeing someone else "make it big" there is a certain embarrassing sense of "Hey, I could have done all that, but I didn't want to take the risk."

Most of us could recite our "red, white and blue" examples of people who "made it big," particularly, and oddly enough, individuals in the fast-food industry: Ray Krok, Dave Thomas, Glen Bell, Dave Edgerton and Jim McLamore the founders of MacDonalds, Wendy's, Taco Bell and Burger King. Wouldn't we all wish we would have had the good sense to invest in one of these food industries? We might also be rich today, but alas, we didn't take the risk. So, now we look on from the sidelines and wonder about what could have been.

What is it that made these men so successful to the point that they have become "icons of industry", world success stories? Obviously, as Glen Bell himself said, it's all about hard work. True enough, but it's also about something else, something called risk-taking. None of those fast-food industrialists would have gotten their enterprises off the ground had they not invested some money, time and effort in this venture. I suspect that none of them had any idea what would come forth from their initial idea, but they were willing at least to see where it would take them. Indeed, they may not even have imagined it as a risk; perhaps they felt that they had nothing to lose anyway.

My sense is that most of us probably live somewhere between taking a risk and hanging on to what we have. We all want to get ahead in life, as we say, but at the same time, we worry about losing what we already have worked for, what is precious to us. This is particularly true of taking risks with whatever could benefit those who depend on us. We all know the sad stories of the CEO's of Enron and World Corn who took risks with their employees futures. So, the line between foolhardiness and prudent risk taking is often rather narrow.

Our scriptures for this Thirty Third Sunday provide us with two sets of individuals who worked hard and "made it big," people who worked hard and were praised for their efforts.

The first reading comes from the Old Testament Book of Proverbs. I love this reading because it is one of the few passages in the Old Testament which specifically praises women for their work. I often suggest that it could be used at the Rite of Christian Burial.

In this case, the author assures us that a "worthy wife has value that is far beyond pearls." He also makes the point that this woman has done many things which has made her husband look good in public. (I'm not so sure whether I agree with that or not!) At any rate, the writer praises the woman who works hard to take care of her family and for taking care of the poor. At the end, the writer insists that she deserves high praise: She cares little about charm and beauty. It is her works and her love of God that will be her greatest reward.

All this may simply sound like another Ray Krok or Dave Thomas success story: Praise them for their hard work, but the point of the reading is that the woman used her talents for the good of others, for her family and the community. For that she was praised.

Of course, the same may be said for many successful people. Aside from whatever personal motivation for they may have for their work, what they have accomplished often benefits the world at large. Even the founders of fast-food industries have made it possible for people to be nourished. They are even getting more concerned today about healthier foods, vegetables and fruits! At least that's something.

Our gospel for today picks up on the same theme of risk-taking. It's a story of three people who were given something to invest, Talents, gifts, skills, whatever. The money for the initial investment, by the way, does not belong to the three individuals. It still belongs to the original investor He's the one who stands to lose or gain depending on how much of a risk the secondary investors wish to take. Two double it and a third buries it to keep it safe. He did not want to risk the wrath of the owner if he should lose the initial investment. Two are praised, the third is told that he is a useless servant.

The point of the story, of course, is not about investing money or material things. It is a question about whether we are willing to trust ourselves with God's gifts. Obviously, we are all initially blessed at conception with human gifts, knowledge, understanding, wisdom, physical, intellectual and spiritual abilities of all sorts. Over the period of a lifetime (or at least during our young adult years) we are expected to double or triple those gifts with education, training, reading, reflection.

And why should we be doing that throughout our life? Not simply to become better educated, not simply to make a lot of money or a big name for ourselves. We are gifted by God so that somehow or other the world will be a better place, the little world in which we will exist for some 50 or 60 years.

Truly, it seems to me, after much reflection, that we are not born into this world simply for ourselves, for our own good. We are born into this world because there is a specific place for us, a special notch, if you will, which only we individually can fill. If we decide to bury those gifts in the ground as the character in the story did, the world will be all the poorer for it. True, no one may ever know the difference, but we will, if we need to look back on our life and say, "gosh, I wish I had studied harder in school," or "I wish I had applied for this or that scholarship, just think what I could have done with those extra opportunities that are now lost in history. I wonder what the little world I have lived in during all these years would look like if I'd tried harder, if I had taken a few risks with my God-given human abilities?"

Perhaps in the end we all need to do what those professional gamblers in Las Vegas often do when they are playing poker for high stakes: They say a good poker player knows instinctively when to hold and and when to fold. So, when the opportunity comes for us to invest the precious gifts God gives us, maybe we should say a little prayer like this: "Lord, all this belongs to you; it was your gift to me. Now give me the grace to know when to hold and when to fold."

The scriptures: Proverbs 31: 10-13, 19-20,30-31, 1 Thessalonians 5: 1-6, Matthew 25: 14-30+

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:20 PM.

October 31, 2005

Intelligence and Wisdom: Knowing the Difference: Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

I imagine many of us must say to ourselves occasionally: "Gosh, I wish I had been born with a genetically higher IQ. Just think, I could have gone to a really top flight university, come away with a couple Ph.D.'s, gotten the job I always wanted, made a million bucks and retired at 45." Sounds so great, doesn't it. Few of us are ever satisfied with the "brains" we were born with. There is always someone out there who is smarter than we are, someone with a better job, more money, a brighter future. But at the same time, most of us just struggle along with the "equipment" we were born with and thank God we are able to get along even though we may not ever break any records.

Intelligence is a wonderful gift, when you think about it. It distinguishes us from other life species in our world. It helps us discover where we fit in, how we can do things that may make a difference in the world. The temptation, of course, is always to compare ourselves with someone who seems to more highly endowed with intelligence. In today's world people more and more are using the term "intelligent design" when talking about the origins of the universe, as though God sat down one day and tried to figure out how all the elements of the universe should fit together.

The fact is, of course, all created beings, including ourselves, are not simply stamped out in the same pattern: In the human world some people are more intelligent, better looking, more insightful, more creative than others. There is no absolute standard. For whatever reason, we are all born differently from one another, which, I suppose, is fortunate in the end. Sameness can be dull.

Now, to say that someone is smart or intelligent is always nice and complimentary, but intelligence is not the same as wisdom. Lots of people are smart but not all are wise. In fact, our scriptures today commend people not for being smart, but for being wise. Notice the words of the first reading from the Book of Wisdom itself which presents wisdom as a person, indeed, a woman, "Lady Wisdom." I shall paraphrase the sentences: "Brilliant and long-lasting is wisdom; the one who waits for her shall not be disappointed; whoever keeps vigil for her will not go unrewarded." What all this means is that it is smart to search for wisdom. You will not be disappointed. Something good will come of it.

Interestingly, the gospel also "feminizes" wisdom in the character of two sets of wedding attendants, five foolish and five wise, five who were ready for the wedding reception and five who got left out in the cold. The point, of course, is that God breaks in with opportunities when one least expects it; but they only come once. The wise person does not let them slip by.

So, what does wisdom look like in ordinary life? How would you know it if you met it in some human individual? I can think of a few examples. I often expect to find wisdom in the elderly and I am not usually disappointed because seniors have lived a lot of life and they know the false from the true, the lasting from the passing. So, I pay attention when seniors speak because I know that I will learn something of great value.

It may seem odd to say so, but I also have learned something about wisdom from little children. Pay attention to little kids: They will ordinarily tell you the truth when you ask them. Their minds have not yet been confused by conflicting theories. They simply observe life around them and tell you what it means to them. They can also ask some embarrassing questions, the shortest of which is "why?" "Why does this happen?"

I also expect to find wisdom in people who think and speak slowly and deliberately, people who reflect on life before making decisions. If they do not know the answer to some problem, they will tell you when they have thought about it more deeply.

In short, wisdom people seem to be able to see the differences between things in this world. Here are a few thoughts that came to mind: Wisdom means trying to discover the meaning of the day and the hour, not the hour of death, but this hour in which we are living at the moment, this moment that will never be repeated, this moment filled with so many opportunities to understand the world and how we fit into it.

Wisdom could mean taking a moment to discover God, to discover the sacred in the little world that only we individually know best.

Wisdom could mean paying attention to the little things in life, the seemingly insignificant that often end up meaning a lot if we reflect on them.

Wisdom could mean trying to sift out the chaff from the wheat, the important from the less important things, the passing from the lasting.

Wisdom could mean trying to discover beauty and loveliness wherever it appears.

Finally, the ancient Greek philosophers had a unique description of wisdom: It was simply the advice: "Know thyself." That may seem like a gratuitous suggestion. Who of us does not know ourselves? Nonetheless, when you think about it, we are truly a mystery to ourselves throughout our life. We keep discovering things that surprise us and that were never very clear earlier on.

The question finally comes to this: Why do the scriptures which the church chooses to help us worship, why do these special scriptures on wisdom appear at this time of the year. Actually, it has a lot to do with end times. We are coming to the end of the liturgical year, and, of course, the end of anything can get us thinking about the past, what we have done with the time which has just expired, what we hope to do with opportunities still open to us in the days and months ahead. The point is that God, like the bridegroom in the gospel story comes to us, breaks into our lives at unexpected times, at moments when we least expect it. The wise person, like the five wise wedding attendants, therefore, is never surprised at God's coming. That coming happens every day, of course. There is no warning. God uses all sorts of experiences to let us know that something sacred is happening right now and if we are wise we will "capture the moment" because it will probably never come around again, at least not like this.

The scriptures: Wisdom 3:12-16, 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18 Matthew 25: 1-13

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:52 AM.

October 24, 2005

Service Department: Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time

I'm fairly certain that there are not many folks out there in the pews today who would want to accept the nomination for pope if the offer came their way. (first of all, don't worry, it's not going to happen.) But your first response might be, "Hey, I'm not holy enough," or "I wouldn't want to wear all those heavy clothes," or "I wouldn't want to have to meet all those people every day from all over the world," or "I wouldn't want the responsibility of being pastor for the world's Catholics," or "I wouldn't want to have to work with all those cardinals."

Of course, that, in fact, is what the pope does every day, at least in part. If you are pope, you are automatically a very public person. You would need to be willing to be pastoral leader of the whole Catholic Church. Of course, you would also need to be willing to wave your arms and hands a lot!

Seriously, however, if you did decide to accept the offer to be pope, from the moment they put that "pointy hat", the mitre, on your head, you would need to get used to being a servant. Your time would never be your own again. Think about that! The pope, in fact, is actually called "the servant of the servants of God." So, the office of pope is not something one would ordinarily look forward to.

Nonetheless, being a servant is not confined to the office of the papacy. Everyone does it, or should do it. But one has to learn how to do it because it doesn't come easily; it's all about attitude, being willing to be last and least.

In the so called secular world servant hood surely does not seem to be an easy thing to learn: Think about all the elected officials who don't seem to serve us very well once elected. They often forget about the good folks who listened to them and thought it wise to put them in office, but after that, those officials do pretty much what pleases them rather than their constituents.

Servanthood, at least for officials in the church, does not always seem to come very easily or naturally either. We do have many good and selfless priests and bishops, of course, but often the so-called "clerical system" makes it difficult for them to be recognized publicly as servants. Without meaning to do so, the clerical state often seems to put priests and bishops, even religious on a level above lay folks: Even the clerical garb, the colors, the titles give a sense of self-importance to our spiritual leaders. I realize, of course, that it is not a personal matter for them, but the clerical and ecclesiastical traditions themselves often do not help us understand the nature and importance of servanthood. There is always a temptation for church leaders to take on the centuries of cultural and ecclesiastical baggage and think of themselves more seriously than they should, or at least to forget their primary role. Nothing personal intended!

It is not a modern problem, of course: in fact, even in Old Testament times, the era in which the spiritual author Malachi wrote, they were having problems with their priests. Listen to what he says: "You have turned aside from the way, you have caused many to falter by your instruction." Bad news, because that, in part, is what priests do, they teach and lead by word and example.

Notice also that things had not changed much by Jesus time: Of all the religious leaders that Jesus had hard words for, the scribes (the biblical interpreters) and the Pharisees (a group of conservative laymen) came in for the harshest criticism. Notice what Jesus says: "They make life difficult for people, placing heavy burdens on their shoulders while not doing a thing to lighten them." Then Jesus comments on "clerical garb." They broaden their phylacteries (the band of small leather boxes containing quotations from the Ten Commandments which they fastened around their foreheads or their arms) and lengthen their tassels. They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor at synagogues, greetings in the marketplace and the salutation,'Rabbi."'

You don't get the impression that they were very much interested in being the least or the last, in being servants. Jesus had a real problem with that. In fact, he told his own disciples that they should plan to do the very opposite. "Serve one another," he says. "I have given you an example, so must you also do."

But to give you the sense also that there was some good pastoral service being done in those early days, listen to what St. Paul tells his friends in the church of Thessalonika: "Working day and night so as not to burden any of you, we proclaimed to you the Gospel of God." In any age, I should think, that is what religious servants do: They bring God's word to people without pay.

But thus far we have been talking about folks who work in the Church, priests, bishops, deacons, religious. But that says nothing at all about the rest of the folks out there, Christians and others as well, who are just as much servants doing holy service as clerics and religious. Are there any examples today of people who do the work of Jesus without wearing special clothes or having special titles? Of course, we could immediately call up the example of Mother Teresa who left a teaching order in Yugoslavia to found another order of sisters who would do nothing but care for the poor, the destitute and the dying on the streets of Calcutta and around the world. We won’t deny Mother Teresa sainthood for all that.

But forget about the "big names." The question is, are there any undeclared saints out there who serve every day without phylacteries, tassels or titles. I can think of a few off hand Who shall remain anonymous: I think of the woman, for instance, whom I see on the way to work each day who stops traffic so that the little kids can get safely across the street. No pay for that! I think of the neighborhood teenagers who help an elderly couple by picking up groceries for them. I think about the elderly man, himself on crutches, who faithfully comes to visit his wife in a nursing home every day. I think of all the people in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast who tried to make sure their neighbors were safe during Hurricane Katrina; or the public servants, National Guard people, who went for days without sleep trying to find people abandoned in their houses, handing out bottled water and "Meals Ready to Eat. That surely is human service without pay, without acclaim, no titles, no special places for awards. It is interesting that human tragedies sometimes bring out the best in us in terms of human compassion. We learn from the tragedies of others.

So, how about all of us gathered here today? My hunch is that everyone of us, young or old, would not pass up the opportunity to help someone if they needed it. It's just the most human thing to do. You don't need fancy clothes with tassels, you don't need special titles; no one needs to notice you, no award banquets expected. You just do the right and good thing and you let God pat you on the back if God chooses to do so. "Service with a smile," that's what they call it out there in the world. I think Jesus would be happy with that little piece of advertising too.

The scriptures: Malachi 1: 1- 14b-2:2b, 8-10 Thessalonians 2: 7b-9, 13, Matthew 23: 1-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:59 AM.

October 17, 2005

Aliens in One's Own Land: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Think of this word for a moment: Alien. What comes to your mind? Someone from another country perhaps, even someone from another planet if you are a fan of Star Wars? Sometimes the word alien even carries with it a foreboding meaning: Someone who wishes to invade your country, even your home.

Unfortunately, the word or concept alien has always carried with it a threatening connotation, someone different from ourselves, whether he or she invades our turf or not. For that reason we often feel afraid or defensive when it seems to apply to our relationship with others. Perhaps it is simply because we don't quite know what to make out of those who are different from us, different by culture, nationality, religion, color. The unknown is always a threat at least until we can get it all figured out. In the meantime, anything that disturbs our peace and tranquility will be considered an enemy. We all get used to our own personal ways of life. They are our guardian, they make life stable, livable.

Actually, the word alien, taken from its Latin roots, means "an other," "another" a person different from ourselves, a person standing along side us, on the other side, someone from anther place. Now, that does not sound so threatening, does it? We all stand somewhere in the world, and others stand along side us, whether they are the same or different from us. That's simply the way it is in this world populated with so many different folks.

You will have noticed in our first reading a moment ago some references to aliens in biblical history. For many centuries the Israelite people lived and traveled by themselves with no one to threaten them. But once they began to acquire land from other people by military might, they found themselves threatened by those very people whose land they had invaded. It did not seem to occur to them that they themselves were actually the alien invaders.

It took someone like Moses, the one who had received the Commandments from God, to remind them that they had once been aliens themselves, foreigners in the foreign land of Egypt. So, Moses reminds them that they need to respect the people with whom they now live: No gouging, no cheating, no extortion. "Treat them like your neighbor," Moses says, "not like an enemy."

It occurs to me to say that given the great mix of people in the world, the great shifting of populations, perhaps there are no foreigners, no aliens anymore, or should not be. When you think about it, we are all human beings, all the same, albeit of different nationalities, color, ethnic or religious origins. But in a sense all those qualities are "add-on" features that we have picked up from being born in a particular place, to these parents, in this church, et cetera. Ultimately, however, we are all sons and daughters of one God.

That is not to say, of course, that we find it easy to accept into the experience of our own lives those who are different from us. Think, for instance, of the long battle we in the United States have had with racism, whether with Native American Indians or with the Black community. We are not anywhere near a solution to it yet.

The question is, what can help us learn not to consider each other as aliens or foreigners. We can read the scriptures for inspiration and correction, of course. We can listen to Jesus' familiar words about loving God and neighbor as ourselves. The question beyond that, of course, is this: Are there any signs, any solutions we can draw from in the world where we live and work each day? Could world events teach us how live together peacefully and amicably?

Oddly enough, what is helping us realize that we are truly neighbors and that there are no foreigners in this world are two things, perhaps more, but two for sure. First of all, we all need to live, we all need jobs, we all need to eat, we all need protection from the elements. Therefore, people will naturally migrate anywhere in the world where there is food and shelter, whether other people already reside there or not. That is simply a reality. People migrate to where there are sources of life.

The second factor l can think of is something all of us are vividly aware of today: Hurricane Katrina and the great destruction of the city of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast of the United States. As you know, thousands of people have been displaced, moved to other cities, cities where other people already live. Think about that: being forced to move from your own home, being forced to get used to a whole new life in a new and different part of the country, seeking new jobs, new homes, new everything. Not only that, but remember, you would need to be accepted as aliens from another state or city. This is not yet your own place, not yet at least. You came there primarily because you had to; there was no other option.
My point is that we sometimes become foreigners through no choice of our own. In this instance, a hurricane made aliens of many people. They would surely prefer to be back in New Orleans or Gull' Poi or Waveland or wherever their own people lived.

Fortunately, thousands of people, countless folks, have pitched in to help these folks understand that they truly are not aliens: There will be places to live, jobs available, schools and churches to attend. It makes no difference where they came from or flow they got to these new places. They were simply ordinary folks like those to whom they came looking for shelter and food. No one asked what their culture, religion or nationality was.

My point is this: Oddly enough, a natural catastrophe has made us realize that truly there are no aliens anymore. One of the greatest migrations of modern in modern American history has made us neighbors! Isn't that interesting?

So, despite the great disaster we are living with at this moment, we have all learned something about accepting foreign neighbors. An "Act of God" brought it about, odd as that may sound. Sad, however, that it should have taken a natural catastrophe to teach us something about how much we are the same when terror strikes. Would that were an every day experience.

But in the end, we are still left with the question that faces us every day in our personal lives: Who truly is my brother, my sister? That question will continue to bother us as long as we live "cheek-to-jowl" among one another. It should not take a hurricane to help us answer that, do you think?

The scriptures: Exodus 22:20-26, 1 Thessalonians 1:6c -10, Matthew 22:34-40

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:34 AM.

October 10, 2005

True Citizen, True Christian: Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I trust that it would not be too offensive to anyone to say that we, citizens of the United States, are generally not very vocal in public about our religious faith. Most folks insist on expressing their faith within the confines of their individual churches. Indeed, we seem to be quite wary about invading the religious domain of others. Some today even say that our country is a truly secular state, at least more secular than it was when the "Founding Fathers" first wrote the Constitution. Today, therefore, many will say that the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Caesar, the State and the Church, are two different realms of reality and neither should trespass on the other.

Given all that, therefore, it is interesting and strange to note how often we, secular or worldly as we seem to be, how often we seem to scuffle with one another over issues that border on principles of religious faith. Practically every week in the news you will find some national issue that seems to attract the attention of people who hold differing positions depending on their religious faith.

The issue of abortion, for instance, has been a "thorn in our side" for years. It is a moral controversy for many people, whether they profess belief in a church or not.

As I write this, John Roberts is preparing to sit before the Senate Judiciary Committee for his confirmation as Supreme Court justice. I am sure he will be grilled about his stance on many issues, secular and sacred. Individuals and groups of different religious or philosophical positions are already preparing their forces to support or disparage his character. All of which tells you that people care about principles, secular or sacred.

In the medical-moral realm we also have taken sides over various issues. Everyone remembers the case of Teri Schiavo and the question of whether her life-support system should have been terminated. People of the Catholic faith surely played a part in that controversy, and not very admirably, I might say.

Then, of course, we have a whole raft of issues that keep arising from time to time when rights of state and church come into conflict: Are Nativity scenes appropriate on city or state property? Should the Ten Commandments be displayed in the public court house? Should we expect our school children to say the Pledge of Allegiance with the words "under God" if their parents feel that this offends the personal faith of their family? Does "a moment of silence" before a public event satisfy everyone's religious duty, or does it intrude on the borders of church and state? As you all know, many people can get very incensed over such questions. So, perhaps we should not say that our country is a secular state or that we have no concern about matters of faith. Obviously, we do. Otherwise why are we in each other's faces so often over questions of religion and politics? Perhaps we are more religious than we might wish to admit.

What all these controversies and tensions lead up to is the question of balancing the common good with individual rights. How can we live together peacefully, maintaining our own religious principles while also respecting those of others different from our own? Obviously, this is not a modern question. As you noticed in the gospel just read, the Jewish people in Jesus time had a particular aversion to paying federal taxes or any taxes for that matter. For some, this was tantamount to making Caesar God.

So, on this occasion some adversaries of Jesus felt that they could shove him into a corner by asking if it was ok to pay taxes to Caesar. If he made a public statement saying "no", he could be held in contempt of civil law. If he said "yes", he would be showing disloyalty to his own Jewish religious principles. As you will notice, however, Jesus "slips" out of the trap by saying in so many words: There are certain rights that Caesar or the state has over you for the common good. You have an obligation to fulfill those for your own good and for that of your fellow citizens. On the other hand, God has certain rights over us as well and, if we are people of faith, we have an obligation to fulfill those too.

So, what Jesus was saying, in so many words, was this: In an ideal world, there should really be no question of either-or, of serving either God or Caesar, of being loyal to the state or to one's faith. It's more a matter of both-and, being loyal and faithful both to God and to Caesar, both to church and state. As human beings, we have obligations both to conscience and to the common good, to ourselves as well as to our sisters and brothers in the world around us. In other words, whenever we (citizens of Caesar) try to serve the best interests of the community by voting, by paying taxes, by showing concern for issues of government, education, health care, public safety, et cetera, we are actually giving God God's due because, no matter what religious faith we happen to espouse, it is still God who deserves our trust and our ultimate loyalty.

One might say, therefore, that it is possible, even important that one be a loyal Christian and a loyal citizen at the same time. There is no reason why these two should need to be in conflict with one another when you fulfill your duty as a citizen, you are also fulfilling your duty as a person of faith.

That means, of course, that you will still attend the "church of your choice" and that you will attend to the doctrines and moral laws of your particular religion, that you will defend fiercely certain conscience positions on ethical issues, but in doing so, you will need to think also about the common good about what serves best the needs of your brothers and sisters in the community.

Does this mean that we will not debate with one another occasionally, even often, on how to apply principles of religion or the natural law to this specific secular issue? Not at all. Indeed, that is what we are called to do: To debate issues, to search for the truth, to help each other find a common ground where we can all live peacefully with one another, worshiping the same God, being loyal also to the government which is meant to serve us as a family, God's people.

The scriptures: Isaiah 45: 1, 4-6, 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5b, Matthew 2:15-21+

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:20 AM.

October 04, 2005

Heavenly Celebrations: Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

As many pastors will tell you, one of the "perks" of the job is the pleasure of celebrating marriages and being invited to either the wedding rehearsal dinner or the actual wedding banquet itself. I can attest to attendance at many of these pleasant events.

I must also confess that my favorite wedding celebrations over the years have been with either the Filipino or the Polish communities. Not that other nationalities do not celebrate as well, but these folks seem to know how to celebrate by pulling out all the stops! Indeed, Polish wedding receptions can go on for close to twenty four hours, long into the Sunday morning hours when I am expected to be present at another celebration, the liturgy of the Mass. Nonetheless, most ethnic groups surely know one thing: Weddings are meant to be celebrated: Food and drink, dancing and conversation, all in good taste, of course!

What is there about weddings that induces folks to "turn up" the celebration volume? Rarely do other life events seem to stimulate such spontaneous expressions of pleasure and enjoyment.

My sense is that marriages are viewed as once-in-a-lifetime events, at least in the ideal world. It does not always work out that way, but that is the hope and the promise on that special day when two individuals "pledge their troth." For any other human event with shorter expectations, we would hardly go to all the expense that weddings involve. Wedding banquets, I am told, for instance, can cost the parents upwards of between five and ten thousand dollars, the down payment on a modest home. This does not include the food and wine, transportation and the rest. So, obviously, people seem to feel that weddings are worth the effort and the expense.

I think there is actually a spiritual motivation behind all these expensive preparations. People consider weddings sacred moments in their lives. Granted, there is always much secular (expensive) preparation as well, as we have seen, but ultimately people seem to feel that there is a sacred dimension to the promises they make at this time in their lives. Therefore, let us celebrate it, lift it up to God.

Interestingly, it seems that celebrations are not celebrations unless one can eat and drink well (again, in all modesty, of course!) Because this is not an ordinary day, one can hardly expect to be served ordinary food and drink. The very quality of the food and drink tells you something about the importance of the event itself. In other words, the quality of the food on the table tells you how significant this event is for people. Therefore, in our own day when Jumbo Freighter Jets can supply us with food from all over the world, wedding menus, indeed, even ordinary restaurant menus, can be expected to offer us some rather exotic fare.

You might have noticed the background for all this in the scriptures for this Sunday. When Isaiah (first reading) wants to explain the love of God to his audience, he draws on metaphors that talk about the best that people could expect to eat and drink in those days: Rich food and choice wines. Whether folks in those days actually ever got to eat such rich fare in their daily lives is doubtful, but that is of no concern to Isaiah. This is a case of "overkill," hyperbole, exaggeration. He simply wants to say that their God is a God of abundance. Nothing is too good for the people God loves. So, all this is not about food and drink. Rather, it is a metaphor about God, the God who wipes away tears, who will destroy death forever, the One who will remove sadness from the whole earth.

Jesus, being a person who also knew something about "overkill," tells a story about a king who finances a wedding for his son. (Nothing is said about the bride, unfortunately!). So, the invitation went out to everyone. "Come, eat and drink, no charge. This is a celebration you don't want to miss. " As the story describes it, however, some people had better things to do despite the promise of veal and wine.

Once again, as before, this is not a story about kings and sons, about veal and wine. It is the way Jesus decides to describe the relationship of God to his people. If you want to imagine what God is like: Think about the fanciest wedding you could imagine, and that's only for "starters." Our God is not a "cheapskate," Jesus says. God offers the best, but you need to be ready to accept the invitation. Otherwise, you go hungry. Too bad.

So, what could all this mean in the context of the wedding feast we call the Mass which we celebrate Sunday after Sunday in this church? First of all, we come here already dressed in our "wedding garment." It's the baptismal garment we received years ago when we were baptized. It was on that day too that we received the first invitation to continue coming to this banquet we call Eucharist. We always have the option, of course, to decline the invitation: Sunday NFL or hockey games, whatever. But the invitation is always open. And if we accept, you can be sure that our experience at Mass on Sunday morning will be rich, richer than lying in bed until noon, for sure!
The point, of course, also is that we don't come to this banquet with empty hands, waiting for God to do all the work. We bring to this table all our gifts and talents which are, in turn, brought to the table with our material gifts, our financial support of our parish. All this together provides the rich fare for the banquet. Christ, on his part provides the gift of himself in the signs of bread and wine. So, as the 'liturgy describes it, there is an exchange of gifts: We bring something and Christ accepts it and gives it back as even richer fare.

It occurs to me, finally, that what makes this banquet such a memorable occasion each Sunday is what happens afterwards: The time we spend with one another, sharing a cup of coffee or juice, donuts or rolls and conversation. It doesn't sound much like a wedding feast, but it's the intention, the effort that counts. At wedding banquets, people get to know one another even though they have never met before. T he same could be said of our Sunday experience: It's a time to build the body of Christ, the Christian community. It's an opportunity to take time with people, a few moments which will extend themselves into the week we will spend in other places, doing other things.

So, let's not be "cheapskates" with our gifts. Let us imagine that when we come here, we are at the most fabulous dinner we've ever been invited to. We will not go home hungry, you can bet on it.

The scriptures: Isaiah 25: 6-10, Philippians 4: 12-14, 19-20 Matthew: 22: 1-14

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:27 AM.

September 26, 2005

The Second Oldest Profession: Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

People who know more about such things than I do, tell me that vineyard cultivation is one of the oldest professions in the world, despite what some may say about other "professions" holding the record for being the oldest. Indeed, there is evidence in fragments of ancient Middle Eastern documents which say that wine-growing was already flourishing long before it is mentioned in Genesis 9: 20: "Noah, a tiller of the soil, was the first to plant the vine." The Genesis author is also not afraid to add that "Noah imbibed freely of the fruit thereof and became drunk." I leave it up to you to read the unseemly consequences of that inebriation.

Granted that wine-making, like other agricultural pursuits, can often prove to be a risky profession, it is, nonetheless, considered by many who treasure a fine glass of Merlot, Burgundy or Zinfandel, to be a lofty vocation. Wine has a kind of natural dignity about it. Even the names which growers attach to the bottles tell you something: Chateau Neu du Pape, Clos du Bois, Mouton Cadet, Sutter Home. I'm sure you will agree with me that even the popular brands of beer do not carry the same sophistication: Schlitz, Miller Lite, Hamms. These seem more appropriate for "tail-gate parties than the genteel atmosphere of a quiet banquet. Wine is not guzzled, it is savored for its character.

It also has a rich biblical history as well: The best wine is brought forth when covenants are made, when important events are commemorated and toasted. You will remember, of course, the famous wedding feast at Cana in Galilee. King David, the musician and psalmist, speaks of wine as "gladdening the heart." Actually, the word translates better as intoxicates the heart. It is interesting and predictable too that Jesus, when he celebrated his last Passover supper with his disciples, should follow the normal Jewish religious custom of pronouncing the Berakah (blessing) over the bread and the wine.

Given all that, you may already have noticed in our scriptures for this Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary time that the common theme is not precisely about wine, as such, but about vineyards, wine-growing and, more specifically, about those individuals who have the responsibility to care for the precious vines.
Isaiah the prophet, whom we learn was also a singer of love songs, relates a story about a friend who had a precious vineyard. He did all he could to tend it carefully so that it would bear fruit. But, unfortunately, despite his best efforts, it produced sour grapes. In frustration, he decided he had done all in his power to make it grow. His only option, then, was to let the land grow fallow. At the end of the story, however, Isaiah shocks his audience by telling them that it's all an allegory and it is not about wine and vineyard keepers, but about themselves, about Israel and its religious leaders. "You have not produced the fruits of justice, peace and compassion for the poor. Therefore God will let your vineyard go to weeds. Your responsibility is terminated!"

All this, of course, indicates how important religious leadership was for Isaiah, indeed, how important a role it is in every age. People expect great things from their leaders.

Jesus picks up the very same theme again in the story he told in the presence of the chief priests and the elders of the people. "Let me tell you a story about some tenant farmers who were entrusted with the care of an owner's vineyard. Being out of sight of the owner, they lay in the shade all day and let the vineyard deteriorate. Even a warning from the owner's son seemed to do no good. Finally, the owner says, “I’ll get rid of these guys and hire someone else who will show more responsibility."

At the conclusion of the story, Jesus, like Isaiah, "drops the bomb" and tells them that the allegory is not about vineyards or grapes, but about themselves the religious leaders, who have shown no concern about their peoples' religious training or life.

The fact that both these stories are allegories allows the listener to figure out the meaning for himself. "If the shoe fits, wear it", Jesus would say.

The important thing about allegories, of course, is that they fit every age and many different circumstances. Hence, even in our own day, it is worth asking the question about contemporary "vineyards," and their "cultivators," about churches and religious groups, about their leaders as well. Most of us will agree, I'm sure, that communities are important, even precious to us: They give us a sense of belonging and support, a feeling of protection from harm. All the more reason then that those who choose to lead those communities be held to the highest standards of conduct and responsibility.

In our American church, as we all know, there have been many instances of dereliction of duty by priests and bishops in recent years. The fact too that lay Catholics have risen up and demanded justice from bishops for those who were

abused, tells you that the Catholic faithful have a deep love and appreciation for their vineyard, their church. They are not about to let it go to weeds simply because their leaders have shown such shoddy responsibility.

Both of these stories, therefore, can remind us about our own responsibility for the Church we love and the important role we play in keeping it spiritually healthy and alive. Unfortunately, if we place the entire responsibility of leadership on the shoulders of priests and bishops, we may end up with a weak, ineffective Christian community. Church, as we all know, is more than the building down the street where we worship each Sunday. Churches are, or should be, living bodies where leaders and congregations get together, not only to attend to their own needs but to the needs of the people in the communities around them. After all, they are also part of that "vineyard" we call the world. There's really only one vineyard, when you think about it, and that's God's entire world. Of course, the vineyard we know best is the family, the relatives, the neighborhood, the village, et cetera, and that's where the work starts and spreads out from there.

Well, all that might be worth thinking about the next time you enjoy a good glass of Chardonay with your friends.

The scriptures: Isaiah 5: 1-7, Philippians 4:6-9 Matthew 21: 33-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:00 PM.

September 21, 2005

Hey, It's Not Fair: Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

There seems to be a kind of instinctual sense in our human nature that all things in God's world must operate in a predictable manner and, indeed, always in our own best interests. The moment, however, that those expectations are not forthcoming, a giant whine is heard. "Hey, it's not fair."

It starts early in on in our human development: Listen, if you will, to conversations on an average school playground: "Hey, how come I don't get to bat first?" Or in the classroom: "How come I didn't get an 'A'? Practically everybody else in the class did." The tendency even works its way up into the young adult stage of life: "Why wasn't I accepted into my first choice of a university? Harvard or U.C. Berkeley or Stanford? I had perfect test scores. I'm as smart as the rest of those people who got in!" And on into adult life we hear it. "I missed getting that job because of "reverse discrimination! Whites don't have a chance in the business world anymore. it ain't fair!

Obviously, there is no malice intended in any of these complaints. It's simply our human tendency to protect our personal life-interests. Perhaps it's even a very normal pattern in life, a sense that everyone alike should have an equal "shot" at life's best opportunities. Aren't we all part of the human family? Perhaps there is even a "theological sense" that God must love us all alike; therefore we should all get an equal slice of the pie.

Sadly, where this feeling of fairness often surfaces is in tragic situations where someone falls seriously ill, or indeed, when the sudden death of a young person afflicts a family. The normal response is a cry for understanding: "Why this young person who had so much potential, such a great future?" "Why the accidental death of the four scout leaders in Virginia? They were trying to do such good things for those young people." "Why the catastrophic drought in Africa at this time, with thousands dying each day?"

It's all a great mystery, of course, how events in the world work themselves out and how we fit into this vast mix.

Perhaps, much to our own undoing, we often imagine that God must have a plan, an agenda, if you will, because, God, being all knowing and all powerful, is totally in charge. In that case, when so-called "good" things happen to us, there is no question. But when misfortune invades our lives, we are left asking why God is unjust? It's a normal reaction to our ingrained desire for fairness.

The Old Testament scriptures for this Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time raise precisely such a question by the Jewish people who were displaced from their land and lived in Babylonian exile. "Why us," they said, "what have we ever done to deserve this?" "Well," Ezekiel, their spiritual mentor and critic, pointed out, "you people have a whole religious history riddled with a bad attitude. You imagine yourselves to be God's 'chosen', and if you are God's 'chosen', you wonder why all this happening to you. 'It isn't fair,' you say." Ezekiel responded to all this by asking: "Who's unfair, God or yourselves? If you were to change your ways and live justly, there would need to be no question about fairness. Stop your whining."

The gospel has another interesting insight from Jesus who, as we know, insists that the last, the lost and the least are favored in God's eyes. "Isn't that a little unfair?" the religious leaders asked.

Interestingly, even Jesus seemed to have a sense of fairness, that the last, the lost and the least should have an equal or even favorable access to God's eternal love. Hence, like Ezekiel, Jesus would say: "if you religious leaders would change your ways, your attitudes, you would have a better understanding of God's fairness."

The great dilemma we face, therefore, in the question of "divine fairness" is the assumption that our human standards must match the standards that God holds.

The fact is, of course, we know only several things: First, that if God is God, God is infinitely just. Justice is God's name. Secondly, being part of the human family, we also know that we are deeply flawed and deeply undeserving of God's overwhelming grace. Our own attitudes toward one another in our communities often call into question our insistence on fairness. Ezekiel's question keeps popping up: "Who's really unfair, we or God?" We already know the answer, I'm sure.

So, what is the ultimate answer to the question of fairness, whether God's or ours? Is there even an answer First of all, it seems to me, that we will need to live with the dilemma, or better, the mystery of why everyone does not seem to be treated equally by God. The only answer I have is that the world is a messy place; it is not yet, nor will ever be that perfect experience of justness that we so ardently long for. Ultimately, I think our hunger for fairness says that we would truly like for everyone to share in the abundance of God's grace but we have no insight as to why this does not happen. Many catastrophic events seem to happen almost indiscriminately. A great mystery, no doubt about it.

But one thing that should not be so mysterious is the ability all of us have to bring about fairness in the little worlds in which we live. If God does not do it, for whatever reason, then it is up to us to “level the playing field,” to make sure that all in the small communities we know best have a “shot” at fairness. Fairness is truly in our hands and under our power. We can change life for the better in countless ways.

In the end, therefore, the question of human fairness gets dumped back into our own laps. Let’s let God be God and then we will have the opportunity to do the work of God that still needs to be done. Isn’t that exactly what Jesus came to do? If we follow his example and his efforts to attend to the last, the lost and the least, the issue of what’s fair and what’s not fair will rarely disturb us. We’ll just be too busy “leveling the playing field.”

The scriptures: Ezekiel 18: 25-28, Philippians 2: 1-11, Matthew 21: 18-32

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:16 PM.

September 16, 2005

It Ain't Fair - Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lots of years ago, when I was a young priest teaching theology at a Catholic boy's high school in the suburbs of Chicago, decided one day to read to my senior students the story of the land owner who decided to hire laborers for his vineyard, the very passage from Matthew's gospel which is read for the Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

I simply read the story straight, no commentary, and no sermon. After finishing the reading, I asked them to join in small groups and discuss the moral implications of the story as they saw them, particularly the part about the last-hired being paid as much as those hired first. I had a hunch about the conclusion that they might come to, but I wanted to convince myself that it was so, that they were the product of the business world out there.

After some internal wrangling over it, most of them agreed that it was evidently unfair of the landowner to put everyone on the same pay level. Their main objection was that it simply wasn't fair. Everyone would surely agree that the people who had endured the sun and the longer hours should have been paid more, even though, mind you, that they did not bargain for that. The landowner should least have had the moral good sense to give it to them out of fairness and the generosity of his heart.

"On the other hand," the students said, "the lazy guys", who had nothing better to do than stand around the square until the day cooled off, did not deserve to receive a full day's wages." "No free lunch”, they said "you get what you work for; everyone has to carry his own load; you either work for a living or starve!" Simple economics!

Eventually, after some discussion, when I pointed out that these were the words of Jesus Christ, they responded by saying, Hey, that's the kingdom of heaven, this is the real world. God can do whatever he wants, but it is still not fair!" There was no way I could convince them that there might be a theological implication in the story.

I have often thought about that little experiment in "social justice and it occurs to me that those young teenagers of the Fifties were probably not so different from most adults of that time or any time, for that matter.

Humans have a natural sense of rightness and wrongness, of fairness and
unfairness, of justice and injustice. We cannot bear to hear of someone who gets something for nothing. The welfare system has always been very unpopular, at least with a certain segment of our population. We may not always practice the principles of just living, but we are convinced that there has to be equal justice for all. Everybody should have an equal chance at life if they have worked for it. If they haven't worked for it, then they just have to figure out something else. Fairness seems to be part of the process of living together in community. Unless you have fairness, there will be chaos. Why have government at all, why have a police force if people can do whatever they want to do and get away with it? That is the sort of question lots of people ask.

The second question I asked the students was this: "Why was the money so important? After all, everyone at least had a job; they could go out in the evening and buy supper for themselves, right?" The answer to the question was also not very surprising to me. Most of these youngsters lived in the suburbs of the north side of Chicago and, although their parents were generally not wealthy, none were poor. They were upper-middle-class economically. But because they were not wealthy, money made all the more difference to them. If you work hard, as their parents did, you should get compensating pay.

For these teenagers and, indeed, for many people money governs much of their life, indeed, even their self-perception. If your neighbor has a Lexus automobile, you should also be allowed to have one. Money and wealth give you status in the community. If you don't have money, you are a nobody at least that is the perception many people have. So, you can begin to see why this gospel passage did not "set well" with those budding young entrepreneurs. Some of them drove Thunderbirds and XR7's to school every morning, much to the consternation, of course, of those who had to take the bus. "But they earned it," they said, "So what's the problem?"

The third task I put to those young theologians was that of explaining to me the meaning of the first line of the story: "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard." What could that possibly mean? Their sense was that kingdom of heaven is where you go (hopefully) when you die. "Things are different there," they said. "It's not like here on earth."

But then I retranslated the passage a bit differently: "Read it this way," I said: "Kingdom of heaven means here is the way God looks at life in this world: The first are last and the last are first. Everyone gets a chance; everybody receives something.
That led to a very interesting discussion about how life in the world could be if one looks at the world from God's point of view. (that is what kingdom of heaven means.")

In our discussion, what we discovered was that the story is ultimately not about economics or politics, not about hours or wages, not about labor relations, indeed, it has nothing at all to do with hours or money. Money is just is just a symbol which stands for something else. The story is really about people, about the quality and the life of people in the eyes of God. In the mind of God, all people, the early workers and the late workers, are all equal. It does not matter whether you come first or last. There is no hierarchy, no upper class or lower class in the mind (the kingdom) of God, no competition for top spots in the kingdom; everyone is equal.

"Well, that's not the way it is in the world though," they said. "True enough," I replied, "but wouldn't it be nice if it were so, if the world were a place where everyone was treated equally and fairly?"

From there we went on to discuss whether the kingdom of God is a reward for working hard or whether it could be about grace, about God's free gift, a gift that none of us deserves or earns, whether in the early morning or late in the afternoon. In short, could it possibly be that God is always fair even though it may not seem so, judging by our earthly ways.

Well, all that happened one day in a fourth period, senior theology class. I truly hope those youngsters grew up to realize that they could be truly happy in their life and work even though the ways of God's kingdom don't always seem fair. It takes a while to learn all that.

The Scriptures: Isaiah 55: 6-9, Philippians 1: 20c-24,27a, Matthew 20: 1-16a

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:00 PM.

September 06, 2005

UNFORGIVEN? - Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Forgiveness: Such a pious-sounding word in our spiritual lexicon, isn't it? "It's what God does, or what the priest `gives' in Confession" we say! Sure enough, but, at the same time, we "give it out" to others too, practically all the time, don't we? Other people need our forgiveness because we are constantly being offended by someone every day! At least that is our sense of it. Forgive is what we are expected to do, at least if we are Christian!

The question is, does it work the other way round? What does it take to forgive ourselves? Obviously, we have need of it.

I can remember an occasion when I was about fifteen years old, getting into a very violent confrontation with my father. I said some things that should have been left unsaid In the middle of it, my mother, always the peace-maker, intervened and I suddenly became overwhelmed with guilt. I went to my room and I must have recited the Act of Contrition a hundred and fifty times while I cried. I don't remember sleeping very much that night. I had no idea what my father would say at the breakfast table the next morning. I was expecting the worst. As it was, he did not say a word about the incident. All he said was, "well, it's getting late, let's get to work. That was the end of the affair. Even though my father did not formally ask me to apologize, I was afraid he might ask me to do that. But he simply let me struggle with my own guilt, which, of course, I did for a long time. It did not occur to me that at some point I would need to get my "act" back together and forgive myself for my anger and my violence. I still struggle with the memory of that incident to this very day. Forgiving others? No problem! Forgiving ourselves? A tough job.

It would be safe to say, I think, that practically all violent offenders in prison are there because of anger. Indeed, it seems to me that most violent actions in the world today must have their roots in a personal anger, a sense of vengeance, the desire to even the odds, to convince the rest of the world that a hurt has been inflicted.

That seems to be the motive for most of the terrorist bombings around the world: Whether justified or not, these individuals feel that a great injustice has been done, if not to them, then to the people they represent, politically, culturally or spiritually. Obviously, none of us here today would resort to physical violence if we feel we have been offended but that does not mean that we cannot feel anger and the desire for retribution. It's part of our human nature. Why would that be?

It seems to me that, deep in our human psyche, there is a sense or feeling that we are truly good, that we have value, that someone should pay attention and show respect for our feelings, our rights. When that is not forthcoming, a deep anger sets in.

Although many violent people may not say so, it may be true to say that their anger comes from a religious or spiritual conviction, the persuasion that God has done nothing to protect them from human harm.

At any rate, there surely seems to be a lot of anger afoot in the world today; perhaps it has always been so. We humans have such a hard time believing in one another's goodness. We would often rather believe that everyone has it "in for us!" Not true, of course, but that's often the way it appears to us.

All of these thoughts are contained in the scriptures for this Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary time which speak so eloquently about being forgiven and how hard it is.

Sirach, the Old Testament wisdom writer, lays the issue out clearly: "Wrath and anger are hateful things; the vengeful will suffer the Lord's vengeance. Forgive your neighbor's injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven. Think of the commandments, hate not your neighbor."

Notice, all these suggestions are about me, the neighbor and God. Sirach makes an interesting comparison: He says, "If you can't forgive your neighbor, how can you expect God to forgive you?" In other words, Sirach makes the point that God operates on principles similar to our own. Forgiveness is the only answer; other wise life becomes a combat zone. Who wants to live in that condition?

Jesus tells a story about forgiveness: It's a story about a generous-minded king and a servant, who has seriously fallen in arrears with his debts. The king says: "Well, we all have our problems; you can forget about it."

Some while later, the forgiven debtor meets one of his own neighbors who is also in debt, in this case to himself. Does he follow the king's example of forgiveness? Not at all; he sticks it to the neighbor. No forgiveness there.

Again, the point of both passages is that God is the model of forgiveness and that should be our model as well, tough as it might be.

As I pointed out above, I think one of our problems with forgiveness of others is that we have such a hard time forgiving ourselves. We're always hitting ourselves over the head for something. Therefore, if we have such a hard time with our own guilt, how much more difficult will it be for us to forgive others? Our human relationships are so complex; we all want so desperately to feel good about ourselves; we want to feel that we are really okay, even if it means angrily putting someone else down in the process. It makes no sense, but that seems to be the way we are, unfortunately.

At any rate, the whole issue of forgiveness began with a question to Jesus by Peter about numbers. (Peter, seemingly, was a bean-counter.) Thinking about how often people hurt each other, he wondered how long this should go on. There obviously had to be a limit. So, he suggests the solution of the seven, the "perfect number" in Jewish life. Nobody should have to go beyond that, right? In turn, Jesus offers him another solution, the "super-perfect number:" Seventy times seven, four hundred and ninety times. I'm sure that must have shocked the heck out of Peter, but it gave Jesus the opportunity to back it up with the story about the forgiving king and the unforgiving servant.

So, what is the significance of the four hundred and ninety times? Obviously, this is not about higher math. Rather, it's about attitude: Forgiveness, in other words, is not a matter of numbers but about a way of life. Once you start counting up incidents of forgiveness, then it's all over. "What you need to do," Jesus would say, "is to live forgiveness rather than count forgiveness. It has to be part of your human nature."

"Not an easy matter," we say. Obviously not, because situations change from moment to moment. We never seem to be quite ready to meet a new challenge. My personal feeling, however, is that if our attitude is positive, if we believe in our own goodness, even if we have fallen a few times, chances are we will not find it so hard to forgive or be forgiven. Life is process, it continues on, nothing is forever, there will always be the opportunity to start over. Thanks be to God that God can forgive and forget. Now it's our turn to forgive, and there will surely be endless opportunities, you can bet on that.

The Scriptures: Sirach 27: 30-28:7 Romans 14: 7-9 Matthew 18: 21-35

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:41 AM.

August 30, 2005

SETTLING OUR DIFFERENCES - Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Somewhere in the back of my mind, at the moment, I am hearing the sound of a famous song by a harmony quartet named The Mills Brothers. I suspect they are long gone by now, but one of their songs clings to my memory: "You Always Hurt The One You Love." I cannot remember any of the lyrics, but the sound of those rich voices still rings clearly in my ears. A search on Google tells me that the last of the four brothers died in 1989. A DVD version of their life is available under the title: "The Mills Brothers Story."

At any rate, the thought of that song came to my mind as I was reading the scriptures for this Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time which speak so evidently about our human tendency to hurt one another: "If your brother sins against you...", the gospel passage begins.

Well, it's true, we do sin against one another, or at least we do not always find human relationships very smooth and amicable. Before laying blame for this on one person or the other, perhaps we should examine the human psychology of relationships.

It is evident, I think, that each of us is a unique individual with strong feelings, not only about one's self, but about where and how we fit in the human community. It is only natural that we should feel confident, even proud of ourselves, our talents, our gifts, our accomplishments. We guard, protect and defend our convictions, our philosophies of life. It is only natural and good, therefore, that we should do this.

At the same time, of course, there are other folks out there in the world who have these very same convictions about themselves. The problem, therefore, is that we obviously all live together in this world, not purely as individuals, but in relationships: Husbands and wives, families, brothers and sisters, members of churches and civil organizations. Hence, we have the ongoing dilemma, the problem that seemingly began with Adam and Eve and their two sons. It is the problem of how to be a unique person, how to maintain our individuality and still be able to live peacefully, respectfully and constructively with others. Obviously, this is not simply a problem for us individually: It's a universal, a world-wide problem. The fact, for instance, that we have been fighting wars since the beginnings of the human race tells us that human relationships are not easy to maintain and preserve.

Let us talk first for a moment, then, about "down-home" relationships that we have more control over: The wife-husband relationship, the intimacy of friends, family relationships of brothers and sisters: If we rub elbows and hips with one another long enough, even with our closest associates, we know that we will have our differences. We carry our humanness with us. The question, then, is this: What do you do when you "hurt the one you love" or when you feel "the one you love" has hurt you? It would be easy to say, of course, that all you need to do is to make up and go on with life. Most of us have tried that, of course, and we know that it does not always work so well; there is too much pride involved.

The answer would seem to be that we should confront the differences we have; we should talk to one another, we should forgive one another and get on with life. The problem with that too, of course, is that it is difficult to do and we don't want to do it; we have a great fear of losing the affection and admiration of the one we know we must confront. So, we put it off and in the process things get worse.

I wonder if Jesus knew how difficult this one-on-one confrontation would be? He says simply "Go and tell (your brother) his fault between you and him alone." I often wonder whether Jesus himself did this very thing in his differences with the scribes and Pharisees? We will never know, of course, and it doesn't make any difference. We have our own problems to deal with.
There is this possibility, of course: We could admit that life at times is a messy business, that we are not always operating on all 8 cylinders, that our emotions are strong and sometimes unmanageable. What would be wrong, for instance, then, with saying that we messed up? What would be wrong with telling the friend that he or she has hurt our feelings? That would surely be a better option than what is called by psychologists "passive aggression," punishing the other by refusing to talk, et cetera.

Despite the fact, however, that this one-on-one solution is always the best and longest-lasting, it does not always work. Even Jesus seemed to admit that when he suggested that if it does not work, then we should appeal to the counsel of "two others" for a solution. In contemporary language that is called an "intervention." It is often done to help people who are addicted to alcohol, drugs or other debilitating habits. It is also one of the most difficult things any person, a family or a group of friends ever has to do for another. You are being called to enter into a person's life at the deepest, most personal and most vulnerable level, the level where you run the risk of losing a lifelong friendship. The fact that you choose to do this for your friend's "own good" does not always help: Personal pride is a precious commodity.

So, are there any other options? Jesus tells us that if nothing else has worked thus far, we need to take the situation to the Church! The cynic among us will immediately say: "Hey, if the other two options didn't work, what makes you think that the Church can make any difference?"

On the surface, of course, it does not seem to be a good option to let the whole church know about this person's problems. He or she is already deeply embarrassed and defensive over it. My sense is that it would need to be a pretty small church for this option to work. Indeed, this was probably the case with the church of Saint Matthew. Undoubtedly, they were very small and knew each other well. So, in that case, it might, indeed, have worked.

Even in our world today, however, with our "mega-churches," it would seem to me that the church community should be called to compassion for their sisters and brothers who are at odds. (without naming names, of course.) The point is, we, as church, are responsible for one another; they are our brothers and sisters. When they need and ask for our help, we ought to be willing to intervene. There are pastoral solutions for situations like this.

Finally, Jesus seems to become "the realist" when he says "if none of these options you have tried thus far have worked, you have done the best you can; the person has placed himself outside your jurisdiction or care. Let God do the rest!

The fact that Jesus offers three options, however, should tell us that this whole business of preserving a human relationship is worth the effort. If we have saved someone's pride, saved the dignity of these two human persons, we have done well. We are not miracle workers, after all, just human beings trying as best we can to understand the puzzles of our human relationships. Even art effort at reconciliation that fails is still a sign that we have confidence in one another's goodness, and, after all, that's something.

The scriptures: Ezekiel 33: 7-9, Romans 13: 8-10, Matthew 18: 15 - 20+

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:38 PM.

August 22, 2005

DANGEROUS WORDS - Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

I cannot imagine that there are very many church-going Christians today who would consider preaching a dangerous endeavor. I have been preaching for a considerable number of years and 1 must admit that I have never been publicly threatened. People have walked out on me a few times, I must admit, but I ordinarily attribute that to the oppressive heat in the church or the need to find a restroom. (a rest from my preaching!) At any rate, 1 have always felt safe on my own "turf"" behind the preaching table. If one is not safe there, where is one safe?

Let it not be said, however, that preachers have not been threatened in the past. The call by its very nature often invites serious and quarrelsome disagreement.

A priest friend of mine, who is now long retired and whose name shall remain anonymous for obvious reasons, was once "displaced" from his position at the microphone on a particular Sunday by an irate parishioner who vaulted the communion rail and took vehement exception to the pastor's comments on the progress of the Viet Nam war which was raging at that time. Let no one say, therefore, that preaching poses no dangers to life and limb. There is clear evidence to the contrary.

On a more serious note, however, one should say that if any serious preaching is worth its weight, if it follows the model of Jesus and the great prophets of history, it may very well pose a threat to life and limb.

Good (God-like) preaching, by its fundamental nature, invites thought, reflection, questioning, chewing one's cud, indeed, even serious disagreement. God's word has a way of disturbing the peace, of challenging the complacent, of provoking deep reflection, of questioning the obvious. That is what it is meant to do and that is what it has done for thousands of years of Christian history.

Sadly, we must also say that tough preaching, proclaiming God's word with courage, sometimes brings out the more violent aspects in human nature: People have been martyred for fearlessly proclaiming God's word in a political or cultural context.

One need only call to mind the courageous words of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador who, in defense of the poor, indigenous people of his country, was shot through the heart as he celebrated Mass at a convent of sisters in San Salvador. For many months Romero had preached in his cathedral regarding the violence of the military against the peasant classes in El Salvador. He fully realized that his words were dangerous and that he might lose his life over what he proclaimed. The fact that the Salvadoran people today declare him a martyr makes it all the more clear what an impact the proclamation of God's word had on the lives of the people of that country.

We have a parallel example in the first reading from the works and life of the prophet, Jeremiah. Jeremiah never wanted to be a preacher. He knew the implications it would have among the political and religious elements in his country. Hence, he begged God to "let him off the hook." "I'm too young," he said, "and I don't speak well enough." But God won out in the end, to the point that Jeremiah protested that God had "duped" him, had used his power to get his way. It turned out, of course, that Jeremiah was right. He caught a lot of flak from both the political and religious leaders in his country, was thrown into a dry cistern and left for dead until his friends came along and rescued him.

The life and work of Jeremiah is once again paralleled in the life of Jesus. Jesus, obviously, was not crucified for saying soft things, for making peace at any price with the Romans and with the temple authorities. Jesus knew that his words would threaten the lives and careers of the temple priests. They wanted nothing so much as a quiet existence so that the Romans would have no reason to come and destroy the temple itself along with their religious leadership and its prerogatives.

Without doubt, then, Jesus was considered a dangerous person, his words were dangerous to the common welfare, or at least to certain elements of it. Of course, as we all know, this did not stop Jesus from proclaiming Justice and truth to the lives of high and low alike. There is no clearer evidence, then, than to say that powerful words, confrontational words, will get you into trouble.

Of course, if one is truly serious about God's word, whether as a preacher or as a devoted Christian, is there any other option? One would need to say, I believe, that Christians have often been guilty of scandal for not preaching and living the hard words of the gospel: The sexual exploitation of children by ministers of the Church has surely been a scandal and a betrayal of the power of God's word. Equally scandalous is the practice of saying soft things in the presence of public officials or the wealthy who might take offense. It would also be scandalous to learn that parish pastoral servants turn away the needy because they fail to come at "office hours."

Obviously, it is not only preachers who can water down the power of God's word in the Christian community. God moves among us in the actions of all Christians, not merely those who are "professionally" dedicated to such work and service.

Finally, one would need to say that the Christian life, in whatever form it takes, whether in speech or in action, is serious business. If Christian life never involves a challenge, even a confrontation occasionally, then, perhaps, we would need to say that it is hardly worth the effort to be called Christian. That does not mean, of course, that we need to go out looking for ways to deliberately disturb the peace of the community. God's word, by its very own power will do that.

In the last analysis, the role of the Christian is outlined in the caution which Jesus insists on in the gospel for today: "What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?" In contemporary words, we might ask: "Where is the profit for the preacher who softens up the word to save his reputation? Where is the profit for the Christian who dodges the tough questions of life in order to avoid criticism by his neighbors? Surely, no one expects the Christian life to be a daily struggle with the realities of the world around us. But, on the other hand, if the word of Jesus has never provoked us to think again and even fly into action, perhaps we have not really heard it, or we may have hoped that Jesus was not really talking to me personally. And that, sadly, would be a real problem. Words are, indeed, powerful.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 20: 7-9 Romans 12: 1-2, Matthew 16: 21-27+

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:11 PM.

August 15, 2005

KNOW THY SELF - Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Perhaps one of the finest, most succinct pieces of philosophy ever spoken was spoken by the Greek philosopher Thales of Miletus (640-546 A.D.) Just two words: "Know thyself" It almost sounds self-explanatory: We all know who we are, don't we? Well, we think we do and that's a start.

When I was a youngster, moving into my teenage years, I had what one could describe today as "an attitude." It got to the point one day where my mother felt compelled to say to me: "Well, just who do you think you are anyway?" Of course, I had an answer right on the tip of my tongue, but I knew that if I replied there would be some serious consequences forthcoming. Those sorts of questions are not simply rhetorical. As a result, 1 kept my mouth shut because any answer I would have given would have put me in deep trouble. Obviously, my mother really was not looking for an answer. It was her way of saying, "whoever you think you are, you'd better think about it again; you're just a little too puffed up for your own good." Good advice, even though it didn't appear very useful to me at the time.

When one reflects on it, however, the question, "who do you think you are," is a rather odd question. Rarely does anyone ask us that question. People will ask us what we do, what our profession is, but seldom who we are. The assumption, obviously, is that if we don't know the answer to that question, we already have some problems.

Despite all we have said, however, the question "who are you," is still a good question for us to answer for ourselves even though we may have no ready answer. The question of self is really a question about identity: It's something that we know by intuition not by definition. Indeed, it is so mysterious that I suspect we reflect on it and puzzle with it our entire lives. Most likely, in quiet moments we ask ourselves, "How am I different from all these other people who pass through my life? Why am I like I am and not like someone else?"

The point is, there is a certain uniqueness about ourselves that only God must know and that only God had in mind when God created us.

So, the question that Jesus asked his disciples in the gospel today is somehow a mysterious one. "Who do people say that I am?" What did that mean and why was it important?

First of all, Jesus did not consider himself a philosopher. He was no Thales of Miletus. Doubtless, it never entered Jesus' mind to wonder who he was. I suspect that he really didn't much care about such questions.

So, why the question to his disciples? My hunch is that Jesus was really saying something like this? "What are people saying about me behind my back, what's the rumor mill cranking out? What do they really think about what I do?" I think this was really important to Jesus because it was obvious that people had some rather strange ideas about Jesus' character and role. They probably said to themselves: "Hey, we've never seen anyone like this: If this man can raise people from the dead, surely he can take over the military and political leadership of our country; then we'll finally have some peace and security." That's what probably ran through their minds.

And that's why Jesus finally asked Peter for his opinion, and Peter replied: "You are the Messiah, the anointed of God." Done! That was the only answer that was important to Jesus. It came about as close as even Jesus himself could have come to the question of identity. Jesus was not about to let people put masks on him, tell him who they thought he should be. He already knew that.

I think the question was also important to Jesus because he didn't want people getting the wrong impression of himself. That would destroy the whole reason for his life and his work.

But, let's get back to the question of ourselves, about who we are individually as this unique person. As mentioned a moment ago, our identity is intuitive; it's built right into our very being; we know the answer even though we cannot explain it to others or even to ourselves. We are convinced that there never has been, nor will there ever be anyone exactly like this person that I am. Now, that's not necessarily a point of pride: it's just an admission of how unique God is in the act of creation. If it's anything, it's an act of humility or should be.

So, what's the question anyway? What's the problem? Well, the problem is that, unlike Jesus, we all have some tendencies that get things all wrong: First of all, it seems to me that we often let others, culture, the world around us define who we are. We want to come away with the best public face possible.

Secondly, we have the tendency to put on layers or masks that cover up our basic self: We want to be "this way" to the boss, "this way" to our husband or wife, "this way" to the archbishop, "this way" to the person who can offer us a higher-paying job, "this way" to the boy or girl we want to date. "this way" to our math teacher.

Perhaps it would also be true to say that we often have the impression that certain material things in this world can give us a special identity (mask?): The car or truck we drive, the house in which we choose to live, the clothes we wear, et cetera. Obviously, they are only material things, but we often imagine that they can make us feel special, different; convince others that we are "special." That's a myth, of course, but we all fall into the trap. Indeed, I suspect that we may also have some religious masks that we wear, masks of "false piety," for whatever they are worth.

All in all, of course, none of these help us realize, understand, perceive who we really are. So, how do we go about finding out who we are at the deepest level of experience?

I would say that we could counter these human tendencies, put aside these masks, by occasionally taking some time off to reflect on who we are, some quiet time just to "balance the books," to restore a sense of the real person we are, the person who must be reflected in the face of God. Perhaps even the simple question: "I wonder what God thinks about me," might be worthwhile asking. "That's a little scary,” you'll say. Yes, you're right; it may be a little scary. But on the other hand, if you ask the question, you might just hear God saying something like this: "Hey, you're not so bad...not perfect, obviously, but if you keep asking the right questions, you might turn out to be exactly what I had in mind originally." Isn't that what we're all trying to do anyway? I surely hope so.

The scriptures: Isaiah 22: 19-23, Romans 11: 33-36, Matthew 16:13-26

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:47 AM.

August 08, 2005

CATHOLICISM WITHOUT BORDERS - Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I have heard it said that there is no better, no more instructive experience in life than to find yourself unexpectedly among a group of people with whom you think you have little in common. If you are open to it, however, they will teach you that on the level of what is most basically human; you are not much different than they. Indeed, this is probably one of the best teaching and learning experiences in life one could imagine.

I myself had such an experience some years ago when I taught theology at a Catholic university in Texas. It was an introductory class on Christian authors. After the first few meetings, it occurred to me that at least half of the students in the class were not Catholic. So, I said to myself, perhaps these young students, who are Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, or whatever, could teach us Catholics something about their faith. Let’s not assume that the learning process must all be in one direction.

So, on that assumption, I began by presenting to the class a survey of some of our best Catholic authors in history: Gregory of Nyssa, Saint Augustine’s Confessions, Saint Theresa of Avila’s autobiography, The Life of St. Theresa, the Little Flower, St. Benedict’s Rule, the works of Hildegard of Bingen, Catherine of Siena, Julian of Norwich, Gerard Manley Hopkins and John Donne’s poetry. We talked about the legends of the saints (The Taming of the Wolf by St. Francis of Assisi, for instance) In the process of all this, I was astonished how interested the non Catholic students were in our Catholic history.

Then, more to my astonishment, I (we) learned that they could teach us something about their traditions as well: About Luther and Calvin, the Protestant Reformation, about Deitrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor and martyr, about Saint Paul’s teaching on faith and works and many more topics which Catholic students seldom explore.

In short, it turned out that we became truly interested in one another’s traditions and that we had much more in common with one another than all the differences we once imagined that we had. As the semester wore on, and as I listened to these young people of other faiths, I became more and more convinced than ever that at the base of human reality, people share some very fundamental convictions about life. In short, there is a sort of human universalism that identifies the human community. We are really all the same, humanly speaking. It is mainly the traditions we have chosen over the centuries that make us think that we are so different.

Let us assume then that universality has been God’s intent for humankind all along. The question is can that same sense of inclusiveness (being in) be found in the Church? In other words, is the Catholic Church really catholic?

A little background from the scriptures for this Sunday’s liturgy: the prophet Isaiah (first reading) finds it necessary to remind his fellow Israelites that there are lots of non Jewish people living around them who are as sincere in their faith as they are. Let there be no exclusivism, therefore, no “looking down” on these people who are also struggling to figure out their relationship with God.

The gospel presents us with a rather puzzling but human incident in the daily life of Jesus. He and his disciples on their travels meet up with a woman, a mother, who is a Canaanite, a foreigner, i.e. a non Jewish person. She has a simple request of Jesus the healer: “My daughter is mentally ill”, she says, “have pity on her.” At this point Jesus seems to reveal a bit of Jewish exclusivist bias, telling her that he does not share his food with dogs! She is one tough lady, however: She points out in a humorous tone that even dogs pick up the scraps under the master’s table. In response to that, Jesus says: “Ok, you got me: Great is your faith. Your request is granted.”

So, with that, we have two short reminders that religious faith does not allow for attitudes of arrogance, no sense that I’m right and you’re wrong, my faith is better, more accurate, and more precise than your faith. In other words: “I’m saved, but I’m not so sure about you! It is that attitude that makes foreigners out of others.

That brings up the question then: Just how catholic are Catholics? The word, of course, means universal, or, in the words of James Joyce, the Irish novelist, “Here comes everybody.” True enough, of course, but when “everybody comes”, do we let them in or do we consider them foreigners until they prove themselves truly Catholic?

In a real sense, Catholics are scarcely different than other people in the world: For people of any specific group, there is often a tendency to “protect the borders,” to make sure that if others want to join them, they need to “prove up” first, prove themselves worthy of being part of this august group.

Perhaps one of the greatest problems we face as Catholics is that we have a tendency to make certain assumptions about people even before we know very much about them, at least about their interior dispositions, their faith, for instance, about their sincerity as Christians. We coin words for those who may believe or live differently than “we” do, who take a slant on life different from us.

We had such a situation in the last months before the general election in 2004: Individuals were refused Holy Communion because of their political position on abortion. They may well have been sincere and intelligent and trustworthy Catholics in every other way, but on this one issue they were refused the grace and nourishment of Christ in the Eucharist.

We might pose other examples of exclusivism: Gay and lesbian Catholics do not always find a ready acceptance in the Church even though our bishops of the United States have publicly written they are also our brothers and sisters in the faith. Divorced and remarried Catholics also find themselves “ousted” until they straighten out their “situation.” Catholic teachers in some dioceses are expected to sign a “loyalty oath” before they are allowed to teach the faith of the Church to children.

In short, James Joyce’s words, “Catholic means here comes everybody,” may be true only to a certain point: Everybody may come, but not everybody gets in.

There always needs to be laws and guidelines for human and Christian conduct, course, but the critical question in the end is always a personal one: What is my feeling, my personal conviction regarding those who are not “like me?” Do I make judgments (even privately) about their character, about their personal or public lives?

Truly, I think we need to believe, like Isaiah the prophet whom we just heard speak: “let there be no foreigners among you. My house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.” In the end, it is God’s decision to say “who’s in and who’s out.” That should keep us happy, of course. Our own record has not always been that great.

The scriptures: Isaiah 56: 1, 6-7, Romans 11: 13-15, 29-32, Matthew 15: 21-28

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:32 PM.

August 01, 2005

LIFE IN SOLITARY - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Newsweek magazine recently published a lovely human interest article by one of its writers, Lisa Miller. It was a story about a lady who is a Roman Catholic hermit. Her name is Agnes Long. She lives on Madeline Island in northern Wisconsin. She was once happily married, affluent, raised three children. Her husband is now long deceased, her children grown up. So, now she has chosen to live in a one-room cabin in the woods, no indoor plumbing, none of the accoutrements she once enjoyed in “another life.”

Her day is filled with a schedule she made up for her self, but which is styled mostly on the traditional life of monks.

She lives sparsely, eats little meat, drives to the nearest town in her pickup truck occasionally for groceries and the mail, and she is totally and deeply happy in what she is doing. Her day is filled with work, chopping wood, carrying water, praying the psalms, reading the scriptures, doing spiritual meditation and simply being quiet in the quiet of the northern woods and in the presence of God. In short she is living the true life of a hermit. She chooses to live outside of any community, civil or religious and she’s happy.

It’s not such an odd life, really. People have been following this vocation for many centuries. Indeed, Christianity has a long tradition of the hermit life dating back to the third and fourth centuries when St. Anthony and thousands like him fled the noise and confusion of the large cities of the Middle East and went out into the desert to live in caves. Mostly, they prayed and meditated, but also supported themselves by making straw mats from palm branches. It is also said that eventually people in the cities became fascinated by this life style and came out in droves to visit them. So, out the window went the hermit life!

At any rate, the hermit-tradition has never really disappeared. Every generation has a history of individuals, lay people like Agnes long, who choose solitude, celibacy, silence and the ascetical life to focus full-time on God.

Perhaps the most well-known hermit of our own time was Thomas Merton (Father Louis), the Trappist monk, who lived in the monastery of Our Lady of Gethsamane in Kentucky for many years until he finally decided that the monastic life was too busy, too noisy, and too fussy for him. So, he convinced his abbot (head of the monastery) to let him live apart in a cinderblock hut on the grounds where he could be completely happy. In truth, it must be said that Merton, because he was so famous as a writer, was not able to live the hermit life as strictly as he might have desired: People from the outside world were always coming to him for interviews or just to take photos of him.
So, the hermit life had to take a more modest form.

The Newsweek article also mentions that lay people today (not many) are choosing to give up their civilian lifestyles and live alone. Obviously, this will never become a huge movement of any sort, but it tells you that there must be a deep longing in many people’ hearts and psyche to simply break away from the “normal” stresses of the business world and find a place where they can discover God. One does not need to be a Catholic to do this, of course, but traditionally, at least in the Western world, hermits have come out of the history of the Catholic Church.

So, what is behind this desire for the monastic or the hermit style of life? I don’t think it is so odd, really. I think there are many of us (myself included) who, if it were practically possible, would like to be able to break from the tremendous stresses of the world as we know it. In the deepest recesses of everyone’s soul, I think there is a longing to be more in touch with one’s self, to have the time and circumstances just to live in touch with nature with God, with one’s self. Perhaps the daily rush-rush routine, the pressures of most peoples’ lives is not the normal pattern of human life. There is just too much distraction if one is truly interested in communing with God

The fact, for instance, that many lay people choose even to make a retreat every year, or simply to get away for a weekend by themselves tells you that this longing for silence and peace is real.

In our Christian and Catholic tradition there is a long-standing belief that God is found in silence and not in noise. Indeed, the scriptures for this very Sunday have some interesting examples of that basic human desire. The first reading, for instance, from the First Book of Kings tells the famous story of Elijah the man who lived in a cave on the side of Mount Horeb. One day, God appeared to him and invited him to come outside the cave and stand in the sunshine because God was about to pass by there. Elijah stood there and suddenly there was a strong and violent wind, but it turned out that God was not in the wind. After that, there was an earthquake, rocks went smashing down the mountainside, but it turned out that God was not in the destruction of the earthquake. After that there was a violent fire, but that too soon passed and God was not in the fire. Finally, the story relates that that there was a tiny whispering sound, and Elijah hid his face because God was passing by. In other words, God was in the silence.

I think that is a great metaphor for the desire that many people have for the experience of God. They know instinctively that God cannot be easily experienced in the craziness and the noise of twenty-first century business and industrial life. So, the only other option is that God must be in the silence.

Ah, but the trick is to find God there, to stand outside one’s cave and wait for the noise to pass so that the quiet of God can take over. That’s the trick if one can find the time and place for it.

The gospel of this Sunday also has a similar story about violence and power. Jesus’ disciples are caught out in a sudden storm on a lake. They are about ready to give up when Jesus suddenly walks toward them on the water. Peter decides to go out and meet Jesus, but loses his courage once out of the safety of the boat. Jesus simply says to him: “How come you were so scared? Don’t you have any faith?” Then suddenly the wind dies down and the disciples recognize Jesus as the Christ in the quiet calmness of the night.

I wonder if that could be another metaphor of how God chooses to be present to us, not in the storms of our workday world, perhaps, but rather in the moments when we choose to find quiet and be quiet, to be by ourselves so that we can truly hear God speak all the more clearly.

Well, given all this I am not expecting many of us to go running off to find a hut in the woods and try out the hermit life. It would probably take too many radical changes in our present commitments. But if the longing for quiet is an authentic human experience for God, a Christian experience, and I think it is, then I think we would do ourselves a disservice if we did not pursue that longing in whatever way available to us.

All the so-called modern technologies and inventions have been thrust upon our lives. We even have a sense that we can’t get along without them. But, truly, our human psyche never gives up longing to have some space, some peace to live the way we were born, the way we were as children, peacefully, without a care in the world.

So the “ball is in our court.” Perhaps we are challenged to listen to the heart and discover that personal hermitage we long for so much. Even if it only happens to be our bedroom with the door closed, or out on the deck early in the morning when no one else is up yet to disturb our peace, that may be a sort of “hut in the woods.” Whatever it takes, it will be worth the effort. God will surely be there in the silence.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 19: 9a, 11-13a; Romans 9: 1-5; Matthew 14: 11-33

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:30 PM.

July 25, 2005

FEEDING AND BEING FED - Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Somewhere in a pastoral instruction book I read a long time ago I remember the words that nine-tenths of the time spent in sermon preparation consists in nothing more than sitting and looking out the window. I can tell you from personal experience that I have done a lot of that, but it has not all been lost or wasted time. There are material objects outside my window that truly delight me, inspire me, and raise my interest every day: The white daisies that are growing along side the building across the parking lot, or the California poppies that always begin blooming in late June. In the spring of the year I wait for the new buds to appear on the cottonwood tree across the lot. In the fall, with the first frost, I expect, reluctantly, to see the same Cottonwood foliage change from green to yellow and orange. Indeed, the whole year transpires outside my window from season to season. I have always thought of those changes in the seasons as food for my spirit. I am being fed by God. All that is required of me is that I pay attention to what is happening, what is changing.

I think it is also true to say that we are fed in many ways that do not involve bread, meat, mashed potatoes and gravy. We take all those for granted, of course. But the broader question to ask is how do we feed our spirits, and if we are fed, whether by God or by our neighbor, how do we choose to feed one another?

Feeding is a rather amazing art, when one thinks about it. I have watched many mothers feed their little children, teaching them later how to feed themselves. There seems to be an assumption that we instinctively know how to do this when we are born into this world. I suppose even if no one ever taught us to use the right utensils we would eventually learn the process from watching others.

But when a father or mother teaches a child how to eat, it is more than learning a skill. I think there is a certain human gift that is shared, something beyond the food itself. I’m sure that there is a difference in a child’s perception of food when, for instance, a stranger tries to feed a child, as opposed to the situation where the child’s Mother performs that same task. Parents share something of themselves when they teach their children the use of spoons and forks. It is a personal act of love.

My sense is that the sharing of food between adult persons, the giving and receiving of food is a kind of sacred act, a holy gesture toward one another. We depend on one another to keep each other alive. It is almost a kind of miracle of life when we prepare food and share it. It is not just making sure the food is healthy and well-prepared. We actually give something of ourselves in this act, something of our own person.

Having said all this, it is interesting to notice how the prophet Isaiah in the first reading for this Sunday’s liturgy speaks about the way God feeds us: “All you who are thirsty” Isaiah says, “come to the water! You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat; come without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk! Why spend your money on what is not bread?”

We usually do not think about the fact that God does, indeed feed us. Without the power of the sun and the rain, the turning of the seasons, we would go hungry. So, God does, indeed, feed us, and it’s all free, at least free from the hand of God. We humans, of course, have apart in it too. We are not hunters and gatherers any more!

Nonetheless, it is true that many other hands have had a part in providing the meat and potatoes, the fruit and vegetables that appear on the shelves of our supermarkets. Many of the folks who provide it are migrant people who bend their backs to feed us and who receive precious little in return for their hard work. Think of that sometime when you pickup a fresh bunch of carrots or onions or a box of ripe strawberries. Who were these people who made these items available for our dining tables?

In a sense, it seems as though this is the very way that God has planned it: God gave us the original source of food and then tells us to make sure it goes around. We have a command to feed one another; otherwise, the world will go hungry.

The best example we have for all this comes from the short description of the day in Jesus’ life when some five thousand people stayed with him throughout an entire day to listen to his teaching (the food of the word). It must have been an interesting day because toward evening people were still there waiting for more and they had not yet had lunch or dinner. (Can you imagine a congregation of Catholics hanging around that long for a sermon?)

At any rate, you know the story: Jesus’ disciples sort of casually mention to Him that it was getting late and no one had yet eaten supper. Oddly enough, Jesus did not seem to get particularly excited about it. He just says: “Why don’t you feed them yourselves?” “Why wait for me?” I’m sure that must have puzzled the disciples. They, obviously, had no food of their own with them. But someone eventually came up with five barley loaves and a couple dried fish, but how was that to go around for five thousand people. Remember, these men were not stupid. Anyone obviously knows that 5 small barley loaves will not feed 5,000 people. Of course, they had to point that out to Jesus, as though he didn’t already know!

But then Jesus did a remarkable thing: It does not say that he did a miracle. All that the text says is that he asked God’s blessing on the five loaves of bread, broke them and told the disciples to hand them around.

I have often wondered whether that blessing and distributing bread might have been the first Mass Jesus celebrated? The text says that he blessed, broke and shared. That is basically what happens at Mass: Bread and wine are blessed and shared. If those actions were not the first Mass, they were surely at least a close model of what Jesus did at the Last Supper.

There is one small item that may be passed over without notice, however. Jesus did not, in fact, take the loaves and pass them around himself. He gave that responsibility to the disciples, his followers. I don’t think it was merely a matter of expediency, of getting everyone fed and down the road toward home before dark. I think it was rather a gesture on Jesus’ part to say to his disciples: “Here is what you will be doing after I am gone. Your basic responsibility will be to feed people, feed them with bread and wine and with kindness and compassion, with pastoral responsibility. That will be your task. Do all this in memory of me. Do it the way I did it. If you share there will always be enough to go around.”

Well, obviously, a lot of people since Jesus’ time have been doing what he did, blessing, breaking and sharing bread and wine, kindness and compassion. This literally is what holds our Church together as a community.

Finally, I should say that blessing and breaking bread and the sharing of the cup in our day is the pastoral responsibility of bishops and priests. But the sharing is also a “shared responsibility.” The bread and wine of the Eucharist that is shared at Mass is a sign to all of us, lay and cleric that we must continue sharing all the human gifts we have at hand from day to day in our world of work. It all boils down to this: Feeding each other is a skill we have learned from the way God feeds us. We should also find ways to do that for others this week. There is no point in letting people go hungry. And, by the way, don’t be afraid to let others give you some of their best food too. In this world we’re all in it together. That’s just the way it is.

The scriptures: Isaiah 55: 1-3; Romans 8: 35-37; Matthew 14: 13-31

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:39 AM.

July 18, 2005

LIFE’S CHOICES - Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

No matter how old we are, it seems that we all love surprises, particularly, those kinds of surprises where we receive something we never expected to receive: Perhaps it’s a tax rebate or being named a recipient in a will we never knew existed. Even finding a five dollar bill on the street gives us a short moment of excitement. It is five bucks we never expected to have.

I always find it exciting to read the reports of legitimate professional treasure hunters who spend millions tracking down the position of long lost sunken vessels, particularly those that went down during the Fifteenth or Sixteenth Centuries, their holds filled with gold and other treasures. My hunch is that just finding the treasure was as exciting for them as knowing that they may now be millions of dollars richer. Most of those artifacts will probably go into museums or private collections anyway.

Interestingly enough, it always seems that it is the finding of gold and silver, money, material things that provides the most excitement for people. What does not seem to occur to people is that material things do not last very long; they do not give us a sense of long-lasting security. Indeed, people who amass such things always worry about how they can hang on to them. They may have electronic security fences built around their homes to make sure their possessions are safe. I know a man, for instance, who has a huge gun collection. He’s always worrying about someone breaking into his home and stealing them. He’s probably got millions invested in that collection. So, every room in his house is separately wired against burglars. He even hates to leave home on trips for fear that someone will break and enter, walking off with his “treasure!” So, what security do these guns provide?

Most of us, of course, instinctively know the answer: We know that money, gold and silver, guns or whatever else does not ultimately provide us with a sense of true peace or real security. We can lose all those in a heartbeat. Indeed, nature itself often makes our lives pretty precarious: Flood, landslides, tornadoes, fires. It happens all the time to rich and poor alike. All that we have can be lost in the blink of an eye.

When you occasionally hear peoples’ responses to the questions of reporters after a flood or a tornado, it is interesting to hear how they feel about their losses. Some just don’t know how they will continue to live. But others will say, “Well, it was just stuff, just ordinary material things that I can probably recoup in a few years.”
Interestingly though, the thing that people hate most to lose are photographs, photographs of weddings, family gatherings, snapshots of grandpa or grandma, now long deceased. And even so, it was probably not so much the photo itself, but the thought that the person would lose the memories of those dear ones. This is what makes people feel sad. Memories are so dear to us, more dear than silver and gold.

Well, given all we have said, is there anything in our scriptures for this Sunday that will help us understand the question about what is truly precious in life? I think we probably already instinctively know that some things in life are worth finding and keeping and other things are not worth our time, mainly because they do not last, indeed, they may have no meaning in our life for the long haul, for eternity. So, we all know that: Money and material things do not last forever. So, the question remains, what does last forever? What can give us a sense of peace today and tomorrow and over the long haul?

There are two individuals who can give us an insight about that in today’s scriptures: One is the famous King Solomon, a man who obviously never had any great worry about where his next buck was coming from. The other is Jesus who, by the way, also did not worry about where his next buck was coming from but for a different reason.

Let’s take the case of Solomon first: One would have thought that he, like most kings of that time, would have been much concerned about having a reputation for riches. That’s what gave a man status in those times, the money you had in the bank, if there was a bank.

But you will notice in the narration of the text that when Solomon was being nominated to be king, God asked him what he really wanted out of life. He said, “Not riches, nor a long life, not even power over my enemies. What I really want is understanding, insight. I want to know how to tell the difference between right and wrong, that’s what I really want.” And God told him, “it’s all yours Solomon because you asked for the right things in life, things that could bring you peace of mind, things that could bring you the admiration and respect of your subjects.

So, the answer Solomon gave tells us a lot: He instinctively knew that he lived in a very dangerous and unpredictable world: In a heartbeat, the Assyrians could come down from the North and take away his kingdom along with all his riches. So, he asked for the so-called non-material things: Wisdom, understanding, a compassionate heart, the insight to find the truth in all things.

Now, I submit that this was a rather brave response on Solomon’s part. If God were to ask any one of us today what we would prefer, a million bucks, for instance, or a sense of wisdom, my hunch is that you would say: Give me the bucks. Those I can take to the bank. But if we did answer like that, we still would not be any the richer for it. Being a wise person is still more precious than having a big bank account.

So, what is the all about? It is ultimately all about attitude, about wisdom, abut knowing the difference between the perishable things of this world and the imperishable treasures of this world. (Notice, I did not say the imperishable things of heaven!)

Now, you may say: “Well, I’ll never have to make that sort of choice in life anyway, so what’s the problem? Well, whether we ever have to make the choice or not, the question is, would we be ready to choose wisdom over money if the choice should present itself? That’s what ultimately counts. It’s all about our way of looking at life.

Jesus also seemed to have the same attitude about material things. It is described in that lovely story of the pearl of great price. “If you find one,” Jesus says, “cash in your assets and buy it. Don’t lose any time.”

Now, right away you know Jesus is not talking about clams and pearls. He is talking about whatever it is in life that you could describe as precious, that you would be willing to sell everything for in order to have it. So, the question lands right back in our laps: How do we look at life? What is truly important to us? What temporary world object are we willing to give up for the sake of something that will last forever?

I would like to suggest that this is not an easy question to answer. It is not easy because most of us, with the exception of a few “philosophical types” of people, are pretty much immersed in this world, security mainly, the assurance that we will have enough tomorrow to get along on. Asking for wisdom can often seem like some sort of abstract, hypothetical reality something we cannot take to the bank, something that will not put food on our table.

Now, I realize, of course that we do not think about these options every day, but nonetheless, I think it is important, at least in our reflective moments, that we think about this question: What is it that I would not want to lose today? What is it that I feel is truly precious? What is my treasure? If the first answer that comes to mind is our billfold or our credit cards, then perhaps we still have not found the answer that Jesus thought so important. I really think that this is one of those questions that will keep pestering us all our life, whether we are rich or poor, or even whether we ever suddenly find that someone has left us a million dollars in a will. If the question of material things is the point at which we stop asking the question about life, then, perhaps, we still may have a problem. Wisdom may still have escaped us and that would be a tragedy.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 3: 5, 7-12; Romans 8: 28-30; Matthew 13: 44-52

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:44 AM.

July 11, 2005

A WEED BY ANY OTHER NAME - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I notice that most of the nurseries are going full bore during these summer days. Even WalMart and Fred Meyer have large sections of their parking lot set aside for the sale of flowers and shrubs. In spring it seems everyone suddenly becomes an “instant farmer,” at least for a couple months.

There is something healthy, however, indeed, even cathartic about working in the dirt. Even better, all our creative instincts come to the surface when we can take delight in seeing our lettuce, carrots, radishes or marigolds come up and give us the pleasure of eating something or just observing beauty. We, gardeners, that we are, have become creators, at least in a relative sense. It just feels good to grow things. I can vouch for that, having been the son of farm folks. There was a moment in history, however, when I decided that growing things was not all that exciting. So, I went to college and then the seminary and have not grown anything since!

Now, despite all our best efforts, not all seeds that lie in the ground come up daisies, far from it. In fact, two thirds of our efforts at gardening are spent weeding out weeds. Of course, how is one to know what’s what? One would have to have a Ph.D. in agronomy to be able to distinguish between a weed and a carrot shoot when they first pop up out of the ground.

When you think about it, both are living things and they both have the right to grow and mature. The problem is we humans have decided that weeds are not useful to us, whereas carrots and radishes and onions are. So, the weeds we dig up and discard and the carrots we harvest for the table.

Nonetheless, I suppose we would have to say, at least philosophically, that weeds have some value in this world even though we don’t eat the product. Indeed, our historical forebears used to eat many of the plants we would not touch today. So, the old saying, “a weed by any other name could be flower.” It all depends on what we think they are useful for, how they serve us or, better, how we think about them. None of us care much for thistles, but we surely enjoy fresh strawberries.

I’m not sure whether Jesus ever cultivated a garden, but most people of his time surely must at least have had a little plot of ground to grow things for household use. After all, Safeway and Costco did not exist in those times. So, Jesus’ family must sure must have had access to some garden products.

And even if they didn’t, Jesus was a fairly astute observer of nature. As he walked along preaching, I’m sure he must have noticed the fields of wheat and the weeds that were growing up along side one another. Not only that, he made a point one day to his followers that it might prove rather difficult in the middle of the growing season to separate the two. Any farmer with an ounce of brains could also tell you that.

So, right away, we know that Jesus is not talking about weeds and wheat. Jesus had more important things to think about. Jesus always talked about the world about the folks who live in this world with all their peculiar habits, positive and negative. Actually, what Jesus basically always talked about was the kingdom of God, or a vision of what the world would look like if God had his way.

Now, there is one thing that is absolutely clear, at least to me, when you read the life of Jesus: He was a ferocious defender of people who were considered “low-life’s” by so-called upper class people, especially, the religious elites, types who felt that God was obviously on their side because they knew the Torah, the Law of God and they kept it scrupulously. Jesus got into more arguments with these people than any other.

The question Jesus kept asking was this: Who, outside of God himself, really knows who is good or bad, who is or is not God’s favorite person? The very example Jesus gives in the gospel passage today about the difficulty of knowing what is weeds and what is wheat tells you how he felt about human relationships.

In this world of ours, Jesus would say, there are all sorts of people. Everyone struggles with life, everyone is also basically good, but some also struggle with life too, with bad habits, with temptations, with failures. But it is still too early now to tell start condemning people out of hand. Judgments about moral character are always notoriously undependable. Who is “wheat” and who is “weeds” is difficult to say, and, as a matter of fact, the distinction is nobody’s business…except God’s.

So, the whole theme of the scriptures for this Sunday is about tolerance, about being slow to judge. It’s all about the tolerance of God and the intolerance of humans in this world.

It is interesting to notice, if one is an historian, that we humans have the need to categorize people, to judge people negatively because they seem to be different from us, whether religiously, culturally, racially, sexually or morally. It’s an old habit we have of “scape-goating” people. We all know what tht word means.

So, the whole point Jesus is making about the weeds and the wheat growing up together is about being careful not to prejudge people. We humans do not tolerate each other very well. We are well known for having our prejudices. It is a common habit among us. We make assumptions about folks without really knowing them well, without knowing their personal life-styles, about how they think, how they feel, et cetera. The assumption seems to be that “we” are not like they are. We don’t fit into their category. We are different.

What seems odd about prejudice or intolerance is that it happens more often than not regarding religious or moral issues. It’s the old assumption that God has to be on our side, but surely not on the side of the person who is different from us.

This has been a consistent problem, not on the personal level, but even within our church as institution. We have all heard the horror stories about how Catholics over the centuries have publicly persecuted Jews and Moslems, heretics, gay and lesbian people and people generally different from “us” whoever “us” happens to be.

So, how should we deal with prejudice which, unfortunately, seems to infect most of us in small and large ways? The first question one might ask is this: Why does this person or this person’s life-style bother me? Most likely, as a human being, he or she is just a very normal person, a good person, morally and ethically. Few people deliberately choose to be evil. Another question might be: Does this person’s actions affect me personally, or is it that I just don’t like the way they live?

Perhaps it all boils down to our need to have everyone be perfect. Perhaps we don’t like to live with ambiguity. Life needs to be either white or black for many people. We can’t live with the gray areas. But ultimately we may need to get used to that. Nothing and no one is perfect in this world, including ourselves.

So, picking weeds may be a worthwhile endeavor if you are trying to save your vegetables. But “weeding out people” is another matter. Jesus couldn’t bear to see it happen and neither should we. In this world we are all half way to the harvest, to the time when God will make the decisions about who’s who.

The scriptures: Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19; Romans 8: 26-27; Matthew 13: 24-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:03 AM.

July 05, 2005

WORD POWER - Scripture Reflection for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Many people who come to Alaska in summer, especially around the time of the State Fair, want to go out and have a look at the monstrous vegetables that grow here during these long sunny days: Pumpkins that you can’t lift, tomatoes almost as large as your head, carrots as big as baseball bats (almost). It’s true, we do have vegetables that practically make the Guiness Book of Records” each year.

The amazing thing, of course, is that the humongous pumpkin we just spoke of came from a seed no larger than a dime. Think of the inherent power of growth that is contained that little seed, and the fact too that it can multiply itself by another couple thousand seeds. It’s pretty amazing when you think about it; and, of course, we simply take it all for granted. That is what God does with nature, with sun and rain and good black earth. Living things multiply themselves a thousand-fold given the right environment.

Among wine growers in California, the story is told of a vine that was brought over from Italy in the year 1842. By the year 1900 it was yielding 10 tons of grapes in peak years. By the time it died in 1920 at the age of 78 years, it had produced more than 600 tons of grapes, all from one spindly little vine!

I often think too of words that are “seeded” in our human world, words that multiply themselves and grow beyond all measure. Think, for instance, of all the works of literature, history, mathematics, fiction, poetry that have ever been written over the time of human history. Think how many peoples’ lives have been affected by the author of one good novel, by someone like Ernest Hemmingway or James Joyce or Nikos Kazantzakis, to mention only a few? Words, like pumpkins seeds, are living realities.

Or, think for instance, of the number of homilies and sermons that have been preached in churches throughout the world over the centuries. My hunch is that all these must have done some good for humanity; someone must have learned how to live, how to be Christian, how to praise God. And, of course, they all came from the mind and lips of one person, the preacher. One preacher probably made the difference (I hope for good) in the ways thousands of Christians have lived the Christian life and praised their God.

So, we need to say that words affect the way we live. They make us think, make us laugh, make us weep, make us ask forgiveness; they give us reason to wonder, to be amazed and astonished at the meaning of life itself.

When you think about it then, the prophet Isaiah, whom we just heard speak in the first reading, is correct: God speaks through human words. God’s words are like the rain or the snow that shower the earth. Those words will not go back to where they came from until they have had their effect on someone’s life. We literally live on words. They are living and life-giving.

I have often wondered too whether Jesus thought about the power of words when he decided to choose his life career of preaching. People who listened to him said that they had never heard anything like this. Maybe Jesus saw that one could do as much good with one sermon of good words as he could with a dozen miracles. At any rate, he did a lot of preaching in his short career and we are still listening to those sermons today. That says something.

The point is that Jesus did not just preach some vague philosophical principles. He told stories; they called them parables, comparisons. He talked about ordinary stuff like wheat and weeds, about pearls and swine, of lilies and thistles, images people could readily understand. Whether the folks always understood all the implications that Jesus had in mind, of course, is another thing, but at least they heard the story and could make of it whatever they wanted. At any rate, they were willing to sit on the grass all day listening, so they must have been fascinated and entertained.

We need to say, therefore, that there is some mysterious power in stories and in story telling. A good story teller can make people sit up and listen and think. I can vouch for that when giving a homily: The moment you say, “Let me tell you a story”, people immediately perk up and listen.

Why is that? I think the reason for it is because stories are about ourselves. Story tellers put us into the middle of the story and make us think. They also make us laugh or cry. But basically stories are about our lives. We can’t deny it. They make us say to ourselves: “Hey that was myself he was talking about.”

Why do you think people like Jay Leno or David Letterman, the late-night talk-show hosts, are so popular? They tell stories about other people, but they also remind us about ourselves. That’s why we laugh, isn’t it?

But the important question is still this: We’ve all heard Jesus’ parables over and over. What are the chances that those stories will have any effect on our lives, make us think; help us change if we need to change?

I think the answer is the one which made the pumpkin grow so large: If the sun and the water are there, but especially of the seed ground is rich and fertile, something will grow. It’s the same with Jesus’ stories: they can’t help but change our lives if the conditions (our conditions) are right. If we are willing to provide the metaphorical good ground for the seed, God’s sun and rain will do the rest. Of course, if the seed falls on dry ground, nothing is going to happen.

It seems important then to realize that whenever we hear one of Jesus’ favorite stories again in the context of a homily, this is not just “cutesy” entertainment. There are some serious implications contained there. Otherwise, why Jesus would ever have wasted his time telling these stories in the first place?

A couple points seem to follow from all this: First, the Jesus stories are all about God or about God’s kingdom, the way God must see life in this world and the way God must expect us to view the world around us and ourselves as well.

Secondly, each of us is a story teller, whether we think we are professionally so or not. All of us have a story to tell, indeed, we are a story for anyone who will listen. The point is, we need to be willing to tell It.

Lastly, there is one interesting line in the gospel that always fascinates me. Jesus’ disciples asked him one day why he always talked in parables. Jesus had this interesting reply: He said something like this: “You guys already know about God’s mysteries, but not everybody has the insights you guys have. So, for those folks who long to understand God’s ways, I need to tell stories. It’s easier that way. That’s the only way they will ever understand. So, whatever it takes, that’s what I need to do.”

I suspect lots of us are like those people Jesus talked about who did not understand God’s mysteries. But we too, disciples of Jesus, long to understand mysteries. So, it’s always nice to know that someone like Jesus cares enough about us to speak our language. Now, the question is: Are we listening?

The scriptures: Isaiah 55: 10-11; Romans 8: 1-23; Matthew 13: 1-23

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:23 AM.

June 28, 2005

NOT A CARE INN THE WORLD - Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Those of us, who are old enough, will remember the “Sixties,” those crazy days when at least a certain segment of the U.S. population dropped out of the so-called normal patterns of life: Family, job, responsibility for the community, et cetera. They were called “Hippies.” No one seems to know just where the word came from. At any rate, they were young (some not so young) men and women who just decided to “drop out.” They would buy an old run-down Volkswagen bus, paint it in some bizarre colors, put a mattress in the back, add a Coleman stove, a few dishes, and off they would go driving along the back country roads with not a care in the world. At least it seemed so to the rest of us who could not imagine ourselves doing that sort of thing.

They had very little in terms of possessions, a guitar perhaps and a collection of old phonograph records. Granola, cheap wine in a jug and marijuana seemed to be their basic staples. Oddly enough, they seemed to be able to exist without many of the so-called necessities we feel we can’t get along without.

So, that was the Hippy Generation, the Crazy Sixties. By the seventies it all seemed to have gone its way. There may still be a few around, but I have not seen any lately that would resemble the “originals” with their long hair and washed-out overalls.

Looking back on all this, of course, one would have to say that these folks, who did not seem to have a care in the world, were actually very much concerned at least about one thing and that was the Vietnam War. Indeed, many “dropped out” of life as we know it precisely as a sign of contradiction to the assumptions of the generals at the Pentagon and the administration in the White House. On many occasions they demonstrated before the National Guard with only a flower for “protection” (“flower-power” they called it). So, one would need to say that they did have at least one care in the world. It may even be true to say that they brought the Vietnam War to a swifter conclusion with their efforts and lifestyle.

The moral in all this, I suppose, would be that looks deceive, public habits sometimes deceive the public; things are not always as they seem

It often occurs to me that people in Jesus’ time must also have often wondered about his life style. What we remember best about Jesus from the gospels, of course, is the fact that he was a man of prayer, that he did miracles and that he was also “slightly different.”

The fact is, of course, if we had lived at that time, we might have asked why he did not get a job, get married and have a family like most other young adults of his time. None of this appears odd to us today of course, because our vision of it is affected by the way the Church has thought of Jesus over the centuries as Son of God, Son of the eternal Father. (It is called high theology.) But in his own time Jesus must have raised some eyebrows or caused some to roll their eyes in surprise at the vocation he chose to follow.

We have no record of Jesus ever holding a job as an adult; he never had a home of his own, never cooked, as far as we know. He preached God’s kingdom even though this did not pay much and not many other people did that sort of thing. So, in a sense, Jesus might have appeared much like our Sixties Hippies who lived without a care in the world. He did not follow the normal patterns of social life in his time.

But think of also in this way: The Hippies of our day were, in a sense, a sign of contradiction: They lived differently for a reason (at least some of them did), that is, they wished to call attention to the fact that many of the things in this world we feel are so important are actually not so important after all, at least in the long term vision of life.

So, Jesus could say to his friends: “Come to me, all of you who are burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart and you will find rest for yourselves. My yoke is easy and my burden light.”

That does sound somewhat like a Hippy philosophy doesn’t it? Don’t worry about work; live for the day. Your burdens are the ones you pile upon your own shoulders. Live like me, be free.

So, what could Jesus possibly mean by all that? What are the light and easy burdens of life? Most of us don’t have the leisure of sitting about all day with nothing to do. We have jobs and responsibilities to family and society. We have a “debt” to society around us. There is a place for us in the world.

My sense is that Jesus knew that his followers had to have jobs and responsibilities. That’s the way of the world. But I also think Jesus had a way of asking a different kind of question about life: It was the deeper question about balance, about how things fit together, about what is important and what is not important. In short, if we want to enjoy a life that is peaceful and without yokes or burdens without a worry about what will come next, Jesus would say that you need to ask some pretty basic questions, questions like, what does it really mean for me to be this person this day, to be a work at this or that task? What does it mean for me to live shoulder to shoulder with other folks who are so much like myself, trying to figure life out, trying to find a place in the world that makes sense? What does it mean for me to have something to do today, something to offer the world and make the world a place where there may be some possibility of hope for everyone?

I know that these may sound like abstract questions having little to do with making a living. But they are important questions to ask if we do not want to get bogged down in the boredom, the yokes and burdens and drudgeries of daily life in the world.

In short, if the world and work seem a burden and a yoke, what can we do to make them lighter and less burdensome? Jesus would say, like the Hippies of another generation: “Live free, live without care all the while you are doing the work God has called you to do. Do something that brings some goodness and happiness to the little world you know best.” I’m sure Jesus lived like that. I’m not so sure about the Hippies, but, of course, I only saw them from a distance and that was back in another century and a different time.

The Scriptures: Zechariah 9: 9-10; Romans 8: 9, 1-13; Matthew 11: 25-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:14 AM.

June 20, 2005

GETTING READY FOR THE Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

“Anchorage dwellers” are peculiar folks, but perhaps no more so than most folks in other cities. They throw their trash about the streets during the long winters, hoping that the snow will disguise it.

But the moment spring comes round they immediately get busy picking it all up because within weeks folks from the Lower 48 will be coming into town and, of course, we don’t want to look like a cave dwellers. Anyway, it all soon gets picked up and hauled off. We will go through all this again next winter and next spring in the same fashion. You can bet on it!

Part of the reason for this great effort to get the city ready is economic. We know the folks from down below spend money. Hence, if they see a lovely city, they may, in turn, be delighted to spend a few extra bucks.

But let me hasten to say that it is not all about economics. Folks here are hospitable year round whether others come here to spend their money or not. I think there is a sense among us that there is something beautiful to be experienced and explored here and we should do whatever we can to help visitors appreciate this beauty. Hospitality need not be associated with the baser instincts of making a buck!

The word hospitality comes from the Latin root word “hospis” (or hospes), and hence we have institutions such as hospitals and hospices to care for the sick and the infirm. This is surely one of the higher forms of hospitality because these are institutions where the human person is gently cared for.

During Medieval times even monasteries were called “hospes” because travelers could expect protection, food and shelter there. Indeed, they were often the only institutions which offered such care. To this very day, as we all know, churches are considered places of safe harbor.

We might draw from all this that hospitality is more than providing food and shelter to the needy. In practically all cases it is a Christian virtue, even when a monetary reward may be involved. Anything done for another to provide that person with health care, a place of rest, a source for food and shelter must surely be considered a Christian virtue no matter whether money crosses hands or not. Hospitality has to do with respect for human life, with the dignity of the human person even if it is only the service of the hot dog vendor on the street offering an inexpensive lunch. In the end it all has to do with providing life in some form.

There are several references in the scriptures to indicate that Jesus appreciated hospitality: He was constantly eating at someone else’s house. He did not have one of his own, of course. He was always on the road. We have the examples also of Zachaeus who took Jesus in one evening as he was passing through Jericho. Martha, Mary and Lazarus were often Jesus’ hosts. Peter’s mother-in-law took care of Jesus and his disciples. The fact that these instances are even mentioned in the gospels tells us that they were important to the ones who compiled the stories. Gestures of kindness should not go unrecorded.

This is the very insight we draw from the two scriptures for this Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time. The first is a quaint little story of an elderly couple who are childless. Whenever their friend Elisha (the holy man of God) came through their neighborhood, they would invite him in for the night. He could expect a bed, table, chair and lamp. In return for their hospitality, Elisha promised the couple that they could expect a child in their old age, and much to their surprise, it happened. For Jewish people who place much importance on having children to follow them, this was, indeed, a great act of gratitude. Not a bad exchange of kindnesses.

The gospel provides a wonderful list of paradoxes: Whatever you are willing to give away, you will receive back in abundance. It all has to do with attitude. The more you hang on to things, the more you can expect to lose them. Hence, even the smallest act of kindness or hospitality will be rewarded a hundred-fold. It’s not so much a matter of what the gift is worth as it is the attitude with which it is given. Even a cup of cold water given in love means something.

So, as the tourist season begins again in earnest here in Alaska, there are going to be a lot of opportunities to offer our hospitality to the folks from Outside who will be walking our streets in their nice, clean white sneakers. Another summer of opportunity to let folks know that we appreciate their coming…whether they buy anything or not.

The Scriptures: 2 Kings 4: 8-11, 14-16a; Romans 6: 3-4, 8-11; Matthew 10: 37-2

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:05 AM.

June 13, 2005

FEAR FACTOR - Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Occasionally, somewhere out of my foggy kindergarten past, small parts of jingles or Mother Goose tales suddenly pop into my mind.

One such came to me as I was reading the scriptures for this forthcoming Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary time which speak in several places about faith and fear. “Fraidy cat, fraidy cat” were the lines I remembered. Actually, a quick search on Google told me that it came from a children’s story about Tommy Tiger Who Was a Fraidy Cat. Now one would not expect a tiger to be a “Fraidy Cat,” of course, but that is the beauty of children’s fiction. Even cats get scared!

Seriously, however, psychologists claim that fear is one of our most important means of human protection. When physical or psychological dangers suddenly arise, we “cut and run.” It seems to be the normal thing to do, so it must be good.

Most of us, I should imagine, have secret fears: I fear flying, for instance, also exposure to heights, dark caves, snakes, Rotweillers and spiders or whatever else could suddenly end my life against my will.

In a more positive sense, fear can also be a sign of awe or respect in the presence of mystery. In the scriptures, for instance, we often read of the holy fear of God, not terror, but simply the acknowledgement that God is God, period.

The question, however, is this: What is the relationship between faith and fear? If fear for our life, for instance, or the fear of not being able to control our destiny is sometimes a reality, how can we maintain a sense of peace and tranquility?

I can only offer some examples out of the lives of real people in history: Anne Frank, the teenage Dutch, Jewish girl who was killed by the Nazis in World War II wrote this in her diary: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are good at heart.” Those are brave words for someone who knew she would soon be killed.

Rosa Parks, the Negro seamstress in Alabama, refused to give up her seat on a bush to a white person as the law required. Her refusal to give in to fear was the catalyst for a boycott of the city bus system and the event that propelled the civil rights movement forward.

Remember also the words of President Franklin D. Roosevelt in his first inaugural address: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” In other words, there is no point in allowing fear to control our lives. There are too many other things in life that can truly strike fear in us.

I have a sense from reading the words of Jesus that he also must often have been afraid. Given his confrontations with the Jewish and Roman authorities, he must have known that his life was constantly in jeopardy. On the night before he died, in the Garden of Gethsemani, for instance, he was so afraid of what would happen to him that sweat ran down his face. And yet, despite all that, he could confidently say to his disciples on an earlier occasion: “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” Or again, “Fear not, little flock, you are worth more than a whole flock of sparrows.”

Perhaps that is the reason why Rosa Parks had no fear “getting in the face” of the driver who told her to sit in the back of the bus…the reason why Anne Frank could find something good to say even about the Germans, knowing all the while she would be killed…the reason why FDR could tell Americans not to let fear direct their lives…the reason why Jesus could tell his disciples that they should not be afraid is because each of these people had a deep sense of the value of and dignity of human life.

No worldly power can ultimately and eternally harm us if we believe in our own goodness and preciousness in God’s sight. We are loved by God, no matter what. That’s the bottom line. Having said all that, of course, does not mean that I am going to go around provoking any ferocious Rotweillers any time soon either.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 20: 10-13; Romans 5: 12-15; Matthew 10: 26-33

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:34 AM.

June 07, 2005

MISSION IMPOSIBLE - Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Isn’t modern communication a great thing? I was thinking about all that during the time of Pope John Paul’s death and burial and also during the entire Conclave and election of Pope Benedict XVI. The Catholic Church got some really good exposure during those days and I’m sure we were all proud about that. No doubt many people, not of our faith, also learned much about the faith of Catholics.

It also occurred to me that the so-called Medieval splendor of the rites must have impressed (negatively or positively?) many people whose faith communities do not include such “finery.” Of course, we are a Church that has a long history and many traditions that people of our age are not familiar with. Nonetheless, the Renaissance model of church, the cardinals with their scarlet robes and all the rest must have astonished some people.

At the same time, beautiful liturgy, splendid religious rites ought to be done for the glory of God and not for our own aggrandizement. We Catholics know that. Whether others do, however, is a question.

All this came to mind as I read the gospel for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time and found there Jesus’ plans for his future Church. I said to myself, how different the Church is today when you compare it to the way it all started in the mind of Jesus in those early days.

The text of today’s gospel, for instance, says that he sent his twelve apostles out on a mission to proclaim the kingdom, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out demons. When you think about this, it may all sound almost bizarre: Here you have twelve blue collar men, little formal education, no theological education for sure, being sent out to change the world! Whether any of the apostles actually did accomplish any of those miracles is not said in the Gospel.

But one thing we do know is this: Those twelve men were sent to go out and be the compassion of Jesus. It says specifically that Jesus was moved with pity for the crowd. They seemed like sheep without a shepherd.

But if it seems odd to us that Jesus would send out uneducated and untrained men to do such important work, just think of this: We have many examples of how God sends out the least and the weakest to do God’s work. Moses in the Old Testament is a good example: He was actually a murderer in his earlier life and, as the text says, a man who stuttered, that is, he was not an accomplished speaker. Not a good start for someone who has gone down in history as one of Israel’s greatest leaders.

The prophets too, men like Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, all confessed that they were not up to the challenge of doing God’s work. And yet they used their human skills the best way they could and did some rather spectacular things, miracles included.

That brings us to the point of asking: Does God have any plan for me, for any of us to go out on mission? What is that mission anyway?

The fact is that if we are baptized Christians, our mission was included in the baptismal rite. If we were baptized as a child, of course, we were not yet ready to carry out that mission, but the challenge was there just waiting to be realized.

The further point is that, like the apostles, God does not place any special requirements on us. All God asks is for us to be holy. I realize, of course, that if we are to be of any value to the Church and society at large, it would be nice if we had some education and training for our future careers, whether in the world or in the Church. But the fundamental thing for us is to be Christian, to follow the model of Jesus.

There is a beautiful line in the First Letter of St. Peter that could be said of the mission of every baptized Christian: “…you are a chosen race a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people set apart to sing the praises of the God who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

I’m not sure most of us would be up to the task of curing the sick, raising the dead or driving out demons. Actually, we are called to do something less spectacular: We are just sent out on mission to share with the world around us a portion of the gifts that we possess as human individuals: We are all good at something. The point is that we are simply invited to use whatever that gift is for the glory of God and for the good of our brothers and sisters. That’s what mission is all about. It is not an overwhelming job, but there will surely be many rewards coming from it if we work at it as diligently as we can.

I have a hunch that even those cardinals, dressed in their finery electing a new pope, probably saw all this as their way of fulfilling their mission from Jesus to go into the world and labor for God’s harvest. Who can argue with that?

The scriptures: Exodus 19: 2-6a; Romans 5: 6-11; Matthew 9: 36-10a

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 08:39 AM.

May 31, 2005

LEAVING WALL STREET BEHIND Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I must admit that when it comes to the business of business, I am pretty much of a “clutz.” I have no investments, stocks or bonds. So, when the people on National Public Radio start talking about the NYSE, NASDAQ, Merrill Lynch or the Fortune 500, I am lost. Actually they don’t really interest me that much because I have nothing to gain or lose.

But it often occurs to me that those thousands, millions of people who work in numbers every day, worrying about the rise and fall of stocks, the people whose lives are sometimes wiped out because of a wrong decision….I wonder whether they really like their jobs. I don’t think I would. There doesn’t seem to be anything very creative or exciting about it, unless you are making a lot of money day after day. Not many of them are.

I’m happy that I enrolled in the liberal arts college at Notre Dame back in 1950 rather than in the business school. Of course, if I had gone into business, I obviously would not be writing this. God’s ways are mysterious.

On the other hand, I imagine working with money can be exciting, attractive, even seductive. Lots of the Wall Street people have gotten trapped in the process. Think of Martha Stewart, the Enron people, the Arthur Andersen and the MCI people who got caught up in the lure of making big bucks and lost it. It can’t be a very peaceful, blissful sort of life.

There are some big business folks, however not many, who occasionally give it all up and say “it’s not worth the sweat, life is too short.” They give it up, buy a beach house out in the Hamptons or up in Vermont and write books or something.

I suppose that would be a tough decision: Think, for instance, how a spouse would feel if the husband or wife came home from the office one evening and simply said: “I’m chucking it in. Let’s take a trip around the world and forget about it.” I’m sure there might need to be some conversation before all that happened. So, I suspect there are probably not many instances of that happening.

But it happened once in history, at least as far as we know. The man’s name was Matthew (no family name given). He had a nick name which carried a bad image. He was known as a “Publican”, a public man who collected taxes from the poor and, supposedly, skimmed off some for himself in the process. He was not a popular man, but it did not seem to bother him a lot. What he was doing might even have been “slightly” legal at the time.

At any rate, here is this Jewish IRS official going to work one morning, imagining that he would do what he always done, collect taxes, collect a few insults from his “friends” and neighbors. Half way through the day, an itinerant preacher walks by, gives him a negative stare and says to him: “Matthew, come follow me.” The gospel simply says: “Matthew left his post and followed Jesus.”

Now, I submit to you, that is a rather extraordinary happening: A man who has a good job with a good future, suddenly meets a preacher who invites him to come along and he closes shop and moves on. My hunch is that most financiers today would think twice before arbitrarily following a preacher of any persuasion, Protestant or Catholic

It may be true, of course, that the whole story is not told in the Gospel, but even if it is only partly true, it was still a rather momentous move on Matthew’s part.

Now, of course, all of us can read the history of it. We know how it all turned out in the end. Matthew becomes a follower of Jesus of Nazareth whom he eventually discovers to be the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed of God. Of course, that is all history. He did not know that in the beginning. He just took a chance to see what this Preacher had “going for him,” and off he went.

But there are situations of people even today that might be similar to Matthew’s choice, perhaps not as radical, but pretty dicey nonetheless.

When one thinks about it, even the “minor” career that most of us have followed in life was once a pretty risky decision. We had no idea where this career was going to take us. We just “jumped in” and did the best we could.

The same could be said for most marriages: The initial meeting was almost purely by chance. Some succeed, others fail. There is nothing sure about any human decision we ever make.

Of course, we could also say that unless we take a risk in any human venture, we will never know where it will take us. Everything is history.

Perhaps, what makes all the difference in life’s decisions is faith, belief in one’s self, belief in the possibility that we can make reasonable decisions, belief that if we try to do the right thing, God will be on our side guiding us.

I think this might be particularly true of people who are trying to escape some human habit that has entrapped them: Alcohol, drugs, gambling, et cetera. People who struggle with this tell of the moment that someone told them about AA or NA or some other community help program; they followed and at that moment their life changed forever. It just took faith in their human powers to do it.

Many other folks among us (perhaps ourselves) have become trapped on some morally sinful way of life, until someone comes along and says: “Hey, I can show you a better way, follow me.” If we followed, our lives still turned out to be worth living.

I suspect, finally, that if we all were to look back on our lives there has probably been someone in our life who has done that very thing for us sometime, held out a hand and said, “follow me:” A wife or a husband, a priest or a sister, a friend, a minister.

If truth be known, most (even all) of us need someone to keep us from getting trapped in our own chosen, personal prisons. It’s always nice to know that there is someone out there who cares enough about us to save us from ourselves. If it could work for Matthew the tax man, it could surely work for the likes of us as well.

The Scriptures: Hosea 6: 3-6; Romans 4: 18-25; Matthew 9: 9-13

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:05 AM.

May 24, 2005

Feast of the Body & Blood of Christ: These Thy Gifts the Holy Act of Eating

Note: For the following, I am indebted to my friend Brian Doyle, editor of Portland Magazine. No preacher could have done better. First published in US Catholic, January 2005.

The sharing of food is the holiest of human arts, far older than history, and the finding and gathering and cooking and presenting of food, and giving thanks for it, and sighing with pleasure over it, and singing the praises of the cook---these acts of prayer are offered by the billions every day in every corner remote or riotous on the planet---an amazing thing to contemplate.

How many hands rolling dough, dipping rice, opening fruit, tending the fire! How many mouths savoring the miracles of water and wine, milk and meat, loaves and fishes. How many babbling rivers of table talk, swirling and whirling, the chaos and the hubbub, the laughter and arguments, the new children swimming in new scents, the old men remembering foods of the past. Meals are such memory machines.

Food brings back the dead, food is a teacher, food gathers the clan, food binds the tribe, food stitches the family, food forges friends, food is a savory, spicy, redolent, necessary, nutritious, sweet, wild, holy prayer.

But how very many people eat alone today, seated at their silent tables, standing in the yard, sitting on the riverbank, curled in bed, eating alone. What shouts “Alone! Alone!” more than eating alone? And how very many people do not eat at all tonight or do not eat enough? How many have air for dinner or a mere shard of a meal? How many?

I will tell you how many: In my state, 100,000 children hungry tonight. In our country, 20 million children hungry tonight. On this poor, wild, lovely, green, rich, pained, bruised, genius miracle gift of a planet, 20 million children hungry tonight.

And here comes tomorrow, quick as a starving cat its ribs showing through its skin like desperate fingers.

The moments and gestures and poems and chants of a meal: the hands cupped around bowls, the skein of stories, the passing of the pepper, the cutting of food into pieces for children, the telephone books on chairs so that they are lifted up into the sea of stories, the chapels of hands clasped in prayer, the passing of plates one to another, the wisps of rising circling swirling steam, the creaks and whispers of chairs, the clatter-rattle of plates stacked for the sink, the humming of the dishwasher be it machine or mother, father or daughter, clan or neighbor, priest or poet.

Consider the Mass as meal: bread and wine, stories and prayers, comment and counsel, songs and silences, meditation and murmuring, arrivals and departures, children and elders, sitting and standing---and the guest of honor arriving suddenly in the midst of us in the middle of the meal, there in the bread and the wine, the miracle of the moment.

And the shocking miracle of food, the rich salty seas of soups, the brawny burly honesty of bread, the cheer of beer, the startling greenness of beans and peas, the hilarious fluorescent orange of carrots, the steaming ears of corn in the shape of summer, the meats that muscle us, the sweet holy perfect water we sip. And that is the most basic, ancient, wonderful necessary food of all, water that has run in rivers and swum in the sea and been drawn magically into the air and cast down again gentle from the sky. We drink it and give our gardens to drink and give our animals to drink and every once in awhile, on misty morning, maybe, we stop for a moment and are amazed as infants at the genius of it all; such agape amazement being purest prayer.

Meals bring us together. Ever it has been so, ever it will be, by God’s grace. From the corners of the house or street or town or nation we gather for the meal, which commences with prayer, in thanks that we are here together, that we have food to eat, that we are not under attack this day, that we are not huddled and alone. We offer grace for the grace we have been offered, which is everywhere evident and endless, as free-flowing as water, as necessary, as refreshing

Consider a monk’s day: vigils, lauds, Mass, breakfast! lectio divina, terce, work, sext, lunch! None, work, vespers, prayers, supper! study, compline, and then to bed as light flees your half of the planet. Do you think maybe his meals are moments of particular joy and wonder, his honest food earned honestly by an honest man? Think maybe a monk really savors the pearness of the pear?

The first foods of a child are moist, and the last foods of the dying are moist. In the beginning and at the end our food approaches the water our species came from and is mostly made of.

We are here so briefly, brothers and sisters, and our daily task is this: See clear, bring your best self to bear, be the sweet sharp sword of the Lord, fan the heat of the holy, carry mercy in your mouth, pray with your ears and eyes, sing the sacrament of what is, do not tire, do not despair, do not sell your one wild life, lift the children, puncture the lie, face the bully, wash clean the foul, be relentless, be merry, shape your pain into sacrament, pry the pain from others, call the powerful to account, be alert, be attentive, for there is holiness all around us like and ocean, holiness in pain as much as in joy, holiness in every moment for no moment is mundane, every moment is a miracle, every moment a meal.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a; 1 Corinthians 10: 16-17; John 6: 51-58

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:00 AM.

May 16, 2005

Holy Trinity: What's In A Name

I’m sure most of us would agree that there are some personal matters that we consider rather important: Not our Social Security number or our PIN number on our bank card or even the number on our driver’s license. Those are important, obviously, but my hunch is that they are not as important as our name! Next to our very personality (our “is-ness”) we hold our name as a sacred trust. It was given to us for the rest of our life.

Aren’t we embarrassed, for instance, if someone introduces us with the wrong name or if we forget someone’s name who we should know? Oddly enough, our name is identified with us. We use our name to identify ourselves. What other way is there?

Most of us are proud of our names, or at least, we get long with them as best we can. They set us off from practically everyone else in the world.

For Christians and especially for Catholics, there are two names which we hold sacred: One is God and the other is Jesus. They are so sacred to us that if we have used them “in vain” (an odd word) we accuse ourselves in confession.

There are lots of stories in the Bible of God or God’s messengers giving names and changing people’s names: Jacob will be named Israel, Sarai will be Sarah, Saul will be Paul. The child of Elizabeth and Zechariah will be named John. The child of Mary will be named Jesus, Peter will be named “Rock.” All of these have symbolic meanings, of course. They designate a change of character: Once you were this, now you are something else!

For those of us who are Christian and Catholic, there are two names we hold sacred: the name of God and the name of Jesus. But Jews, Christians and Muslims have also given other names to God: Father, Allah, Protector, Rock, Shepherd, Savior, “I Am.” God, obviously does not need a name, but we need a name for God if we want to communicate. We can hardly begin a prayer, for instance, without addressing the one on whom we depend.

So, we can begin to see from all this that names have been important from the time that human beings first began to search for meaning about themselves.

For those of us who are Christian, of course, we have a special name given us at our baptism: We are named for the Trinity, God-Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Notice what the priest says at baptism: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” “In the name of God” we are baptized.

We have other names too, of course, usually names of saints whom we should try to imitate in our lives.

But there is also another name we do not think about very often: It’s a communal name, church. When we gather for Mass each Sunday, we gather under one name, church.

So, what are some practical implications of being named after the Trinity? I think, basically, it is a matter of attention, paying attention. We, obviously, use the name of the Trinity so often, we hardly reflect on what we are doing. But the implications are tremendously important: We rise in the morning and dedicate our day to the Trinity by making the sign of the cross. We (at least I) get into our car, make the sign of the cross, asking God to give us the good sense not to drive “crazy.” We bless the food at our table in the name of the Trinity. It is God, after all, who gave it to us. We bless ourselves once again at the end of day, thanking the Trinity for safe-keeping.

Mothers and fathers send their children off to school with the blessing of the Trinity. People who love one another ask God’s blessing on one another as they leave on a trip. We are blessed in the name of the Trinity as we receive the waters of baptism each Sunday during Easter season. At funerals, our loved ones who lie in death are sprinkled with holy water in the name of the Trinity. In short, everything we do is done in the name of God the Trinity.

Finally, I would like to think that each of us, at the moment of our conception, was given a name which we will never know, but which only God knows because each of us is unique and precious in God’s sight. If that is the case, that each of us is unique in God’s eyes, it is pretty obvious that we should need a name, whether we will ever know it or not. Some day we may find out.

The scriptures: Exodus 34: 4-6. 8-9; 2 Corinthians 13: 11-13; John 3:16-18

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:12 PM.