December 02, 2009

Second Sunday of Advent [December 6, 2009]

If you were to ask any Catholic person with even a smattering of catechism background in Roman liturgy what comes to mind when they hear the word Advent, without doubt, they will say, waiting and preparing. It is true: For all the years of our Catholic upbringing we have dwelt on those two words as the core of this beautiful season. Unfortunately, for many years, at least as children, we were told that we were waiting and preparing for the coming of Jesus or the birth of the baby Jesus. Partly true, of course, but not true enough. There is so much more depth and meaning in those two words that we were not ready for in our early days. Are we ready for them today, that’s the question? Here are some thoughts, not all original, but worth some reflection nonetheless.

I am sure it will be no breaking news to anyone that we humans spend a large portion of our life on earth simply waiting, waiting for something over which we have little or no control. It is probably one of the most frustrating feelings anyone can have because by nature we are action-oriented; we want to do things, mentally or physically. However, we do wait nine months to be born. We expect that sometime in our 80’s we will die. Then, in between those two parameters we continue to wait: To grow up, to finish school, to get a good job, to do a good job, to retire…and then what? More waiting. Some of the things we wait for in life do happen for us, others do not. Nonetheless, we have no other option than to wait.

In Raymond Brown’s splendid work on John’s gospel, he makes the point that even Jesus waited because he was convinced that the kingdom of God was close at hand. “You will know that the kingdom of God is coming close when the blind see, the lame walk and the poor have the good news preached to them.” So, with that, Jesus, in some sense, was struggling to hurry the onset of the kingdom of God. He wanted to do his part to make this event happen even in his own time.

In his preaching, however, he continually made the point that waiting, by itself, is not enough. What is needed is vigilance, being on watch for God’s coming, not necessarily at the “end times,” but in the here and now.

In some sense, I believe Jesus is saying “If the kingdom has not yet come, then we need to go about the business of making it come in our own day and time. The kingdom does not come spontaneously: Each age is responsible for the questions and challenges of their own time. In that sense, then, the kingdom is always coming but is not present yet. It’s part of the old philosophical question of the already and the not yet. The kingdom is partly here, but not completely here.

Waiting around aimlessly, therefore, is not an option for the Christian. The kingdom comes every day. Indeed, Jesus says, it is already within you, already part of the ongoing action of this world. So, vigilance is the important point here, always being alert for whatever changes are going on. Time is important; events are always taking place in time that, in themselves, have some meaning or the meaning that we put into them. In some mysterious manner, the kingdom comes at our pace to the degree that we are concerned about events that are happening in our age and time.

Vigilance, vigilance is the central word. “Gird your loins” (put on your trousers) Jesus, says. “Light your lamps,” there’s work to be done.

But then there is that other important Advent word, prepare, prepare ye? You will notice that it is an active verb, do the hard work of preparing.

Preparation events are happening around us every day. I’m sure there must be a large staff at the White House that prepares for the coming of important personages. Physicians prepare scrupulously for a surgery; lawyers spend long hours preparing their notes for a trial. Students spend years preparing for that final Ph. D. exam. Had we known how to prepare for the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, we might have prevented the deaths of over 3000 people. The person who is not vigilant, who does not know how to prepare even for the ordinary, every day, events that take place in our daily lives, has some problems.

The question, however, is this: What sort of preparedness is called for in the season of Advent? Obviously, it is not the sort of short-term preparation that happens at the White House. Statesmen and women come and go each day.

I believe that the preparation called for in Advent must come from the inside: It is the sort of attitude of mind or spirit demonstrated in the scriptures in this Sunday’s liturgy in the character of the prophet Baruch, John the Baptist and Jesus. All their efforts were directed toward the events of their times. They saw issues that needed to be addressed and they addressed them. They also died for them.

As for ourselves, living in this age of history, as we do, Advent preparation must be for the eternal coming of the living word of God made flesh, Jesus Christ. This world in which we live is waiting for just such a word of good news: The cessation of war, attention to the poor, the diminishment of terror on our streets, et cetera.

Finally, it must be said that this Advent preparation and waiting, would be all for naught if it were simply limited to Advent. What then happens to the rest of the year? Advent, in some sense, then, needs to be a model and a paradigm for the entire year, indeed for all of life. The Christ continues to come with the invitation to follow Him where the blind still do not see; the handicapped do not yet have access, where those without justice are still waiting. Human needs never seem to end, which means that our waiting and preparedness must never slacken until the Lord comes finally with the word that the kingdom is now.

The scriptures: Baruch 5: 1-9; Philippians 1: 4-6, 8-11; Luke 3: 1-6

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:34 AM.

November 17, 2009

Thirty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Solemnity of Christ the King [November 22, 2009]

It has often occurred to me that we, or at least most of us depend heavily on titles. You’ll say, “hey, I don’t have a title, I’m just an ordinary person trying to get along in the world; I don’t need titles.” Yes, that is all very true, most of us could get along without having a title. In a sense, titles do not tell anyone very much about who you are psychologically, socially, spiritually, even humanly; titles simply give you a one or two word description of what you do. I’m doctor so’n’so. I’m head nurse, I’m president, I’m mayor, I’m the superior of this religious house, I’m officer so’n’so, I’m father so’n’so, I’m bishop so’n’so, cardinal whatever! But, really,what does all that tell you. Perhaps, not a lot. It just helps you identify what this man or woman does in the world.

Indeed, in a sense, titles may be somewhat deceiving, causing a person to place him (her) self above or outside the rest of the common folk.

Oddly enough, some folks with titles feel they must somehow identify themselves with whatever that title conveys to the world. Think, for instance, of Adolph Hitler, Napoleon Bonaparte or any of the well-known dictators in world history. They felt that the title gave them certain rights over others.

I almost hate to say it, but our Catholic Church also makes much of titles. There is a certain hierarchy of roles we mostly take for granted: Acolyte, censer bearer, cross bearer, server, pastor, pastoral vicar, father, bishop, your excellency, your eminence, your holiness. I think that is as far up the ladder as it goes in our church.

But, again, think about it, all that tells us is that a certain person has been honored with this title; it goes with the job. I suppose any other word could supply, as well, but father, monsignor, bishop is what tradition has handed down to us.

Unfortunately, over the centuries we have associated character, personhood, even piety or holiness with the bearer of the title. Often there may be an authenticity there, but we have enough examples in world and church history to know that some people with religious titles have been scoundrels.

So, why am I belaboring this issue? Precisely because of the Feast of the Catholic Church we celebrate on this last Sunday of the liturgical year. The Feast of Christ the King.

When one reflects on that designation that the Church has assigned to Jesus, there is a certain irony in it. Jesus, during his earthly life, explicitly insisted that he was not a king and did not want to be addressed in that way. Calling Jesus a king would have implied that he was just another of the several revolutionaries who were trying to overthrow the Roman Empire. Jesus emphatically rejected all that. It was simply a fervent hope on the part of the people of that day that someone would come and free them from Roman power and persecution.

So, we see, therefore, that civil titles meant little to Jesus. It might make more sense to give other titles to Jesus: Jesus the prophet, Jesus our Brother, Jesus, Son of Man, Suffering Servant, Risen Christ, Servant of the Father, many others.

But think of this too: Even if Jesus did not commit himself to kingship in the secular sense, we can still say that he, the Risen Christ, has more influence on our Christian lives than any other authority figure in the world’s history. Indeed, the author of the Book of Revelation calls him the ruler of the kings of earth. He is our Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of all existence.

Finally, it would seem to me that, aside from all titles, what is most important in human terms is our personal relationship with Jesus as our brother, as the one who taught us to be servants. I am sure Jesus would be happy being called that. The crown and the title and the clothing and all the rest turn out to be just superficial fluff.

The scriptures: Daniel 7: 23-14; Revelation 1: 5-8; John 18: 33b-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:32 AM.

November 10, 2009

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time [November 15, 2009]

It occurs to me after these many years that our family did not have very many books around the house, either for adults or for kids. We were not nor a poor family but books were considered as something of a luxury in those times. As a matter of fact, I do not even remember seeing very many books on shelves in our country school. Several students often needed to share the books that were available. I’m still somewhat surprised today that I learned to appreciate reading as a youngster.

Nonetheless, I’m sure that if one of my brothers or sisters had asked me, “What’cha reading?” I would surely have known whether the book was fact or fiction. For instance, I knew that the newspaper described the facts of what was happening around state or nation. On the other hand, the slight volume entitled Aesop’s Fables we brought home from school was fiction: The stork and the fox, obviously, could not eat from the same plate.

It was just natural for me to know the difference between the literary genre of fact and fiction. I also would have known the difference between a news story describing a local theft of property and a sports story describing a runner stealing second base. The words are the same but the styles of writing are quite different.

Another example: A quick browse through a library or bookstore will tell you that some books are history, some biography, others pure fiction. Each genre will tell you how to interpret what you read.

All these examples point out rather naturally that if you do not understand the genre you are reading or using, you will make some serious mistakes in judgment.

Although some well-meaning traditionally-minded Christians will interpret all the books in the Bible as literally true, they will also find some difficulty, explaining how a full-grown person, namely Jonah, could be swallowed by a giant fish and then regurgitated still being fully alive. (Perhaps they will reply: “God did it!” At any rate, I’ve never engaged a person in conversation that holds such a literal position but I think it might be interesting.

Today, most intelligent Christians will tell you that the Bible is actually a library containing many different literary styles: Poetry, history, prophecy, dogma and, yes, apocalypse too.

We have two apocalyptic books in our library of sacred writings: Daniel in the Hebrew Scriptures and Revelation in the Christian scriptures. One may also find scattered apocalyptic sayings in other books as we have this Sunday in the Gospel of Mark. So, after sifting out Apocalyptic from other biblical styles, how do we describe this unique genre?

First, we must say that it is basically a type of religious visionary fiction containing within it a theological purpose. Hence you will find lots of symbolism and allegory that is never explained. It is assumed that the reader will recognize the allusions to reality and make the required mental adjustments.

It also contains much violence and references to the end of time or the end of the world. Many scripture scholars who study apocalyptic writing claim that periods of persecution in the world are often interpreted in the minds of people as the so-called end times.

A contemporary scripture scholar (Roger Vermalen) points out that apocalyptic deals with the final, catastrophic period of world history as one might imagine it: The powers of evil are in final combat with the powers of good. “The powers of evil make the supreme assault against God and are finally routed after dreadful mortal combat. It is the battle tale of the end of the world” and, of course, God wins the war.

Many scholars also believe that the religious persecution endured by Jews and Christians during those early times was the basic driving force behind apocalyptic writing. The authors suggest that the final battle is between God’s forces, the forces for good in the world and the powers of evil. Of course, we all know who wins!

In the short apocalyptic passage in Mark’s gospel quoted today, the author lets the early Christians and us know that the risen Christ will stand at the center of the future Church and protect it from harm. It will endure until the end of the age.

Even though the fictional apocalyptic battles need not concern us here, we can be sure of one thing: The risen Christ continues to do battle in his Church throughout history. The vision of Christ in the Gospels is continually under siege in human history and will, no doubt, continue to be attacked in our own times.

That brings us to the point of saying that the individual Christian, you and I, throughout our histories must join Christ in confronting evil wherever it occurs.

Well then, how about the end of time? “Nobody knows,” Jesus says, “only God knows.” In the meantime, we need to quit worrying about the end and get on with the human issues of the present age

The scriptures: Daniel 12: 1-3; Hebrews 10: 11-14, 15-18, 19-25;
Mark 13: 14-23

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:01 PM.

November 02, 2009

Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time [November 8, 2009]

For lack of interest on the part of any other members in our family, my sister, who has a nose for family history has become our local archivist. This is fortunate for all of us, of course, because without her determination and the skills of a collector, much of our family history would have disappeared in the same manner as the morning’s newspaper. Hence, at least some of our family’s history has been preserved.

Somewhere in one of those boxes there is a photo of myself taken on the day I made my first religious vows in the Congregation of Holy Cross. I’m standing on the lawn all dressed in my religious habit: cassock, cord, cape and cross! I’m standing there as though saying, “look at me folks, and don’t I look grand." Actually, looking back, I must admit that I was a bit arrogant-minded then, as though the wearing of the habit made me distinct from the rest of the world.

I think it has taken me some 30 years to realize that wearing a distinctive habit (dress?) does not makes me different, does not set me above my neighbor. The passing years and changes in religious culture can help one to finally understand that.

I have often given thought to the matter of religious dress and what significance it has or could have in the human community. The passage from Mark’s gospel today strikes me as apropos: “In the course of his teaching Jesus said to the crowds: “Beware of the scribes who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They are the ones who devour he houses of widows and, as a pretext recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation.”

You will notice that Jesus not only has a problem with long robes, but with the attitude that seems to go with the wearing of the robe: arrogance, being noticed, demanding special places of honor et cetera.

The point Jesus seems to make is that official religious people seem to feel that they need distinctive garb to give themselves respect, but also a sign that they represent financial issues of the temple.

It is here that Jesus comes down hard on these scribes for foreclosing on the houses of the poor and then promising “I’ll say a prayer for you, okay?”

Then he notices a poor widow placing a few pennies (all that she had) in the collection box and tells his apostles that what this woman has done is worth more before God than all the money of the rich. She gave out of her poverty, they out of their excess.

All this calls several matters to mind in our contemporary age: On many occasions in the past several years there has been stories of priests and treasurers of churches literally stealing thousands, even millions of dollars from Church accounts, all for the sake of “keeping up the church,” as they said.

Secondly, the other scandal we are all so vividly aware of today is that of the sexual abuse of children and young adults by priests and bishops. Again, those who appeared religious in public (the cassock?) turned out to be sexual predators in secret. The issue of the long garments arises again as a cover for wrongdoing. Young people have great trust in the clergy (the collar and the cassock again?) and it is this very trust that betrays them. The type of clerical malfeasance that uses the church as cover is the most reprehensible of all.

Small wonder that the laity rose up in anger and demanded justice.

All that we have been speaking of here, of course, is not about clothing, robes of whatever length. It is rather about what these garments (the clerical state) is often is used for in public, namely to take advantage of those who placed trust in them. It is a shameful matter, but seemingly as old as the days of Jesus.

All this calls to mind the sacredness of our calling, whether, lay, religious or clerical. Our character, how we appear in public before others carries with it an important responsibility. We may not use God or the religious state as a cover for shameful actions. God will not be mocked. As a contemporary theologian recently wrote: “Only by preaching God’s freeing word will we prophetically demonstrate that the good of individuals is always more important than the good of institutions.” We have Jesus’ word on it.

Scriptures: 1 Kings 17 10-16: Hebrews 9: 24-28; Mark 12: 38-44

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:11 PM.

October 27, 2009

Solemnity of All Saints [November 1, 2009]

Let me be the first to welcome you to the family today. You say, “hey, I’m already in a family, I’m in a couple families.” “Fair enough, I won’t push that idea too far, at least for the moment.

The reason I just proclaimed that you are a family person is because today we celebrate the Feast of All Saints in our Roman calendar. The reason why I want to go further and say that you belong to the company of the saints is because every baptized Christian is a member of Christ’s body. We are all saints, whether declared so by someone at the Vatican or by the very fact that we struggle each day to live, as Christians should. So, you are either a “saint in the making” or someone who has been declared so, namely the pope along with his advisors.

But before you begin imagining that people will now start praying to you for miracles, let us examine today’s scriptures to see what they say regarding sainthood. The first reading from the Book of Revelation describes Saint John’s vision of heaven or the kingdom of God. He assures us that in God’s kingdom there are an infinite number of people of every race and nation. Then one of the mythical observers (one of the elders) asks the writer (John) who these people are, all dressed in long white robes. The answer: “These are the ones who have survived the great period of trial; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

The interpretation, obviously, is that this multitude of people (the human race) has suffered for their faith, been martyred and “bathed in the blood of Christ.” In other words, the person who has followed Christ and suffered for the faith is now called a saint, one who wears a white robe for all eternity.

So, does that put us in the category of saints? Well, obviously only God and you will know the answer to that. However, one thing we can say with confidence is that all of us somehow suffer for our faith and struggle to live the model of Christ-life, whether we are actually martyred or not. Christian life is a style of mystical martyrdom. The answer lies solely in our intention to follow Christ.

The gospel is taken from St. Matthew’ repeating Jesus’ sermon on the mountainside. It is doubtful whether Jesus ever gave that sermon or sermons at one time or even on a mountain. The point is that in the Jewish scriptures, the Law is given on mount Sinai, that is, it comes from God on high. Hence, the New Law, the law of Christ, the beatitudes (Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, who are sorrowful and lowly, etc.) also comes mystically from on high. So, at least for the Christian, sainthood is “achieved” by struggling to follow the beatitudes, the Great Commandment of Christ.

Again, therefore, I would dare to say that all of us, in some way or other, have done our best to follow the Law of Christ, given our individual circumstances.

Now, at this point you are going to ask me to name names. Who has washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. Well, let me say from the vantage point of my own 84 years of life on this planet, I have seen an immense amount of human blood flow, whether for the cause of Christ or simply in the pursuit for justice, peace and global tranquility and solidarity. In the flock of the saints, I would place every human being who has ever fought in a war, whether with or against his will, to bring peace and justice to his/her times. Among the saints I would also place those in civil government who have fought to make it possible for all to have protection from harm and to enjoy the benefits of God’s good earth.

In addition to such folk, I would also add those who fought valiantly for their faith: Again, for the cause of justice, peace, protection of the innocent, I would count those who stood for righteousness in all areas of life.

Finally, I would count those as saints who simply struggled to bring life into the world, parents, like my parents, or those who sustained life as teachers, counselors, advisors, police and firemen or simply anyone who tried to make this world of ours a more livable habitation.

The question is this: Is there any area of human life that does not involve suffering, struggle amidst harsh condition and, indeed, death for many? Life itself, from birth to death, is a continuing effort to make things right, often at the risk of one’s own life.

Obviously, I have no accurate record of who’s in and who’s out, who is or is not enjoying the rewards of the kingdom. I would not even hazard a guess. I’m simply suggesting that the scriptures offer us hope even within the parameters of this world’s messiness, or despite it.

The author of the Book of Revelation offers us a mythical number of those who will be saved: One hundred and forty four thousand. This is one of those mysterious numbers that covers everybody.

Someone once said that the word Catholic means here comes everybody. Dare I suggest we change the word Catholic to human being? Actually, you know, we are all in this together! Now, don’t ask me about persons on other planets. That’s going beyond where my aging brain feels comfortable.

The scriptures: Revelation: 7: 24, 9-14; The First Letter of John 3, 1-3; Matthew 5: 1-2

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:24 PM.

October 19, 2009

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time [October 25, 2009]

Tell me, my friends, what is the first magazine you may tend to pick up and read while you are waiting in the doctor’s office? I’ll bet it will be The National Geographic. Why? Well, for one, it will take you on a world tour of places in the world that you may never have heard of in your entire life. Our tendency, I’m sure, is simply to page through the magazine and look at the pictures, professionally beautiful as they are. However, my friends, you may just pass up some marvelous scientific commentary that accompanies those photos.

That’s too bad, and I will tell you why in a moment. It is all about seeing, not just seeing, but also seeing deeply, intuitively. Seeing deeply is an experience I have often thought about: How often do I try to move beyond and below the words I read? Do I truly try to understand? Often times, I think I’m simply skimming because reading the morning newspaper, for instance, does not take much concentration; neither does The National Geographic, for that matter.

Unfortunately, spiritual reading often falls into the same trap of skimming, skimming over the words. I must confess that for many years I tried to read as many spiritual books as I could and as fast as I could. A week later, however, I could not tell you what I had read! I think I missed many wonderful opportunities to see into the depths of an author’s mind.

And then I learned about Lectio Divina (Divine Reading); it is a method of prayer that has been popular among some Catholics for many years. Actually, it is very ancient practice, having originated with the Benedictine monks centuries ago. To make Lectio Divina work, you must have time, time to read a passage from scripture slowly and thoughtfully over and over. If you do that, the meaning and implications of the passage gradually become clearer and clearer.

Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, now deceased, made this method of prayer popular for many lay people. He called it contemplation, that is, the effort to become intimate with God’s word. It is not research or exegesis (interpretation). It’s simply getting comfortable with something sacred. The same may be said, for instance, of gazing at an icon.

Now, all this came to mind as I read (meditated on) the scriptures for this Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time. It’s the story of Jesus' cure of a blind man. Jesus asked him: “What can I do for you?” “I just want to see,” the man replied. “Go your way,” Jesus said, “your faith has healed you.” So, what happens next? He follows Jesus up the road. In other words, he’s a convert. For the first time in his life he sees his life opening up before him.

I have found that this same kind of “conversion” often happens when I’m reading the scriptures the way I just described.

Two questions arise out of that story: First, have you ever had such an overwhelming experience that you could only describe as really seeing for the first time?

Secondly, what keeps us from “seeing”, really trying to understand life’s meaning? What gets in the way of this contemplation? Mostly, I think, it is the temptation to “gobble up” as much information as possible during a typical day, without plumbing the meaning. Yes, there is time for the news and for The National Geographic. But for the peace of our soul, perhaps some time should also be set aside just to let some sacred words filter into our very being. We may not end up feeling any smarter, but I think we will know that something holy has happened. It’s at this point that, like the blind man, we will be ready to follow Jesus up the road

Scriptures: Jer 31:7-9; Hebrews 5:1-6; Mark 10:46-52

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:47 AM.

October 16, 2009

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time [October 18, 2009]

I have never considered my self an enthusiastic political creature, but as I observe President Obama’s administration work it’s way through the mire of problems it faced when they took over, I have the impression that he might not be able to accomplish a great deal without the able assistance and advice he receives from his cabinet and others whom he asked to join him in this American venture.

Some of these individuals themselves may already have grand hopes of beginning a political career. Others may simply hope to do something good and constructive for our country. Some would simply appreciate a photo op with the president or the opportunity to sit on his right or left in a cabinet meeting.

It is my sense, however, that whatever their vision of life may be, they are probably finding it a “tough go.” Change does not happen overnight. A lot of (figurative) blood, sweat and tears will be shed before the grand vision takes root and one can see true progress.
There is nothing like reality to sober up our initial enthusiasm in any sort of new adventure.

Being physically close to someone in power seems to be a common aspiration for many of us, although I must admit that I personally have never had any particular desire to sit at the left or right of a bishop or even the pope. I have never been an ecclesiastical climber.

Nonetheless, being noticed with the “right” people seems to be a common human trait. Even two of Jesus apostles James and John, had leanings in this direction. They wanted to be the first to sit at either of Jesus side when he finally took possession of his kingdom.

Of course, their whole perception of “kingdom” was wrong. They assumed that Jesus would eventually be a civil ruler much like the Roman emperors. When that happened they would be in charge, take over the reins of power and change the world. And, of course, they themselves would benefit from their right and left positions.

Jesus, however, needed to bring some reality to the situation. He simply asked them if they were ready to take the heat associated with power, heat meaning criticism, disagreement, ridicule even physical abuse. “It all goes with the system,” Jesus said. I will suffer and you, if you follow me will suffer along with me.

I often wonder if some of the president’s advisors listened to speech of a similar sort when they applied for a job in government? I think often of that nice gentleman who is the president’s press secretary. News people can be tough, no holds barred in their questioning. But he always seems to keep his “cool,” never loses his temper.

Of course what does all that have to do with us? I imagine few of us hanker for political power. But it seems true to me that all of us must have some great vision, some hoped for bliss for our lives. Jesus called it the Kingdom of God. We can call it anything we like, but without doubt we all long to do something great in our lives. It is what Joseph Campbell, the great symbol-interpreter called “achieving our bliss, the deepest longing of our heart.”

The question, of course, is can we stand the heat? Do we really want to achieve our bliss so strongly that we are willing to put up with every imaginable inconvenience? Perhaps it will mean years of study to receive a Ph.D in your chosen field of endeavor, working nights to get enough money to go on a long awaited vacation. Perhaps it means struggling to put away something for your son or daughter’s college education. Each of us will know what Jesus meant when he asked James and John if they were willing to “drink the cup of suffering” that he would drink. What’s it, worth to finally achieve your heart’s desire?

As I think of it, perhaps struggling to achieve a goal, climbing our personal ladder, is not such a bad thing. After all, as we just said, Jesus had his own overwhelming ambition. He called it the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of God. So, what name do we give your life’s goal? Once we name it, we are on our way…the kingdom is in sight.

The scriptures: Isaiah 53: 10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10: 35-45

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:05 PM.

October 07, 2009

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time [October 11, 2009]

I’m sure I must have already have related this little anecdote from my childhood but it seemed to fit so well into the scriptures for this Twenty Eighth Sunday in the church year that it might bear retelling.

As a family, living in the “thirties” of the last century, we struggled for a living, as did many others in rural North Dakota. Visiting the city was not an everyday affair, but when my parents did shop they would ordinarily buy in bulk: Sacks of flour, crates of apples, bushels of potatoes, et cetera.

On one occasion I recall my father bringing home a large, clear jar of peppermint candies. Who was going to get his chubby little clutches into the jar first? Being the eldest, I insisted on being first. Up comes a fist-full of the small, round peppermint disks…. until my hand reaches the top and I get my fist caught in the opening of the jar. “Open your fist, you dummy”, my mother exclaimed. “But then I’ll lose some,” I reply.” “So what” she says, “leave some for the other kids.” Obviously, I had no other choice. I had had my turn.

On reflection, this sounds like one of Aesop’s famous fables, but this time in “real time.” But I am sure you can already see the implications for “real life”, our life, whomever we are, wherever we live. It is a common human peculiarity: We want it all, and we want it now. Remember Bernie Madoff who wanted to have it “all” and now sits in prison? The morning news is filled with similar stories. It’s simply called hanging on to things, clutching and it is usually things we are talking about.

The scriptures for today speak quite clearly about this human phenomenon and also offer a solution: It’s called wisdom!

The example offered from the Old Testament reading is King Solomon who, as history relates, was the richest person in many the Middle East at that time. It all started when God asked him to put his hand into the candy jar and take as much as he wanted, he simply responded: “I would rather have wisdom to know the difference between right and wrong in order to judge this people rightly.” So, what happened? God gave him wealth and wisdom along with it. The lesson, of course, is that Solomon was willing to give up wealth for wisdom because wisdom seem like something he could share within his realm, the People of Israel.

The gospel narrates a similar story, heart wrenching, but also real. Seemingly, Jesus was known as a person who had answers to countless religious questions. A man approached him one day asking what he could do to inherit eternal life. (Note: Isn’t that what most of us ask occasionally?) First, Jesus insisted that he, like all Jewish people should simply keep the divine law, to which he replied: “I’ve been doing that all my life.” Then comes the bomb! “Sell what you have,” Jesus said, “give the proceeds to the poor and then you will have eternal life.” The man went away sad. Giving away his riches was too much of a demand. I suspect Jesus also went away sad: A solution to life’s question offered and missed.

There is also an interesting sidelight to this story: The man desired eternal life but he had no idea that eternal life had anything to do with giving up his accumulated wealth. Paul Tillich, the Protestant theologian offers us this insight: “If we define religion as the state of being grasped by an infinite concern, we must say that people of our time have lost such an infinite concern.”

The question is, what might prevent a person from being grasped by an infinite concern. The answer, if we read Mark’s gospel correctly, is an excessive attachment to possessions. Jesus suggested to the man that he should unclench his fist and let go of his material goods.

At first glance, that may seem like an inordinate suggestion for people of our day (or any day). To give up whatever gives you support in your life seems almost too much to bear. So, what do you get in return?

I hope I am not interpreting Jesus words too loosely, but I could see a solution to this dilemma by saying that we should live in such a way that our material possessions do not eat us up, do not consume our ultimate concern. There comes the pinch, the decision to ask what we truly need and what we might be willing to give up. (The clenched hand again!)

On the other hand, I am also convinced that Jesus really was serious: Eternal life is important enough that we should make the tough decision. Without doubt, Jesus was a radical reformer. He insisted on risk-taking.

In the case of the man who approached him with the question about eternal life, Jesus challenged him to make a life-altering choice that would benefit him and others. The problem, of course, is that we do not have the courage to look that deeply into our lives for final answers.

This narrative is like many others in the gospels: Jesus leaves his listeners and us to mull over the options. Jesus gave no absolute solutions…just options.

Perhaps the best we can do with this incident is to let it disturb us a bit to the point where we will be dissatisfied with ourselves.

A final insight: The man asked about inheriting eternal life. Is he referring to heaven? Probably so.

On the other hand, Jesus seems to suggest that the inheritance of eternal life starts now, with the way we perceive our life and our possessions at this point in our history. That’s the way it was with Jesus, he always lets us hanging there to mull things over.

Eventually, perhaps, the answer will come.

The scriptures: Wisdom 7: 7-11; Hebrews 4: 12-13; Mark 17: 17-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:08 PM.

September 28, 2009

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time [October 4, 2009]

This may not be any great revelation to anybody, but it occurs to me that we humans are more alike than different. Sure, I realize that some of us are male and others female, some of one skin color, others of another color, some tall, some short, some talkative, others reserved, but at our most basic level we are human; there are more human qualities that make us the same than distinguish us from one another.

And then, think about this: We humans above all else are social beings. We come into this world as a result of two peoples’ actions. We can only survive because we are in dependence with one another. There is hardly a moment in our lives when we do not benefit from the care of others.

Let me go even further and say that our basic happiness depends on our relationship with others. Even hermits, God love ‘em, depend on each other to keep their community together. Celibate people (priests and religious) depend not only on their kind for companionship but upon many lay folks whom they call friends.

It would seem to me then that loneliness is one of the most devastating experiences one can have.

The author of the Book of Genesis seems to have that insight when he says that God has created man and woman to be of one flesh and to cling to one another no matter what.

I would not claim to be an expert in marriage relationships, but it would seem to me that every person ultimately seeks to bond with someone else. There is no other option in the human condition. Any two young people who begin dating one another surely have the intent to love each other for life. Why pick this person unless you are serious about your future with this person. Most young people who seek marriage would hardly say, “Well, let’s give it a try and see how it works out.” Love is of the nature to give oneself to this person and to no other person. This is deeply embedded in the human psyche. We will have it no other way.

At the same time despite our common nature, despite our dependency upon each other, we are all nonetheless unique individuals; we are who we are and we will never be satisfied being other than that. That then being the case it is not unlikely that we will often insist on our independence, with exploring our own potentialities, even though we are deeply committed to another, as in engagement and marriage. Choosing a partner for life does not obviate the possibility of being deeply at odds with that person on occasion. Marriages can be weighed down and threatened with conflicts that are inevitable and which often, sadly, end in divorce, the death of a relationship.

So what do we make of Jesus’ hard saying in the gospel today that “whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery…what God has joined together no human being should separate.”

I am sure that remark must cause consternation among those who tried their best to maintain the bond to which they swore, but for whatever mysterious reason they could not sustain.

The human psyche is a beautiful and mysterious reality. It is unique to this individual. It is not unlikely then that deep differences will arise despite their most sincere efforts to the contrary.

I can only imagine, therefore, that Jesus spoke with respect regarding the Law but that he also had great compassion for those who struggled to love each other until life together became unbearable for them both.

Divorce, as we learn from the Jewish and Christian scriptures, was frequent. Surely Jesus was aware of that but by quoting the authority of Genesis he attempted at least to lift the status of marriage to a sacred level.

Finally, human nature is surely a divine but frail and beautiful piece of work. Sometimes even love will not hold such a sacred bond together. Nonetheless, I can only imagine that a compassionate Christ could only say what Fydor Dostoievski, the Russian author, once said in the novel, The Brothers Karamazov: “Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing as compared to love in dreams.” Better that we have loved and lost than never having loved at all.

The scriptures: Genesis 2: 18-24; Hebrews 2: 9-11; Mark 10: 2-16

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:15 AM.

September 24, 2009

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time [September 27, 2009]

Since coming here to the campus of Notre Dame University two years ago, it has been my good fortune to be able to assist in the university’s campus ministry programs. Despite what some higher clergy have asserted in recent times, Notre Dame is a uniquely Catholic place. Think about this: At the moment there are approximately 40 chapels in student residences and other administrative buildings on campus. There is a priest chaplain assigned to each of those residences.

Moreover, there are dozens of priests assigned to teaching and administration. In other words, this place where I live is “rich” in priests.

When I mention this to my friends back in Alaska they are completely astonished. Why can’t some of those priests volunteer to come up here and be pastors in some of our little villages where we have a priest for Sunday liturgy perhaps only once or twice a month at most? Where’s the equity in the Church, they say.

On the other hand, when I explain to students here, who have come from predominantly Catholic communities, that where I just came from, that I would be available to celebrate the sacraments in mission churches perhaps only once a month, they are completely taken aback. They cannot imagine any church not having a priest on hand every Sunday.

And a final note: When Catholic tourists come and visit some of our rural parishes on Sunday, they are totally confused when they see and hear a Catholic nun or lay woman conducting Sunday services. Indeed, some of them walk out of church, as though it were a Protestant service or some radical anti-Catholic liturgy.

Well, sad to say, equity in the church is not always very evident. Providing the liturgy and celebration of the sacraments in all churches, no matter where you are is not possible, at least not yet.

Ah, but there is a solution, depending upon whom you ask. The solution flows from Jesus words in the gospel for this Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time. The apostles are complaining to Jesus that some outsiders are going around encroaching on their ministry. They are hoping, perhaps, that Jesus will tell them to go to war against these interlopers. Instead Jesus tells them (in so many words) that if they, these outsiders, are not doing something evil; they must be doing something good. Just leave them alone. If they are not against you, they must be on your side.

The point for our instruction in our own day, if we are to believe Jesus words, is that there are many people called and invited to follow Jesus; indeed they are also called to ministry in various forms, not all of them formally liturgical.

I think the point Jesus is making is that there are many forms of worship, many holy actions that can be carried out for the good of all. Moreover, every Christian is uniquely equipped to proclaim the gospel in a certain way. “Be gospel to the world,” Jesus says.

Sometimes it seems to me that we Christians may not be utilizing all our forces for the good of all. Unfortunately, we have fewer and fewer priests to celebrate the Eucharist. At the same time, we have many Christians standing in the wings, just waiting for the word to help them serve the Church. Perhaps it will take some radical decisions on the part of the pope, a rethinking of the rule of celibacy, for instance, and the role of women in the church in order to bring about this great potential for ministry.

If Christians are being deprived of the Eucharist in so many parts of the world, perhaps that condition would call for serious re-thinking and creative action on the part of all of, particularly those in the role of leadership in the Church. Granted, it may be a complicated matter to solve, given the cultural and societal situations we live in today.

On several occasions in the gospel, Jesus was able to provide food for thousands when there seemed to be no food at all. Perhaps that is a sign for all of us Christians that we must look for new ways to carry on the work of Jesus. If there are already Christians carrying on such ministries, surely they have to be on our side. Jesus had it right: “If they are not against us, they must be for us.” Hey, let’s all do it together and get the job done once and for all.

The scriptures: Numbers 11: 25-29; James 5: 16; Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47, 48

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:27 PM.

September 15, 2009

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time [September 20, 2009]

Think back for a moment, my friends, to your teenage years. Think back on your hopes, your dreams, your outrageous plans for your future. Here you are, nothing much to brag about for education, distracted by a multitude of “secular” pursuits, sleeping until noon, no plans for a job for the summer. Ahhh, life is so delicious when you are young.

But then, on the other hand, we all have dreams, do we not, even though they have no particular foundation in reality. That’s the human condition. “True reality can poke up its head later, if it so wishes,” we say.

But the hope is there, whether realistic or not. We all realize that we are made for something, that God has a plan for us. (Ah, if God would only make clear what it is!) We do have our great heroes, men and women who have “made something of themselves. “That’s what I want to be,” we say.

What does not occur to us is that “getting to be somebody” requires sweat, blood and tears, much struggle, setbacks, even ridicule before there is even a glimmer of hope of greatness. Life costs something; indeed, life costs a lot before success is even in view.

What is important, of course, is not what we shall become, but rather what we are working at right now, how we see this uncompleted task in the context of the yet unrealized totality of our life. Unfortunately, of course, we do not realize the meaning or the reason for this struggle. We can’t wait for the applause, the acclaim.

I found a nice quote from George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) the English playwright, speaking of his own life plans from the vantage point of long lived- experience: “I am of the opinion.” he says, “that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle for me. It is a sort of splendid torch that I have a hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it over to future generations.”

I would call that a wisdom saying, words that only come from a life lived amidst and in the face all its setbacks.

It occurs to me to ask how our “grand young vision” would appear to us if we knew the distress and the misery that would be involved in the living of it. Think of those who are determined to prepare for a difficult career: Doctors, theologians, priests, statespersons and ministers. In view of the desire to become what the individual plans for him or herself there will be long days and nights at study, deprivation of pleasures, and all the rest.

The point I am making here is that we, who have grand plans to fulfill our search for our bliss, must be ready to “take the heat.”

These thought seem to rise up out of the scriptures for this Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

The author of the Book of wisdom describes what a true prophet can expect if he/she chooses the prophetic dream: Revilement, torture, reproach, all these lie ahead for the person who chooses to speak truth to power. Get ready to take the heat because many people “out there” will not like to listen to the prediction of hard times, responsible living.

And now the gospel: The close friends of Jesus are sitting around one day, planning (arguing) about their grand futures, how they will be seated in special privileged places, one the right and the other at the left of Jesus when he comes into his kingdom. I can just imagine Jesus, sitting there smiling and saying: “Well, guys, make all the plans you want, but if you want to sit in privileged places, get ready to think like a little child, like someone who is willing to think modestly and humbly before special seats of privilege are assigned.”

Little did they, in their hubris, realize then that they would, indeed, need to take the heat: Suffering, ridicule, and in the end, martyrdom. Would they have been speaking about privilege if they could have seen the reality of the future?

When one thinks about it, perhaps it is better that we cannot see all the implications of life that still lies out there in our future. Otherwise, we might choose to give up the pursuit of our bliss, our happiness

Of course, this is the role of every Christian: Like prophets, old and new, we need to be ready to “take the heat” even from our best friends and coworkers. The point, of course, is that we must have something to say something that others can take issue with. Otherwise what does it mean to be a Christian?

In the end, I suppose we all know that there is “no free lunch.”

We will, each of us, need to pay the price for something that is dear and important to us. Jesus never said that following him would be a “piece of cake.” At the same time, if our vision remains glued to the vision of Jesus, I’m sure there will be a place for us in the kingdom. Whether it will be a privileged place at the right or left of Jesus…well, who cares. That’s for Jesus to say.

The scriptures: Wisdom 2: 12, 17-20; James 3: 16-4:3; Mark 9: 30-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:38 PM.

September 08, 2009

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time [September 13, 2009]

I happen to be writing this reflection on the weekend Sarah Palin declared her resignation as governor of Alaska. Although I do not share Mrs. Palin’s political persuasion, I admired her when she first ran for governor of Alaska. Indeed, I had the opportunity on one occasion to meet her at a State gathering and found her a very gracious, intelligent and approachable lady.

When she won the governorship, she was “on a roll.” First woman governor of Alaska and one who worked her way up from school board to State House. I admired her gutsiness: She took on the entrenched “old guard” and began to change the direction of government. “Good for you, Sarah,” I said to myself.

Of course, in politics as in many other public service careers, the honeymoon does not last long. Governor Palin was early on attacked from one side of the political spectrum or another. All the while, however, she held her own and did many good things for the State of Alaska.

The next shock for Alaska, of course, came when she accepted the Republican Vice Presidential nomination. More criticism from Right and Left: “She’s abandoning her own State. She’s just a climber.

The long and short of all this is to say that Sarah Palin suffered lots of embarrassments and setbacks in the past year, more than she justly deserves.

So, where does all this political talk connect with the Gospel for this Sunday that describes Jesus’ conversation with his disciples, telling them that if they want to follow him, they should get ready to “face the heat.” “Suffering will be part of my campaign and my future,” Jesus says, if we wish to use a biblical/political metaphor.

In both worlds, the spiritual and the political, if one wishes to follow one’s bliss, one’s great life goal, he can expect to experience opposition, criticism, censure and disparagement.

Why should that be? I suspect it could be envy, competition, and personal desire to have one’s way, whatever.

At the same time, there often seems to be a sense among many that anyone who is creative, inspiring, filled with passion, eager for change, willing to question ordinary ways, such a person will immediately be suspect. Who does he/she think she is? Where does she/he get off with proposing something like that? Why do they have to be different?

I think Jesus was trying to prepared his disciples to accept the fact that there would be no “sitting on his right or his left in the kingdom,” at least not without a struggle, not without dedication, not without being willing to “go the distance” despite what comes.

Jesus was simply saying that anything in this world or the next, anything truly and humanly worthwhile, anything worthy of the Kingdom of God will demand our most earnest effort, indeed even some pain.

It often occurs to me that Jesus had this incredible vision of bringing heaven to earth and earth to heaven, of linking the human and the divine, the sacred and the secular, that he was willing to sacrifice whatever it would take to accomplish it. The establishment of the Kingdom of God, as he called it, was his one great and overriding passion, his bliss. Why, for instance, was he willing to accept human ridicule and suffering? Why did he insist to his disciples that following him would not be a “piece of cake?” I think it all had to do with fulfilling a vision of the world that no one had ever thought of before. It was so overwhelming, so astonishing, so challenging that only a person with Divine vision could hope to achieve it. Ah, and yet, Jesus invited some very fallible human individuals to join him on that quest. Joseph Campbell the philosopher (1904-1987) often spoke about this desire for human and spiritual fulfillment as the search for one’s bliss. “I say, follow your bliss and do not be afraid. Doors will open for you where you did not know they would be. If you follow your bliss, doors will open for you that would never have opened for anyone else.

This then is what I make out of Jesus’ suggestion that if we, his disciples, decide to follow him, they should be prepared to pick up the cross in whatever form that may take.

Perhaps Sarah Palin also has this sense that by leaving the governorship, she has the opportunity now to follow whatever it is that is still out there for her to accomplish and perhaps that then will be her bliss.

I think there may be a lesson in all that for all of us, we who claim that we wish to follow Christ.

Readings: Isaiah 50: 4-9; James 2: 14-18; Mark 8: 27-35

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:41 PM.

September 01, 2009

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time [September 6, 2009]

Whoever said that the healthcare industry is out of control is probably correct. Millions suffer from one ailment or another and have no coverage. President Obama and his cabinet are working at this very time to make healthcare more available to all.

Even with our modern methods to cure human ills, people naturally continue to get sick. Ever notice the number of advertisements for drugs on the half-hour segment of the evening news? They out number all others and, I am sure, for good reason.

From the beginning of humankind people have sought freedom from pain and illness. Our Native ancestors of this country used many natural resources to heal their pains. Many are still in use today. The truth is, we simply find it very difficult to live with pain of any kind and we will spend thousands of dollars to be free of it and be healed.

I am sure that in Jesus’ time there was more than today’s average number of sicknesses. Medications were scarce; money for “drugs” was unavailable. Given that situation, there must have been many “quack” physicians who attempted to make people feel physically good or good about themselves. Perhaps it is true to say that if we feel good, we are physically good as well.

It would seem true to say, then, that that is the reason why Jesus was such a popular person in his time. He could heal miraculously; not everyone, unfortunately, but was a healer and people flocked to him by the hundreds.

I am not prepared at this time to explain how Jesus brought these healings about. But the fact that he had extraordinary powers is certain, based on the gospel accounts.

Even today, of course, miraculous healings occur occasionally when people pray through the intercession of a particular saint or at a well-known shrine such as Fatima or Lourdes. Again, however, not all are cured, which, of course, leaves us disappointed? Does Christ discriminate? I would guess not; but that is still a great mystery.

It is interesting to note too that in Jesus’ time ailments such as blindness and lack of hearing were the most frequent, or at least the source of greatest anxiety. We use both of these physical gifts so often in daily life.

But it is also more interesting to notice that in those cases where Jesus healed blindness or deafness, he often made reference to blindness and deafness of mind or human perception. In other words, hearing and seeing are not just for hearing and seeing, but also for insight, for deeper perception about life and of the world around us. Jesus would often say: “You have ears and cannot hear, eyes but you cannot see.” In other words, you can see and hear but you don’t really understand. You don’t try to understand what lies beyond the senses. Seeing and hearing are also about a point of view and the mental attitude we have about the world or ourselves.

It also occurs to me that there is the possibility that we can be healers without a medical certificate. I mean, the way we treat one another, the way we show compassion, the way we show concern. All these are healing gestures that will make us “feel” better, not permanently, perhaps, but better anyway.

I have heard it said that many people buy over the counter drugs simply because the advertising sounds so attractive, whereas actually the medication did not do them much good anyway. Perhaps it’s all in the way we feel about something or ourselves that makes the difference.

However there is one comforting thought in all this: Illness and disease do not play favorites. We are all afflicted in some way at some time in our lives. If truth were known, we all have our private cures: We pray, we seek out a friend, we consult doctors, we meditate on texts that make us feel peaceful. Doctors don’t have the edge on all cures.

Ultimately, pain is a part of the human condition, perhaps human “incompleteness”, frailty or whatever. Weakness is built into our very nature. We wear out, we break; we’re not angels, of course.

It is all right, therefore, to pray to God for healing, as the man in the gospel did; he could neither hear nor speak. Don’t be disappointed, however, if prayers don’t bring miracles of healing. In the end, all life is a mystery. I’m sure that will not be much consolation for those of us who suffer, but that’s the way it is. Let’s all bear the mystery of suffering together. We’re not alone in this world. God still cares for us even though it may not always seem so.

The scriptures: Isaiah 35: 4-7; James 2: 1-5; Mark 7:31-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:13 AM.

August 26, 2009

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 30, 2009]

As I write this in mid- July, a delegation of our Holy Cross priests is at the Provincial Chapter in Portland, Oregon. The Chapter meets every three years to deliberate on the state of our community and make or change such legislation as best befits the times in which we live. Obviously, nothing really startling happens to change the face of Holy Cross, but often laws need to be rethought and redirected in order for us to be sure that the C.S.C. community continues to be in touch with the Church at large and true to it’s original statutes.

As I read the daily transcripts coming from the chapter each day and when I also read the scriptures for this Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary time, it occurred to me that both texts were about law and law making. Moses, the great lawgiver tells the people of his day that if they make good efforts to keep God’s law, they will be an example of wisdom and intelligence to the nations around them.

Jesus, for his part, bemoans the fact that the Pharisees confuse the Law of the love of God for the purity laws, the washing of hands and cooking utensils. He labels such people as those who pay lip service to God but their hearts are far from Him.

That often reminds me of the over emphasis on liturgical rubrics which some clerics often practice today. Some say that one can make peace more easily with a terrorist than with a liturgist. True or not, there often is a tendency for all of us to get lost in t he daily minutiae of life and to forget the more inclusive law of love of neighbor.

Speaking of law, then, it has often occurred to me to ask, why law, why law at all? Obviously, you will respond, for good order and the protection of the common good. True enough, but let us assume the best of all possible worlds, a world described in the Genesis story where the first parents lived together in complete peace, accord and good order; seemingly they did not need a law. Law only arose when they broke the original commandment.

So, might we not imagine then that God’s original intent for us was to live without law, in a condition where humankind would live peaceably without the threat of law and punishment? Why should humankind need to be constantly circumscribed by such “protection?”

One might even go further and say that law is an admission of human failure. We only seem to need law to prevent each other from doing the unspeakable, from abusing one another or our neighbor’s human rights.

Given Moses suggestion that keeping God’s law will show our intelligence and wisdom, and given the wisdom the human race seems to have accomplished in today’s world, there should be less and less need for law. And yet, our prisons are filled with individuals who, seemingly, have paid no heed to law, divine or human. Is all this the result of Original Sin? Is the entire world so weakened that we are in constant need of surveillance and thereat?

Jesus, of course, is the greatest lawgiver in human history and yet, his laws are few. Love God and neighbor! That covers everything.

Then, of course, we have the law that assumes and covers all others, the natural law, the law that was instilled in us at first conception. We know how to act by our very nature, and yet we seem to need another law to make up for our failure to use the one we already have.

You may have noticed by now how often I have presented all this in theoretical terms. What if????

Yet, in fact, we live in a world of realities. We do not, in- fact use the God-given intelligence and wisdom with which we have been endowed. Each of us could, indeed, make this a world where law would not be necessary. We have the human wisdom and the ability to live like our first parents did in that first world of divine innocence. It’s seems possible! But at the same time we know how often we fail to measure up to God’s original intention for us. It’s not all theory or imagination. We can make this world better, more human and humane. Laws are nice and necessary even though they are also often nick-picky and bothersome

I guess we need to realize daily that our tendency is to go the way of all the earth and all flesh. Having been warned about following such false paths, there is still time to turn and follow Jesus only law, “love God, love neighbor.

The scriptures: Dt 4:1-2, 6-8; Jas 1:17-18, 21b-22, 27; Mk 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:04 AM.

August 19, 2009

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 23, 2009]

History, it is said, is the world’s surest teacher. Predicting the future, on the other hand, can often be a risky undertaking. We never seem to have sufficient evidence to be sure that something will or will not happen. Blind faith is not something most intelligent folks are comfortable with.

Here are a few examples: My father once told a story about my grandfather who was then in his late 80’s.
Our family had just bought its first Model T Ford. As dad proudly drove it into our grandfather’s yard he said: “Here’s the future dad.” Grandfather responded: “Believe me, those contraptions will never last beyond six months. Stick with the horse and buggy.” Grandpa died holding to that conviction. There simply was not enough evidence for him to put his faith in the gasoline engine. A person who drives a ‘09 Corvette today would smile at that prediction. In a word, granddad didn’t have enough solid evidence to admit that the automobile might have a future.

A few more examples: A century ago the average life expectancy was 47 years. The American flag had 49 stars. Sugar cost four cents a pound, coffee fifteen cents, eggs, fourteen cents per dozen. Two out of every ten adults could not read. Crossword puzzles, canned beer and ice tea had not been invented yet. Ninety percent of doctors had no college education; only six percent of Americans graduated from high school. Ah, but look at us today! The point here is that we have difficulty imagining what the future holds for the human race.
The same surely holds true also for advances in human knowledge: Philosophy, the arts and sciences, even the capacity of human understanding itself. Oddly enough, we seem to believe only in what has already happened, what we can experience at the present moment in history. Faith in the future is a difficult process. Even those who have a rich imagination are sometimes considered strange.

If all this is true regarding the slow progress of human inventiveness, think, for instance how difficult faith in spiritual matters must be.

For most of us who have been devoted Christians and Catholics all our life long, faith in God and the “things of God” may seem to come easily. Still, speaking for myself, faith in spiritual matters is often difficult for me. I believe and yet I sometimes wonder. How, for instance, is belief in the Trinity true, so too for belief in the Real Presence, miracles, heaven, the truth of the scriptures, et cetera. In matters of true faith, the mind seems hard pressed for answers if, indeed, it is answers we are searching for. Somehow, we are being asked to set the mind and its powers aside and to leave ourselves open to mystery.

I imagine this must be particularly difficult for those whom we label “thinkers,” for the seriously minded of our world. Blind faith does not come easily for such folks.

Yet, in so many matters of spirit, it is a real question: We are all people with a mind whose main task is to ask questions, to doubt, to look for whatever has not yet been discovered.

Think, then, how difficult it must have been for the disciples of Jesus who were not exactly dummies, when they were asked to believe that Jesus was the “bread of life come down from heaven?” Add to this, of course, Jesus healings, miracles, works of wonder, et cetera. If all of these had occurred in our own time, I am sure that we would have been as filled with doubt as the disciples were. Being asked to believe blindly does not seem to be a natural thing for humans. After all, what is our intellect for if not to search for the proof of things? Our natural bent is to use the mind to discover what it can on it’s own.

Perhaps you can begin to understand then why some of Jesus’ disciples went their way and could no longer believe in him or his works.

There are obviously many people who feel the same today, not out of anger, but perhaps more out of frustration because their intellect pulls them in one direction while their “suspicions” tell them that there may well be something sacred out there that we do not yet understand. (Remember the Model T Ford?).

Yes, I remember Jesus’ words to his friends, namely that if they could not believe in him, they should at least believe in his works. Nonetheless, at least for me, I find faith in Jesus more sure than his works, miracles et cetera. Jesus simply appeals to me not so much as a wonderworker but more a person who asked us to believe in him, someone who had no reason to make fools out of us. In short, speaking again, purely for myself, Jesus always appears to me as trustworthy, someone who is worthy of my sincerest search for truth.

There are lots of things I do not understand about this world, much less the world of God’s spirit. Nonetheless, I don’t have the patience to wait and see how all these mysteries will come true sometime in the future. Again, Jesus, just as he is, seems so trustworthy to me; I’m ready and always have been ready to accept him just as he is, the way he appears to me from the scriptures. If someday I am proved wrong in this conviction, I will be sad, but at this point, I’m not betting that it will happen.

The scriptures: Joshua 24, 1-2. 15-17. 18; Ephesians 5: 21-32; John 6: 60-69

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:05 PM.

August 11, 2009

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 16, 2009]

The big attraction on the History Channel last year was The Most Dangerous Catch, the story of crab fishermen launching out of Dutch Harbor in the Aleutians and onto the Bering Sea and the North Pacific. The series went on for months. Actually, it showed me in one segment blessing the fleet! Imagine that. Whether my blessing did, in fact, save anyone from danger I do not know. I do know, however, that ships and their crews do go down every year.

Nonetheless, I always did this task with much joy because it proved to those brave souls that we prayed to our God and their’ for their safety because of the heavy tasks they took on to provide seafood for people around the world.

Nonetheless, I imagine, for many people, water must be a scary thing because it is so uncontrollable. Remember that film, Perfect Storm? People were fascinated by it, but also scared to death.

It occurs to me that the earth itself sometimes seems overwhelming to us earth dwellers. Hurricanes often wipe out entire villages and more. Tornadoes decimate towns and surrounding countryside, floods waste miles and miles of rich farmland. It’s all part of the vagaries of nature. It’s not God’s doing.

Now, I have no way of knowing how rough the Sea of Galilee gets. It surely can’t compare with the North Pacific, but perhaps with the small boats that were used for crossing in Jesus time there was cause for alarm in a storm. At any rate, the story in today’s gospel does indicate that they were so scared that they thought they were going drown and called on Jesus to save them from utter destruction. Obviously, they must have known that Jesus had special powers; otherwise they would never have appealed to him to calm the waters.

Several of the biblical commentaries on this passage point out that this event is not so much about a storm at sea or about frightened sailors. Rather, it is a prediction by Jesus that the future Christian community would doubtless face such storms throughout its history. At the same time the early disciples and all disciples following them should never lose heart, never doubt Christ’s power to keep the Church safe from ultimate ruin.

Protecting the Church from harm is not automatically assured by the power of Jesus Christ, of course. I believe that the Church’s safety comes also from the “crew,” that is, those countless Christians over the centuries who claim to be followers of Christ.

Surely, our Church is important enough to us that we should love it enough to be willing to take on the responsibility of keeping it afloat.

Of all things, we ought not be the ones who put this Ship in jeopardy by our refusal to take on Christian tasks and Christian responsibilities in the world. There are already more than enough dangers out there facing our Church.

I return, finally, to the image of the great crab boats out in Dutch Harbor where I worked. The men who worked the “pots” were a rough and tumble bunch; they could drink beer with the best of ‘em. But one thing you did not do in the presence of those men was to refer to their boat as a “loser.” That would get you into a fight in seconds. These men were proud of their ships and were willing to bear any burden or danger to bring them back to safe harbor unharmed.

I can readily see then why Jesus would choose a boat or a ship as a metaphor for the church. What else can better carry you across stormy waters of life to safety? With a captain like Jesus, who’s afraid of the deep?

The scriptures: Job 38: 1, 8-11; 2 Corinthians 5: 14-17; Mark 4: 35-41

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:04 PM.

August 06, 2009

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 9, 2009]

I first read the story by Jon Krakauer in a copy of Outside Magazine some years ago; it was later stretched into a book and then into a movie entitled Into the Wild.

I’m referring to the story of young Chris Mc.Candless, son of wealthy parents in suburban Washington, D.C. He had completed a brilliant academic career at Emory University and then instead of pursuing a life in business he decided to follow his bliss, his bliss being a trip into the wilds of Alaska. His route took him through the Midwest, the far west and finally into the interior of Alaska.

This is one of those classic stories of a young man who has had enough of the soft life of the city and means to test his skills and endurance in a more primitive setting. Nothing will stop such a person, of course. He must fulfill his search for what he considers “the sacred.” All this sounds very romantic, of course, a once-in-a lifetime experience.

In fact, however, his adventure had a tragic ending. Young McCandless had little experience in the wild. He imagined he could shoot moose, if he were hungry, live in an Indian-style tent and fend for himself as long as he liked. He carried enough food for only a few days. For protection he lugged his light .22 rifle that hardly had enough power to kill a squirrel.

He crossed a calm-running river, came upon an old trapper’s school bus in which he decided to make his home. All went well until he decided it was time to return to civilization. By that time, however, the river he had originally crossed had now risen to a point where it was impassable. The import of the story is that McCandless gradually starved to death. Two moose hunters found his body the following autumn.

Native Alaskans called it a stupid venture; more compassionate individuals, however, regarded it a tragedy that rose out a desire to realize the dream of a lifetime.

So, why am I relating this story, which could be read in the original with greater satisfaction? I do it because we have two similar stories of the pursuit of life’s bliss in our scriptures for this nineteenth Sunday in the Church year.

The first is the familiar story of Elijah the prophet who, like Chris McCandless was also following his bliss, a desert journey to the sacred mountain, Horeb. Again, like McCandless, he has run out of bread and water. He is lying under a broom tree hoping for death. Fortunately, however, an angel (how fortunate!) supplies him with the needed nourishment and he finally arrives at his longed for destination, the mountain of his bliss.

The similar story in the gospel arises out of a heated conversation between Jesus and the Jews. Jesus claims that he is the bread of life, the nourishment that will carry the person faith to eternal life.

So, what do either of these stories have to do with our contemporary life story. As I read it, all of us in unique ways are following our bliss throughout our life.

Unfortunately, however, we often end up in life’s wilderness, in situations where we refuse to make use of the bread that brings eternal life. Like young McCandless, we end up starving ourselves when food and drink are readily available for the taking.

The question is, where is this nourishment for eternal life to be found in the wilderness? In my own experience it can be found in rather ordinary places: For instance, I do some lectio divina each day. Lectio divina is simply a quiet concentration on some short passage in scripture until a new insight springs forth that has never been realized before. I also follow the model of Thomas Merton by making an effort to find bread in the wilderness, nature all around me. Lastly, I try to read books that push my mind a little harder than the usual light spiritual material found in bookstores. The books by theologian, John Dunne, of Notre Dame, for instance, have always pressed me to look deeper. I am struggling with his recent book, The Way of All the Earth. It is worth the struggle.

In short the bread of life can be found in many places in our personal desert. It is simply a matter of getting quiet and letting God have God’s way with us.

Anyway, with the abundance of “bread” all around us, there is no reason to do what Chris McCandless did. And unlike Elijah too, we do not even need to wait for an angel to bring the loaf and jug. It’s already right there for the taking.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 19; 4-8; Ephesians 4: 30-5, 2; John 6, 41-51

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:28 AM.

July 28, 2009

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 2, 2009]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:31 PM.

July 22, 2009

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 26, 2009]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:46 PM.

July 14, 2009

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 19, 2009]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:04 AM.

July 06, 2009

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 12, 2009]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:50 AM.

June 29, 2009

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 5, 2009]

During my active days in ministry, I spent a lot of years teaching both in college and high school. I’ve always loved teaching and consider it a privilege to help form the minds of young people who show so much promise and trust in you. I hope that I have never discouraged young students from searching for wisdom on their own. It is one of the greatest gifts one can give to another, this gift of insight that often comes with great effort and sometimes heartache as well.

The hardest task of all for me in my teaching career was grading papers. My confreres often said that I was a “softie” on grades and that giving a failing grade was sometimes the best thing you could do for a student. How should we explain that?

I always made an effort early in the semester to lay down clear parameters and guidelines so that there would be no question why a student did not fare well in class and end up failing. Early warnings are always safer than weak excuses at the end of the semester.

In retrospect, I have thought of that method as prophetic, not prophetic as in predicting the future, but prophetic as a warning that if this action continues to happen, or if such and such a behavior persists, certain sure results will follow. Actually, the method worked pretty well over the years, in fact it has been used in matters religious or moral for centuries.

You just heard a description of it in the first and third scripture readings for this current liturgy. Plainly, it is called prophecy or prophetic speech.

It is a special gift or insight that certain people have and use, not to threaten their neighbors but rather to help them discern the times in which they live and make them better.

The ones we know best from the Jewish scriptures are Isaiah (quoted today) and Jeremiah. The Christian testament, of course, claims Jesus Christ as a divine prophet and inheritor of the prophetic mantle of the great men of old.

So, what makes prophets, whether of ancient times or today, so great, so worthy of remembrance. I think it is a sort of intuition or insight about the future. Others may be distracted by contemporary worldly matters, but the prophet sees through those dangerous habits and gets to the core of what the world could be like if we were to look at life like the prophets do.

Here I suggest some contemporary types of prophets without citing names: Those who were brave enough to see into the future and warn us about our spending habits and the present recession. Others who warned about the harm to young people that smoking can bring. Others warn us that without some spiritual base on which to build our society, we will drift and lose focus. Yet others warn us about our careless spending habits. Finally, others predict that unless we in our times try to find a middle ground between our poles of conservative and liberal, our country, indeed, our expressions of faith will suffer disintegration. You readers will know of many other similar problems we face today. The issue of abortion is no doubt the most serious.

So, prophets are not simply persons who mouth pious platitudes but rather individuals who are deeply in touch with the secular world and love the it so much that they are willing to take some “heat” for the warnings they give in their particular age.

However, one of the great misapprehensions regarding prophecy, I believe, is that many feel it is the gift of the pious-minded or specially gifted. Not so, in fact, there are not very many extraordinary people we could name prophets. For that reason we ordinarily drag out the safe ones, the ones who have been most prominent in the history of our times: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Theresa, founders of religious communities, et cetera. To limit prophetic speech to a few people, however is to take a great risk.

The true prophet, to my mind is the man or woman in the neighborhood who is willing to sit on the city council, the parish council, the one who is willing to speak up at meetings that discuss community needs or problems. One might not readily describe such folks as prophetic, but prophecy is what they are practicing. They have looked into their times and spoken courageously even critically about it.

Ideally, I suppose, we should not need specially gifted people to guide our times. They arise only when the folks of the neighborhood do not themselves arise to question the issues that mean most to their neighbors.

So, I would like to believe that we are all called to be prophets: It’s our world, our city, our village, our church, and our neighborhood we should be concerned about. If we don’t care, who will?

The critical issue is that we are all called to confront our times whether anyone listens or not.

Indeed, there is a beautiful line at the conclusion of the Isaiah reading today in which God speaks directly Isaiah and predicts that this stiff-necked people will not listen. But no matter, God says: Just go out there and do what I command you. If nothing else, at least they will know that prophet has been among them.

Perhaps that is what our age needs today: People who will stand forth and speak to their times whether anyone listens or not; at least they will know a prophet has been among them.

The scriptures: Ezekiel 2: 2-5; 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10; Mark 6: 1-6

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:52 PM.

June 27, 2009

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [June 28, 2009]

Will you excuse me once again if I begin this reflection by referring to one of my favorite novels and the novel’s author? The author is Nikos Kazanzakis, a Greek Christian. One of the novels he wrote is titled, Zorba the Greek. It’s a story about a man of unbridled enthusiasm who claimed many careers, some successful, but more of them total disasters.

When we meet Zorba, he is sitting on a Mediterranean beach somewhere with a wealthy English friend. They are watching the breakers strike the shore drinking good rich, red Greek wine and smoking foul-smelling cigars. The essence of their conversation is centered on the collapse of a trestle that had only recently been built to carry coal from a local mountain to the port of Perea. Alas, after only a few weeks of use, the trestle collapsed, the wealthy Englishman lost his money and here they now sit on some rocks overlooking the Mediterranean, wondering whether there would ever be a project like this again. The Englishman has doubts; he’s out of money. Zorba, however has grandiose plans to open the mine once again. He lifts his wine glass to the mountain and breaks into song: “To the mountain” he sings. And then, in a rather self-appreciative mood he leans toward his friend and says: “You know, my friend, a man like me should live for ever.” Such a great line! It could only come from a man with a Mediterranean soul.

Seriously, however, I have a hunch that most of us have the soul of Zorba the Greek. We want to live forever even though we know full well that every one dies at his or her own time.

The question, however, does not concern death. The issue is, what follows death? Can one truly believe that we live forever?

Obviously, it is the faith of Christians that we do live forever, for all eternity. The question that always follows, of course, is: Under what form, in what state? Most Christian catechisms would say, in a spiritual state, whatever that may mean. I do not wish to pursue that issue at this point.

I would rather explore the scripture s for this Thirteenth Sunday in the Church’s calendar to see what those scriptures say about the human longing for life.

The first reading from the Book of Wisdom speaks with bold assumption that death is a mistake. “God did not make death,” the author says, “and he does not rejoice in the destruction of the living. He fashioned all things that they might have being (i.e. life). He formed man (sic) to be imperishable, the image of his own nature he made him.” That is about the clearest statement regarding eternal life I can find in the Jewish scriptures.

In the gospel, however, we have two stories of women, one who was threatened with death from incessant bleeding and the other, a little girl of twelve who had actually died. Jesus comes in at this point and heals the woman with the hemorrhage. Immediately thereafter that he brings the little twelve-year-old girl back to life.

Now, for most of us there are some questions. It’s nice to hear that Jesus heals and raises people to life. But it does not apply to all the people who came to Jesus. I am at a loss to explain that.

One point I will make, however, is that Jesus took issue with death (at least in some cases). It is as though Jesus does this sign to indicate that death can be dealt with. In a sense, death, for Jesus is an exception; our true destiny is life.

I do believe, however, that there is a deep longing in our psyche that claims that we will live forever. If not, why do we strive to be “good?” Why do we worship, why do we practice justice, why do we treat the neighbor with respect, why do we marry, why do we choose a religious way of life, indeed, why do we do any human act? If this life is all there is, why do any of these acts make any difference?

So, my point is that beyond our faith in scripture and the dogmas of the church, we have an instinctual sense that life in this world would have no meaning without the promise of an unending future.

Could that be why, for instance, we create certain pieces of art that we hope will exist forever? If that is true of material objects, can we not expect the same and better for the creature we name human?

So, do we still speak of “the salvation of souls?” I would rather speak of the salvation of beings. C.S. Lewis, the British writer says: “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.”

My sense, therefore, is that the whole human being, the person is holy; the human person can expect to return to God’s kingdom. So, perhaps, in the end, Zorba was more right than he imagined? We all should live forever. Anyway, I sure hope so.

The scriptures: Wisdom 1 13-15, 2: 23-24, 2 Corinthians 8: 7-9, 13-15,
Mark 5: 31-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:04 PM.

June 16, 2009

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time [June 21, 2009]

The big attraction on the History Channel last year was The Most Dangerous Catch, the story of crab fishermen launching out of Dutch Harbor in the Aleutians and onto the Bering Sea and the North Pacific. The series went on for months. Actually, it showed me in one segment blessing the fleet! Imagine that. Whether my blessing did, in fact, save anyone from danger I do not know. I do know, however, that ships and their crews do go down every year.

Nonetheless, I always did this task with much joy because it proved to those brave souls that we prayed to our God and their’ for their safety because of the heavy tasks they took on to provide seafood for people around the world.

Nonetheless, I imagine, for many people, water must be a scary thing because it is so uncontrollable. Remember that film, Perfect Storm? People were fascinated by it, but also scared to death.

It occurs to me that the earth itself sometimes seems overwhelming to us earth dwellers. Hurricanes often wipe out entire villages and more. Tornadoes decimate towns and surrounding countryside, floods waste miles and miles of rich farmland. It’s all part of the vagaries of nature. It’s not God’s doing.

Now, I have no way of knowing how rough the Sea of Galilee gets. It surely can’t compare with the North Pacific, but perhaps with the small boats that were used for crossing in Jesus time there was cause for alarm in a storm. At any rate, the story in today’s gospel does indicate that they were so scared that they thought they were going drown and called on Jesus to save them from utter destruction. Obviously, they must have known that Jesus had special powers; otherwise they would never have appealed to him to calm the waters.

Several of the biblical commentaries on this passage point out that this event is not so much about a storm at sea or about frightened sailors. Rather, it is a prediction by Jesus that the future Christian community would doubtless face such storms throughout its history. At the same time the early disciples and all disciples following them should never lose heart, never doubt Christ’s power to keep the Church safe from ultimate ruin.

Protecting the Church from harm is not automatically assured by the power of Jesus Christ, of course. I believe that the Church’s safety comes also from the “crew,” that is, those countless Christians over the centuries who claim to be followers of Christ.

Surely, our Church is important enough to us that we should love it enough to be willing to take on the responsibility of keeping it afloat.

Of all things, we ought not be the ones who put this Ship in jeopardy by our refusal to take on Christian tasks and Christian responsibilities in the world. There are already more than enough dangers out there facing our Church.

I return, finally, to the image of the great crab boats out in Dutch Harbor where I worked. The men who worked the “pots” were a rough and tumble bunch; they could drink beer with the best of ‘em. But one thing you did not do in the presence of those men was to refer to their boat as a “loser.” That would get you into a fight in seconds. These men were proud of their ships and were willing to bear any burden or danger to bring them back to safe harbor unharmed.

I can readily see then why Jesus would choose a boat or a ship as a metaphor for the church. What else can better carry you across stormy waters of life to safety? With a captain like Jesus, who’s afraid of the deep?

The scriptures: Job 38: 1, 8-11; 2 Corinthians 5: 14-17; Mark 4: 35-41

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:45 AM.

June 09, 2009

The Body and Blood of Christ [June 14, 2009]

My boyhood home lay in the lovely Souris river valley of North Dakota. Ducks and geese were in great abundance during the summer mating season.

Among the waterfowl a few pelicans could also be seen, searching for fish in the marshes or flying low and slow over the water. Even as a little boy, I knew what pelicans looked like.

What puzzled me, however, was a large ceramic plaque of a pelican attached to the communion rail of our church of St. Henry.

So, one day, I said to my mother: “Ma, what’s that pelican doing up there?” “I’ve been wondering about that myself,” she said

I did not pursue the theological/liturgical implications any further, but I did manage to get “sort of an answer” from the nun who taught us religion.

At any rate, I have often thought about that ceramic pelican on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, the feast that we celebrate today. The pelican, as a symbol and a piece of art, plays an important role in helping us understand the meaning of Christ’s blood in the liturgy.

For those who may never have heard an explanation of the pelican in theology and liturgy, it is rooted in pre-Christian legend that during a time of famine or drought, a mother pelican would wound herself in order to nourish her brood and stave off their starvation.

I doubt the veracity of that story but when you think about it, blood has many meanings and applications. First, blood is, in fact, the source of life. Theologians would say, therefore, that blood is salvific (saving). It saves life and sustains life. That is why, for instance, blood transfusions are so important to those who need blood.

There are many analogies regarding blood and life. We say, for instance, that our troops shed their blood for their country, which, indeed they do. We also hear the phrase: blood, sweat and tears as a way of giving one’s all for the good of others.

In our theological catechesis we also hear the phrase, “Jesus shed his blood for the world.” That sounds implausible; in what way does Christ’s shedding blood save the world?

I have come to think that this is not simply an abstract theological statement. I believe that Jesus shed his blood on the cross as the last great act of his life. He hung on the cross with blood pouring from his wounds because of what had gone through during his life: What he stood for, what he fought for, what he believed in, what he taught us. It was for this reason that he was captured, tried, executed and that he shed his blood.

In short, shedding one’s blood is no small matter. If anyone sheds blood is must be for some significant reason, a reason, one that has immense effect on the world. That is the way I perceive the power of Jesus shedding his blood for the world.

The logical question that follows is this: Are we personally expected to shed our blood for the salvation of others? Physically, perhaps not, but if we think about Jesus’ life, there are countless ways that we can imitate Christ’s acts on behalf of others. None of these actions may “draw physical blood” but some will cause us pain. You see, there are different ways to shed blood.

If my dear mother were still among us, I’d tell her I finally got the pelican question figured out. I’m sure she would be happy to hear that.

The scriptures: Exodus 24: 3-8; Hebrews 9: 11-15; Mark 14: 12-16.

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:24 AM.

June 04, 2009

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity [June 7, 2009]

It has been said and I believe it to be true that the most difficult Sunday of the year to find a substitute preacher is…you guessed it, Trinity Sunday. Another favorite saying is that you will hear more heresies preached on Trinity Sunday than on any other time of the year. And lastly the most devastating thing one can do on Trinity Sunday is to reduce the great mystery of the Godhead to the level of senseless metaphors

My dear friend Father John Schuneman, of sacred memory, had the habit of explaining the Trinity to his high school students by bringing a stick of Italian sausage to class and cutting it in three pieces. I’m sure you all can catch the implications of the One in Three in that metaphor.

These may all seem a little humorous, and they are, but they all demonstrate the human effort to say something that befits the Sacred One, God.

I claim no unique insight into the mystery of the Trinity but I have struggled over the years to say something that would dignify the One whom we call Creator of all.

The great difficulty as we all know is that we are dealing with mystery and mysteries are not explained; they are experienced.

Nonetheless, every thoughtful person, theologian or not, struggles to say something intelligent about the Trinity, something that makes sense in human terms. We will never be satisfied unless try.

Here is one way that I have found useful in the past: I find it interesting, for instance, that we humans find it so important that we give God names. Now, obviously, from God’s point of view, God does not have a name. We humans give God a name so that we can identify Him that we can set God apart from other creatures.

In a sense, names are rather peculiar when you think about it. Their only purpose is to identify who we are so we don’t get mixed up with someone else at the airport security checkpoint.

Yet, in another sense, names are us. We are who we are and our name makes that clear to every one. But isn’t it interesting that this name was chosen for us; we had no part in the choice. If we ended up liking it, fine: if we did not, too bad. Hence it may happen that we may not even be comfortable with our name but we have to live with it nonetheless.

This may be a stretch, but somehow our name contributes to our character. Our name and our personality may eventually become almost one and the same. People will say, for instance: “John is an intelligent person.” “Mary is a sensitive person.” Actually, we are not referring to the name, but to the very character of the person, his or her “Is’ness”.

The ultimate point here is that we have names mainly for identification. There are billions of folks on the planet. Somehow, we need to protect our unique individuality.

So, how about God’s name? Truly, it defies all understanding and search. In a sense, the name “God” is not God’s name. It is simply an appellation that refers to the ultimate Divine Being. Throughout Jewish history, prophets and priests chose various ways to identify the God of the people. The classic example comes in the famous incident at the burning bush in Exodus. Moses asks God to reveal His name so that he can go back and tell the people: “God told me such and such.” So, what does God do? God gives him a set of letters that scripture scholars throughout history have been struggling with ever since. It is the famous tetragammeton YHWH. The letter A is always dropped because God’s name is too sacred even to pronounce.

In place of the Sacred Name, therefore, the Hebrews throughout the centuries chose substitutes: El Shaddai, God of the Mountain, El Elyon, God Most High, El Olam, God everlasting, El Sabaoth, God of Hosts. Other single names were also often chosen: Rock, Stronghold, Deliverer, Shepherd, and Savior.

What all this connotes to me is that God is so mysterious, so unnamable that humans are unable to find a suitable name, one that will encompass all that God is. But the point is that they are names we attach. God himself is beyond all names.

I simply wanted to explore the name theme because on this feast of the Trinity it is difficult to probe the “is’ness” of God, the inner essence of the Divine. Theologians have made efforts at this for centuries without a definitive solution.

St. Paul came close, of course, when he simply instructed his catechumens to call God Abba, Father. It is a term of endearment much as my mother, during my childhood, once called me “buddy” or “honey” rather than my given name LeRoy.

The point in all this is to say that we do not know God’s name. Indeed, any name we give God will fail because no name will afford us a full meaning or understanding.

So, ultimately, what is important is not that we know God’s name or that we have the correct name, or that the name tells us any more about God but rather that whatever name we give God, it will satisfy our deepest longing to be on a one-to-one basis with God. What serves our human purpose is more important than what serves God’s purposes, whatever those purposes might be.

Finally, if we are able to call God Father or Mother, it is my hunch that God will hear us. All those other names for God we quoted above seem a little condescending, but to call God papa puts us in intimate relationship with God. I suspect that God must be happy about that. After all, don’t you suppose God knows his own name anyway?

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 4: 32-34,39-40; Romans 8: 14-17; Matthew 28:16-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:30 PM.

February 16, 2009

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 22, 2009]

I can’t ever remember pretending to be a sports enthusiast. I do like to watch the Fighting Irish, win or lose, and I have attended several basketball games here at Notre Dame with friends; my ears are still ringing from the noise.

I have found it important, however, to be somewhat conversant with the sporting world inasmuch as all my confreres at the dining table are so well informed in all this. So, I should know beforehand what the Big East is or who the Heisman trophy winner was this year if I am going to carry on any intelligent conversation.

On occasion, I also pick up a copy of Sports Illustrated or I will listen to Frank Deford speak of sports on National Public Radio.

Thumbing through the football stories this fall and the splendid photos that accompanied them, I was struck by the size of the professional players, particularly the size of the shoulders and necks. They are behemoths, these guys: They bump heads, butts and hips with each other when someone makes a good play. (What all that actually means, I have no idea) So, hardened are these men, that I am not surprised that they seldom get hurt.

But occasionally it does happen as it did during a playoff game several weekends ago. Two men simply crashed into each other head on at full speed. Down they went, but one player did not get up, not for at least 15 minutes. (Lots of advertising time).

Finally the medics were able to stabilize him and place him on a stretcher and hence onto a motorized cart whereby he was taken to a hospital. I never did find out the extent of his injuries. I hope he is okay.

What struck me about the demeanor of these giants, however, is that they all stood close about their fallen comrade, silently watching the procedure before the game was once again called into action. In other words, despite their exterior toughness, these men were sensitive to the occasion and I am sure they themselves would have carried their comrade off the field had the need been clear.

All this came back to mind after I read the interesting and, in some sense, humorous story of the four men who carried a paralyzed companion to the roof of a building where Jesus was preaching. In order to help the man reach the floor below, they tore off the tiles and cement of the roof, dusting up the folks down below listening to Jesus preach.

It does seem humorous in some sense, but it is also a story of passion and compassion: These four friends would stop at nothing to get their companion into a healing position in front of Jesus. Of course, you know the rest of it: Jesus praised the man and his friends for their faith and sent him on his way.

All this tells us about the lengths people will go to support each. Consider these examples: Parents will support their children, even though they sometimes act like idiots. Husbands and wives will support each other through all sorts of difficulties. Business partners do all they can to help someone in the office who has problems. Parents will spend many sleepless nights waiting for a son or daughter to come. They will sit in emergency room waiting area for hours until a son or daughter returns from examinations. We have seen enough of the Iraq war to tell us how closely bonded our soldier are: They will go to any length to help a buddy who’s been wounded, even going so far as to put themselves in mortal harm. We have seen firemen and policemen risking their lives to save someone in a burning house. Indeed, we have seen them carrying people out on stretchers, resembling the gospel story.

All this tells me that this gospel story is an example of simple human compassion, human care of people for one another.
Could all this be called a grace? I’m sure that most of us either have done something similar to the event in the gospel story. Surely, we were not looking for any recompense nor payment. This is the way compassionate, sensitive people care for each other.

By the way, you may have noticed the attitude of the scribes and Pharisees when Jesus healed the man. They were more concerned about working on the Sabbath than about the poor guy who was only looking for a little help. You see where the values differed?

With all that, therefore, I think the message in this gospel is all about support for those who need it: Physical, mental, spiritual, you name it. A stretcher may not even be needed because it’s all about attitude: How far are we willing to go in support of our brothers and sisters?

By the way, I’ve often wondered who paid for the repair of the roof?

The scriptures: Isaiah 43: 18-19, 21-22, 24b-25; 2 Corinthians 1: 18-22; Mark 2: 1-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:20 PM.

February 09, 2009

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 15, 2009]

“How is it living with a lot of other priests now that you have left your work in Alaska?” That’s what a lot of folks back in Alaska will often ask me when they write to me or send e-mail messages. “Well, it’s not bad,” I say. “But, it took a little getting used to, having lived and worked by myself for a long time.”

It is true; of course, living in a community of 45 people is different than living by yourself. It does take a different state of mind when you need to fit in and not be able to make your own decisions about most things.

One of the things that is distinctly different is that you live cheek-to-jowl with your neighbor, in chapel, in the dining room, in the library and reading room. So, that means that you are responsible for that other person next to you. You don’t always have your own way in decision-making.

All this became clear to me recently when the director of our house decided that in this season of colds and flu, we would discontinue the reception of Holy Communion from the cup in order to avoid the possibility of passing our “problem germs” on to others. At first, I was disappointed, remembering, of course, Jesus words: “Take this cup all of you and drink of it”, but I was willing to concede my personal rights for the sake of others.

Whether Jesus actually worried about passing germs from one person to another by using the common cup, I am not sure. However, from our reading of the Jewish Testament of the Book of Leviticus it is clear that the Jewish people, as others as well, did worry about communicable diseases, particularly the disease of leprosy. Because of the disease’s external effect on the body, it was feared all the more.

Hence, if an individual was declared unclean and later found to be cured, he was obligated to report it to the temple priest. I suspect, however, that there were few of such reports of healing. True leprosy in Jewish times was considered a disease lasting a lifetime.

Now, here is where the beautiful story of Jesus’ healing the person with leprosy comes into play. Jesus heals the man and, according law, sends him off to report to the temple priests. Jesus knew, of course that such a cure would make him all the more well known; so he commands him to keep it quiet.

Of course, you know what happened. The man couldn’t keep it to himself. He broadcast it publically, to the point where Jesus needed to go off and hide.

Of course, could you blame the poor leper? This is the best thing that ever happened to him; he was cured of a horrible disease.

The question, of course, is this: Wouldn’t we do the same? Think, for instance of the following examples: A man struggling with alcoholism goes to Guest House and three months later he comes home a recovering alcoholic. He tells anyone who wants to listen, of his joy. A young man or woman goes on a rampage of drinking and drugs. They are finally incarcerated and a year later they come home free. They can’t keep from telling others of their problem and how they were cured. Many will even insist that their recovery was God’s great gift and will go from school to school giving talks on recovery from addiction. How can they possibly keep their mouths shut?

It is the most natural thing in the world to proclaim the good news of a cure, whether physical, spiritual or psychological. What outsider can possibly understand or explain what such a cured person is feeling.

Perhaps it might also be true to say that each of us, at certain times in our life, finds himself cured of some personal problem. It would not seem too much for us to “go public” and let the “world” know how we feel, how God has entered into our lives. I don’t think it would be necessary for us go report to the priests, as in the case of the man with leprosy. But it would seem important to let others know that, through the grace of God, we are cured and ready to begin a new life. All of us find ourselves cured in small ways every day. It would be a gift to others to let them know the good news about how all this happened. Don’t we all love to hear about cures?

The scriptures: Leviticus 13: 1-2, 44-46; 1 Corinthians 10: 31-11:1;
Mark 1: 40-55

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:46 AM.

February 02, 2009

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 8, 2009]

Anyone who has read the news this past year or watched evening television can tell you that the one topic that has dominated life around the world is the economy, whatever it is that makes our country, and countries around the world run. The folks who have lost their jobs, their homes, their investments (remember the famous Bernie Madof?), will tell you that human life and stability around the world is in jeopardy.

Of course, the smooth working of economic life, depends in great part on our work, whether you have a job and a salary with which you pay your rent, your insurance policy, buy groceries, secure medical care et. cetera. In other words, most folks in this world need to do some human task in order sustain their lives and the lives of others.

Obviously, I am not an economist and, at the moment, as a retired person, I do not even have a salary, but I can easily understand the situations of people who need to hold two jobs just to get along.

However, as a philosophical and theological observer, I often try to offer some of my insights about life in this world, hoping that this will also give others an opportunity to observe it from a deeper perspective. Yes, I know these thoughts of mine will not pay bills, but it is often worth our while just to think about ordinary things and how they impact our life.

Take work, for instance: From a rather superficial perspective, I often like to divide workers between those who like their work and those who hate it. My suspicion is that there are more people who dislike what they do, but continue to do it simply because it is the only way they can sustain their lives. However, if they had the opportunity and the wherewithal they might wish to sit on a pleasant beach somewhere and drink something refreshing. Alas, that is not possible for most folks, so they will find it necessary to work at some task, whether they like it or not.

There is an interesting little scenario on life and work in our scriptures for this Sunday: The Book of Job and the gospel of Mark. As most bible readers know, Job was one miserable person. He had suffered indescribable tragedies. For him, life and work were unbearable, a complete drudgery: He needs to wait for his wages, his days are without hope, his life is like the wind and he predicts that he will never see happiness again. So, he is one unhappy guy, all because he has no control over his future. His work gives him no happiness or satisfaction.

But then we also have the example of Jesus of Nazareth. Now, obviously, did not seem to have had a steady job with a salary, nor the need to support a family. He was never paid for his preaching but at the same time, you never hear him complaining like Job even though he often took the heat from the civil and religious authorities. He experienced life’s problems like everyone else. We know, of course, for all his efforts to bring people closer to their God, he suffered and died for his efforts.

One thing that is very clear from reading about Jesus life in the gospels: He was most certainly a happy person. He was ready to go to work at a moment’s notice. Peter’s mother-in-law was sick and Jesus healed her immediately. He went up into the mountains to take some rest, but shortly afterward came back down and invited his disciples to go back to work. Here you surely have a happy man. He was inspired with his work, never a discouraging word from him.

So, what should all that mean to us, whether we enjoy our work or not? Obviously, as is often the case, there is not much we can do about the work we do except to turn in our resignation and quit. But often that is not an option either. We need to make a living.

Part of the answer, I think, is with attitude. No job, no work is perfect and often there is not much we can do to change that. So, part of the answer is our attitude: If we choose to be sour and miserable about life, that will only make it worse, but if we can find something good something creative and rewarding in whatever we do, and if we choose to offer up our efforts to God and for the good of our neighbor, that should do good things for our dreary attitude. It probably will not change the realities of life, but it will surely make them more bearable. That in itself has to be a plus in a world where life is, at best, is always kind of “iffy.”

The scriptures: Job 78:1-4, 6-7, 1 Corinthians 9: 16-19, 22-23, Mark 1: 29-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:53 PM.

January 26, 2009

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 1, 2009]

I am sure there is a custom in most families to review occasionally the colorful characters in their ancestral history.

I must confess to one very jolly, roly-poly uncle in my family history who has always fascinated me: Uncle Bert as we knew him. A photo in an old album portrays him standing near a fancy new Buick. He is dressed for his “business:” Suit, nicely pressed, sporting a flat-topped straw hat that many dandy men wore in those times.

Uncle Bert was a man who did not fit the “agricultural mold” of our family. Rather he was a man of the road, a salesman and purveyor of schemes. Never rich, he nonetheless, enjoyed his lifestyle. What he was best known for was the “ability” to tell fortunes for a small fee. I’m sure this career did not last long inasmuch as many of his predictions and other schemes often came to naught as a hoax. Nonetheless, he was a happy man, working daily at his “career.” He thought of himself as something as a “prophet.” The title gave the semblance of weight and credibility to his “trade,” but my sense is that eventually he did not have a great fortune to leave to his heirs.

The thought of Bert, our “family prophet”, and his questionable profession came to me as I read the scriptures for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary time. Both, the first reading from the Jewish Testament of Deuteronomy and the gospel speak of the power of prophecy. In Moses’ day, the people were terrified that God might address them personally concerning their transgressions. “No,” Moses assures them, “a prophet will do that.” In truth however, the Jewish prophets often proved more critical of their peoples’ ways than God himself might have.

Jesus too often impressed his synagogue audiences with his authoritative preaching. He did not need the permission of the scribes to proclaim God’s word. He spoke on his own. People were astonished and pleased with his independent spirit.

All of which brings us to the topic of prophets of our own time. They are not fortune-tellers or seers, and yet in a sense they are “seers” inasmuch as they have the insight to “see” into their own times and speak to those times with the courage of their conviction.

I imagine we all have our own list of our personal and favorite prophets. I drew up a list of my own some days ago and on that list of only 10 (there are hundreds more.) you will find such people as Pope Benedict XVI, Rabbi Abraham Heschel, Albert Camus, philosopher and novelist, Dorothy Day, lover of the poor, Gerard Manley Hopkins S.J. poet, Henry David Thoreau, writer and lover of wildness, Daniel Berrigan S.J., Thomas Merton, monk and modern Augustine, Deitrich Bonhoeffer who was hung by the Nazi SS because he questioned Hitler’s vision of a future Germany. And lastly, George Carlin, humorist and philosopher. His vocabulary was not always easy to bear, but he could also say some things that could literally take your breath away.

All these prophets whom I chose often said hard and beautiful words. No fortune telling, just simple insight into their times and that is why I remember them.

Speaking your mind and your convictions with candor will often get you into trouble as it has ancient and modern prophets. Nonetheless, like Moses and Jesus, it is important to speak with the authority of our convictions when the occasion calls for it. Some folks may be a bit astonished by it, but better that than to be embarrassed bys not saying anything at all.

The scriptures:Deuteronomy 18: 15-20; 1 Corinthians 7: 32-35; Mark 1: 21-28

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:11 AM.

January 20, 2009

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time [January 25, 2009]

I imagine it does not often occur to many serious Christians who read their bible and pray from it, that if they were simple to look between the lines they might discover a source of genuine entertainment, even good humor. No, I grant you, humor doesn’t just jump out at you from the pages of the bible. There are no stand-up comics in the bible as far as I know.

And yet, for those who choose to see the human aspects in the history and stories of the bible, there are truly some hilarious scenes.

The problem is, of course, that we do not go looking for humor.

We imagine that the bible is much too serious book for all that.

But, at the same time, what’s to keep us from believing that holiness and humor can’t spring from the same source, human mistakes, human foibles, even decisions made from the best intentions?

So, you would like some proof. It is all there in the scriptures for this Sunday, the Third in Ordinary Time. It is the story of Jonah, an ordinary Jewish fellow whom God invites (for whatever reason) to head east to sin city, the great metropolis of Nineveh. His orders? Preach repentance to those pagans.

Well, all this does not sound very inviting to Jonah. He was convinced that no one, particularly a Jew could convert these people, but after mulling it over and trying to turn back at least once, he comes to Nineveh, that huge city. True to his word he walks through the city preaching penance, all the while saying to himself: “Hey, this is so stupid. No way these people are going to repent.”

Ah, but here comes the humor: After the very first day of preaching, every living soul, even domesticated in the city began to throw ashes over themselves as a sign they were willing to do penance.

So, finally, here is Jonah, despondent, sitting under a shade tree, angry with himself that his penance preaching had actually worked. So, he complains to God: “How could you let this happen to pagans?” In the very last line of the story (not quoted here) God chides Jonah: “Why are you so sad Jonah, you’ve been a great success. It doesn’t take a Jew to repent, right.” End of story.

It’s a story about our prejudices, our sense that there are simply some people beyond salvation. Of course, God proves otherwise, right?

The second piece of humor comes out of the gospel story of two uneducated brothers, fishermen, and how they got their unexpected start in life, no not in the Galilee fishing industry, “church work.”
One day, they are sitting around in their boats after work, fixing their nets, complaining about the poor catch.

Suddenly, a man walks by whom they recognize as the local famous preacher. So with nothing better to do, they ask him where he lives. “Come and see,” he says. So, having nothing better to do, they spend the day with Jesus. We are not told what transpired, but we can imagine that Jesus must have said a few things about the Kingdom of God, his favorite topic of conversation. Nothing very spectacular in all that; not until the end of the paragraph where Jesus says to Peter: “You seem like a dependable man to me: Come follow me, I’m naming you rock (rock solid). I will change your career from fishing to preaching.

That may not sound very humorous, but think of it: One minute Peter is a fisherman, the next he is pope. Considering all this from our perspective today that is pretty funny. Not only that Peter’s friends join him on this venture and they all ultimately become bishops.

The gospels do not present this as humor, but when you think of the human factors involved, from fishermen to pope and bishops, well, at least it must make smile.

But what is the moral of the story? Well the moral is that God’s plan for our lives is, oddly enough, much different than ours. Jonah had a completely different sense of his future than Gods. Peter and the “guys” also had a sense that they would be fishermen for the rest of their lives that is until Jesus came along and changed it all. How differently both of those careers turned out.

Perhaps the added thought might be for us to listen as we go about our life each day: There might be a message from God in some seemingly small event that would take us in a direction we never thought possible. Well, it happened once to some ordinary people. Could it happen to us? Probably so.

The scriptures: Jonah 3: 1-5, 10, 1 Corinthians 7: 29-31, Mark 1: 14-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:36 PM.

January 12, 2009

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time [January 18, 2009]

I have a good friend who lives in the rural Alaskan village of Trapper Creek. Actually, I should be cautious calling it a village; it’s more of a vague geographical” point on the main highway to Fairbanks. You would not be able to find it on the map because it does not exist as an actual village. Most local folks would simply tell you that you are “there” if you come to the “T” of the Parks highway and Petersville road.

An all-purpose store with a red roof sits there just up the hill from the short airstrip. I would often stop there for coffee and a sweet roll on my way to the nearby church of St. Philip.

I wanted to mention the location because my friend Red Cooney lives somewhere out there in his cabin. I often promised that I would come out and check over his place but somehow never got around to it.

Anyway, even without an address, everyone in Trapper Creek knows where it is for two reasons: First, Mr. Cooney raises chickens, mainly for the eggs they produce. Secondly, Red also has this rather modest farm he has hacked out of the woods where he raises potatoes every year.

Now, why should I be telling you all this? I’m telling you all this because Mr. Cooney has made this chicken and potato farm his vocation. I think he might deny that assertion because chickens and potatoes are really part of his living. Perhaps he also has another source of income of which I am not aware, but that is not relevant here.

Now, I can claim with all honesty that this is truly Red’s vocation because on many an occasion he would grace me with a dozen eggs and a sack of potatoes before I flew home.

Not only did he often load me up with such merchandise but he also regularly drives around in his old red pick up to the various homes in the area and sells the produce. If the folks can pay, fine, if they cannot, he’ll say, Hey, I’ll catch you next time, ok?” Sometimes, he will just forget about it entirely. Everyone understands. It’s part of his vocation, you see.

The more important farm project, however, goes on in the late falls when the potatoes are ready for the digging. It is well known that Beans Café in down town Anchorage feeds hundreds of hungry people every day.

What does Mr. Cooney do? He graciously invites the folks, the guests at Bean’s Cafe to come up and help him dig. In return they can have truckloads of potatoes, which will feed folks during the long Alaskan winter.

And so it was that one man made it possible for folks to have generous portions of the fruit of the earth.

I am saying all this again because that is what our scripture readings for the Fourth Sunday in the church year are all about, listening to the voice of God and following that invitation as the young Samuel, noted in first reading, did or as those disciples did when Jesus invited them to come and see where he lived. It was in two such situations that vocations were born.

The point is that vocations are often born out of the earthly situations in which we find ourselves and not in some divine fire from heaven.

Secondly, vocations often come out of the relationship, the conversation that happens between people. That is where human needs often are discovered where responses become possible.

Whether it is a matter of collecting eggs and distributing them or digging potatoes and trucking them to Bean’s Café, it is all about paying attention to one’s intuition, one’s call and following up on it. That is what the young Samuel did. The passage relates that he grew up and the Lord was with him.

Regarding the disciples, they also followed the Lord Jesus home. Of course we all know how their lives turned out. It’s all about paying attention to voices, not out of nowhere, but out of the here and now, the earthly realities we all know so well.

Red Cooney will probably be displeased with me for using his name and telling his story. But, hey, it’s all about vocation, isn’t it?

The scriptures 1 Samuel, 3:3b-10-19 1 Corinthians 6: 13c-15a, 17-29 John 1: 35-42

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:07 AM.

November 19, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:19 AM.

November 11, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:18 AM.

November 05, 2006

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time - By Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:16 PM.

October 29, 2006

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Walking in the Other Person's Shoes

I think most of us have heard the well-known quote which I think comes from Black Elk, the Native American Indian philosopher, and which goes like this: You cannot truly know another person unless you have walked in his (her) moccasins. I hope I have that quote close to correct!) Anyway, correct or not, I think it is true, whether it's moccasins, shoes, sandals or flip-flops we're talking about, it's still true.

Actually, as you may have already surmised, we're not talking here precisely about shoes, but about identifying with another person, the whole person and not someone's feet.

When you think about that, about identifying with another person, it is really very difficult. You obviously can't get into another person's skin. So, identification ends up being a mental process, an imaginary pursuit, a matter of asking one's self, for instance, the question "I wonder what it's like being a little kid again? I wonder what it's like not having the use of one's arms or legs as so many of the veterans from the Iraq war do not, or I wonder what it must be like not being able to see?" These are questions, obviously being asked by someone who does have all these faculties.

These are also questions which came to mind last July when so many men and women who are physically handicapped came to Anchorage, all riding their nice little electric cars and getting along just fine. I asked myself then, "what does it mean or how does it feel not to have the use of one's limbs?" Again, one does not know how it feels, but it is important nonetheless to ask the question for many reasons.

First of all, the reason I even bring up this subject in a homily is because of the lovely little story in today's gospel about Mr. and Mrs. Timaeus' son, who was blind (his own name is not given). He is sitting along the road begging; he obviously has no other source of income; perhaps his parents were dead or they had little income themselves. At any rate, here he is sitting in the dirt along side the road begging when Jesus happens along. Hearing that Jesus of Nazareth, the healer, was passing by, he yelled out "Son of David have pity on me." You know the rest of the story: People standing around got a little irked at him for bothering the Rabbi and so they say to him, "Why don't you just shut up? But that didn't stop Bartimaeus. He did not "shut up", indeed he yelled out the louder until Jesus finally asked him what he wanted. "I want to see," the man said. (What else could a blind man say in those circumstances?) So, Jesus simply said, "go your way, your faith has healed you." Because you wouldn't let the crowd silence you, you are healed. He was healed. We'll never know what he did after that, but I'm sure he will remember what it was like to be blind.

There are lots of implications, as usual, in that short story and I have more questions than answers. But the questions are very revealing in themselves. There are also lots of similarities to life in our own day.

First of all, obviously, the man was handicapped, and as a result he probably got into other peoples' way occasionally. He may even have embarrassed them by making friends with Jesus the healer, the worker of signs.

I can remember a day in our own American history when handicapped people were a bother to the rest of the populace, insisting on approaches to the sidewalk so they could manage their wheel chairs. They yelled loudly like Bartimaeus, until they got what they wanted, so too bathroom facilities, doors that they could manage and many other common necessities. But it was not until they yelled some more that the Federal Government finally passed the Americans With Disabilities Act. Obviously, the reason why it took so long was because those who had no disabilities could not understand why this was so important. They did not place themselves in the other person's shoes.

Finally, all this leaves me with some questions (few answers). For instance, could it be true that when we say, "I know how you feel," that we really do not know how the other person feels? Do we even know how we ourselves often feel about something?

Could it be true that we are sometimes a little impatient (irked) when we need to wait a little longer for a person in a wheelchair make his or her way through the checkout counter?

Could it be true that we often see the world around us purely from our own perspective, and not from the other person's?

Could it be true that we sometimes think of handicapped people as being different from "the rest of us?" Are they really so different?

Is it not true to say that we are all a little handicapped (perhaps very handicapped without admitting it?) There are obviously few of us who are perfect human specimens, physically, mentally, psychologically or spiritually? So, in the last analysis, perhaps being handicapped is a relative term.

I have no answers to all these questions except to say that life in this world could be a happier situation if occasionally we tried to see life around us through the mind and heart of others. It might happen that we would find ourselves looking in a minor and saying, "Hey, that person doesn't seem that much different from me! What a discovery that would be!

The scriptures: Jeremiah 21: 7-9, Hebrews 5: 1-6, Mark 10: 46-52

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:41 AM.

October 22, 2006

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Being Number One

There was a time in our seminary training for the priesthood when our superiors thought it rather important that we learn something about humility "because." they said, "being humble was a very important part of our life as future as priests."

I can still remember two incidents from those days which I do not think made me any more humble but at least they taught me something about being a servant.

The first was a tradition or a task which all seminarians needed to do at some point in their religious life, namely, serving at table. At the end of our novitiate year, in the heat of August, on our return to the seminary to the Notre Dame campus we were all assigned to serve table at a huge men's retreat. (I think it saved the Holy Cross community considerable money!) At any rate, we served at table in our wool cassocks in the 90-degree heat for a period of three days. We could not wait for all this to end, of course, but the Catholic men making the retreat thought we were all being very pious, keeping silence, doing our work of service. A few men even fried to pay us for our sweat!

The other incident happened at my graduation from Notre Dame. Our class of seminarians was elected to serve at the graduation Mass in the Notre Dame Stadium, again in the heat of Indiana summer. Somehow, I was chosen to serve as the archbishop's trainbearer, the one who held up the long trailing vestment so it would not become grass-stained as he walked in procession into the stadium. Even then, I said to myself, "this has to look pretty stupid to all those folks up in the stands." Other seminarians may have thought it a privilege. I thought it was simply dumb.

But the fact that I can still remember those two incidents so vividly tells me something about humility and service. Actually, I have been humbled in other ways and many times since then, but mostly because I deserved to be humbled. I may be a slow learner.

I suppose humility and service go hand in hand because most of us end up having to do a lot of things in life that we might not choose to do but they are important to someone's life and on many occasions we do not have the freedom or the opportunity to ask why this is important. We just do it because it is the Christian and the human thing to do.

I am mentioning all this because the gospel which is assigned for this Sunday relates an interesting incident about two of Jesus' close associates, up and coming politicians, who thought that he (Jesus) would some day become a very important person in government, the military or even religion. So, they "made their move" early on demanding of Jesus that they (his special friends) be accorded the privilege of sitting at left and right hand in his kingdom, just like all those other civil servants did in King Herod's court.

Jesus surprises them by letting them know that this would be a possibility as long as they would be ready to "take the heat", the persecution and possible death in the process. Then Jesus went on to give them a little lesson in humility and service. In so many words, he told them, “In my kingdom we don't operate like the kings of the world operate. If you want a place in my kingdom, you need to learn how to serve people. If you want to be a `big shot', learn first how to start on the bottom of the hierarchy."

I'm sure that did not go down well with those two aspiring politicians, at least not at the time, because they had an entirely different sense of service. They only learned the real meaning of humility and service later in their careers when Jesus time of persecution came.

But let me then give you an example of a modern-day humble church-servant, who actually died only a few years ago, Bishop Kenneth Untener of Saginaw, Michigan. All the while he was bishop; he lived in mobile home which he used every week to visit all the parishes of the diocese. If there was a social event connected with the trip, he never used his position to sit at the head table. He insisted on sitting with the folks, so he could get to know them better. If he were asked to "say a few words" he would begin by saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Ken Untener and I will be your waiter this evening.

This may sound a bit odd for a bishop (you don't often hear it said publicly), but he was truly sincere in using those words because he believed that a bishop should, indeed, be a trusted servant. In fact, he always made the point that it was not only bishops who were supposed to be servants. This was to be a model for the whole Church, all Christians. If the Church is anything, it is to be a servant community. "If we are Catholic Christians," he would say, "we have an obligation to our brothers and sisters whether they are Catholic or not. People should recognize Jesus the servant in us." It's simple as that.

If what Ken Untener said is true, and I believe it is, then perhaps we still have more to learn about how to be Church together. Unfortunately for us, we often think being Catholic means taking care of our own personal life and letting everyone else take care of theirs. But if Catholic means anything, it means being universal, all of us together, doing the Lord's service. It's not an easy thing to learn, of course, because we have such a long history of personal, individual piety.

I have to tell you that I am still learning humility and service every day, despite the fact that once I served meals at a men's retreat in a sweaty cassock and carried an archbishop's train in a liturgical procession. Perhaps humility and service are hard things to learn or maybe they are sort of contrary to our human nature. Whatever it is though, we have to keep learning it, at least if we want sit on Jesus left and right hand in his kingdom. This is not about politics, you see!

The scriptures: Wisdom 7: 7-11, Hebrews 4: 12-13, Mark 10: 17-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:36 PM.

October 15, 2006

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Treasures

From time to time (actually pretty often) I have twinges of concern over the stuff I have or own. I don't actually have a lot of stuff, and it's not exactly a feeling of guilt I have in my own regard, but rather a question about the great gulf between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have nots in this vast world of ours. It's really a great dilemma for me when I sit down to my dinner over a nice salad, a salmon steak and vegetables and reflect on the fact that some little kids in Darfur have nothing more to eat than a dish of barley soup, if that. This realization doesn't make the food taste any better, that's for sure. And yet, there is always the great dilemma of knowing what one should do. The problem is so vast that even governmental agencies are unable to solve it. Perhaps, in the end, it comes down to a matter of being able to live with ourselves with a sense of peace with what we do have.

Obviously, this is not a problem which I alone face. Most people in the world have something; some have more and some have less, but we all face and live with the fact that a great disparity does exist in the world. Perhaps the solution is being able to have things without allowing them to be the reason for our life and existence. In other words, the issue is not allowing these things and possessions to "own" us. I should think that this is concern that causes us some conscience problems.

If the scriptures for this Sunday's liturgy are any evidence, this is not a problem unique to our own age. Indeed, there are two words; two ideas in those scriptures that can help us gain some insight about all this. The words are wisdom and eternal life. The author of the Book of Wisdom, our first reading, says that he prayed and prudence was given to him. He pleaded and a spirit of wisdom came to him. In comparison, he says, riches mean nothing to him, gold and priceless gems are as sand. Knowing the difference and living with the difference for him was wisdom. He was aware, obviously, that material things could be lost in a moment, but wisdom was everlasting, perhaps even everlasting life.

The same question about material possessions comes up again in the gospel. It is the well-known story of the young man who comes to Jesus, the teacher, the wise sage, the rabbi, and asks him how he can obtain everlasting life. This question is of great concern to him, he says, because he has vast possessions and he is probably worrying about how he can obtain everlasting life and still retain these possessions. Perhaps he was also asking the question because he felt that he could not possess both at the same time.

That may also be a question we in the Twenty First Century need deal with. How can we be rich and still get to heaven? None of us would like to believe that having earthly possessions would make eternal life impossible for us. Again, everyone in this world needs something to exist on, small or insignificant as it might be.

Getting back to the rich young man as a metaphor for us all, we who have or own things in this life. Perhaps what the rich young man was asking Jesus was not "how do I get to heaven (eternal life), but rather, is there anything more to life than this...these things, this money, or whatever?" Or even a better question: "Does life itself have any meaning? If I must some day die how can I satisfy my desire to live, live fully, at peace, not in the next world (whatever that might mean) but rather in this world, here and now?

So, you see, it is the wisdom question we talked about a moment ago, the question of what is really important in life, what really counts and how we live with that?

There are actually a lot of things in our life that make this question one we need to ask. Things such as our concern over wealth, power, privilege, family, status, security, appearances, consumption, domination, competition and a host of other things, do any of these help us appreciate life in its deepest and fullest meaning? Could we get along without them and still find peace? Or could they short-circuit our need even to ask the question of eternal life?

Perhaps in the end it is not a question of what we have but how we feel about what we have. Do we own them or do they own us? If they own us, then eternal life ceases to be an issue at all. We already have everything we need now, and we don't need anything more. Of course, I hope that is not the case with most of us. (Maybe it is a question only for folks like Donald Trump or George Soros with their millions!)

So, again, like the situation of the rich young man, it's all about being brave enough to ask the right questions. If we do ask those questions, it is likely that we will find that everlasting life does not lie somewhere, some time in the future. It has actually already begun here and now. I would like to think that this answer might settle my anxiety about the stuff I have; we'll see.

The scriptures: Wisdom 11:7-11, Hebrews 4: 12-13, Mark 10: 17-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:39 AM.

October 08, 2006

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Cure for Loneliness

I don't often frequent the city malls, but when I do, I notice, especially on weekends or holidays, that they are packed with young people, teenagers mostly. Observing the size of the packages they are carrying out of The Gap or Banana Republic, I assume that they have probably spent considerable cash.

But another thing I notice is that they hang together, arm in arm or arms around waists. (You know what I mean) It almost seems that they are afraid to be walking the malls alone, paying closer attention to the quality of the clothing they intend to purchase. (It's almost always clothing!)

You may well say, "What's so peculiar about that? Most people, adults and youngsters alike, hang out together in some form or grouping. We all gravitate toward others with whom we feel we have an affinity."

It has often occurred to me that this grouping is not simply a matter of finding company. I think it has something to do with our deep-seated (I think it is deep-seated) desire not to be caught up in loneliness or isolation. It seems as though we are afraid that if we have no one whom we can call friend or companion we will lose our way or not be able to say where we fit in this universe. The word "companion, by the way, means "the one I dine with.)

Despite this innate hunger for companionship, however, it does seem true that we all spend a great deal of our time in life being alone. Notice, for instance, the number of people on their way to work in the morning: Mostly, they are riding alone in their cars. Perhaps it is mostly a matter of convenience, but, nonetheless, they are alone. Or if you work in a large office complex, you and most of the other workers there are relegated to small cubicles. Again, it's a matter of convenience and privacy or space, but privacy is also aloneness. At any rate, we spend most of our day working alone, being alone. Sometimes it almost seems like a distraction when we need to communicate with others.

But to return to the young crowds at the malls and other places as well: What they are doing is a perfectly normal thing. It is a human habit we are born with and which we practice in some form or other during our entire life. Indeed, this trait is what we might call humankind's most fundamental need, namely the longing or desire to be with someone, not just occasionally at the malls but permanently, for our entire life: It is called marriage; it could also be called some form of intimate relationship. But whatever form it does take, it is a sign that we are human and normal and that our attraction to one another is God-given.

Our scriptures for this Twenty Seventh Sunday in the year seem to bear all this out because they speak of man and woman's innate human desire to "cling to one another." It's the well-known story of the creation of man and woman in the early chapters of the Book of Genesis. Whoever wrote the Book of Genesis surely knew something about human nature because it occurs to him that life in this world is incomplete without "the woman." Hence, the author immediately imagines that God needed to create a partner for Adam. So we have Eve, "the mother of all the living." And then the author adds an interesting insight: "That is why a man leaves his mother and father and clings to his wife and the two of them become one flesh."

It is interesting that he uses the word cling.

Why would a man cling to his wife? You might say, "Well, the woman is all he has to cling to. Without her, life would be utter loneliness."

So, we might say that this author is giving us his personal insight about the naturalness or the sacredness of marriage, or perhaps it is even something deeper than that. It is holy because God created the man and woman to cling to each other and that is what gives meaning to their lives. Without that relationship, who knows what life would be like?

Although the Genesis author does not say so, we could add that this is, indeed, why people marry: We look for someone who will fill up, complement, whatever is incomplete in us. In a sense, the author seems to say that we are not even fully and completely human by ourselves. We need another (an other) to make us more human than we already are. We might even add that we will never be happy or fulfilled unless we search for that other, that one who will ultimately satisfy our search for meaning.

Given all this from Genesis, it is interesting that Jesus referred to it when someone asked him one day about the matter of divorce. "Is it permissible for a person to divorce his (her) mate?" Jesus does not allow himself to be pulled into a trap, looking for another exception, another Legal option. He raises the question to a higher level: He asks, "What was it like in the beginning when God created man and woman? What it was like was that God created them one flesh, one spirit? You already know what it was like. They were created to be one.

Therefore, what God has joined together, let no human person set apart."

All this, according to Genesis and Jesus, is the ideal in human life: Man and woman join one another and when they do, they are no longer two, but one.

The author of Genesis and Jesus also insisted that this is the eternal human ideal, this oneness. But as we all know, despite our best and most honorable intentions and sincere efforts, some human relationships do not last. The human will is sincere, but often weak. Hence, it sometimes seems better that they separate so that they will be able to continue living with some semblance of peace. Nonetheless, the fundamental desire of people is that that they will be able to support one another for life. Separations are never easy; indeed, they often appear as a failure. Life is messy. It must truthfully be said at the same time that priests along with men and women who make vows in religious communities also find that the vows they made at an earlier time in their lives are also now unsustainable and so they ask that they be released from then so that they can pursue another way of life. Again, the best of human intentions sometimes cannot be fulfilled.

Despite all that, however, I think it is still true to 'say that all of us somehow desire to cling to one another because we are convinced that life without another person or persons will be a long loneliness. Clinging to one another is our salvation, our best and only choice. At any rate, until now, it seems that no better option has come along. I'm sure we are all happy to know that.

The scriptures: Genesis 2:18-24, Hebrews 2:1-11, Mark 10: 2-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:37 AM.

October 01, 2006

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Finding A Place

I imagine that there are many adults here in the assembly today who may wonder how they ever ended up doing what they are doing in their lives. How did this career or job ever become the one that you have been pursuing all these years? It is all a great mystery.

I suspect most of us when we were young imagined that we would be doing something totally different than what we are, in fact, doing today. In a sense, that is good because it tells us today that we had great hopes, great expectations, that we trusted our intuitions and our giftedness.

The problem, of course, is that we gradually found out that there wasn't room for us in this or that career or that when we examined it, it didn't fit with what we had in mind. We may even have said to ourselves: Why should I join this organization, I can already do what they do and do it better. I think that is true many times: We all know our own gifts; our talents and we would rather have the freedom to follow those instincts. We may have said to ourselves, there should be room for me to do what I feel best qualified to do. Why do I have to fit in some sort of box that someone else has constructed? There should be room for me in the world somewhere.

The problem, of course, is that we often find that we can't be individualists. There isn't room in the world for everyone who wants to "do his or her own thing."

With all that, I want to call attention to a situation mentioned in two of our readings for the liturgy today. It's the question of how we get to do what we love to do and are capable of doing when we find out that someone else is already doing that, someone else has already set up a plan or program to cover that field.

That was the situation described in the first reading from the Book of Numbers when two men in the Hebrew camp decided to begin preaching purely on their own, despite the fact that others were already responsible for that. One of Moses' trusted assistants brought this to his attention, assuming that Moses would put a stop to this business of "free expression." But Moses, in all his wisdom simply says: "Relax, don't worry about it. They are doing a good thing.

Wouldn't it be great if everyone could preach? Wouldn't it be nice if God inspired everyone to do this and not just the assigned preachers? In other words, Moses is saying that there ought to be room for everyone to find a place to do what he or she like to do, even if someone else is already doing it.

The same scenario appears in the gospel: John, one of Jesus' favorites, notices that someone was doing exorcisms, so he brings this to Jesus' attention. "I thought that was our job", he says. "This guy is not of our group; he shouldn't be doing that."

Again, Jesus, like Moses, in his great wisdom simply says: "Let him alone. If he's not against us, he must be for us. He can't be all-bad if he is doing something good. End of discussion.

It has often occurred to me that in the Church, over the centuries there has been a lot of unused talent! There are so many lay folks who are skilled, who have natural gifts and talents who never get a chance to do what they are so qualified to do. There are many who simply feel that because they are not ordained or have not taken vows of poverty, chastity or obedience, as nuns do, that they are not qualified or that there is no place for them and for their Christian giftedness.

Well, I must qualify that a bit because, in fact, we know, first that many Christians, Catholics do have natural and grace-filled gifts to offer their Church and that they are already exercising those ministries. Practically every Church in the United States has lay people doing a variety of ministries; we have them in this church too. Without such folks the Church would be the poorer for it. So, my point is that there a "slot" for everyone, for ever Catholic, not only to do the more formal ministries that we are used to at Mass each Sunday, but also ministries that are done out there in the world every day: Caring for the poor, visiting the sick, setting up peace and justice services, et cetera. Most of these do not require permission from anyone; folks just go out and do these ministries because they need to be done, and there is room enough even though someone else is already doing something similar.

I think what we need to realize in the Church is that we are not in competition with each other. There is room for everyone to bring to the table whatever they feel will be of value to the community as a whole.

So, as I mentioned at the beginning of all this: If you don't think you have found your niche in the Church yet, there's still time. Check in with your local pastor. He'd probably tell you, "Sure, there's plenty of room for you. You didn't even have to come in and ask for permission!"

The Scriptures: Numbers 11:25-29, James 5: 1-6, Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47-48

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:30 AM.

September 24, 2006

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Child's Vision of Life

If you were to ask the ordinary Christian who reads the gospels with any regularity, ask what they like best about Jesus, besides the fact that he was Son of God, they might tell you without hesitation, that what they like best is the way he treated little kids, or how he appreciated little kids. Who can argue with that? Anyone who likes little kids can't be all bad!

It is true; most people remember with great delight those several passages about Jesus and little children. We can identify with that sort of attitude. After all, we were kids once ourselves, we all know little kids, how cute they are, how loving, how innocent, (at least until they are six years old) how dependent they are on the adult world, et cetera. Most folks, therefore, would say that Jesus' attitude toward children proves that he was as human as the rest of us. God probably loves little kids too, but Jesus proves it. Jesus defends kids; he speaks of them as models for what he says his kingdom is like. "Such is the kingdom of God," Jesus says.

Now, right there, my friends, we will get a sense that, for all his affection for children, Jesus is not all that interested in little kids as such.

True, Jesus loved kids, but not simply because they are cute and cuddly. If he is going to compare them to politics, then we know immediately that something serious is going on.

Now, don't be put off with the word politics because politics often has a bad "odor." Politics has to do with the affairs of the people, the polis, with peoples' concerns.

You will notice I said "politics" but whenever Jesus uses the word "kingdom", he is actually talking about politics, that is, about a certain way of looking at the world, at culture, at the concerns of people, especially a certain number of people, namely, the poor.

So, what Jesus is suggesting is that when you observe the lives of little children you will immediately begin to understand how he thinks of life in this world or, better, how God thinks life in this world could be in the best of circumstances.

So, that is what Jesus means when he uses the word kingdom. One author I read recently described it like this: "Kingdom, in Jesus terms, means what life would be like in the world if God decided to come and be in charge." Another author described it as "God's dream, God's dream of life", as opposed to our understanding of reality, the way things really are.

So, when Jesus talks about the model of the life of little kids, he is actually referring to two different ways of looking at life.

The first is one we know best if we simply look around and see how things are, how life happens, the way politics and culture and even religion have developed over these many years. We could call that the secular or worldly model.

How should we characterize that model? Here are some words we often hear: "Politics as usual." We immediately know what that means. Some other words: Competition, winning at all costs, domination, power, privilege, consumption, affluence, appearances, individualism. That is pretty much the way life goes in this world. People are interested mainly in "getting ahead," getting a "leg up" on the other person, never being thought of as a loser.

Now, this does not mean that all these characteristics are bad in themselves or that people are bad who espouse them. It just means that life in this world is often conceived of as a struggle, competition at the expense of the neighbor, about taking advantage over others.

So, according to Jesus, life in this sort of world is a battleground: The one who has the most power, the most influence is the one who ends up with all the marbles, as kids say. That's one way of looking at life, at one set of politics, if you will.

Now, here is the way Jesus' politics looks: It can be described simply as a politics of compassion, the politics of the poor, the disadvantaged, the oppressed, the "little ones of God."

Remember, of course, Jesus spoke mainly to peasant people, the little ones of the world. He had less concern with the powerful, whether of the state or of the temple. They could take care of themselves.

So, life or politics in Jesus' kingdom meant that people should be able to live together in peace, to care for one another, to have compassion for one another; that would be the ideal world, the "dream of God".

Now most so-called "upper class" people would probably say, "this is all craziness; life doesn't work that way. Everyone has to take care of himself.

But, of course, we also need to ask: What happens when everyone takes care of him or herself? The rich get richer and the poor get poorer; some suffer while others are able to control their destinies. In other words, the politics of individualism doesn't make life in this world any more bearable for most people. All this is what leads to war and oppression.

Jesus, of course, would say, "Could life in the world be different if we tried? Could peace and compassion be given a chance?"

I think we all would like to believe that it could despite the fact that it does not happen as often as it should.

So, that is why Jesus thought little kids could be an example, a model for us adults. The problem is that we grow up and put so-called "childish ways" behind us, and all that is to our great loss. But God's "great dream" is more than a dream. It's the way life was meant to be and could be. Even little kids would tell you that.

The scriptures: Wisdom 2: 12, 17-20, James 3: 6-4:3, Mark 9" 30-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:22 AM.

September 17, 2006

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Self Definition

No one has ever asked me the question, but if someone did ask me the question, I would probably think a little bit about it. The question: "Who are you?" Most of us would say, "Well, my name is and I work over at so'n'so's, and you can find me in the phone book, on e-mail or even on the Internet." That might be enough for some, but it would not be asking very much, in fact, it would simply be asking for superficial answers.

The fact is (I think it's a fact!) that we really don't know who we are: We may know our name, obviously, and where we have come from; we know who our ancestors are and all that. But it is really an assumption we know the answer to the question of who we are and that we can give a clear answer. We're just operating on externals, on what we can prove from what we can see in the mirror or hear from our voice.

A better question about our identity might be: "What do you believe in? What is important to you in life? What do you stand for? What would you defend against all odds? That would tell your questioner something, not everything, but something more than your name, address and phone number.

Self-identity is one of those mysterious things that we work at our entire life, at least from the time we begin to take life seriously in our teenage years. It's around that time that we begin to form ideas, convictions, resolutions, et cetera. Of course, all those keep changing as we grow older so that by the time we are senior citizens we may still trying to figure out who we are, which is ok, of course.

I wanted to offer that little introduction so that we can think a little about Jesus and who Jesus was. There is no doubt that Jesus of Nazareth was (is) one of the most interesting and mysterious people who ever lived. He was mysterious not because he was Son of God, but because he contradicted practically everyone's assumptions about himself. I'm sure that if people asked Jesus who he was, he would not have said, "Well, I'm Jesus from the town of Nazareth. Joseph was my father, Mary, my mother. I have relatives who have lived around here for years." Jesus would not have said any of that. Rather, he would have said what he would like people to remember about him. "I would like to be known as a prophet in the model of Isaiah and Jeremiah." He would have said, "I would like to be known as a wise man, a sage, a preacher of compassion, a man who challenges conventional wisdom, a man who intends to establish a new movement of the spirit among my people." Above all, he would have said, "I have come to establish kindness in the place of violence, love in place of hate, peace in place of war. In other words, I'm a person who looks at life in a completely differently than most people." That's probably what he would have said. By the way, Jesus never said, outright “I am God." But he did say that he had come to do God's will that he had come to establish God's kingdom on earth.

In short, I think that tells us more about Jesus than what he looked like, how he spoke, et cetera, although those have always been interesting questions too.

Well, all this comes from the simple question in Mark's gospel: Jesus is interested in knowing what people think of him, but that is not enough because the general public had rather superficial notion of Jesus: Healer, miracle worker, multiplier of bread for 5000, multiplier of wine at weddings, a kind of prophet, a military kind of person, et cetera.

But Jesus, obviously, was not satisfied with that. It was too shallow. So, he asks Peter, who should know, "What do you think, Peter? What is your perception of me? Peter replies: "You are the Christ; you are the anointed of God."

But it is interesting that when Jesus reminded Peter that God's anointed would have to suffer and die, Peter thought that was absurd. “It was impossible for God's anointed to have to suffer and die. In other words, he still didn't really understand who Jesus was; he was merely looking at externals.

All this finally brings us to the question we have to face every day if we are Christians: Who do we think Jesus is, and how does that affect our life? That question really defines our Christian life because the way we answer it will tell us how to live.

Perhaps the most important thing to remember is that we should not do what Peter did: We can't make Jesus be someone he never intended to be. We can't make Jesus fit our own ideas and assumptions. We simply have to let Jesus be who he is for us today and live with that even though it may make us a little uncomfortable. After all, Jesus asked some hard questions, expected his followers to be ready to suffer a little for what they believed in.

I suppose, for most of us, being Christian or Catholic doesn't threaten us with very much suffering or even much hardship. (Perhaps a little fasting once in a while.) But usually being Catholic is not even very hard work: We go to Church on Sunday, say our prayers, live morally upright lives and that's about it. That alight well be ok, but it might also be well for us occasionally to ask: "Lord is there anything else you have in mind for me? Have I missed anything' If we ask ourselves that question honestly, we can be sure there will be some interesting answers.

The scriptures: Isaiah 50: 5-9a, James 2: 14-18, Mark 8: 27-35

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:09 AM.

September 10, 2006

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Human Incompleteness

I never think of it very often, perhaps none of us do, but all of us make hundreds of decisions every day. Pm thinking particularly about the way we use our human senses: What we will watch or look at, what we will listen to, what we will enjoy, what we will avoid at all costs. For instance, I would rather watch a beautiful sunset than a segment of Seinfeld or Treasure Hunt on TV. I would rather listen to a piece of jazz by the organist Billie Preston than something by the Rolling Stones. (this is a personal preference, of course). Nonetheless, our senses, our human faculties give us lots of options.

It has often occurred to me that God must have had us in mind when he created all things of beauty, things to hear and see and smell and touch. What good is a sunset if you can't see it? What good is a Beethoven sonata if you can't hear it, a lilac bush if you can't smell its beautiful odor, a glass of Chardonnay if you can't taste it?

At the same time, we must be honest and say that there are lots of folks who do not have the use of one or other of these senses and perhaps that may seem like a great tragedy, at least to those of us who have never been without them.

Fortunately, in our own times, we have become much more sensitive to the needs of folks who are handicapped. There was a time when we paid scant attention to their need for access to buildings or transportation and all the other things we take for granted; we seem to be slow learners.

From my reading of the gospels and the daily life of Jesus, I get the impression that he was a very sensitive and intuitive person. Hardly anything escaped his notice: He observed changes in the weather and asked what it could mean. He pointed out the loveliness of the birds in the air and the fields of flowers. But he also insisted that, lovely as these may be, every human person is even more precious in God's sight.

Although Jesus was sensitive to beauty, he also knew that not everyone was able to experience all this first hand. So, from your reading of the gospels, you will already be aware how often Jesus would be overwhelmed with grief and compassion for people who were blind, who could not hear, or who had no access to healing water, et cetera. Now, Jesus did not assist everyone who was handicapped, and that is a great mystery we shall never solve. We do know however, that he did have compassion for people who came to him for help.

Of course, that is a model for all of us, whether or not we have full use of our human faculties. People with handicaps do not ask for compassion, they simply ask for understanding and respect. After all, when you think about it, we are all somewhat handicapped. There is no such thing as a "perfect person, a perfect human being."

What can we learn from all this? For one thing, we can all learn how better to appreciate the gifts of our human senses, how we could learn to pray better, for instance, simply by experiencing everything around us to the fullest, whatever is beautiful, lovely, comely, inspiring, enlightening, tasteful, harmonious, full of meaning. In other words, we ought not take our human faculties for granted, but rather let them be more for us than eyes, ears, noses and limbs. They are the means whereby we experience God. In other words, God is in the obvious, but it takes a little noticing.

Speaking of noticing the obvious, I am always reminded here of that little piece of poetry by Elizabeth Barrett Browning that goes like this:

Earth's crammed with heaven
and every common bush afire with God. But only they who see take off their shoes. The rest sit around it and
Pluck blackberries.

I think that might have been something like that which Jesus had in mind when he suggested that we should pay attention to the birds and the flowers. They are metaphors for God if we have the good sense to pay attention.

The scriptures: Isaiah 35: 4-7, James 2: 1-5, Mark 7:31-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:03 AM.

September 03, 2006

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Written in Stone

For those of you who love old movies, there is one that you might remember from the year 1956, The Ten Commandments, starring Charlton Heston, in the role of Moses (who else?). Anyway, what I remember best, besides the famous scene of the parting of the Red Sea is Moses receiving the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai: Fire springs from God's finger tips and the commandments appear written on tablets of stone in Roman numerals. (you wouldn't expect them to be scribbled in sand, would you?) The point, of course, is that now God's law is forever set down, never to be changed, "written in stone," as we say. Anyone can read it who chooses to. You can read it in books of theology, in catechisms, even on the walls of courthouses. Moses himself is enshrined on the facade of the Supreme Court building in Washington, D.C. as one of the great lawgivers of history.

Well, obviously, the studios at Paramount or Metro Goldwin Mayer may have gotten the history a bit wrong or at least exaggerated, but the idea was good. All law comes from God and it cannot be changed on human whim.

Of course, over the years, down to our very own time, we have been fussing about whether the Ten Commandments should be set up in secular buildings and properties. Indeed, some while ago a judge in a southern state was admonished, disciplined and chastised for insisting that a representation of the Ten Commandments should be publicly displayed on the lawn of the local courthouse. What better place, you may say.

What is so interesting about all this, of course, is that the Ten Commandments, along with thousands of other laws, are actually inscribed on stone for all to see on a ten-foot tall black rock in the Louvre in Paris. It is called the Stele of Hammurabi. Hammurabi was a king and lawgiver who lived around 1780 B.C. in what is today Khuzistan, Babylonia. (Iraq) He is presented on the stone as receiving the Law from the Sun God Shamash, which tells you right away that people in those days knew that all law came from God (or the gods!) All law is divine law.

So then, what should we make out of Law or laws? Oddly enough, laws are something we sometimes hate, but probably need more than we think. What would life be like in this world, even in the local neighborhood, without them?

The author of the book of Deuteronomy, today's first reading, tells the people of his time that if they keep the law they will give evidence to other nations of their wisdom and intelligence. The point he is making is that law is not meant to restrict us but rather to help us be more human, more humane.

Unfortunately, we never seem to think much about the beauty of law except when we, or someone, breaks the law and needs to pay for it.

When you read the gospel for today, you get a pretty clear insight about how Jesus felt, not about Law, or the Law, not God's Law, but about human rules, warnings, et cetera. Jesus was referring, particularly, to the cleanliness codes regarding eating, what Jewish people today the Kosher laws.

What is interesting to notice, however, is that Jesus, who was also a Jew, was not antagonistic toward the cleanliness rules. He was more concerned about the possibility that the keeping or disobeying of these small, everyday rules of kitchen etiquette might distract people from the true Law, the Law of God, or even the Law of the Heart. These are his words: "You disregard God's law and cling to what is human tradition."

So, what should all this mean to us, we Catholics? Lots of folks who are not of our faith, of course, have the sense that we are a religion of rules, habits, customs, rites and traditions: Signs of the cross, genuflections, keeling, sitting, standing, fasting, abstaining, Easter Duty, Novenas, et cetera. It might seem to outsiders that every move in our faith is covered by some rule. It's not so, of course: Most of our daily traditions are meant to help us do things together, to be a unified community.

Now, of course, if we get so entangled in the human traditions, as Jesus says, that we forget what God's Law is calling us to, then we have lost our way. The temptation or the danger of getting lost in rules, as in Jesus day, is not so different from our own times.

That leads us finally to ask some questions about law itself: Why should we need it at all? It would seem as though law is already an admission of our human weakness, of our failure to live peacefully with one another without it. In a sense, that is true: We all live under what is called the Law of Nature, our natural instincts that tell us to do what is

right and avoid what is wrong. But, given our human "falleness," (what we once called Original Sin) we obviously do not follow our best natural instincts. So, in that instance, law comes in to save the day for us, alas, to protect us from. ourselves.

We all know what life would be like without Law or laws. It would be total chaos. Indeed, it is often chaos even with all our laws.

On the other hand, we have to admit that living together in the human community is often a messy thing and those who have made laws over the centuries have done us a great favor; they have helped us and instructed us in ways that are truly humane. The ideal might be that we should eventually be able to live without laws, but I'm not holding my breath for that possibility to happen any time soon.

Perhaps the best we can hope for is that if each of us truly tries to live according to our best natural instincts and according to God's law and the law of our faith, we will be doing something good for this messy world in which we live. It's is something we should be happy to do...even without laws.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 4: 1-2, 6-8 James 4:1: 17-18, 21-22, 27 Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:52 AM.

August 27, 2006

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time - Not to Choose is to Choose

For those of us who are senior citizens, it is no great surprise to us that young folks today (and even we ourselves) have countless more options in our lives than we did, say, even a quarter century ago. Of course, that can be both a blessing and a curse, depending on how we deal with those choices.

Think, for instance, then, about some of the choices we have which were not available to us in our younger days. Communication for instance, where once we might have been limited to handwriting letters, today we have the options of the Internet, cell phones, text messaging, et cetera. If we once needed to travel some distance, we may have had the use of a sailing ship, the railroad or perhaps an undependable Model T Ford. Today we can choose air travel and be around the world in half a day. Job opportunities are endless; where we choose to live today (if we have the money) is our choice. Even our choice of a life partner has greater possibilities than it did in our grandparent's day. In short, what we decide to do with our life is our own choice. We are not limited by place, time or culture. Even our decision how we worship God is our own choice.

All of this tells us, therefore, that human choice can be a blessing but also a serious responsibility. Choosing one brand automobile over another may not be important, nor what sort of cell phone do we use. Those are somewhat superficial. But, on the other hand, how we make ethical and moral decisions, how our religious faith impacts our life and our relations to others, that is very important indeed.

So, what is choice anyway? It seems to me that choice truly defines who we are as human beings. It is a sign of our human nature. Other beings in this world do not seem to have the option that we do to make intelligent decisions, decisions that have been thought out before hand and are meant to be followed out with serious intent.

Hence, we human beings are often judged by our choices, wise or foolish. We are rewarded or punished by how we make our decisions. Lots of folks are in prison because of bad choices. It even occurs to me to say that all human foundations in this world, law, government, religion depend on the assumption that we can make good or bad choices and can be held responsible for them. If that is not the case, then the civilized world ends in chaos.

Of all the areas in our human life where choice becomes very important, religion or faith would seem to hold an important place. Granted, faith or religious life is not important to all people, but many at least believe in something which gives direction and meaning to their life. For that reason, then, most people have a sense of responsibility even a sense of guilt when they make poor choices.

It may seem odd to us, but the area of our life where we have the most freedom is in religion. For people of faith, God is not perceived as a dictator. We are free to do as we choose. That freedom is what gives our actions their meaning and significance. It's called conscience, one of our most precious gifts. How would any action of ours be judged good or bad if we did not have the right to choose?

Two of our scriptures for this Twenty First Sunday also provide us with some insights about choice. Joshua, who succeeded Moses as the leader of the Israelite pilgrims challenged his brothers and sisters to decide whom they would serve once they arrived in their promised land, the God who had rescued them from Egyptian slavery, the one who fed and watered them in the desert, or would it be the choice of one of the nature gods of the people whom they would meet on their desert journey? "As for myself," Joshua says, "I'm sticking with the God of our ancestors. I invite you to join me; it's your choice."

As we have been hearing in the gospel over the past several Sundays, Jesus is trying to explain to the curious crowds who he is and who he wants to be for them: He says: "I am the bread of life; I am bread from heaven. If you accept it, you will have life for ever." Obviously, this was too much for many of them and they decided to go their way. Then Jesus asks his special friends, the Twelve, how they feel. Will they, like the rest of the crowd, choose to go their way too? Peter (always the spokes person) blurts out: "Lord, we don't have any other choice; you have the words of eternal life; you are God's holy one.

I have often wondered: If that choice had not been made, would we all be here today thinking about all this? Would Christian history have taken a different direction if Peter and the rest had decided to go their separate ways? Perhaps we should all be happy that some people did follow Jesus. Here we stand in this church today, following in their footsteps.

Finally, I have always thought that it is a great privilege, not just to be Catholic and Christian, but to have the choice to remain so and to accept the challenges that goes with being Catholic. It seems to me that to call one's self Catholic automatically involves some hard work, heavy responsibility. Catholics, I think, are generally known as people who make hard choices, who live by the rules. That is something we should be proud of even though the rest of the world does not always follow us.

So, today we may be asked by Jesus in some mysterious way: "Do you want to go away too?" Our answer should be: "Lord, somewhere back in history you chose me to follow you. I'm happy to say today that I don't have any other option. Lead the way, I'm behind you!"

The scriptures: Joshua 21: 1-2a, 15-17, 18-19, 20-21, Ephesians 5: 25-32, John 6: 60-69

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:46 AM.

August 20, 2006

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Food For the Whole Person

Anyone who is exposed even to a half hour of evening television will tell you that most of the advertising will be trying to convince you that there is something wrong with you, that you probably have some problem with your health and you had better get busy doing something about it. Ever notice the concern about obesity today and all the cures for it? Osteoporosis is another big physical problem. The state of your skin and skin care is another. Whatever physical problem you may have, some company already has a cure for it.

Even more interesting is a casual stroll through Barnes and Noble Book Store. Just browse through the section on cook books or diet fads for instance: Whole shelves of 'em. Most of them don't work, of course, but that doesn't keep people from buying the books.

Is psychological health your problem, there are books to cover that as well.

If you have spiritual problems, there is some guru, some expert to help you get through those as well.

In other words, experts of various sorts know that the human person is a very complicated being and there are innumerable things that can go wrong with you. Some, or many of these, are real but others are probably imaginary. Of course, real or imaginary, they sell products.

Of course, long before the current craze to heal all our various ills, there have been philosophers who have helped us understand ourselves and our place in the world. (Mental health, it's called) What does it mean to be a person living in this world at this time in history in community with so many other people with similar and different needs? That's, in part, what philosophers and theologians try to do; they try to help us understand the meaning of life, our human destiny, where we fit in this world. They ask what it means to be human in the fullest sense. It all boils down to the question of wisdom: How does one live wisely in the world? How does one fulfill one's deepest wishes, one's hearts desire?

So, there are several different parts of our human person that need care: The physical, the psychological, the social and the spiritual. In other words, we are a very complicated being with many needs. One begins to wonder if we are ever fully healthy in all these categories. So many things can go wrong with us.

The scriptures for this Twentieth Sunday of the year seem to have some answers to at least a few of these human problems, the question of full human health. What nourishes us totally?

The author of the Book of Proverbs uses an interesting literary device to help us understand the abstract notion of wisdom. Imagine wisdom, he says, as a person, a woman, who invites you to her house where she has prepared the best meat and wine, waitresses to serve at the banquet. Who's invited? Anyone who is simple, anyone

whose life is uncluttered by the concerns of the world, anyone who lacks understanding but is willing to listen, anyone willing to forsake foolishness. That's the banquet of wisdom. It's all free for those who need it.

So, what would that mean in modern terms? Where does one find wisdom today? Well, it will probably not be found at a banquet as the author of Proverbs suggests.

But there is wisdom to be found all over, just for the taking. First of all, wisdom is not just knowing a lot of "stuff." Wisdom has to do with deep thought, with asking hard questions, with the willingness to spend some time each day just thinking, being quiet, and reflecting on life's meaning. Wisdom also comes with reading, with listening to people who themselves have struggled to find it.

I think, for instance, of elderly folks, men and women of age, who have lived a lot of years and who have struggled to understand life in this world. They may have suffered a lot too they can tell you lots about life. That's wisdom.

Conversation and debate is another source of wisdom, being willing to listen to another side of an issue and learn from it. That's wisdom also.

I often think of Jesus as a wisdom teacher. People had a hard time understanding him because he reflected on life's meaning more deeply than most folks. In fact, some asked, "Where did he get all this wisdom? After all, we know where he came from. We know his family."

So, I think Jesus saw his role in life to help people understand themselves and their relation to God. He continually kept talking about God as our Father and about God's reign in our lives. For Jesus, that was human nourishment, spiritual nourishment too.

Then in today's gospel Jesus uses some metaphors or analogies to try and help people understand who he is and what he has come to do for people. He says, "I am like flesh and blood, the sources of life. That is what I want to be for you, human nourishment, nourishment that will last forever.

Then he uses another metaphor: He says, just like ordinary bread nourishes your body, so am I bread that nourishes you spiritually, bread that will last for ever.

I often like to think, then, that Jesus' desire was to cover all the human bases (as it were): To help us understand life (wisdom), to help us live together in peace, to help us understand that heaven is our spiritual home where we will live forever.

The nice thing about all this is that it is all free: No need to go to Barnes and Noble for books or to buy all the stuff the medical industry tries to sell us on television. Jesus offers it to anyone who seeks wisdom and who seeks God's kingdom.

"No point, therefore, going hungry," Jesus says. "Come to wisdom's table, you'll come away a healthier, holier person."

The scriptures: Proverbs 9: 1-6, Ephesians 5: 15-20, John 6: 51-58

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:31 PM.

August 13, 2006

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Food For the Way

In my reading over the past several months I have noticed a number of events in the news that spoke to me about the human desire or our common need to travel toward some important goal or destination in life. Some of these we can easily identify, others are a mystery. Examples:

Most of us have read about the great dilemma on our southern borders, the desire of many of our neighbors in Mexico attempting to find ways to cross into Arizona or California to find work and security in the United States. This has caused immense problems for Congress attempting to find ways to accommodate immigrant people who seek a home in the United States and yet to bring some order and predictability to this great flood of travelers. On many occasions, of course, entire families find themselves lost in the middle of the Sonoran desert without food and water dying of thirst. Such a great tragedy.

On a more pleasant note also, I recently read a nice article in Commonweal Magazine entitled "On the Pilgrim Road: Hospitality on the `Camino." It described the work of a American volunteer couple who spent two weeks serving as wardens (caretakers) at the Refugio Gaucelmo, a hostel for pilgrims who are making their journey to the great religious shrine of Santiago de Compostela (the cathedral of St. James) in Spain. Like many travelers, the pilgrims have spent an entire day (some 25 miles) on foot and now they come to the refugio in the evening, hungry, thirsty, exhausted, bedraggled, searching for food, water and a comfortable bed before continuing their trek to Compostela the next morning. The "wardens" insisted that in their work (which was not always so pleasant), they learned much about peoples' basic need not simply to "last it out" until they arrived in Compostela, but rather to fulfill some deep and mysterious human desire which often they could not explain even to themselves.

Once again, like the immigrants we noted above, these pilgrims were willing to submit themselves to immense difficulties and hardships in order to realize their sacred goal, a fulfillment of their life's desire. In the case of the immigrants, their life's desire is to find a job and security for their families. For the pilgrims in Spain, their heart's desire is a spiritual matter, symbolized in the arrival, finally, at Santiago de Compostela In both instances, however, the fulfillment of the goal involved much suffering and sacrifice. They both needed bread and water for the journey.

This Nineteenth Sunday of the church year has two readings which match the events I just described: The first is a story of Elijah, a tough-talking prophet who took on the pagan priests of Queen Jezebel up in the Northern Kingdom. His tough-talk, however, got Elijah into trouble with Jezebel, so when we pick up the story Elijah is heading out of town hoping

to make his way to encounter God on the sacred mountain in his own country, Mount Sinai or Horeb, as some called it.

Elijah is in trouble, however: He's without food and water out in the Sinai desert sitting under a tree, still a long way from his destination. It is here that God's messenger (no name given) meets him and provides him with water and bread, enough to get him to his sacred destination.

The lesson: Every great journey in life, every search for what is sacred to us will involve some challenge, some suffering, some hunger and thirst. Indeed, as we know from personal experience, the journey we call life itself is a constant series of ups and down's, but ultimately we say, it's worth the effort.

The gospel for today also talks about "bread for the journey." People are complaining to Jesus because he boldly says he is "the bread come down from heaven." "What's this all about," they ask? We know his history, his family. He's just like one of us." So, Jesus was a great mystery to most of his neighbors.

Well, obviously, Jesus himself was not bread, as we know bread. He was a human person like all of us. So, he must be speaking in metaphors, in analogies. It would be like saying: "Whatever bread is, whatever bread means, that is what I am, that is what I want to be. Bread is basically nourishment, strength, health. That is what I want to be for you." That is what Jesus meant to say.

We have lots of examples in the gospels where Jesus fed people with bread and with fish; water too, we can assume. But when the meal was over, he would ask whether the folks understood what it all meant? Were they simply happy to get another meal and fill their stomachs, or did they understand that the food they had received was only a sign of something more that Jesus wanted to give...himself, life in all its fullness, eternal life? In other words, Jesus meant to say that bread is always more than what it seems to be.

That ultimately leaves us with the question: If we claim to be followers of Jesus, the Bread of Life, what is it that we hunger for in life? Bread and water, for sure. But are there other things in life that provide nourishment for us? Here are some I can think of: When we think about life seriously, we all hunger for wisdom, for knowledge, for understanding, but also for beauty, for loveliness, for the support of friends, for something good to read or listen to: poetry, music, drama, a good conversation, some humor. All of these nourish us in ways beyond what the body by itself craves.

I think Jesus had a clue to all this when he pointed out so well: "People do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God." I think that is so true: Everything in life comes from the mind of God, but the point is that all this "energy" needs to be shared by us.

So, that leaves us with the question: What nourishes you every day? What is "bread" for you? What gives life meaning for you? What is precious and lasting? Whatever it is, it is God's gift to you. It could be mine too....if you will share it with me for the long journey home.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 19: 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, Ephesians 4: 30-5:2, John 6: 41-51

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:24 PM.

August 05, 2006

Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord - The Secret Of Our Self

If my own experience is of any value, I would need to say that I am a very private person; indeed, I think, deep down, we are all very private people. Only in rare instances do we reveal to others who we really are. Perhaps that means that we ourselves really don't know who we are, except in some superficial way. Our human spirit is always a great mystery that we choose not to share.

Perhaps that means that each of us keeps our identity personal and private. We may think that we know the secrets of others' lives, but there is still much that we do not know and don't deserve to know.

Despite all that, of course, there is a lot of what I would call "nosiness" in the secular world. Just consult People Magazine, for instance or those newspapers you find at the checkout counter at the market. The headlines are all about the most recent exploits of the stars, who's marrying, who's divorcing, who's having a child, et cetera. There seems to be a sort of human hunger to find out as much about others as possible. Not that it's all that important or significant, but it seems fascinating anyway.

Aside from the so-called "beautiful people", however we do not know much about our most intimate friends and relatives. Even husbands and wives, I should imagine, do not always share the most intimate elements of their personalities. There is something sacred about us that keeps us from simply divulging who we are down deep.

Speaking about who we are, I think it would be true to say that the person in history who has always commanded the most interest is Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus has always been a fascinating mystery to us. If that is true of the people of our day, it must surely have been true of Jesus own time as well. Jesus was, indeed, a mystery to people who knew him. Even his own mother and his family and relatives did not seem to know him. They knew his name, of course, and where he came from, but they could not understand why he was doing what he was doing: Preaching God's kingdom, doing marvelous signs, et cetera.

Actually, they thought him a bit "daft" and asked him to come home where he would be safe from violence.

You might imagine, of course, that the people who should have known Jesus best were his friends, The Twelve. And yet, even they did not have any deep understanding of him even though they traveled with him from day to day.

So, I imagine that they simply went along with Jesus from day to day; traveling the roads, imagining that they knew everything there was to know about him. That is, until the day he invited them to come up to the top of a high mountain (high places in scripture, of course, are always places of revelation). And here, the gospel text tells us that Jesus was transfigured before them. Scripture scholars do not know precisely what "transfigured" means, but they described it in terms of light.

Peter, amazed as he was over all this, decided that he saw something in Jesus that resembled the great leaders of Israelite history: Moses, the Lawgiver and Elijah the prophet. So, he suggests that three altars, or three tents should be erected there so the sacred experience would not be forgotten.

Now, we have no idea whether this ever happened because when the experience was over, Jesus simply said, "Friends, let's go back down, there's work to be done, but I'm asking you not to tell anyone about all this. Most people would not understand." So, that was it, they came back down, but by now they had a completely different understanding of Jesus than they had before.

That brings us to the question: How well do we know Jesus? Most of us might say, "Well, all I know is what I read in the gospels!" Fair enough. Our only source of knowledge about Jesus is his story in the gospels. We obviously have never had a "transfiguration experience" like Peter James and John and surely cannot expect it in our life time.

But there are also a lot of other human experiences in the gospel that describe Jesus' life, the kinds of human experiences most of us can identify with and learn from. The question is, what did Jesus stand for what were Jesus' strongest convictions? Here are some we could learn from: Jesus had a deep sense of compassion for people who were suffering; he had a deep sense of justice, equal treatment for all alike. Being human, Jesus even had a human leaning toward anger and frustration. But he also had a deep sense of people's problems, their sadnesses and sorrows. One line says: "He had compassion on the crowd because they were like sheep without a shepherd."

So, all that tells you something about Jesus even though we can probably assume that we will never be with him on a high mountain and see him transfigured.

The scriptures: Daniel 7: 9-10, 13-14, 2 Peter 1: 16-19,Mark 9: 2-10

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:10 PM.

July 30, 2006

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Fast Food

A month or so ago an article appeared in our local paper titled: "AP poll finds a nation that hates having to wait for anything." I can understand that: I hate waiting in lines too, whether at the market, the DMV, the bank or even at the traffic light. We are, indeed, an impatient people. Part of the reason for that, I think, is because everything comes so easily and quickly to us. Think of the computer, for instance: Dial-up for the Internet is not fast enough anymore. Now we need broad band or DSL. and even those are too slow for some folks. In reality, however, there are very few things we have to wait for today.

Another article I read some while ago mentioned that hardly anyone today has the patience to make a good meal. Perhaps it may happen on weekends if guests are coming, but rarely during the week. It just takes up too much of our time. So, we stop at the market and get some fast food or perhaps we have some MRE's in the pantry. Or better yet, perhaps we just stop at MacDonald’s or Wendy’s on the way home. Why waste precious time on food, of all things!!

I must say, however, that fixing a meal and eating a meal is a very beneficial activity, even beside the physical nourishment it offers us. It takes some creativity, some reflection and thinking about what to have and how to fix it, how to make the meal worth sitting down for.

Then, of course, we can't forget the conversation that goes on at a good meal; that's also nourishing.

Well, with all that introduction, we have two incidents in the readings for this Sunday that talk about food going around. I call these "Fast Food Stories." The common thread running through both the readings is that an individual, Elisha, the prophet and Jesus, both provide fast food, one for a hundred people and Jesus for some five thousand.

Practically all the commentaries I have read on these two stories place the emphasis on the miracle of the multiplication of the bread. This is no common meal preparation. There are lots of folks waiting for a handout. I agree, there may well be a miracle element in the stories. But, as usual, we always need ask about the meaning of the story. What was it meant to convey? Was it a miracle or, as Jesus would say, a sign, a sign of something deeper than the multiplication of the bread itself?

My feeling is that the essence of the two stories is not about multiplication but about division, the dividing up of the bread. This does not mean, of course, that there was not a miracle involved but simply that multiplying bread does not get it to the people who are hungry. That operation takes some human effort, some human cooperation.

You will notice, of course, that Jesus took things in hand and made sure that his disciples handed the bread around.

That already tells you something about the meaning of the stories: One that food was made available and, two, that people needed to share the food.

So, what are some implications in these stories that we could apply to our lives today? First of all, perhaps Jesus' "miracle" was not so miraculous when you try to imagine how food comes to our table every day at the hand of God. The way things grow is also "sort of a miracle." The fact that our world provides so much food is truly miraculous, or at least something we cannot simply take for granted.

Of course, then we need to ask the additional question, if there is so much food, why do so many people go hungry every day? Well, the problem is not about multiplication but about division. We just don't know how, or we refuse to divide up. Once in a while, of course, we divide up when there is an earthquake or a tsunami where thousands of people are without food. In that case we can usually pull our forces together and get the food to the folks. So, it can happen, but, obviously, it does not happen often enough because people are still dying of hunger every day.

So, what does all this have to do with the Eucharist that we celebrate each Sunday? Some will tell you that the words of the priest at the altar at the consecration accomplish something miraculous. It could be a miracle, but I would rather call it a mystery or a sign of God's goodness.

I think the sign value in the Eucharist is that the receiving of Holy Communion should be an incentive for us to go out and share whatever food we have, no matter how little of it we have. Again, it's all about division, dividing it up.

Perhaps what mainly keeps us from dividing up the riches of God's gifts is that we are always too much in a hurry. We don't have the patience to figure out how we should go about distributing the bread and the many other gifts that are provided us in this world.

One thing for sure: Meals should not be fast. It takes a while to appreciate something nourishing. The same holds true of the Eucharist, the Mass. What's the big hurry about getting out under an hour? With mysteries, you need some time to figure out what you are receiving. There is still time for MacDonald’s after Mass.

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:55 AM.

July 23, 2006

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Time Out!

I often admire the dedication of people who are committed to work on farms or in what is called "animal husbandry," that is, the care of animals.

As practically everyone knows who has ever heard or read these homilies over the years, I too lived and worked (sort of) on a farm. It never occurred to me as a youngster how demanding this vocation really was: Cows needed to be milked morning and evening, twenty-four-seven-three hundred and sixty five days a year. One just did not take a break from such work. Indeed, the cows depended upon the care they received.

I can remember only once in my early history that my father took a vacation and that was only for a few days. Mom and I stayed home and milked the cows!

Reflecting on the work of the farmer today, it almost seems like prison. There are not many options other than to be at home constantly.

Of course, this is true of many other kinds of work as well: Ranchers, poultry farmers, even people who work in the so-called "professions," doctors, lawyers, people in industry where one needs to be available at any moment. Think even about parents: They are literally committed to their children until they leave home. The first 30 years of the life of most parents is a commitment to their kids, one after another, as they come into the world. I suppose no calling in life gives us total freedom. Even priests are on call night and day and especially on the weekends.

I've often wondered whether Jesus chose his parables or examples from the life of people around him, folks who seemed dedicated to their work, the local shepherds, for instance. I have said on many occasions in the past that Jesus always had a reason for choosing his stories; he always found meaning in things around him. It was not unlikely then that he should have pointed out shepherds as models of the way leaders, whether religious or secular, should live and lead. I imagine the assumption on his mind was that these people were not, in fact, good leaders. Otherwise, why bring up the subject?

As for Jesus himself, I have always been astonished at his dedication. He seemed to be a driven person, never seeming able to say "no." There was always something new to be said, another person who needed healing, counsel or even life itself, issues to be solved. So often it happens in the gospels that just when Jesus finally decides to "take a break" something comes up and he goes right back to work. He never seemed to run out of energy.

But we finally do have an example in Mark's gospel today where Jesus does, indeed, admit that they all need a break. So, he says, "let's get off into the hills, guys; this work is taking its toll on us." So, they did go off into the hills. What they did there is not mentioned; I'm sure they probably slept as lot.

Another thing that always interests me about Jesus is the amount of work he manages to get done. What was his method? How come he never seemed exhausted? This is my sense of it: I think Jesus just had a deep understanding of what was truly important in life and what could just be left aside. For instance, on many occasions Jesus would criticize the scribes and Pharisees for being too concerned and busy with dietary rules, with the washing of pots, jugs, kettles and cups. The intricacies of the law never concerned him. He would say to his adversaries: Only one thing is important: The kingdom of God, love of God and love of neighbor. Everything else is secondary.

I think that is the clue to Jesus' way of life: He knew by instinct that there were certain things that you simply could not do without. Pay attention to those and everything else will fall into place.

That leaves us with the question: What is truly important in our lives? What can we set aside without feeling guilty about it?

For example, where does prayer fit in our life? How about recreation, relaxation, going off for a hike or a bike ride, or even taking a full day off from work? What should we do to relax our mind, our emotions? What about some good reading, a movie occasionally, some music in the evening after supper, a picnic with friends? What should we do on Sunday after church? In short, what can give us a sense that life is meant to be lived not endured? There is so much beauty in the world to appreciate. Go out, for instance, and plant some flowers or vegetables and watch them grow. Even Jesus noticed the lilies of the field.
None of this may sound very "religious" but it's all part of the totality of life. We are more than souls, after all. We are human individuals with minds and bodies, feelings and emotions, all of which need to be nourished.

It occurs to me that even God took a break on the Sabbath. I wonder what he did on that day, perhaps nothing. As he looked out over the universe, he probably sat back and said: "Hey not bad for a week's work. Now it's time to relax.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 23:1-6 Ephesians 2: 13-18 Mark 6: 30-34, 53-56

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:50 AM.

July 16, 2006

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Without Baggage

I have always loved to travel, but I must admit that the older I get, the more nervous do I become about traveling. Finding a reservation on the Internet is not a problem now, but it was for a long time. Now, it's the problem of getting my shoes, jacket and hat off as go through screening and finding them once I get through. Besides that, I always worry about getting to the airport on time, getting to the right gate, et cetera. It never used to be that way. I guess I don't quite have the adventuresome spirit I used to have.

Traveling, of course, does have its serious responsibilities: packing enough clothes, medicines, documents, underwear (!), checking ahead to make sure who's going to meet you with transportation when you get there. Perhaps traveling, therefore, never gets any easier because every trip is a new and unique challenge.

I'm sure it could not have been that complicated for people in Jesus time to get from one town to the next. They didn't need signs; they, obviously, must have known where the town was. One thing for sure, however, what they needed most was food and water to last in that hot environment, perhaps also some defense weapons, like a stick to ward off attackers and thieves.

I can only imagine that Jesus must have had considerable experience traveling by the time he was an adult. His whole career was wrapped up carrying his message to distant villages. He must have known the distances and the dangers.

So, with that, the instructions he gives his disciples as he sends them off on mission in today's Gospel seem rather peculiar: No back pack, no money, no food or water. Now, all that advice sounds pretty risky, even for Jesus' time "Make sure, however, that you take a walking stick," he says. Why the walking stick? Again, from a practical point of view, it probably had to do with taking the load off one's feed, and, of course, being able to defend one's self.

From the viewpoint of faith, however, I think Jesus was trying to remind his friends of a couple things: First, if you have something worth while to share with folks when you go to their town, they will take care of you. Secondly, on the road of life you really don't need a lot of "stuff." He was probably saying to them that, for the most part, we overload ourselves with things that we could well do without. We worry too much! If you believe that God protects you on the way, all you need is a walking stick to help you get to your destination.

Now, if one wishes to put this gospel into the context of our own times, we could probably admit that we make a lot of journeys that seem worrisome or dangerous and that take a lot of faith in order to find our way home.

I'm not talking about geographical trips so much as journeys of the heart or journeys of human experience. Every one of us has made such trips and we have probably worried our way through them. Think about the journey of marriage, for instance: Given all the chuck-holes along the way, it surely takes a lot of faith to stick together and finally reach old age knowing that you have done the right thing and helped each other find happiness.

Think about the journeys parents make as their children grow into adulthood. How many times have you stayed up long past midnight worrying whether they are safe? That's not a pleasant journey.

I think too of young teenagers who worry their way through school and finding their future career. That's a journey each of us has to take alone even though we get a little help we get from our friends.

Think too about the journey we have all taken with someone who has an addiction to whatever. That can be a long trip and takes a lot of patience.

Or, take the journey all of us have to make at some point of being with someone who is on the way toward death, but slowly.

Then, of course, there are also many of those happy journeys we make with others when they succeed in life: Getting the first job, earning the Ph.D., getting an award for some original idea, that sort of thing.

Then too, on a broader scale, we are all on the same journey, the journey of life from birth to death.

The form that that trip takes in many ways depends on faith: I don't mean supernatural faith so much as faith that God directs our every move, faith too in ourselves that we are good and capable of doing good things, that we are meant for something in this world and that God has a plan for us that only becomes clear as we move along from one day to the next with our eyes, ears and minds open to the Lord's invitation.

In short, when Jesus tells his disciples that they can get along with fewer things on the road, I think Jesus also tells us that life can be a lot simpler than we make it. We just need to ask what's essential and what we can get along without. The important thing is that we should be able to make our way in peace, knowing that God guides us all along the way to each destination the lies before us.

When you think about it, I suppose one could say that there are lots of different kinds of walking sticks available to us in life, not the wooden kind, but rather friends and associates who would just be delighted to make the journey with us and help us along. In that case, what happens along the way can be as much fun as the expectation of the destination itself.

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:43 AM.

July 09, 2006

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Speaking the Truth to Power

Somewhere I once read a wise saying that went like this: "In his own house, a father is hero only to his dog." I would like to think that cats also have their heroes, but perhaps they do not demonstrate it quite as clearly as do dogs.

Obviously, what I am about to say here has nothing to do with dogs or cats. Part of the reason why that saying came to mind is because it occurs to me so often that parents do not ordinarily seem like heroes in their own homes precisely because on certain (perhaps many) occasions they need to say hard things; they need to play the role of prophet, difficult and unappreciated as that task may be.

I'm sure, of course, that most parents would not describe themselves as prophets because that role holds too much a biblical baggage of cranky, bearded old men who were constantly taking the Israelite people to task for their disobediences and indiscretions. To be truthful, they were not all old, bearded nor cranky, but they had this immense sense and compulsion that God had something to say and that someone had to say it for God. And so, they did speak without worry about whether they or their words would be taken kindly or not.

Interestingly, we can still read the prophets today precisely because they did say hard things. Had they been soft "cream of wheat" individuals, we surely would never have heard of them.

So, we are introduced to two prophetic voices in the scriptures assigned for this Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary time. Interestingly, both come across as unpopular people, but that fact does not bother them. They go right ahead and keep doing what they feel God has given them the light to do.

The first is Ezekiel: God invites him to speak, whether anyone listens or not. "You can be assured that if you have the courage to speak," God says, "the people will know that a prophet has been among them." In other words, their consciences will be stung whether they change their lives or not. The interesting point is that the prophet simply feels he has to be around...if nothing other than to embarrass people into doing something.

Jesus is the other prophet we are introduced to, the hometown boy who returns home from his travels and begins preaching to his neighbors. You know the outcome, of course. No one listens to him. "He was too much for them." Like the father in our opening image, Jesus is no hero in his own neighborhood. In fact Jesus quotes an Old Testament phrase: "No prophet is without honor except in his own neighborhood." So, he leaves and finds neighborhoods where people are more willing to listen to him.

So who are the present day prophets and what do prophets do? First of all, let us be clear: prophets are ordinary people who are fiercely sensitive to evil and injustice in the world. Things that may seem slight to us are a disaster in the minds of prophets. The problem is that world problems seem so immense and pervasive to us that we simply say, "oh well, what can I do anyway? What can I do about the thousands of people who are dying in Darfur in Africa at this very moment and nobody seems to be concerned about it? What can I do about the fact that the Palestinian people are slowly being starved to death? What can I do about the homeless who sleep on the streets of this, the richest nation on earth every night? Can anyone get angry over that?" Well, that is what prophets ask: Can anyone get angry over such things.

The interesting and seemingly contradictory thing about the prophets throughout history is that, despite all the problems of their times they probably did not change society all that much. They seemed to assume that someone was in better position to do that than they. They felt that their role in life was just "to be there," to be around where problems were, and perhaps someone might eventually pay attention. But prophets think of themselves as "voices in the desert," people who see the problems and cry out against them. I wonder if that would mean that those of us who do not consider ourselves prophets might be the ones who should consider doing something about problems in the world?

So, who are prophets? Who are the contemporary prophets? Well, if the definition of a prophet is someone who is simply "there", and simply saying hard things, perhaps that means some of our Twenty First Century writers, singers, artists, poets, et cetera could be prophets: I start, for instance, with rabbi Abraham Heschel who once said this: "I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder and You gave it to me." Perhaps that's what the world needs more of: A sense of wonder, astonishment. Or again, from Heschel: "Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy." I think too of Fydor Dostoyevsky who once said that "the world will be saved by beauty!" I think too of Bruce Springsteen with his guitar who sings peace protest songs. I think of Catherine of Sienna who claimed that "All the way to heaven is heaven." I think of Dorothy Day who, when she was told that some people thought of her as a saint, said: "I won't be dismissed that easily." I think of Thomas Merton who once said: "As we go about the world, everything we meet and everything we see and hear and touch plants in us something of heaven." I think of Ralph Waldo Emerson who once said, "Life is what a man is thinking of all day." I think too of Mark Twain who once tweaked our consciences when he said: "The lack of money is the root of all evil." I think of Ludwig Wittgenstein, the German philosopher who once said that, "The great mystery is that there is something and not nothing." I think of the anonymous writer who said: "Life is short, eat your dessert first." And, lastly, the quote from the ancient Greeks: "Know thyself."

So, those are a few of my favorite prophets. They may never have done anything to change the world very radically, but they said something, some words, for us to think about, perhaps to get disturbed about. Having thought about these words, perhaps we too may become inspired and disturbed and do something.

The scriptures: Ezekiel 2: 2-5, 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10, Mark 6: 1-6

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:35 AM.

July 02, 2006

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - All Living Beings

We have all heard the oft quoted lines to the effect that the two things in this world over which we have no control are death and taxes. Fortunately, we need face death only once whereas the tax deadline faces us every April 15th.

All humor aside, we face death every day, not our own, of course, but somebody's. Practically everyone reads the obituaries in the morning paper whether they happen to know the deceased or not. I often scan them just to see the church from which they are being buried. Oddly enough (at least for us Christians) some folks have no church to be buried from, so they are "buried from" the local VFW hall or Tony's Bar and Grill where they are remembered to the accompaniment of a pint of Guiness and some Country music. No one should depart this life unremembered, whatever venue you may choose. Hence, many people may wish to set the fear of death aside by "celebrating life." Not such a bad idea.

In all seriousness, of course, none of us wishes to face death, especially our own. There seems to be a natural instinct within us which believes that we should live forever. Those were the words of Nikos Kazantzakis, the Greek novelist whose character, Zorba exclaimed: "A man like me should live forever." Actually, Kazantzakis was a faithful Christian of the Orthodox Church. He took resurrection seriously. He believed that everyone lives forever.

In all truthfulness, therefore, there seems to be something contradictory about death. Obviously, we know that it happens every day, but something tells us that it should not. The body, a living being, is too precious to be taken without our permission and be buried in the earth. This seems particularly unjust to us when it happens to be he life of a youngster who is killed by a drunk driver. Surely, that cannot be God's will. It was a stupid human act which should be punished.

On the other hand, we can deal more peacefully with the death of a senior person who has lived a long and productive life. That does not cause us as much concern. It's the swift and seemingly unjust death of young people that disturbs us.

I get the impression from reading the selection from the Book of Wisdom assigned for this Sunday's liturgy that the author, whoever he was, was not so happy about death either. He can confidently say: "God did not make death, nor does God rejoice in the destruction of the living. He fashioned all things that they might have being (life). God formed man (sic) to be imperishable; the image of his own nature he made him." Those are pretty bold words from a person who must have known as well as we do that all beings die at some point in their history.

Of course, I suppose all of us would prefer to say that: Despite the obvious fact of death, this can't be God's will. It doesn't make sense that God would create something as precious as a human person only to have us pass from earth, never to be heard of again.

So, perhaps like the Wisdom author, we admit that it happens, but life is still precious and should be appreciated for what it is by nature.

Reading the gospel for this Sunday, I also get the impression that Jesus was not all that happy with the reality of death. He was faced one day with a family tragedy: A little girl of twelve had suddenly died and the parents were grief-stricken. Jesus simply goes into the room and tells her to get up and she does. Everybody, obviously, is ecstatic. Wouldn't we all be?

Of course, that sort of event doesn't happen every day. In fact, we know from the gospels that Jesus did not raise to life every young person who died. So, where is the justice in that? I have no answer except to say that Jesus always seemed to respond directly to tragedies when people asked him. He didn't go around the country looking for recently deceased people, young or old. So, I leave it there: Jesus seemed to feel that death was something that needed to be faced and he faced in his unique way.

So that leaves us to face some questions about death. Obviously, I have no more clarity about this mystery than you do, but two things have helped me to come to some peace with it. First, it appears to me that death is simply part of the rising and falling of all things in the universe: Even stars die! Living and dying is part of the human condition, indeed the imperfect condition of the entire universe. This is simply the way it was created. All things are created with death built into them. We humans are not excused from this reality.

Secondly, I have taken much consolation from a man who told all of us how to die: Cardinal Joseph Bemadin, former archbishop of Chicago. He died of cancer in October, 1996. For years as a bishop he had been teaching people how to live. Now in the last months of his life, he would teach them how to die well. So, before he died he wrote some essays for the local paper about how to face death peacefully. "I can say with all sincerity," he said, "that I am at peace. I consider this as God's special gift to me at this particular point in my life. The terrible knowledge that the end is near need not be quite so terrible. It is not, after all, the end. It only serves notice like the two-minute warning or the last call before the bar closes. If you do it right, the final call can be a new beginning." I think those are great words. I hope I can remember them when my turn comes.

Finally, I remember a quote from a book by the French Philosopher, Teilhard de Chardin that has always given me a sense of peace thinking about death. "When death lays its hand on me," Teilhard says, "it will leave intact these things, these ideas, these realities which are more lasting and precious than I. My faith in God makes me believe that death comes at its own fixed moment, a moment of mysterious and special fruitfulness, not only for the supernatural destiny of the soul but also for the further progress of life on this earth. Thus, to our peace is added the joy of creating an eternal work which could not have existed without us."

Perhaps Teilhard is right: Even after death something remains, something so unique that it could not have existed without us. Maybe that is what eternal life means. Something to think about.

The scriptures: Wisdom 1:13-15, 2: 23-24 2 Corinthians 8: 7.9, 13-15 Mark 5: 21-43

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:25 AM.

June 25, 2006

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Perfect Storm

Back on October 30, 1991 there occurred an extraordinarily violent storm along the Atlantic Eastern Seaboard with wind gusts up to 60 knots and waves up to 40 feet. It was one of the worst storms that the weather service people had ever seen.

What brings that storm back to memory is the fact that a sword-fishing vessel, the Andrea Gail, out in the Atlantic on that fateful day, was caught in the eye of the storm and sank, killing all on board.

Actually, the accident might never have made headlines around the country had a writer by the name of Sebastian Junger not written a novel entitled "The Perfect Storm. He took the name from the National Weather Service itself which described it as "The Perfect Storm. (1 guess only the National Weather Service could call a storm "perfect" For the rest of us, we might have other names for it.) At any rate, the novel became famous around the country and was eventually made into a movie of the same name.

It's always nice, of course, to be able to read about an event in a book or to sit comfortably in a Cineplex watching things go wrong and people losing their lives. But if you have ever been out in a storm, especially a storm at sea, you will know that it appears to be almost a divine act, God, as it were, pouring out his wrath from above and we down below caught in that whirling eye. No fun!

Those of us who live in Alaska, of course, are familiar with such storms. They happen all the time out in the Bering Sea and the North Pacific where the crabbing boats regularly go out in winter from Dutch Harbor to make sure that we all get our fill of crab-bisque at our favorite restaurant. Those who know about such things say that crabbing is the most dangerous kind of work because boats, no matter how large they are, are vulnerable to the winds and the waves, to say nothing about the ice that forms on the decks and makes them top-heavy.

I think there is something especially threatening about storms because they make us seem so vulnerable, so helpless. In such situations, we hardly know what to do, except pray. We know that we are in the hands of God and we know that God is not "up there" somewhere ready to punish us, but it sometimes seems that way.

I can still remember my mother sprinkling holy water around the house whenever it began to storm. Whether the sprinkling did any good I'm not sure but it was an act of faith on her part and that's all that counts. But even as a child, I felt somewhat secure when the holy water came out. I knew that my mother was doing something to counter the elements. She was not questioning God's power, obviously, but doing what she could to help the family feel safe and secure.

Well, given all that, we have some references to "The Perfect Storm" in our scriptures for this Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time. There is first of all a beautiful short piece of poetry from the Book of Job. God speaks to Job and asks rhetorically: "Who shut the doors of the sea when it burst forth from the womb? Who set limits to it?" "Who said: `Thus far shall you come but no further, here shall your waves be stilled!"'

What the poet, obviously a man of faith, is saying is that no matter what we think about the forces of nature, God is still in charge. I'm sure he must speak for all of us when gale forces threaten our lives. God is still in charge.

It's not so sure, however, that Jesus' apostles were so convinced of that on a night they were caught out on the Sea of Galilee during a sudden squall, described here in the gospel of Mark . They thought they were surely going down and so they inquire of Jesus whether it doesn't even occur to him that things were getting serious on board.

Well, this is really a rather humorous story in a sense. It shows the difference between the way Jesus looked at life and the way his apostles did. They were scared to death and here is Jesus, stretched out in the back of the boat, fast asleep, or at least not showing a bit of concern about their dire condition.

So, they finally get Jesus' attention and he simply "rebukes" the wind and the waves. "Quiet", he says. I sometimes wonder whether Jesus was actually rebuking the winds or whether he was saying to the apostles: "Relax, everything is going to be ok", and it was!

I'm sure that story must seem like another miracle to us who read it today, but I think there is also a lesson in it and in the many natural catastrophes that occur in our lives. Like the author of the poem in the Book of Job and in the gospel, we need to believe that natural disasters are not the hand of God. God does not use nature to punish us or to teach us a lesson. That's a childish notion of God.

Nonetheless, we can learn something about God from such events: The power of the entire universe is in God's hands. Sometimes that power is destructive by nature. At other times it comes about in our favor. God simply allows his universe to do what it was created to do. Sometimes we find ourselves in the way of that power, but that's not God's will. We can't make God some sort of "power broker" who just waits around for us to be hurt. Despite all the destructive things that happen every day (Tsunamis, earth quakes, fires, pandemics, whatever) God is still the loving Father. Unlike the apostles in the sinking boat, we can't expect God to simply turn things around.

So, there are storms and there are storms: Aside from the natural catastrophes there are also personal storms, tragedies that happen to us. Life does not always go well for us. It's part of life that we need to deal with in a peaceful way. God is still with us despite all.

It occurs to me that this sense of tragedy also applies to the Church: In recent times the Catholic Church has been experiencing the storms of sexual abuse and cover up. We have all heard the phrase "the bark of Peter." Well, the bark of Peter is in unsteady water at the moment, and unlike the situation of the apostles in their boat, we cannot simply call on Jesus to rebuke the waves.
That's our responsibility: The pope is the captain of the ship, we, bishops, priests and lay people are the crew and we obviously have some work to do to set our boat on a straight course again.

The important point is that all will be well if we trust in God and trust in God's power to help us make our way through the storms of life. Jesus is not asleep in the stern. No doubt he is still watching to see how we're doing at the oars... until the storm dies down.

The scriptures: Job 38: 1, 8-11, 2 Corinthians 5: 14-17, Mark 4: 35-41

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:08 AM.

June 18, 2006

Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ - Gracious Dining

Most of our days, I should imagine, are relatively peaceful. We do our work, get on with our life, we try to live in harmony with one another. Sometimes, of course we manage to "get into one another's hair or get into arguments, but those are rare...I hope.

But if there is one place and time when we surely want to be in accord with one another, it would be at our daily meal, the main meal, dinner. That is not only an opportunity to enjoy good food and drink but also some nourishing conversation, debate, sharing stories, events of the day, good or bad. When we are in a good mood and can communicate with each other, even the food tastes better. In other words, meals are not simply occasions to satisfy our hunger, but more importantly, to experience life in all its various forms and dimensions.

One thing for sure, an argument at a meal can spoil the taste of the food and drink. If we can't talk to one another graciously, the meal will be a failure, a total loss.

I can remember when I was a youngster, everyone in our family knew that our father, God rest his soul, could get moody and depressed occasionally. He would often come to the dinner table and refuse to say a word to anyone. None of us kids knew what to do; we just sat there and we knew something was wrong but we didn't dare open our mouth and ask. It was even difficult to eat our food. Of course, we did not know why it was happening, but we knew that there was something seriously lacking at the meal.

I think that means that we instinctively know there is something sacred about meals. We treat the food and each other with respect...hopefully.

I have often thought it interesting how often food and drink are mentioned in the gospels and how often we find Jesus having meals with people, people who loved him and people who would have killed him if they could.

Many of the most important things that Jesus said and did happened at meals. He preached before meals, during meals and after meals: Remember the feeding of the 5000? The feeding of breakfast to the disciples after the resurrection? There are lots of other examples as well:

The most classic example, of course, is the story of the Last Supper, the sharing of stories, wisdom and bread and wine
I have a hunch that Jesus enjoyed eating with people, feeding people, feeding them with the wisdom of his stories and the nourishment of the food and wine. These were all of one piece. People do not live on bread alone, obviously!

It is interesting to notice, therefore, that Jesus really wanted to continue feeding his followers well after his death and resurrection. Do you remember what he said at the Last Supper? He said: "Take and eat, this is my body. Take and drink, this is my blood." Then he says something really astonishing: "Do all this in memory of me. Tell the stories, bless and share the bread and cup, and in all this "remember me."

I must confide to you that I really do not know what happens at the consecration of the Mass, how bread becomes Christ's body, how wine becomes his blood. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we continue doing all this in Jesus' memory. That's enough!

So today then we celebrate this great feast of the body and blood of Christ. It is not really two "things" not two physical realities that we commemorate, but rather Jesus' desire to continue being with us, to keep nourishing us as often as we do it in his memory.

I should point out too that Jesus never mentioned anything about adoration, about adoring his body. All he said was, "take and eat, take and drink." When you do, I will be there with you." Mind you, there is nothing wrong with our acts of adoration, it is a long tradition in our Church but adoration is not what Jesus had in mind when he sat at the Last Supper table with is friends. He just wanted to celebrate Passover with them and asked them to continue doing the same thing again and again. Eucharist, therefore, is not a thing, but an experience of the risen Christ.

Finally, we need to ask, how do Catholics recognize Christ each time they celebrate Sunday Eucharist, I mean beyond his presence in the body and blood, the bread and wine? Think of this: Our Church teaches us that Christ is present in many ways in the Eucharistic celebration: In the assembly gathered (you folks in the pews!), in the Word proclaimed, in the priest who presides, and, of course, in the bread and cup. In other words, we are really overwhelmed with the many presences of Christ. Jesus,

obviously, decided that he would never leave us orphans. He left us sacred signs that tell us that he really never mean to abandon us when he went to heaven. Actually he is more present now than he was when he sat down to supper with the apostles. All that is good to know when we come together on Sunday, the Lord's Day, to remember Him, as we say, until he comes again...some day. In the meantime, we have lots of evidence that he is still as present as he was on that great night of the Last Supper. All that should make our Sunday dinner, the Lord's dinner, a moment not to be missed!

The scriptures: Exodus 24: 3-8, Hebrews 9: 11-15, Mark 14: 12-16, 22-26

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:03 AM.

June 11, 2006

Feast of the Holy Trinity - Naming God

If I were to ask you one day what you thought about yourself or how you would wish to identify yourself, you might say, "well, my face is unique, different, unlike anybody else's in this world." Or you might say, "I have a unique personality; I'm somehow different in many ways from all others in ways I could not even describe."

Then I might say to you, "That may well be true, but let me also suggest that something else makes you different, your name. Yes, you may well have a common name like James Johnson or Mary Smith. But, that name was given to you to set you apart from every other Johnson or every other Smith in the entire world.

Human beings are obviously much alike in this world. We all share a certain number of the same genes. Human beings all look somewhat alike; we have what we call the human form. We don't look or act like giraffes or cows, for instance.

So, I think it may be true to say that even though our names are not integral to our human nature, they do identify us. How else would we set ourselves apart from the millions of other people in the world.

We need to be able to respond to someone who calls out to us; we need to know to whom that person is referring. So, we are designated by this name for this person and no other.

Our family name also has significance for us. We have a certain pride in that family signature. Doubtless, it goes back thousands of years, back beyond our contemporary history. Family names are important, even for the good order of society.

So, the point of all this is that it is important for us humans to be able to say something about our self, if nothing more than that we are who we are and nobody else.

We are celebrating a unique feast in our liturgical calendar today. It is called The Feast of the Holy Trinity. I call it The Feast of God because it is the only feast of the entire year that references God alone, God the Trinity. We call it the mystery of the trinity and indeed it is surely that, a great mystery. So, I want to explore with you a little about how we think about God, about the mystery of the Trinity.

For centuries, of course, theologians have tried to explain the Trinity as though mysteries were meant to be explained or defined rather than experienced. In the end, of course, all definitions, all examples, all metaphors fall flat because they only describe what we think God the Trinity could be. They never can adequately say who God is. The only person who has ever told us anything definitive about God is Jesus, God's Son. Who better? And the two things Jesus told us about God are these: God is love and God is Father. Of course, both of those words are human words. They can hardly describe God theTrinity in "God terms," but it's all we have. Ultimately, all God talk is analogical. In other words, we keep asking how we can think about God using our own language, the only words we have, words that make sense to us?

It is interesting to notice too that this search to understand God has been going on as long as we have had religious people to ask the question. The best example I can think of is Moses who was as concerned about who God was as we are today. God, as you remember, appeared to him at a desert bush that was burning. Moses walked over to check it out and as he got near he found out he was already on holy ground, that God was near. So, God told him to take off his shoes. And then this cute little conversation goes on between God and Moses: God says: "Moses, 1 want you to go to your people and lead them out of Egypt." And Moses says in reply: "If I go back to my people and tell them that the God of your fathers sent me to you and they ask me what is his name, what shall I tell them?" And God, in reply, says: 'I am who am'; tell them that 'I am' sent me to you."

Now, let me tell you, scripture scholars have been puzzling over that name for centuries. First of all, it doesn't sound like a name and secondly, it doesn't make any sense. So, finally, God tells Moses, "Tell the Israelites that Yahweh-God has sent you to them." That was enough for Moses. He didn't need explanations or definitions. In short God was his own definition. God is who God is. Period.

But the significant thing about that little conversation between Moses and God is the fact that Moses thought he needed a name to take back. He probably already knew that other people living around there had names for their gods. So, he couldn't just go back and say to his people, "folks, a ghost, a spirit sent me to you." That would never fly. The fact, therefore, that Moses received some sort of name for God was enough even though it did not tell him or his people very much about God or the inner life of God.

But when you think about it, there is really not very much we can say about ourselves either. We are truly a mystery, both to ourselves and undoubtedly to others as well We obviously know our names, but if someone were to ask us who we are, the best we probably could come up with might be a description of our ancestry. Anything beyond that might be too embarrassing to go into. Ultimately, our name is synonymous with who we are whether we can describe our identity or not.

So, finally, we need to ask why all this is so important. Why is it so important to have a name for God? Well, obviously, it's probably not very important to God, but it is important to us. If the God of the Trinity is important to our spiritual life, our prayer life, then we need to be able to address God by name. Indeed, I suspect that most of us do that already whenever we pray. We just don't lift our eyes to the heavens and talk to no one! No doubt, each of us creates our own name for God or we choose one that we learned as kids or something from a prayer book that we once owned. But we need a name; we need to speak personally to our God. I suspect that we don't even say "Your Eminence" or "Your Holiness" or "Your Highness", the way we sometimes address bishops, the pope or some civil dignitary. Our God is always personal, not formal. Even Jesus could call God "Father" and St. Paul could call God "Papa". Now, that's really getting personal.

So, don't be embarrassed if you have the desire to address God with whatever name seems familiar to you. Remember, if God is God, we are probably already on a first-name basis with him. I'm sure he knows our name too and that's surely comforting, don't you think?

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 4: 32-34, 39-40, Romans 8: 14-17, Matthew 28: 16-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:30 PM.

February 21, 2006

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Giving It Up

During the recent catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina, we were all able get a first-hand look on our television sets at the immense destruction in New Orleans and all over the Gulf Coast. One radio commentator on National Public Radio said this: "From the vantage point of your living room you won't believe the extent of the destruction; you simply have to be there to believe it." In other words, the description on radio and television could give you some sense of it, but to understand the human and personal dimension of the devastation, you had to see it first hand, even experience it personally, as many did. In this instance, the old phrase, "up close and personal" really did have some meaning.

This may sound like a stretch, but it occurred to me as 1 was thinking about Lent, which is currently close upon us, that the so-called Generation X (whoever they are) simply have no idea how tough Lent used to be in the "old days." I don't mean to say it was a catastrophe, New Orleans-style, but it was truly hard work and serious business, not only during Lent but throughout the entire year. I'm referring here especially to the pre-Communion fast of 24 hours and the weekly Friday fast and abstinence. You simply had to live during those times, to understand it. If the church were to restore those ancient rules today, I have a hunch that there might be a great stampede out of the Church! Christians simply don't have the spiritual "muscle" they used to have!

Obviously then, most of us today who try to "keep the fast" of one hour before Holy Communion and the Fridays during Lent, think we are doing something "tough", even praiseworthy. For those who are of that assumption, let me say to you "you should have been there in the "old days."

Lest we get the idea that it was all "doom and gloom," however, let me say there were also days of exception to the great fast: Sundays, for instance and certain feast days, like St. Patrick's Day, if you were Irish, or St. Joseph's Day, if you were German. What other denominations did on their feast days, I'm not sure!

But the point is that the Church, even with its heavy duty rules at that time, also knew how to feast and, indeed, urged all Christians to do so. How could you expect a good Irish family not to eat corned beef and cabbage on St. Paddy's Day, or a German family not to have a good meal of Weiner Schnitzel and beer on St. Joe's day? Hey, get serious!

Interestingly, Jesus seemed to know the difference between fasting and feasting. It's all in Mark's gospel for this Sunday. Jesus is in serious conversation with a group of Pharisees who followed John the Baptist's rule and, hence, were "heavy duty" fasters, no exceptions. So, here they are, asking Jesus why he and his followers don't fast like everyone else? Jesus, in turn, gives a very odd reply. He says, I have come to bring good news: Life is like a wedding feast; You don't fast when the bridegroom is still at the party. Later maybe, but not now. There will always be time for fasting after the wedding celebration has come to an end." My interpretation of that passage is that Jesus considered his new message good news, Gospel, and he designated himself as the bridegroom, the bearer of good news. So, while he was still with his followers, he expected them to accept his good news and enjoy the freedom it afforded.

Notice, however, that Jesus does also say that there will be time for fasting; so, obviously, Jesus seems to think it must have some value. What could that be? We have been doing it for a lot of years in the Church, so we ought to be able to defend it as a worthwhile practice. Obviously, I'm not going to suggest it here as a way of bringing our waistlines back into some manageable measurement. There is both a personal and symbolic meaning in this action we call fasting.

First of all, we know that John the Baptist fasted. It was part of his regimen for a penitential way of life. We know too that Jesus fasted, perhaps not as severely as his cousin John, but he did fast. On one occasion when he was about to begin his career as a preacher of good news, he went out into the desert and fasted, not over night, but for 40 days and 40 nights. So, that tells us that fasting must have had something to do with Jesus "clearing his mind", setting his goals for his future life. Not a bad idea.

Theologians have been telling us that for a long time: Fasting for the right reasons can help you "clear your mind", get your values, your human disciplines straight. In other words, if you practice fasting, there will not be such a tendency to get distracted from what you really want to make out of your life. I'm sure most of us would agree that too much of anything, whether it's food or drink or work or recreational activities or whatever, can cloud our perception of what is really important in life. For that reason, I would think that fasting should not be a "seasonal activity", but a daily practice, a life-time on-going exercise.

One other dimension of fasting that we do not think of very often is the communal aspect. I mean that true fasting is not simply a personal, private practice. When we fast, we fast with the entire Church, the whole Christian community throughout the world, even perhaps with those who are not Catholic. In other words, a kind of bonding sets in when we see fasting like this, a true community practice.

And lastly, and very importantly, fasting can be the great teacher. It can teach us, for instance, that we live in a world where some people have lots to eat but many more have little or nothing to eat. I would be the first to admit, of course, that our fasting may not immediately put food on someone else's table (although it could), but rather it should remind us that the world's supply of food is not personally ours, that it needs to be shared. In other words, again, if fasting clears our head, teaches us the lesson that food is precious and sacred, our fasting will already have done it's holy task.

I am mentioning all these obvious reasons for fasting because Christians, like most other people, can often lose sight of the reason, the real reason, why we should be doing any Catholic thing. In this case, I would think that our fasting should remind us that all food, all human things, are gifts from the God who wants to feed the universe not only with food for the stomach but with all human things that make life worth living....for everyone. Perhaps thinking about all that will get us ready for Ash Wednesday and the Forty Days.

The scriptures: Hosea 2: 16b, 17b, 21-22 2 Corinthians 3: lb-6 Mark 2: 18-22

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:22 PM.

February 13, 2006

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - With a Little Help

Sometimes, when you read the scriptures, you have to say to yourself, "you know, if some of those events described there happened today, they would be considered either very humorous or, on the other hand, no one would believe it." Let's say, for instance that a priest is sitting in the reconciliation room of his local church "hearing confessions" and suddenly he feels plaster and wood falling down on him from the ceiling above. Looking up, he sees a hole being opened up and the front end of a stretcher being lowered on ropes into the room. I'm sure that priest might think he was either losing his mind or he would lose no time calling the cops. Of course, if the man on the stretcher on his way down from above were to yell out "Hey father, wait a minute, I just want to go to confession!" perhaps the priest might think again, at least after cleaning up the mess on the floor.

The point is, when we read some of the events described in the scriptures, we often miss the humor in them, or we imagine that they could not possibly happen today. They are just too bizarre. People don't do things like that in our time. As a matter of fact, Catholics today are not exactly lining up at the door of the reconciliation room (or above the ceiling) waiting to go to confession anyway! So, things are definitely different today.

Nonetheless, there are some lessons in that rather strange event that is described in Mark's gospel for this Sunday's liturgy. Granted, it probably would not happen quite the same way today, but there are occasions when Christians will go to great lengths to be healed, whether spiritually or physically. If they cannot accomplish it on their own, they will call on the help of friends.

Each time I read that story, I always recall that old 1967 song from the Beatles, "I get by with a little help from my friends." Actually the next line goes "I get a little high with the help of my friends." I leave you to figure that one out on your own!

Whatever the implications of the words, of course, it's true, we do depend on our friends for a little help on many occasions. Think for instance, of the number of people each year who travel to Lourdes for a miraculous cure at the shrine of Our Lady. They probably would not be able to accomplish all that on their own, without the help of friends, even with modern airline travel.

I am reminded too that even in the normal course of daily life, we depend heavily on the help of other people, whether they are our friends or not. Think about an ordinary day when you go about your daily tasks. How many of those would you be able to accomplish without the help of others? The point is, we live in a "web-world", a world where we are all intimately connected to each other, where we depend on one another's gifts, accomplishments and willingness to accomplish what we need to do.

Turning to the realm of the spiritual life too, think about the number of people, professional, or otherwise who help us each day to fulfill our spiritual needs: Husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, priests, sisters, brothers, spiritual directors, counselors, teachers, caretakers, friends, et cetera. The point is, the Christian life, by its very nature is not a private endeavor, but a communal enterprise where we depend deeply on one another's gifts and compassion.

I think this might be particularly true if we have spiritually "fallen by the wayside" occasionally and have no idea of how to rescue ourselves, or do not even know that we need to be rescued until some close friend takes us in tow and points out to us that we might need to think about reconciliation, about "getting our act together." Of course, we might have gotten around to it on our own at some point, but "with a little help from our friends" it comes easier and perhaps swifter as well.

There is another little insight in that strange story that we may sometimes forget to pay attention to: Jesus notices the faith of the man and his friends and then tells him his sins are forgiven; he is invited then to pick up his mat and go home. Everything, physical and spiritual is back in good order. He can pick up his life where he left off before he was ushered down through the ceiling of the "reconciliation room."

But there is another way of looking at the faith of this man: My hunch is that when Jesus noticed his faith, it wasn't the supernatural faith we think of in theology today. What Jesus probably meant by faith was actually persistence, tenacity, "doggedness." These people were not going to give up and go home until they had gotten some response from Jesus. So, what else could Jesus do in such circumstances? With all the efforts they had made, he could hardly turn them down.

That is an interesting incident because on other occasions in the gospels when people asked for healing, Jesus didn't seem particularly interested at first, but when they wouldn't give up, Jesus finally gave in to their faith, their persistence. What I read from that is that the gifts of God don't come easily or simply. We just don't go around asking for sudden miracles every day. Healing costs something and the price is faith or persistence. We just can't take God's grace for granted, it's not free, we have to work for it.

In the final analysis, what I learn from this rather humorous event in Mark is that the God of Jesus is ultimately a compassionate God, a God who can hardly stand to see people suffering. Something has to be done if people work so hard to find a cure for their condition, spiritual or physical. If we don't have the strength to handle it on our own, there are always friends around who will help us. Isn't that what it ultimately means to be Christian? Being Christian is not a matter of God and 1, but rather of God and us, all of us together helping each other when we can. With help like that, I suspect not even God would want to turn us down. Persistence counts in the end.

The scriptures: Isaiah 43: 18-19, 21-22, 24b-25 2 Corinthians 1: 18-22, Mark 2:1-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:23 PM.

February 07, 2006

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Way We Look

It's not something 1 think about a lot and, at my age, I probably don't need to think about it much, but "looking good" or "good looks" seems to be important to many people. Granted, "looks" are only skin deep, as they say, but the way we look seems to concern us. People we have not seen for some while may say to us, "Hey, you haven't changed a bit", or they will say: "You're looking better than ever." I sometimes want to say, "How was I looking before? Not so good?"

I suppose it may also be true to say that we associate our looks with our interior character, with our personality, although I would have to say that that may not be a very accurate predictor of who we really are. Some say that all we know about ourselves is what we see in the mirror! I hope that is not true.

But if you want to get some sense of how important our external facial or bodily features are to us, just check out a fashion magazine or watch the evening television advertisements in the midst of the news. A high percentage of them will be concerned with our body, not all about our face necessarily, but about the total body. All those miracle medical products are about making our body more attractive. Those advertising people know what is important to us and what we will pay dearly for. Whether they will actually change our bodily appearances appreciably or not is a question. One thing for sure, however, we don't want to look "bad" in public; we don't even want to look different or stand out in public as being different. It's important that we "fit in."

Before going any further, let me say that this concern about "public appearances" is not simply a modern concern. The scriptures assigned for this Sunday will tell you that any sort of external human disfigurement was of great concern to people of ancient times as much as it is today.

Because the medical profession was not as advanced in biblical times as it is today, people then were especially concerned about communicable diseases, illnesses that could be passed on. Leprosy, for instance, Hansen's Disease, was a fearsome malady in those times. Those afflicted with it were not allowed to live in close proximity to the rest of the village or community. The law compelled them to shout out "unclean, unclean" if another person even got near to them. I imagine it must have resembled our concern today with AIDS or with Avian Flu or any sort of modern communicable disease. We seem to have a natural need to protect ourselves.

Let me hasten to say, however, that the scriptures for today's liturgy are not simply a commentary on "good or bad looks." The lesson contained therein is all about how we perceive people who are different from us, how we reach out to those, for instance, who are unappealing, who practice a different faith or who simply turn us off. That is a big question because there are lots of folks, and we are among them, who are different. Who are these folks? We know who they are; we meet them all the time. The question is, how do we feel, how do we react, for instance, when a close relative is diagnosed with Alzheimer's? All of a sudden we find ourselves needing to "get used to it." We may need to listen more carefully, be more sensitive. Or again, how do we react to the neighbor or family member who is a "non-stop talker", the kid in the family who is the "odd dresser," or who plays in a hard rock band? Or even closer to home, how do we react to the father or mother who needs help getting to church or to the doctor, the little boy or girl with Downs Syndrome? Unfortunately, persons with any sort of disability or different ness can make us uneasy. We don't want to let it show, but often times it does show, much to our discomfort. We can't imagine ourselves in that position or at least wouldn't like to be in that position. Being different is not comfortable.

So, the question that comes to mind is this: What can we learn from Jesus, the Teacher, Jesus the Healer? First of all, most of us who have read the gospel stories of Jesus many times probably imagine Him to be the so-called "perfect person": Young, athletic, reasonably well dressed, beard trimmed, easily approachable, charismatic, attractive, et cetera. To be honest, however, Jesus was a very normal person in many ways, but he was also "different," deliberately "different." He made many people very uncomfortable with his ways. He followed a way of life that most others couldn't understand. Indeed, on one occasion even his mother and his relatives came after him to bring him home. They thought he'd lost his senses. Even they didn't want the family to be embarrassed in public by his actions. They didn't want to get him killed either, of course. Even the Holy Family had a public image to keep.

All this did not seem to concern Jesus, however. He simply kept on doing what he thought he was called to do; if he appeared different, too bad. "Get used to it," he probably said.

Now, the important question to ask is this, if we are looking for some wisdom from Jesus, it is this: How did Jesus react to people who were different, especially people who were truly considered different, outcasts from society? We need to say up front that folks of this sort did not bother Jesus sensitivities. Indeed, Jesus' way of relating to people who were different bothered a lot of people, especially the religious "elites" who had a problem with public image. The story we have in today's gospel concerns a man who had contracted leprosy; he was an outcast, sitting and begging in his torn clothing, asking whether Jesus could make him clean. Most other religious leaders would have said, "sorry, buddy, I can't risk getting close to you. You're unclean!" But what does Jesus do? The text says that he reached out and touched the man and he was made clean. Jesus obviously didn't worry about public image.

Now, a second question we don't often ask about Jesus in his relationship with people who were different. It's this: How did he feel about it. Well, we have a very interesting line in today's gospel selection which is often overlooked which gives us an insight. It is this: "Jesus was moved with pity." In another place in the gospel it says that he was moved from his depths, from his deepest senses when he saw people who were suffering.

I imagine most of us often think, well, Jesus could do miracles, nothing would bother him, he could take care of things; he didn't concern himself with feelings. But I think this one short line tells us that Jesus was very human and was, indeed, affected by human suffering.

This brings to mind a final question for ourselves: Not, what can I do, (usually we can't do much) but how do I feel? Am I repulsed by those who are different? Am I embarrassed for them, sorry because they make me feel uneasy? Would 1 prefer that they just go away?

Obviously, these are not easy questions to ask or to answer, but we have to ask them, because, if truth be known, we are all a little "different," we all depend on the compassion of others to be able to be accepted in the world which is often cold and cruel.

So, does it make any difference whether we are considered good looking? Probably not. Nobody's perfect, not even Jesus was perfect, but at least he taught us something about living with imperfect people they are all around us. They are us.

The scriptures: Leviticus 13: 1-2, 44-46, I Corinthians 10: 31-11:1, Mark 1:40-45

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:22 AM.

January 30, 2006

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Contemplation vs. Action: Striking a Balance

I imagine most of us have probably developed certain habits and ways of getting through daily life each day that may seem odd to others. Perhaps we feel that it's a matter of survival, that we be able to find some peace of mind amidst the stress and frustration that all of us face from day to day.

In my own case, for instance, I decided long ago that if I ever wanted to maintain my good health, I would need to rise early in the day, make my way to the Alaska Club for my daily exercise. If I were to wait until the middle of the day, I'm sure I would probably fail to get any exercise at all. So, I rise at 2:30 a.m., am on the treadmill by 2:45, back home by 4:00 a.m. Then I "crash" for a couple hours before heading off to work. Sounds crazy, but it works.

I've always been convinced that much of life is about discipline and good order. If you have a goal set for yourself, you will achieve it by setting your mind and will to it, making no exceptions. There is also a certain satisfaction in knowing that you can, indeed, accomplish something if you know clearly what your values are, what your heart is set upon, what holds first place in your life. Without that, the tendency is to drift from one thing to another and accomplish little in the end.

Another great quandary that many people face each day is the choice between contemplation and action, between thinking and doing, or between dreaming and achieving. It seems to me that most of us probably are dreamers by nature; our imaginations bring us a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction. But at the same time, we also know that we don't have the option of simply sitting around, thinking all day. Most people, with a few exceptions, are compelled to make a living, to be active at some human endeavor; otherwise we starve.

But, of course, we need the philosophers and poets too, the thinkers, the people who have the leisure to sit and reflect on life and then offer us the fruits of their thought. We have had philosophers with us for centuries and no one has ever objected to their place in the world. Philosophers help us get a sense of what is ultimately important in life. They ask the questions about the meaning of virtue, love, truth, goodness, beauty, et cetera. Abstract as those may sound, they are important because they have to do with the essence of all things, with what makes life worth living.

Add to all that one other important question to think about, the question of God, religion, things of the spirit, transcendent matters. Those are important too. Many people would say that these are of the essence of life. Interestingly, most people seem to reflect on God or the Spirit quite naturally. We realize that there is something beyond and above us, a being that gives meaning and purpose to life itself. Some of the great religious thinkers and religious founders of history, of course, have thought about that in different ways: Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Lao-Tzu and others, but they all have to do with the question of the ultimate meaning of life which lies in God.

Because I am a Catholic, I like to think about Jesus and the way he thought about life. There are a few short lines in Mark's gospel which we hear today that bring to mind an insight about how Jesus lived and what was important to him.

Rising very early before dawn he went off to a deserted place where he prayed. Simon and those who were with him pursued him and on finding him said, "Everyone is looking for you." He told them, "let us go to the nearby villages that I may preach there also. For this purpose I have come." So, he went to their synagogues, preaching and driving out demons throughout the whole of Galilee.

All this tells me something about Jesus that is very interesting: First of all, it seems obvious that Jesus was a very balanced person: Two things in life were very important to him: First of all, he had a deep need to get away occasionally, to be off by himself and to pray. That seemed to be the engine that kept him going. It was in quiet, deserted places that he did his contemplation, where he renewed himself by being in touch with the One he called Father. That habit of Jesus is mentioned at least a half dozen times in all the gospels. So, people, the gospel writers, must have noticed it and thought it important. Otherwise they wouldn't have mentioned it.

Secondly, what also seems to have been important in Jesus life was work. It was a unique kind of work, of course, preaching, healing, et cetera, but it was work. In fact, we know that Jesus got tired and needed to get off and rest by himself. Seemingly, Jesus did not pray 2417. When he felt renewed, he immediately called his friends together and said, "let's get back to work." So, doing something practical seemed important to Jesus. He tried to make the world a better place by bringing wisdom and healing, hope and encouragement wherever he went.

But the point is, I think he could not have done any of this very well without taking time off in "deserted places" where he could think and reflect in silence. That's where he got his energy to go back to work.

So, I have always thought that Jesus was a very orderly, disciplined, balanced person. He knew instinctively where the important things in his life were at. He knew that prayer was not just a kind of private luxury and that work was not simply a dreary necessity to make a living. Both had their place in life, one gave meaning and support to the other. So, I'm convinced that Jesus was ultimately a happy person; he knew what his priorities were and lived by them.

I suppose all of us, whether we realize it or not, are seeking our hearts desire, seeking the meaning of life, some balance like Jesus did. It seems like the normal thing for any human being to do: Pray and work, work and pray. I don't think one would necessarily have to get up before dawn, as Jesus did, to accomplish all that, but we all have peculiar little habits that work for us. If others laugh, well, too bad. It's our life, after all. We deserve to be happy, don't we?

The scriptures: Job 7: 1-4, 6-7, 1 Corinthians 9: 16-19, 22-23, Mark 1: 29-39

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:48 AM.

January 23, 2006

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - By Whose Authority?

Astonishing as it may sound, 1 must confess that I am somewhat surprised, even today, that I ever grew up Catholic, much less that I ever felt a call to the religious life and the priesthood. I say this because my experience of God was fairly healthy but my experience of religion and church as a youngster was overwhelmingly negative.

It all started in summer catechism class taught by our pastor. I have a hunch today that he probably was never meant to be a teacher and perhaps that he would rather have been doing something other than teaching a bunch of kids their catechism.

At any rate his pedagogical method could be described as authoritarian. On many occasion I remember feeling threatened with eternal punishment if I could not repeat the long definitions of Catholic doctrines from the Cardinal Gasparri Catechism. The fact that my father threatened me with corporal punishment if I refused to attend "class", did not make my life any simpler nor the Catholic faith any more attractive. Alas!

It occurs to me today that authority or power sometimes seems to be the only resource that teachers or other leaders feel they have in order to get their charges to follow them. As for myself, I always had the natural instinct that God must obviously be a "kindly person" and that religion should be fun or at least interesting. For that reason, some of my best experiences of God occurred for me when I went for long walks out in the hills by myself or when I went riding on my saddle horse, pretending I was some famous cowboy. But my experiences of Catholicism and the Catholic Church were fearsome.

Thinking back on all that, it seems to me that power and authority are not the best resources to draw on if one is responsible for the faith of others, especially kids. Ideally, a good teacher leads by attracting, not by forcing or threatening.

But now as I reflect on my unhappy religious childhood, I find that even today we use the word authority a lot both in the church and in the secular world as well. We say that the church, for instance, teaches with authority, with the authority of God, when it speaks of faith and morals. Presidents have power given to them by the people. The church also uses a hierarchical model wherein power comes down from the top, from the pope to the least of the folks in the pews. Pastors often use their power to "get things done" the way they like, not worrying about how their parishioners think of them.

We use the term power to refer to anyone who is in charge: government, teachers, police, community leaders, indeed anyone who is chosen or designated to lead others, to keep good order, to bring peace to the community.

When one thinks about it, all of us have some power, some more and some less, but we have it. Even little kids know how to exert power when they are out in the school playground. Some also become bullies, as we all know. If truth be told we all like power; it feels so good when we can tell others what to do. If left unchecked, of course, that can become a real problem.
So, where does power come from? We don't individually invent it, obviously. Truly, all power, from the least to the highest, comes from God whether we wish to admit that or not. Presidents, kings and even popes have their power because God's will for the human community is protection, good order and peace. Titles and names, crowns, even tiaras and mitres mean nothing. It is of the character of leadership that we must be willing and have the ability to lead others, but humbly, without haughtiness or arrogance.

We have a beautiful example of that in the gospel for this Sunday: It tells us that people who heard Jesus speak and observed him doing miracles were astonished at his power and authority. It was something unique to himself and not like that of the scribes and Pharisees.

So, what was the difference between Jesus' power and the power of the scribes and Pharisees? 1 think it was basically this: The scribes ruled by the power of the book, the law and Jesus ruled simply from the depth of his character. People were willing to follow him because he seemed utterly sincere, without guile. There was in him and his leadership something akin to God, something sacred. Jesus did not need books to reinforce his words. He spoke with the power and authority of God and people knew it instinctively. It's as though Jesus had experienced God first hand and, hence, people were willing to listen and to follow. It's what we today would call the "trust factor." Jesus just projected a natural sense that he could be trusted, and people did trust him implicitly

The place where this trust seems most evident is when Jesus preached or proclaimed God's good news. You know the stories: People "hung around" all day and well into the evening to hear his words, and then, of course, after all the words were heard, they got fed with bread and fish. Not a bad day!

The model of Jesus' preaching power, it seems to me, should be a model for everyone who preaches, teaches or leads (we all do it in some way). It's the difference between preaching down and preaching to. Jesus did not use his divine power to talk down to people. All he did was to identify with people, to speak in their own words, out of their own experiences, and for that reason people implicitly trusted him.

To my mind, that should be the model for everyone to follow, everyone who claims a role of leadership. We should not insist on special privilege or depend upon personal authority. If we do that, people will lose trust in us immediately and the message or lesson will fall on deaf ears. Like Jesus, we ought to be able to preach, teach and lead from our deepest sense that we are doing God's work and not our own. We ought to have a sense that God trusts us with the lives of others and that is a tremendous responsibility. There is none greater.

Well, with all that, I'm glad I managed to get through life still remaining Catholic, still loving the Church. Fortunately, I had some really wonderful teachers and leaders along the way whom I learned to trust simply because they seemed to teach and lead like Jesus did. I'm sincerely happy that it all worked out for the good.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 18: 15-20, 1 Corinthians 7: 32-35, Mark 1: 21-28

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:26 AM.

January 17, 2006

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - It's Never Quite the Right Time

It sometimes surprises me, although I don't know why it should, but it does surprise me when I realize how much I am enclosed and limited to my own little world. Yes, I know that I and, indeed, we all have things to do every day, people to see, appointments to keep, calls to return, places to be, attention to pay, et cetera. But when the phone rings and I am busy or when someone suddenly appears at my office door without an appointment, I'm momentarily a bit annoyed. I lose my train of thought at the computer, or I have something I just need to get done right now. So, here comes someone who is breaking into that neat little schedule I have and wants me to pay attention. Fortunately, the feeling of irritation wears off in a hurry.

Well, this is all not as serious as it sounds, but it is still true that we all live in our little cells, our small compartments, our restricted "do not disturb" areas that are important to our lives. We have our own plans, our own schedules to keep, important things to think about and accomplish. Any wonder then that when this whole agenda, this whole roster of important things goes awry, we should suddenly find ourselves a bit distressed?

Perhaps the obvious question is this: Why are these so-called little interruptions in our life any less important than what we happen to be doing at the moment? They are important to someone, for sure. It's just that they don't fit our time-frame or other priorities we may have.

It occurs to me to say then that everything that happens in our life has its place and its importance whether we happen to recognize it at the moment or not. When you think about it, life itself is a continuing series of interruptions, deviations and detours. The point being that we need to be constantly attentive and sensitive to whatever may be waiting around the corner for us.

Not surprisingly, there are some interesting events described in our scriptures today which talk about people who found that they were being interrupted in what they were doing and needed to change course in mid-stream or mid-air.

The first is the familiar story of the prophet Jonah. We don't know exactly what he was doing before the Lord God told him to get ready and that He had better plans for him. He was a Jew, of course, and he was happy in his fife and religion. But all of a
sudden he hears God invite him to set off for Nineveh, Nineveh, that great city, the sin city of the Middle East. He could care less about those people. They weren't related to him, they worshiped other gods. So, why should he set off across the desert to tell these "pagans" to do fasting for their transgressions. The part of the story that is not told here is that Jonah did not want any part of this trip west, so he deliberately travels east until he gets thrown overboard by some sailors and is swallowed up by a sea monster. That turns out to be the moment he decides that God is serious about Nineveh and so he finally decides that he should do his penitential journey through the city. As you just heard in the reading, Jonah did preach repentance and everyone got on their knees, threw on sack cloth and ashes and the city was saved from disaster.

So, there you are: A man who had other plans in his life suddenly found out that his attention was needed somewhere else. Because he was willing to be disturbed, some good things happened in Nineveh.

St. Paul also had some interesting suggestions for his parishioners in Corinth. Corinth, like Nineveh was a wild place, a sea port town with lots of crazy people hanging around. Paul tells his folks: "Folks, time is running out, the world in its present shape is changing, get ready to change with it or you get left behind."

Well, obviously, we don't know today how many changed course, probably not a lot, but we know that one of the earliest Christian churches in Christendom came out of Corinth. So, something good happened because people were willing to let their lives be disturbed.
The gospel describes one of those classic situations where four people, blue-collar working "stiffs" were already deep into their careers and plans for their lives, four fishermen. We don't know again how productive their careers were, but it must have been enough to make a living for their families at least. But now, here comes this itinerant preacher whom they had never met before, saying to them: "The kingdom of God is at hand: Come after me, I will make you fishers of men." And, crazy as it may sound; they all packed up their stuff and took off behind Jesus. Talk about your life being disturbed! Talk about being asked to change your whole career in a matter of a couple minutes! But, once again, today with history behind us, we know what happened because they did pack up and leave their boats and careers. Here we are today, all Christians gathered for worship because four guys decided to take a chance, follow Jesus and do something completely different. Sounds crazy, but that's the way life sometimes works out.

Now, I suspect it's doubtful whether any of us will ever be asked to give up our normal careers and go running off to those "sin cities" of Chicago, Los Angeles or New York or wherever to preach repentance. It just won't happen. I don't think any of us actually will be asked to leave whatever it is we are doing and choose a whole different way of life like Peter, Andrew, James and John were invited to do. There is just too much involved: Family, job, home, career, future and all the rest.

There are a few people, of course who have done that in our time: Thomas Merton who was a worldly young man with a great future as a writer decided to run off to the Trappists. Today he is known as a man who taught us all something about contemplative prayer and silence. Dorothy Day was a promising newspaper writer and decided one day to give it all up and devote the rest of her life to the poor by establishing Houses of Hospitality, soup kitchens around the country. She is still known, twenty five years after her death, as the advocate for the down and out. They wanted to make her a saint even before she died. She said: "Don't bother."

Well, with all that, are we asked to do anything that will change our lives radically? Probably not. But there is nothing to say that we should not be ready at any moment to change our attitudes toward what we are doing. We don't need to make them the "be all and end all" of our existence. St. Paul had it right when he told his people: "Time is running out folks. Be ready to change course at any moment." Perhaps the old phrase I used to hear a long time ago still holds some meaning: "Hang loose!" Don't get trapped into one stagnant way of thinking and doing. There are still lots of opportunities for living in ways you might never have imagined. And remember, don't panic: you won't have to leave town, or your career to do it. In fact, you won't even need to go out and preach repentance. That should be good news, right?

The scriptures: Jonah: 3:1-5, 1 Corinthians 7: 29-31, Mark 1: 14-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:09 AM.

January 09, 2006

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - Dreams and Visions

I have never had much time nor an inclination to delve into the meaning of dreams. Other items are higher on my daily or nightly agenda! Nonetheless, I think most of us are often fascinated by dreams. Whether there is any meaning in them or not is questionable unless you happen to be a psychologist like Carl Gustave Jung who spent a lot of time examining the meaning of dreams.

But for an amateur like myself, l think there is always the sense that our mind, our emotions or feelings continue to grapple with life's meaning even after we have gone to sleep. It makes no difference whether our mind is in control of things or not. At night we seem to go into "autopilot."

It is always an interesting adventure, of course, to try to figure out what's happening "up there" in the mind's night hours. Perhaps there really is some meaning in those odd sequences that happen in our brain waves between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. It is not unlikely then that we might even place some meaning on dreams whether they are objectively true or not.

People who have a religious intuition or inclination often interpret dreams as messages from God. I'm personally rather skeptical about that but perhaps that's because I've never had any dreams that seemed to have any spiritual meaning or significance to them.

Nonetheless there is a consistent thread in the scriptures that interprets dreams as messages from God. Sometimes these "messages" are warnings or threats, but at other times they are predictions of what the future holds for some individual.

Interestingly too, the scripture writers also interpret messages from God as coming through the work or word of an angel. You remember the message that Mary received through the angel Gabriel that she would become the mother of the Redeemer. What I think that means is that whenever we can't understand something that is happening to us, we call it a mystery and we naturally attribute it to God. Perhaps that's what happened in Mary's case. She knew something of mystery was happening to her and she naturally attributed it to God. I guess, We'd all do the same. We have another such instance in the first reading for this Second Sunday in Ordinary Time. It is the story of the call or the vocation of Samuel to be a prophet or seer for the Israelite people. The call comes, as always, in the middle of the night, the time when God speaks in special ways, that is in dreams. It took three attempts to finally get Samuel's attention but in the end he became convinced that he was truly called to something special.

There is a somewhat similar vocation story in the Gospel: Jesus saw something special in the character of a man named Cephas. He said to Cephas: "Henceforth you will be called Peter, Rock," Jesus said. You will be the foundation stone for my other disciples and later for the entire church. So, there we have Peter's call, not at night this time, but surely a moment that was important in Peter's life.

So, it is interesting that the scriptures usually seem to speak about the vocations of important people as happening in mysterious ways, dreams, or with a special name changes, et cetera.

Is there any lesson in all that? I ask the question because I think most of us would say that we may have experienced a number of different instances in our life when there was a unique call (a dream?) to do something special or to respond to a mysterious voice inviting us to think about the future of our life.

I can tell you that I have had several of these experiences, not just a vocation to the priesthood, but several other invitations to do some special work. Perhaps you have too.

Now where could these special calls or invitations have come from? Well, in my own case, they did not happen in the middle of the night in a dream. It was always in broad daylight. It was always through some special person, a friend, a pastor, my mother. All this out of my own experience tells me that I happened to be in the right place at the right time and that changed everything. My life was never the same after that.

Was that a message from God? Well, it wasn't a dream, but I could definitely tell that there was something special going on, something sacred. Had I not paid attention to it, I'm sure my life would probably have gone in a completely different direction.

Obviously, I am not the first or only one who has had experiences like that. It happens in all our lives. And it does not always happen in dreams (although it could). It (the call) happens in moments when things are quiet, when you have time to reflect to pay attention to the silence. It (the call) happens when someone you trust takes the time to share their deepest instincts and ideas with you. it (the call) happens when you are doing something completely ordinary, whatever you do on an ordinary work day. You see, it's all about noticing, about paying attention, about being attentive to something which at first seems ordinary but turns out to be very extraordinary. It would have escaped you if you had not been alert.

So, I have nothing against dreams or their interpretation. I even have nothing against visions of angels. It can happen and it probably has. It's just that God also acts in more ordinary ways, through the human experiences of every day life. That's where most of our vocations come from even though they don't always appear to be very spectacular.

So, don't lie awake all night wondering what that latest odd dream was all about. It will all become clear to you when you go to work in the morning, but in a way you may never have imagined.

The scriptures:1 Samuel 3: 3b-10, 19, 1 Corinthians 6: 1 3c-15a,17-20, John 1: 35-42

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:26 AM.