November 24, 2007

Feast of Christ the King - "Time And Its Meaning"

I think it would be true to say that most of us can get pretty excited about new beginnings but we feel sad about endings of whatever sort.

Shortly before I began writing this piece I needed to say goodbye to two dear friends who are moving out of state. Whether I will ever see them again is hard to say. So, we shared lunch, some tears and a blessing before they left. But we all rejoiced in the years and memories that we had shared, the wine at nice dinners, the conversations. The years together were a treasure.

All this recalled for me that beginnings and endings have something to do with time. Time...that mysterious reality which only exists in our minds. Nonetheless, unless we had some way to talk about it, our lives would be total chaos. So, we talk about taking time, losing time, wasting time, finding time, being on time, being behind time, out of time, et cetera. Truly, time is only a marker of before and after events in our lives. Therefore, we use our clocks, watches, time pieces to make sure that time does not escape us and that we will use it for good purposes.

Most of our time, of course, could be called secular, worldly time, time that helps us keep the pace of our daily life and activities.

But we Christians also know another kind of time, a measurement that we associate with the sacred, God's time, Christ's time, Church time.

Oddly enough, we are celebrating a significant moment of time this very Sunday: It is an end-time, the end of the liturgical year, the year of grace. It is the Thirty Fourth and last Sunday of the Church's calendar: Fifty-two Sundays along with a bunch of feast days that have transpired this year. We celebrated the same feasts and Sundays last year and the year before, and the year before that. In a sense then the Liturgical Year never ends. It is not linear but circular. It keeps going around and around. If we missed something last year, we can pick it up this year. So, in a sense we are not sad to see one year end because we know immediately that a new year will begin on the First Sunday of Advent next Sunday. In other words, there is a sense of hope in the liturgical year; it is truly never over, never completed.

Now, we spoke earlier about the fact that certain events in our lives give meaning to time: We mark time by what is happening, what we are commemorating. Our birthdays and anniversaries mark important moments in our Iives. The same is true regarding the liturgical year: On this particular Sunday we mark a feast dedicated to Christ the King. It also happens, not by accident, to be the Thirty Fourth Sunday in the Church's calendar. More importantly, this is the Sunday when we encapsulate everything that has happened this year under that title, King of the Universe. We do so because we Christians believe all that happens in this world of ours is somehow centered on Christ.

Although we try to do our best to celebrate this feast with great solemnity: Music, incense, special vestments, processions and all the rest, this is not the kind of "coronation ceremony" you might find celebrated by royalty in London's Westminster Cathedral.

The king whose presence we celebrate is remembered not for secular royalty, but for his dedication to justice and peace, to the causes of the poor, the abandoned. He does not wear a crown, nor is he clothed in finery. He wishes to be remembered as servant and he continues to invite all of us to imitate him in this servanthood. How then can we acclaim him servant-king unless we ourselves are prepared to learn again and again, time after time, how to serve one another in the manner in which he did?

Finally the one thing we need to constantly recall is that this feast of Christ the King does not simply happen on the last Sunday of the liturgical year. This is this same Christ the Servant whom we meet Sunday after Sunday when we gather for Eucharist. It's not that we Catholics are slow to learn the meaning of all this; it's just the fact that Christ the Servant King is so important to our Christian life that we don't object to being reminded of its meaning over and over, time after time, Sunday after Sunday, year after year. Eventually, with enough time, we may get it straight.

The scriptures: 2 Samuel 5: 1-3, Colossians 1: 12-20, Luke 23: 35-43

Posted by Julie Galligan at 09:21 AM.

November 17, 2007

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Memorials to Human Failure

If you were inclined to take a vacation around this country of ours simply to observe how the folks of cities, towns and villages commemorate important and tragic events in their history or the history of the world, I predict that you will find at least one statue or wall commemorating the history of our wars and the deaths of our most precious "commodity", human life.

What city or village does no have a war memorial plaque placed there by the VFW or the American Legion recalling the lives of their fellow soldiers.

I am writing this on the 6th anniversary of 9/11. Cities around the country are reading the lists of the people who were killed in those terrorist attacks.

In the morning paper I read of the millions of people who have fled Iraq because of the violence there. Our fallen soldiers in Iraq number well over 3000 now. Iraqi civilian deaths number in the tens of thousands. In Western Europe and the United States there are continual threats of violence.

Adding to all these catastrophes, a series of earthquakes has once again struck the islands of the South Pacific. All this in addition to the threat of Global Warming and its effects on life on this planet.

Sad to say, it seems as though we humans are determined to make every effort we can to destroy ourselves and all living creatures on this planet earth. It would seem that our human history is like a scene from an Apocalypse.

We have, of course, the normal group of apocalyptic writers who wish to convince us that The Son of Man, the Christ, is about to return swiftly and bring all things earthly to a final end. That prediction, obviously, has been going on for centuries: Each time a flood, earthquake or some other natural catastrophe occurs there is a prediction of end times.

My conviction, however, is that if Christ were planning to return any time soon and destroy the earth, he would surely warn us. What is more certain is that we ourselves are doing a pretty good job of bringing all things earthly to a catastrophic conclusion.

It has always seemed a great mystery to me why our human community tends to be so violent, so destructive, so vindictive, so malicious, bitter and mean. Every age seems to have its own history of destruction and devastation, natural or human. Is all this built into our very nature? Is this the normal way we are?

I bring all this to our attention because the scriptures for this 33td Sunday in the Church's calendar speaks so graphically of Apocalypse, of end times.

These readings, of course, were chosen precisely because we are nearing the end of the liturgical year. What better time to call up apocalyptic literature? You noticed, I'm sure, Jesus' prediction of the destruction of the magnificent temple in Jerusalem, blaming it on the decadence of the religious leaders. His prediction, of course, was correct: The Romans under the leadership of Titus, the general, son of the emperor Vespasian literally did not leave a stone upon a stone.

We all know, of course, that all things human come to an end: It is part of the very nature of the universe and our place in it. There is a certain rising and falling occurring at all times: Seasons come and go, children are born, the elderly pass on. Morning happens and evening follows. It is all part of the normal process of life and death, growth and decay.

Each of us knows well that we are part of that earthly birth and death syndrome. We Christians do not consider it as a punishment but rather as a way that God speaks to us about the incompleteness of all creation. Death is seemingly built into all things human and earthly.

The more important question to ask, of course, is this: Given the gift of life that we are and that we have, what are we doing to bring some semblance of sanity to this world, some hint of hope for our future? In a sense we are all responsible for some part of the life on this planet, for good or ill. Indeed, we all know that there is only so much time to accomplish all of this. Each of us is part of that universal experience of life and death that goes on around us.

Back to those memorial walls and statues: In a sad sense, they are really signs of our failure as a human race to be able to respect life and all living beings. Would it not be a hopeful sign if we were able some day to say: No more war, no more killing, no more memorials to the dead. We have learned enough about death. The end is not yet. There is still time to capture the goodness that is left in this world, and, of course, there is lots of it, enough for everyone to have a part.

The scriptures: Malachi 3 19-20a, 2 Thessalonians 3: 7-12, Luke 21: 5-19

Posted by Julie Galligan at 05:24 PM.

November 10, 2007

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Heavenly Thought

For the greater part of my adult life I have lived in domestic circumstances where pets were not easily accommodated. As a youngster on our family farm, of course, we had dogs, cats, geese, lambs and many other domesticated animals. We loved them all and took extraordinary care of them. Once I moved to the city, however, and particularly during my eight years in the seminary, dogs and cats in a dorm room would have been a great inconvenience and messy as well.

Ever since those seminary days, of course, I have lived in rectories and apartments and other conveniences, and I am sure my housemates would not have been comfortable with a dog yelping in the middle of the night.

Nonetheless, it is interesting to notice how much care people take of their pets, particularly dogs. People here in Alaska become greatly disturbed when there is news of some someone who runs sled dogs and does not care for them. If a dog dies on the Iditarod Trail each spring, there is always the threat of an investigation.

It may sound extreme, but I have known people who have sort of vague sense that their pets go to heaven! An aunt of mine once owned a nice little cocker spaniel for many years. When he died, she had him buried in a pet cemetery and each year on the "anniversary" of his death she would go and visit his grave. Whether she prayed for his eternal salvation, I do not know, but she could not bear the thought of this little dog dying and being forgotten forever.

This leads me to an even deeper reflection on the meaning of death and resurrection. It is my sense that most people, whether Christian or not, have this deep sense that life in this world, on this planet, cannot possibly be the only life there is. Even though we have no direct experience of heaven, our intuition tells us that when life in this world comes to an end there must be another life (of whatever kind) in a next world, call it heaven, the kingdom or whatever. In other words, I believe we have a sort of "built-in" instinct that prompts us to long for a life beyond this world. For Christians, of course, this is prompted by an act of faith in a God whom we cannot imagine abandoning us at the end of life in this world. I suspect even non-Christians must hold this same conviction.

This is the sense we get, for instance, in the scriptures for this Thirty Second Sunday of the Church's calendar. The first reading comes to us from those times in Israel when the religion of the Jewish people was being threatened and scorned by the invaders of Greek culture. In this case a king, Antiochus Epiphanes N was insisting that the strictly conservative Hasidim Jews give up their dietary customs, particularly the proscription against eating pork.

You noticed the response, of course: They replied that they would rather die than eat pork. They believed in a life that was eternal and it was worth suffering to attain it.

In the gospel as well, Jesus faces some questions about the reality of heaven. He is debating with the Sadducee sect, upper class citizens who might be called "secularists", as opposed to the Pharisees who were conservative religious laymen. These Sadducees, obviously, knew that Jesus as a rabbi believed in the resurrection and the next life. Hence, they pose this silly issue for him regarding the woman who has been married seven times during her life. To whom will she be married to in heaven, they ask? Jesus simply puts them down with the response that we are talking about two different states of existence when we talk about heaven and earth. It is a moot question because we have no idea what heaven is, but one thing for sure, it will be a kind of "spirit-life" as opposed to our human and physical existence here in this world.

It is my sense actually that Jesus did not deal much with the question of heaven or the resurrection except in this one instance although he obviously did believe in the resurrection.

But Jesus was also a person of this world and most of his concern was with life as we know it here and now: He dealt with human realities: Suffering, poverty, oppression, justice, peace, sickness and health, all those sorts of things, those mysteries we face and try to make sense of every day.

The point for us Christians, of course, is to assume the reality of the resurrection and eternal life, but first to ask the question about how our life in this world can impact the reality of heaven.

In this regard I always remember the insightful line from my friend and philosopher at Notre Dame, John Dunne, C.S.C. His question was this: "If I must some day die, how can I satisfy my desire to live?" In other words, how can I live a full and meaningful life in the span of years allotted to me so that the question of heaven will not be a great mystery to me? Questions about life on this side of the grave are always more interesting and engaging for me than questions about heaven of which I (and we) know so little.

In the last analysis, of course, our belief in the resurrection and the kingdom of God should give us a hopeful sense that how we live our lives here and now is already an assurance of what heaven must be like. The proof will come later!
Now, what happens to pets of various sorts after their decease is a question I am not about to deal with. I have other questions of more importance.

The scriptures: 2 Maccabees 7: 1-2, 9-14, 2 Thessalonians 2: 16-35, Luke 20:27-38

Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:38 AM.

November 04, 2007

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Ostracized

I am currently re-reading Thomas Merton's classic autobiography entitled The Seven Storey Mountain. I remember reading it when I first entered the seminary at Notre Dame in 1948. Merton, as most folks know, is remembered today as the scholar and world traveler who became a famous monk at Gethsemane, Kentucky. The book is still as well read today as it was in the year it was first published.

The reason why I mention it is because there is a story in the chapter entitled "Prisoner's Base" that reminds me of the story of Zachaeus in today's gospel. Merton is only 9 years old and he hung out around with a group of youngsters his own age. They have built a "club house" in a vacant lot near his home on Long Island. Thomas also has a younger brother named John Paul, a timid little boy who desperately wants to be with his older brother. So he approaches Thomas and his little gang one day at their clubhouse. Well, what does Thomas and his gang do? They yell at him to go home; they even throw rocks at him to drive him away. But he continues to stand there, saddened, tears running down his cheeks, wondering why he has been excluded from this exclusive group.

I imagine many of us have had experiences like that, wanting to be part of a group, but having the feeling that we are not wanted. The word we often use here is "ostracized", unaccepted, even cast out. I imagine there is no lonelier feeling than to be publicly scorned, held in contempt. This is probably even more significant among teenagers for whom identity and acceptance is so important and rightly so.

Of course, there are many people in the world who are scorned: The history of the civil rights movement in Little Rock, Arkansas, for instance, is an example, the story of the 18 youngsters who wanted so badly to be accepted in so-called "white schools." I imagine Hispanic people must feel the same way today when they come here to work but are trucked back to Mexico. Child molesters are labeled as public enemies; their names are on a "watch list" in whatever

neighborhood they choose to live. Catholics who live in "irregular marriages" are told that they may not approach the communion table. You will recall other examples, I'm sure.

Then we come to the famous story of a man in the gospel of Luke who is described also as being ostracized in his own town because of his chosen career: His profession is to work as a public servant, a tax collector in the employ of the Roman government. Tax collectors, of course, have always had a bad reputation especially around April 15th each year. In this case, however, he enforced the burdensome tax laws on his own neighbors. Not a good job to have in a small town where everyone knows you. The story as you have already heard has Jesus passing through Jericho, Zachaeus' hometown. He is determined to see this famous miracle worker for himself. So, being small of stature, he crawls up into a convenient tree for a look. To his surprise, Jesus happens to notice him and calls him down. Not only that, Jesus invites himself to Zachaeus' home for dinner. "Horrors," say the crowds. "Rabbis don't sit across the table from public outlaws." So, you see what happens: Jesus himself turns into the ostracized one along with Zachaeus.

But here is one of those instances where we truly get a deep insight into Jesus character: He didn't mind being different. He didn't care what people thought. His response was that Zachaeus was just like any other Jewish person, a son of Abraham. He was no moral ingrate, no sinner. He was just in a different line of work, tax collecting. So, the point Jesus is making by getting invited into a "sinner's" house for dinner is to insist that he chooses to speak face to face with anyone, no matter what the person's reputation might be. Human character goes deeper than the kind of work one chooses to do. Now, Jesus might not have liked tax collectors any more than the other folks in Jericho, but he was not about to ostracize him outright. The proof of that is in his willingness to sit across the table from Zachaeus and have dinner with him.

There is something transparent, I think, in the choice one makes to sit down to eat with someone. There is an implicit acceptance of the character of that person whom you eat with, an assumption that this person, no matter what his life work, is worthy of acceptance. At the very least, one can expect to learn something about the deeper qualities of that person's life. The point Jesus is making by eating with Zachaeus is to say: "This man is `savable' (Salvation has come to this house.") He may not have a good public image locally, but humanly speaking he is a good person. The lesson here is not for Zachaeus but for the local townspeople who had already made up their minds that this man was not savable.

So, what is the lesson in all this for us? My sense is that most of us would probably fit into the image of the crowd who were scandalized by Jesus' decision to have supper with a sinner. I think it is true that many of us have the tendency to judge others by superficial characteristics: color, ethnic background, choice of work, life history, et cetera. But to understand the true character of a person, his or her inner dimension, takes insight, time and patience. Perhaps the most important thing is to be determined that we shall not make assumptions without truly knowing something deeper about a person. I think that is what may have happened at that dinner table that night. Both Zachaeus and Jesus discovered something about each other they may not have known before. For Zachaeus, I'm sure he was happy to know that somebody in that town liked him! Couldn't that be true of all of us? Wouldn't we all prefer to be liked, accepted? Being ostracized surely doesn't do much for one's self-image, does it?

The scriptures: Wisdom 11: 22-12:2, 1 Thessalonians 1: 11-22, Luke 19: 1-10

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:50 AM.

October 27, 2007

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Praying With the Proper Attitude

I imagine most of us who are Christian and who have heard the gospels proclaimed Sunday after Sunday must be convinced that we pretty well know what those stories Jesus tells are all about. Usually the message seems fairly clear. But when you take a little time to examine them more closely, you suddenly find out that there is something going on in those stories that you did not realize at first hearing. Even more alarming, you also realize that those stories are not about individuals who lived 3000 years ago; they are about yourself. In other words, it's like your "friend" who tells you a joke but at the end of the joke, you suddenly realize you are actually the butt of the joke! That's no fun. But that's the point in Jesus' stories: They are all about what life is like in this world and what people are like.

A second point that you will find in Jesus' stories is that he was a very acute observer of human nature and he was not afraid to describe it graphically.

So, here we go with a story in today's gospel about two types of people: People who are firmly convinced of their righteousness, their piety and people who make no assumption about that but simply assume that they are not perfect and admit it.

The question, therefore, is how should one recognize and distinguish between people who are religiously arrogant and people who are religiously humble? Here is how Jesus did it. He simply said, "Hey, just watch how people pray, that will tell you a lot." The problem, of course, is that most people don't pray out loud, so you will never really know!

So, that brings up the question not of how other people pray, but how we pray, you and I? The way we pray should tell us something about our self-perception, at least if we are willing to listen to ourselves.

Now, I am going to take the risk of asking you, after having listened to the familiar story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, which one of those two characters' prayer resembles your own?
First of all, my hunch is that that the ordinary Christian rarely identifies himself with the Pharisee. The very title of that person turns us off immediately. None of us ever want to be labeled a Pharisee although they were not truly bad people, just a little "full of themselves."?

Of course, on the other hand, not many of us would be willing to admit publicly that we may have some of the same problems as the tax collector. I don't know many people who go around on the street confessing their failures. But at least in this case the tax collector was willing to admit that he may have failed a few times. Don't we all?

So, the point in all this is to say that if we are willing to pay attention to the way we pray, we can get a pretty clear picture of ourselves. Prayer is always a barometer of life!

It is interesting, therefore, to notice that when Jesus wanted to talk about human nature, good or bad, he simply said, "prayer will tell you a lot. Prayer will tell you honestly how you think of yourself in the face of God." It's when we are at prayer that we should be at our most honest place! So, aside from character appraisal, let us say something about prayer.

If there is anything that sincere Christians do a lot , it is praying and they do it in many different ways: The monk or nun in the monastery simply sits and thinks; they call it contemplation. No words necessary, just concentration on God. The rest of us need a crutch: A book, the rosary, whatever; but we do feel we need to do something, anything to catch God's attention! Watch, for instance, what happens a Mass on Sunday: Some people are saying the rosary, others are singing and participating in the liturgy, some even may be half asleep. But you will not see two people praying in the same way. There will be as many styles of prayer as there are people present.

So, I guess we need to say that if prayer is anything, it is always personal and it's nobody else's business how we talk to our God. We are ultimately responsible for ourselves.

But if we pay attention to that story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, it tells us at least one thing: We all pray out of our deepest sense of ourselves, arrogant or humble, proud or broken, full of ourselves or brutally honest with our ourselves.
When one thinks about prayer, therefore, it may seem at first that it is simply about addressing God, and in a sense it is that. But it is also about ourselves, admitting who we are and speaking out of our full, honest, human nature. Sometimes, that may be embarrassing to us, but at least it tells us something. God already knows the rest. That's the reason why the tax collector got praise from Jesus: At least he was honest.

So, who am I to tell you what prayer is or how to pray? I have enough problems of my own. All I can. do is to quote a Carmelite, contemplative nun. One day a British news reporter came to her convent and asked her what she did all day when she prayed, what kind of words she actually used. She simply replied: "Well sir, it's pretty simple, actually: I sit and look at God and God looks at me." It almost sounds too simple, doesn't it? I tried it once and fell asleep. Maybe that was God's answer to my prayer. "Hey, just go to sleep."

The scriptures: Sirach 35:12-14, 16-18, 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18, Luke 18: 9-14

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:48 AM.

October 20, 2007

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Praying Without Asking

Before I barge on into this homily today, let me say, first of all, that there are not many times when I feel totally inadequate to the task of preaching, but today happens to be one of those Sundays because we are dealing with a very mysterious human action, prayer. The reason I am at a loss for words (surprise) is because prayer is one of those human activities that is so personal, so sacred, so unexplainable that no one person can tell another person what it is or how to do it. To do so would be the height of arrogance.

At the same time, I must say that I have done lot of praying in my time and there was also a time when I thought praying was a pretty simple matter. "Pray and you'll get whatever you ask for." my mother used to say. Now, as an adult, I have come to believe that this might have been the wrong way to begin. But my mother meant well, and that
was ok! Actually, Jesus said the same thing, so perhaps she may have been on the right path.

So, without telling you how to pray, let me just share with you what prayer has come to mean for me in the adult years of my life and also to pose several questions that have occurred to me over the years.

The central theme in the two scripture readings we just heard is a simple one: Pray without ceasing. Just keep praying and something will happen; believe and God will do what God does.

Let us assume first, therefore, that humans have been praying for millennia, at least that is the evidence we have from sacred and secular literature. The question is why? Why do we pray? My sense is that we instinctively know who we are and we know we are not God. Therefore, if we pray, it must be to someone other than ourselves. My point is that we have an intuition that our life is not our own, that we are somehow dependent upon a creator, one who sustains our life. When we pray, therefore, we pray out of our humanness, our knowledge that our lives are in the hands of someone else.
Secondly, I believe that we pray because by nature we are geared toward the transcendent, toward the sacred. Again, we know we are not God and so we naturally want to speak to the One who is "over all, in all, beyond all."

The next question: How should we pray? Obviously, there is no standard model simply because God is always personal to us. No one person (least of all myself) can tell another how to do it. But if I were to tell you how, I would suggest that words may work ok, but, better than that, just thinking about God is sufficient. It's called contemplation.
Here is what the great St. Theresa once said when someone asked her how she prayed. "I think about God," she said, "and God thinks about me." So, prayer does not need to be about lot of activity. Just being quiet, being in God's presence is sufficient.

Another question that arises about prayer is this: What should we pray for? I imagine most of us have prayed in order to receive many things in our lives, including good health and being spared from death. Most of us also know that many of the things we believe are necessary, we discover later are not really so necessary. Moreover we often pray that God will "bail us out" of situations we should be able to handle by ourselves.

By the way, there is actually a good model for praying right in the Lord's Prayer. Notice, it starts with an address, an admission of God's greatness: "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name." Only after that does Jesus say that is ok to ask for something, whether it is daily bread or the forgiveness of sins, or whatever. It's all a matter of common spiritual courtesy. You don't just walk into someone's house, for instance, and start by asking for something. Well, it's the same way with God. The least we can do is to show respect if we are going to make a request.

There is an interesting anecdote in our first scripture reading about persistence, about praying without giving up. It's about a minor tribal battle that is going on between the Israelites and a small desert clan of people known as the Amalectites; Amaleck was the local leader. The military effort, however, is not going well for the Israelites. So, Moses is lifting up his hands, praying that his troops will prevail. But after a while he begins to tire and can no longer hold up his hands, and suddenly the battle begins to go to pieces. So, two of Moses military commanders offer to hold up his hands so that he can continue praying so the army will be successful. Wouldn't you know it, of course, Moses prayed they were successful. But the Iast line of the reading, as you will have noticed, turns decidedly bloody. It simply says that the Israelites "mowed down Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword." The moral of the story seems to be that prayer can do strange things; it even helps people to kill each other! Obviously, that is not what prayer is about, but the Israelites believed that prayer would move God to help them kill their enemies! Not very convincing theology.!

That brings up the question: How do we pray in time of war? Do we pray that our troops will wipe out "enemy" troops? Do we pray that when enemies have been killed peace will finally reign? That is a question we can ask at this very moment in our American history while our country is at war in Iraq. If war is about killing, which side do we pray for? My sense is that we should pray for neither side. We should. just pray that both sides will come to their senses and stop fighting and killing each other entirely

The gospel story about the woman who kept pestering the judge until he listened to her case is another example of persistence in prayer. But that again brings up the question: When we pray are we praying to a God who has stopped listening or who is simply not interested in our petty issues? Perhaps it would be better to let God be God and believe that God cares about us whether or not we receive what we ask for. Ultimately, prayer could be best described simply as an act of faith.

Last of all, let me say that there probably are millions of people in the world today who have never prayed, do not believe in prayer, who do not know how to pray, have given up on prayer because of various human frustrations. Perhaps all that I have said here, therefore, is not for them. Perhaps I have simply been "preaching to the choir."

All I can say to that is to offer the example of what happened on September 11, 2001 when terrorists killed 3000 Americans. News broadcasters were proclaiming that people around the world, whether religiously inclined or not, were praying for the deceased and their families. It may well have been true, who knows? But it tells me one thing: When tragedy strikes, people demonstrate compassion for one another; they have the sense that we are all bonded to one another. We instinctively believe that to be human is to be holy and that God has created us all alike. If that is what moved people to compassion on that terrible day, then I say it was prayer, even though nary a word was spoken. See, prayer can do great things.

The scriptures: Exodus 17: 8-13, 2 Timothy 3: 14 & 4:2, Luke 18: 1-8

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:33 PM.

October 13, 2007

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time - That Perfect Body

I imagine it is not surprising to any of us, whether young or old, to realize that we are concerned about how we look, especially in public. I know we do not talk much about this, but I suspect that we all assiduously check the mirror in the morning to see if anything have changed from the day before: Any new wrinkles or pimples? If we do spot something we probably say: "Well, I guess I'm getting old or older." Not a pleasant thought at 6:00 a.m.

All humor aside, we are concerned about this human person, this personality that identifies us. Although an old axiom claims that beauty is only skin deep, beauty or comeliness is important to us nonetheless, as the cosmetic industry knows so well. They make big bucks selling lotions, potions, creams, jellies and salves...anything that they claim and we hope will save our countenance from public scrutiny. As much as our bodily features are not the most important part of our human nature, we are still concerned about what people think of us. Public image is everything or almost everything in today's world.

Another important fact of life is our concern that we must "fit in," that there is a place for us in this crazy world. I think, for instance, of the efforts that the medical profession makes to help autistic people fit into the normal pattern of life that others take for granted. I know a young woman, for instance, who bags groceries at Safeway. She always smiles at me and says, "Have nice day." I know that she is having a "nice day" bagging groceries because she has a sense that she too fits into the "labor force" at Safeway. So, she has the good fortune to be able to walk to work each day and know that she counts.

With all that, we have two stories in our scriptures for this Twenty Eighth Sunday in the Church year and they are all about fitting in. Odd as it may sound, people in the Old Testament times were as concerned about fitting in as we are today. The first reading from the Book of Kings tells the story of Naaman, an officer in the Aramaean army. He was a good tactical military planner but he was also afflicted with leprosy; not a good thing for a military leader.

The Aramaeans and the Israelites were often at war with each other, but one day a young servant girl went to Naaman and said: "You know, there is a prophet, Elisha, a miracle-worker down in Israel who might be able to cure you." Naaman probably said to himself: "Hey, listen, I don't like those folks much, but if this guy can cure me, what's the loss." So, he goes to visit Elisha and the prophet says: "Go down and wash in the Jordan River seven times and you'll be cured." Again Naaman probably said to himself, "Hey, listen, we've got cleaner water up North where I live, what am I doing down here bathing in this scummy river? Nonetheless, he bathed seven times and, lo and behold, his skin turned as white and soft as a child's.

The moral of the story: Often healing comes from people whom we would never suspect. In this case, an Israelite prophet cures a foreign military person. Whatever it takes!

The gospel story of the 10 lepers is much the same. They come to Jesus because the normal resources at the Temple had done nothing to help them. Jesus says: You are cured; now go to the priests at the temple and let them know that a prophet has been at work in the land. Again, a story of a cure not from the "normal" sources as you might expect but from a wandering prophet!

The question in all this, of course, is to ask where, truly, does healing of any sort come from? We in the Western tradition have always imagined that healing comes from a divine source outside of ourselves. The Eastern tradition, however, insists that healing or any sacred experience comes from within you.

Obviously, miracles don't happen every day. Cures don't happen to everyone either. It's all a great mystery why some are cured and some are not.

The important point, however, is that we need to learn that God's ways are often mysterious. Even more importantly, we need to learn how to live with our human frailties, physical, mental or emotional. I'm sure, for instance, that the young woman I spoke of earlier goes happily to and from work each day because she has learned to live with this mental/ physical condition and be happy nonetheless.

A lesson for us all: It is important to thank God for the person we are just as we are. Hey, nobody is perfect, right? All that may not be good news if you work for the cosmetic industry but, of course, as I always say, life is messy.

The scriptures: 2 Kings 5: 1 4-17, 2 Timothy 2: 8-13, Luke 17: 11-19

Posted by Julie Galligan at 11:48 AM.

October 06, 2007

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Moving Trees Around

I happened to be thumbing through the Yellow Pages of our local phone book some weeks ago, looking for something and it occurred to me that of all the listings, other than doctors and lawyers, the longest and most diverse list was restaurants. Every language and ethnic group in the world seems to have its own unique eatery in the city of Anchorage. I am not a particularly gourmet diner, so many of those fancy places might not appeal to me, although I do tend toward Mexican food when I'm ready for something different from what I eat at home.

The thought that came to my mind, however, was that the owners of all those restaurants doubtless came from a foreign country at some time in their early history. Not only that, but they probably came here with lots of faith but with very little money in their pockets. They had heard that America was the "land of opportunity," and so they were determined to work hard and have their part of it.

As I think of it, all those little communities of religious priests, brothers and sisters who came to America from Europe also had the same great faith and vision of success like the restaurant owners when they first started their religious houses in this country.

Let me give you an example of the sort of faith that is closer to my experience: The founder of the religious community to which I belong, The Congregation of Holy Cross, Basil Anthony Mary Moreau, will be beatified (declared blessed) this coming September. He was a man of immense faith: His desire was to found a religious community modeled on the family. So, in the town of LeMans, France in the middle 1800's he began a foundation of priests, brothers and sisters, who would dedicate themselves to the education of the young and to foreign missions. Not only that, when this community began to grow, he sent some of those priests, brothers and sisters to America and to East Bengal.

Perhaps that does no sound like much of an endeavor, but I doubt whether any of us would have the faith and the vision to pull off something similar.

Today there are religious priests, brothers and sisters of Holy Cross in France, North and South America, Canada, Bangladesh, Africa, and it took just one man to put that great vision in motion. I would think twice, maybe a dozen times, before engaging in a venture of that magnitude. I wouldn't have the faith in my own human abilities to carry it through.

We have an example in our gospel for this Sunday of some folks who were followers of Jesus and who also decided that they might like to do some of the great things their leader, Jesus, did. So, they boldly said: "Lord, increase our faith." They might have added: "We've got some, but it's obviously not enough to do the things that you do.

Jesus gives this crazy reply, at least it sounds crazy to most of us. "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to a Sycamore tree, `Be uprooted and transplanted into the sea,' and it would obey you." Now that's what we call hubris, hyperbole, embellishment, excessive pride that leads to a downfall. But in a metaphorical way Jesus is simply saying: "You've already got some faith, you don't need any more. Just go ahead and do what you want to do in life. It will be successful

It occurs to me that many of the great achievers in this world started out with little support from anyone, but they had this incentive that they could do great things if they wanted to and many of them did.

Perhaps we could say the same thing regarding our spiritual life. If you are like me, you have probably said to yourself many times, "What's the matter with me? How come I'm not able to have the courage to get my life together, I never seem able to accomplish anything?" If you were to think a bit about that in a quiet moment, perhaps Jesus' words might come to mind: "Don't be so hard on yourself' he might say. "You're better than you think you are. With faith in yourself, you can do anything on which you set your heart.. Well, maybe not to move Sycamore trees around, but lots of other good things. It's all about faith, faith in God and faith in yourself.

Scripture Readings: Habakkuk 1: 2-3; 2, 2-4, 2 Timothy 1: 6-8, 13-14, Luke 17: 5-10

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:08 PM.

September 29, 2007

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Property Rights

I have never been a landowner nor would I consider myself "landed gentry!" That may be a blessing in disguise. Actually, I have never had the desire to own land. I do, however, manage a small flower garden next to the front of the apartment where I live. The land belongs to the Archdiocese, but the Archbishop seems to have no quarrel with my planting some flowers on it each summer. They bring aesthetic beauty to the eye and offer me some opportunity for recreation in the summer evenings after dinner. The other priests and sisters who live at the apartments feel that our gardens make our little plots of land the show place of the West Side, which it truly is.

We have never claimed the plots for ourselves, actually, but we did purchase some hanging baskets last year that, unfortunately, were soon stolen. So, we little disturbed over the loss of those pieces of "land." This year we wired the pot wires to the wall hangers. No theft so far!

It has often occurred to me, however, that land or property, however small or large, seems to be a precious commodity and people will defend it against all odds. I'm sure you have often noticed signs reading: "No Trespassing, Keep Out, Private Property. I suspect that there is something sacred about land, at least one's own land. Perhaps it gives us a sense of place, a sense of stability, protection, ownership, an assurance that at least some small piece of dirt on this planet belongs to me and nobody else.

It is interesting, isn't it, that so many conflicts in the course of history have been over land and its ownership. Think about the "land-grabs" when the first settlers came to the Great Plains. Think about and that was taken from the Native people leaving them with no place to live and with little to support themselves. Think about the land disputes that have gone on in the Middle East since the times of the Patriarchs. Think about the border disputes between Arabs and Israelis today. There is no doubt that land seems to be a commodity that everyone covets.
I have always had this odd conviction that the earth actually does not belong to anyone privately. Land should belong to everyone in common. I know that will never fly in these days where there is so little public land and so little public space, but it's an interesting philosophical notion..

Some folks, however, do become a little disturbed when one wealthy individual or individuals owns immense pieces of land and others have none. Others also wonder why the necessity of "gated communities" where no one is allowed in without permission. They may not want to go there, but they feel they should at least have the right to do so if they wish. Land has a way of giving status to an individual.

Unfortunately, land or rather the ownership of land, also has a unique way of isolating us from one another, of keeping us separate. Ever notice the number of fences around peoples' yards? Obviously, not many folks will deliberately trespass, but just in case they do....

The two readings for our liturgy this Sunday speak eloquently about those who have land and possessions and those who do not.

Amos, the prophet who, by the way, was also a tenant farmer before becoming a prophet, has some hard things to say about the rich of his land who tax the poor. Not only that, he points out that because they can afford to eat the best food and drink choice wine they have become distracted from the plight of their neighbors who live around them. Actually, Amos does not criticize them for being rich. He simply points out what wealth can do for one's inner sense of justice or equality. "Some day," Amos says, "God will remember and you will get your due punishment."

Jesus picks up the same theme in his story about the rich man and Lazarus the poor man. It's one of those stories so rich in metaphors that you almost feel guilty reading it. The rich man eats and drinks sumptuously (that's a great word, isn't it?). Not only that, but he lives behind a fence either because he is embarrassed over his wealth or because he doesn't want outsiders actually noticing how he lives.

Lazarus, on the other hand, lies on the ground outside the fence, half naked, afflicted with open sores. Even street dogs try to make his plight less painful.

Again, like Amos, Jesus predicts that the rich man will receive his recompense some day for not noticing.

The question is, why are the rich in both cases destined for eternal punishment? Interestingly, not because they are rich, but because they seem not to care. Their riches make them oblivious to the suffering of others. So, perhaps one could say that the sin here is the sin of "myopia," the refusal to notice. There are simply too many other things that distract the rich man from noticing his neighbor.

Again, let us insist that the folks Amos was referring to and the rich man behind his gate were not evil people by choice. There were simply too many other things going on in their lives so that they found no time to pay attention to the lives of other people. It was as though they didn't exist.

I have recently been reading a book by Joseph Campbell the philosopher, now deceased who spent his life exploring world mythologies. The title of the book is Thou Art That. It's a phrase that comes from the ancient Sanskrit language. The question Campbell asks in the book is this: "How is it possible that suffering that is neither my own nor of my concern should immediately affect me as though it were my own, and with such force that it moves me to action? This is something really mysterious, something for which Reason can provide no explanation, and for which no basis can be found in practical experience."

The answer Campbell gives this: (I will paraphrase it) We are naturally affected. by the suffering of others because "we are they" (Thou Art That). The other person cannot be perceived simply as an other being, different from me but rather as a living creature. That person is part of myself.. My inner being actually exists in every living creature. That, says Campbell, is the basis for compassion, the sense that we naturally suffer with our neighbor.

I have often thought about that: When I see someone suffer, I cannot turn my back or pretend that it is not happening. It could be happening to me because I am part of that person.

Nonetheless, there are distractions in our lives, as we pointed out a moment ago: land, possessions, wealth, "toys" of all sorts. All these are simply external material things, of course, they do not last forever. What does last forever, however is the deep sense that we are all ultimately part of one another. We cannot turn our back on the neighbor. Our heart will not allow it. Even land itself will not protect us from the neighbor but it may have the power to make us notice.

The scriptures: Amos 6: 1, 4-7, 1 Timothy 6: 11-16, Luke 16: 19-31

Posted by Julie Galligan at 03:05 PM.

September 22, 2007

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Thinking The Way Big Business Thinks

As we all know from reading the papers last June, Pope Benedict XVI paid a visit to Brazil. This was his first trip as Pope to another country outside of Italy. It was also a different sort of visit than the visits Pope John Paul II used to take so often during his reign! John Paul usually wanted to visit with folks, find out about their country and kiss the earth on which they lived. Of course, he always had a few words of advice, encouragement, even criticism as well, but his visits were ordinarily cordial and pastoral.

In the instance of Pope Benedict's visit to Brazil, however, there was a different motive. Pope Benedict is alarmed at the number of Catholics who are leaving the Church of their heritage and migrating over to different sorts of Evangelical and Pentecostal communities. He is really alarmed because Brazil has more Catholics than practically any other country in South America. So, he is worried about the "leakage."

Of course, this religious migration has been going on for centuries. Most folks are not theologians; they have a tendency to react to their feelings rather than their intellect. If a particular religion does not seem to give them a sense of personal satisfaction, even "enjoyment," they move on to another. The ancient threat of sin for missing Mass does not hold much credibility in this modern age.

One thing for sure: Our ancient faith, doctrine and liturgy does not appeal much to the senses, to the emotions, to human feelings. Young people have been telling us that for years. Our faith is a "heady" faith; it has a high intellectual content. So, the leadership in the Catholic Church has always assumed that people will simply feel compelled to participate in the Church of their faith because it is obligatory, it is ancient, it is logical, Its doctrines go back to the Fathers of the Church; its liturgies come from those ancient little communities who were followers of Jesus. Jesus Christ founded our Catholic Church, so that should be reason enough for the ordinary Christian to feel compelled to participate in its rites and teachings.

Alas, it is not so. I'm sure most of us could offer numerous examples from our own families of individuals who simply are not attracted to the Catholic faith even though they were baptized into its faith and trained in its doctrines.
So, that is what is happening in Brazil. Most of the peasant population is not educated. Most of their training has come from the Gospel that they hear on Sunday or a catechist who visits their village.

Nonetheless, because of their cultural background, the Catholics of Brazil are very expressive, emotional, they love beauty, color, lively music, dancing, processions through the city, saints' feast days with celebrations afterward in the city square.

Of course, in most Catholic churches such celebrations are seldom seen. So, you can begin to understand why there is such "leakage" in the Church today. It's rites and doctrines do not appeal to the heart, to one's deepest feelings.

Is there any solution to this dilemma? Nothing simple, obviously, but there are some thoughts in our scriptures for this Sunday that might give us an incentive to look for a solution.

Both the first reading from the prophet Amos and the gospel of Luke describe what life is like in the world of business and competition. How does one get ahead? Well, not always honestly. Amos is tough on the people in the market who put their thumb on the scales or who can't wait for the Sabbath rest to be over so they can get back into the business of making money. Obviously, religion did not play much of a part in the religion or ethics of these marketers.

Jesus also describes what goes on in the business world of his day. He tells the story of a "middle manager" that has gotten himself into financial trouble. So, what does he do? Naturally, he makes a few "under the table" deals with creditors to put himself back in the black!

At this point Jesus says something strange. He does not absolve the manager of his misdeeds, but he does comment on the fact that there are not very many religious people who are as clever as this businessman. "Wouldn't it be nice", Jesus comments, "if other worldly folks, that is, religious people were as clever regarding their religious life as this worldly man is?" Wouldn't that be nice? In other words, Jesus conviction is that religious people are not nearly as concerned or as creative about their religious life as business people are about their business dealings.

So, what does all this have to do with the situation of the Church in Brazil we spoke of earlier or of churches in other places in the world?

I think it has to do with what the documents of the Second Vatican Council talked about, namely opening the Catholic Church and its rich faith to the world. In other words, it's a question of how the Church adapts its ancient faith to modern conditions. It is something we have not always done very well. Brazil and many other countries in the world are evidence of it. It is obvious to the Pope and to Vatican officials that the evangelical pastors are doing something right: They are gaining numbers. Ordinary folks are finding something in these religious rites that satisfies them. That worries the Pope, but he did not seem to have an answer to the problem of "leakage" from this ancient faith of ours. Of course, it is happening here in our country as well, especially among the young.

How does (or could) all this impact those of us who are within the fold of the Church? Obviously, many of us are happier with the Church today than we might have been before the Second Vatican Council. Without the Council, who knows how many of us would still continue to be faithful to our ancient rites?

Nonetheless, there are still countless ways the ordinary catholic can find excitement and satisfaction in this Church he or she loves. "Jumping ship" for a Pentecostal Church is not an answer for most Catholics who know something about their faith and love the ways we are free to express it.

So perhaps Jesus example regarding the clever businessman has a message for all of us. If you want to stay in business, get creative. If you love your Church, get creative. There's still a lot of life left in this ancient Church that millions of people have called home for centuries.

The scriptures: Amos 8: 4-7, 1 Timothy 2: 1-8, Luke 16: 1-13

Posted by Julie Galligan at 09:30 AM.

September 08, 2007

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Into Great Silence

It has often occurred to me that not many Christians find it easy or even possible to follow Jesus and Jesus' way of life. True, many of us may call ourselves Christians and Catholics, followers of the Way of Jesus. But when one reflects on Jesus' life and at least some of his teachings, we may have to admit in all honesty that we probably could not live the sort of life that he lived and obey the demands that he outlined for his followers.

Many Christians of my acquaintance, even many Churches in the world, have softened or interpreted Jesus' teachings to the point where they feel comfortable living with their consciences despite what Jesus might have said

If you believe this is not true, take a closer look at the gospel for this Twenty Third Sunday in the Church's calendar. If those words don't scare us a bit, perhaps we need to rethink our commitment to Jesus' Way. Listen again to these quotes from the gospel we just proclaimed: "If anyone comes to me without turning his back on his father and mother, his wife and his children, his brothers and sisters, indeed his very self, he cannot be my follower." Do you know anyone who has ever done that? I don't. Or again: "Anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple." We all complain about our crosses, but we usually don't take them on voluntarily or without complaint. Or lastly: "None of you can be my disciple if he does not renounce all his possessions." That may be the toughest suggestion of all: Who's going to give up all his household stuff and follow Jesus? Not many folks I know.

My intuition tells me, therefore, that most people are convinced that they will be "saved" whether or not they follow these commands of Jesus. Perhaps they are not even humanly attainable for most Christians.

Well, possible or not, I recently saw a film on the life of some monks which convinces that at least some people in the world have done exactly what Jesus suggested, given everything up for his sake and his Way. I would like to suggest the viewing of this film for every serious Christian. It will make the gospel for today appear truly possible, if not for everyone, at least for many who take the Christian life seriously.
The title of the film is "Into Great Silence." Here is the background: Sixteen years ago a German film maker, Philip Groning, asked the abbot of the Carthusian monastery, La Grand Chartreuse, hidden in the French Alps if he could have permission to film the daily life of the monks. The Carthusians, of course, are the strictest religious order in the Catholic Church. They were founded by Saint Bruno in the 11th century. They are contemplatives by choice; they live alone in their cells, they rarely speak. They simply pray and work. The abbot told Philip Groning that he would get back to him later. Sixteen years later (life moves slowly in Carthusian monasteries) he did get back to him and told him that he could film life in the monastery.

So, that is what Mr. Groning did: He spent some 6 months quietly following the monks around their daily routine of prayer, work, meals and mostly silence. He did not intrude into their lives. He did not tell them how to act. He just quietly watched them with his camera.

The film is three hours long, but I promise you that you will be so entranced by it that it will seem less than an hour. There is no music in the film, no dialog, no voice over, no commentary, nothing to distract you from the utter silence of these men and their monastery.

What will strike you particularly about the film is the simplicity of the life of these men. They have literally given up everything for the sake of Christ. All they own are the clothes on their back, a few books and the cell where they live.

But you get the sense from watching the routine of their day that whatever they do they do with deep seriousness and dedication: The monk who carefully smoothes out wrinkles on a piece of cloth to be made into monk's habit; the monk who works intently at fixing the sole of his work shoe; the one who scrapes snow from a small fenced-in plot in order to plant an early garden; the one who rings the bell calling the monks to common prayer. Most of all, what strikes you as you watch this film is that these men are utterly serious about their prayer. Their mind and spirit are totally into it. Everything else in their lives has been put aside. They have literally left all things for the sake of Christ. But they seem happy over it; their lives are peaceful, dedicated. This is not simply routine activity although they do the same things day after day.
Most of all, though, what captivated me about the film was the silence. It was so quiet that you could hear a fly buzzing, a jet plane 5 miles above the earth, the sound of work shoes clumping along a wooden floor, the sound of a cart delivering food to the monks' cells. But there was none of the noise you ordinarily hear in most modern films: explosions, car chases, yelling and screaming, none of that. This was simply life going on at its own slow, deliberate pace in a monastery deep in the French Alps.

I have never visited a Carthusian monastery nor have I have ever personally observed the strict life of these followers of St. Bruno. But this film, Into Great Silence, convinced me that the life of these monks comes about as close to what Jesus suggested in this gospel today as anything I could ever imagine. I came away saying to myself: "Well, this way is obviously not something I could live with every day, year after year, but I am convinced that the call of Jesus for us to leave everything behind is indeed possible for some. Somebody is obviously doing it freely and with deep dedication.

But that still leaves us with the question: Is the contemplative life, at least in some form, something that the ordinary Christian could embrace? Are the words of Jesus about leaving every thing behind, including mothers and fathers-is that all possible for the ordinary person?

My sense is that God does not expect any more of us than our human body and human spirit can handle. If we make a sincere effort to live the Way of Jesus as best we can, I believe God must be satisfied with that.

One thing seems obvious: Jesus was an extraordinary person, a radically dedicated man. Scripture scholars who study the gospels claim that Jesus was truly serious when he suggested that the kingdom he preached was more important even than families and material goods.

The point, of course, is that we humans, Christians, live in a world where we are dependent on material things, human relationships, et cetera. But that does not mean that we care any the less for the Christian life that Jesus suggests. Some can accept that way of life and live peacefully with it, others cannot. We do what we can.
Speaking for myself, at my age, I will probably not seek out a Carthusian monastery any time soon, even after having read this gospel. But it is nice to know that there are some monks at a charterhouse in France who have taught me something about silence, which, by the way I probably need more than anything else right now. Perhaps you do too.

The scriptures: Wisdom, 9: 13-18, Philemon 9: 10, 12-17, Luke 14: 25-33

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:23 PM.

September 07, 2007

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Following One's Bliss

Our dear state of Alaska has seemingly suffered an extraordinary rash of political embarrassments in this current year. A number of politicians, public servants, have been accused and tried for graft, influence peddling, cheating, mail fraud or simply for malfeasance in office. All of this, of course, after having made grand promises to serve their electorate in honest fashion. It has come to the point where local folks have simply become so jaded that they have given up, if not on the democratic system, at least on the assumption that there are any honest politicians left whether in the state or the nation.

Of course, as we all know, such actions are not limited to he world of politics. Wall Street brokers and big business people in general are consistently discovered defrauding those who invest in their companies.

Sad to say, church leaders, pastors and finance officers even "money counters" have been discovered draining the bank accounts of their churches!

Ah, you will say, so what? It's been going on ever since the discovery of money as a mode of human exchange. People feel the need to get rich and the quicker the better. Whatever secret method seems safe from detection is the one that will be used.

The question, of course, is this: Is it all about money or the hunger for money? Folks who are caught in these actions would seldom publicly admit that they are greedy; "crook" is not a word they would be willing to apply to themselves. Such an admission would be worse than the act of fraud itself.

Moreover, truth be told, many leaders, whether in politics, business or (horrors) even in ecclesial circles already have sufficient resources in order to live well, even extravagantly. So, why take such a risk with one's personal reputation and character?

I came upon a possible insight while reading a book recently by Joseph Campbell (now deceased) entitled The Power of Myth. Many will remember him from his conversations some years ago on National Public Radio with Bill Moyers. Campbell was undoubtedly one of the most learned men of our age. He made it his life's work to discover in the myths and stories in human history the reasons for peoples' actions. He chooses a word that is rather fascinating. He says that people, no matter how intelligent they are or what level of education they have reached, will consistently follow their bliss, which he defines as perfect untroubled happiness or a state of spiritual joy. Christians, of course, often use that word when they wish to refer to eternal salvation or heaven. "Heaven is eternal bliss," we say.

Referring back then to leaders in politics, business or even religion, one might say that such people are simply following their bliss: Money, influence or power is what gives them happiness, a reason for living.

Most of us "ordinary" folks, of course, would say that this is a highly misguided way of life. There must be higher motives for living "the good life," things of the spirit, intellectual pursuits.

Nonetheless, we need to say that all of us pursue our bliss and this bliss is not always of the highest order in life. We are not "crooks" obviously, but we will often settle for human rewards that turn out to be less than fulfilling. It is often after much deep thought and reflection that we truly discover where our true bliss is. All of these scattered thoughts are found, I believe, in the two scriptures assigned to this Sunday in the Church year.

The selection from the Book of Exodus tells the famous story of The Golden Calf (or bull) which the Israelites fashioned for themselves, imaging that their worship of this god would give them power and control over the lands of their neighbors. That would be true bliss. Moses, obviously, would have none of this. The story has it that he smashed the golden calf to bits. (no one knows what happened the gold!). "God has already given you land," Moses says. "You don't need to sacrifice to idols. Your God will be your bliss.

The story of the prodigal son which you just heard in the gospel has a similar thread running through it, the search for one's bliss, one's happiness and discovering that riches and freedom without responsibility are not ultimately very satisfying.

It is interesting to notice too that the son who decided to search for his bliss was the younger son. Why the younger? My hunch is that Jesus is saying that the "wisdom" of the young often seems trustworthy to them but ultimately it turns out to be shallow and unfulfilling. It is only age, disappointment and deeper reflection that bring true wisdom and true bliss.

Most of us, I should imagine, can remember the histories of our younger lives (or even middle age!) and looking back we may need to say that we made some serious errors in judgment, even conscience. But we were looking for happiness, were we not?

Nonetheless, if we are sensible, we will be prepared to rethink our motives, perhaps many times, for whatever it is that we do in life. Sometimes it takes a long time, indeed, even a lifetime to discover what is truly of value, truly worthwhile, worth preserving.

Ultimately, I imagine we need to say too that it is happiness that we all seek. Unfortunately, happiness often takes on. peculiar shapes. But there will be hope for all of us if we are willing to admit that our bliss today may appear different tomorrow. Like the younger son in the story, it often takes a long time and lots of patience for us to grow into full stature.

The scriptures: Exodus 32: 7-11, 13-14, I Timothy 1: 12-17, Luke 15: 1-32

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:10 PM.

September 01, 2007

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Knowing Our Place

I imagine most of us have some recollection about what our living/dining room looked like when we were young. For instance, I can remember that our dining room table was square and that it could accommodate 3 persons on each side. In our family that meant 8 kids, 2 adults (mom and dad) and room for two guests. Dad always sat in the same place. He needed a little room to read the paper (often for the third time; it was only a weekly paper). Mom always sat in the place closest to the stove so she could easily reach over and serve more potatoes or corn, whatever.

There was always a lot of "family business" carried on at mealtime: "Did you do your chores?" "Did you do your homework" "What happened to the wrench I gave to somebody to fix the bicycle?" "No, you can't use the car to go to town."

One thing that still fascinates me, however, is that there was no order of seating (except for mom and dad) at table. Whoever got to a place first could claim it. No hierarchy among the kids. Some of us, of course, would always want to be near the door so we could make a fast exit after the meal was over. It never occurred to any of us that one of us was more important than the other and might deserve to sit in a more influential place.

However, when you observe the etiquette of seating as it is practiced in the world outside the home you have a completely different picture. Where you sit or are seated tells you a lot about yourself, whether you are considered powerful, influential, rich, important or not so important.

Consider, for instance how President Bush's cabinet is seated. The Vice President, The Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of Labor, the Secretary of the Interior, the Secretary of Commerce et cetera. Notice who sits closest to the President! The ones who make important decisions that affect the world.

I don't know much about international protocol, but I'm sure there is a lot of juggling that goes on at the United Nations about who sits where.

When one begins to examine all that protocol or whatever it's called, one has to admit that in the grand scheme of things, it should not make a lot of difference how or where a person sits in public. No matter how high in the hierarchical ladder one is, we are all simply ordinary human beings. Where you sit has little to do with your character or your person. Seating is just an artifice. It gives people a sense of where they fit in relation to others.

One thing that seating does not do, however, is to help us understand humility. I have a hunch that there is not much humility among the members of the United Nations or even the President's cabinet. All those folks are "power people." They wield influence and they protect it. Perhaps in private life they are indeed humble individuals, but in public they can't afford to act humble. It's not politically correct.

Even outside the world of politics and government, of course, humility is not a common attitude among most folks. Just think, for instance, how much emphasis there is in the entertainment world on honors: American Idol, Top Model, Survivor, Miss America, Miss World, Dancing with the Stars, et cetera. Americans don't think in terms of losers; it's winners that are considered important.

So, how would those readings on humility that we hear this Sunday...how would they affect the attitude and thinking, at least for those of us who take the scriptures seriously? We Christians, obviously. are little different in our attitudes than most other folks. We appreciate being first, being honored, being recognized like most others. And here comes Sirach, the author of the first reading, telling his students that they should conduct their affairs with humility, assuring them that the more humble they are the greater will they will be thought of by God. I wonder how that went down with Sirach's students? Not well, I suspect.

And then along comes Jesus, eating with Pharisees who were always held in high regard by the public...telling them they should seek the lowest place at table because it will demonstrate to everyone that they are truly humble individuals in the sincerest sense if the word. I wonder how that went down with men who usually expected to sit as close as possible to the one who hosted the dinner because it made them feel important. Not well, I suspect.

I think the point both Sirach and Jesus are making here, of course, is a natural one: Humility is not a common or normal human characteristic. Very few people make an effort to be noted for their humble attitude. It almost seems contrary to our deepest instincts. We might even be perceived as phonies if we practiced humility.

And yet, that is exactly what Sirach and Jesus both suggest. Humility is actually one of the more authentic virtues we should practice because, truth be known, we are all simply ordinary human individuals. We are "of the earth." That's what the word means, "humus ", of the earth. If one is humble, therefore, we are simply saying. "This is who I am. I don't consider myself higher than anyone else. I'm simply just one member of the human race like everyone else, nothing more, nothing less." That, it seems to me, is a more truthful attitude than imagining that one stands above the rest of one's neighbors.

Finally, it seems to me that even within the realm of politics and state affairs, humility is the safer choice. Think, for instance of the people whom we read. about in the papers so often who once held important positions in government, politics or even Church, but, for whatever reason, have been, demoted or dismissed. It must be an embarrassing thing to accept. So, perhaps Jesus is correct. If we are willing to accept the lowest place in life, the chance of falling to the bottom will not be as great. Are we ready for all that? I doubt it! Of course, Jesus was always saying things to question our assumptions about many things. Having heard what both Sirach and Jesus have to say about humility, it might be interesting to try it out some day. I'm sure most of our friends would be astonished if we did.

The scriptures: Sirach 3: 17-18, 20, 28, 29, Hebrews 12: 18-19, 22-24, Luke 14: 1, 7-14

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:28 AM.

August 25, 2007

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Quick and Easy Answers?

Most Catholic diocesan newspapers have one writer on staff who does a Q&A column answering questions from folks about the fundamentals of our faith. None of these questions are theologically very deep, but they are important in the minds of the readers. At the Catholic Anchor for which I write, we have a marvelous Q&A columnist named Father I.T. Mikulski, a priest who lives in Gaylord, Michigan. He's the "quick and easy Catholic answer guy." Reading his replies, I know that he must often laugh when he receives questions such as: "Can I break off little piece of my communion host and give it to my husband who is not a Catholic?" Now, here is a lady who obviously has a spirit of ecumenism, a little misguided perhaps, but utterly sincere. She is sincerely concerned about her husband's spiritual health.

There are many similar questions in Father Mikulski's column from sincere folks, questions that have to do with relations between Catholics and Protestants. They worry a lot about a spouse, for instance, who is a sincere Christian but who has never chosen to join them in the Catholic faith. Or, some will ask the question: "What will happen to my son or daughter who "married outside the church." "My son or daughter was brought up Catholic" they write, "but is now in college and never attends Mass any more."

Obviously, these are all sincere questions that affect the heart. They are also questions concerning a deeper reality, namely, salvation. Who will be saved? Does one need to "go to church" or attend Mass to be saved? What of the young, rebellious teenager who refuses to come to Mass with the family? Is he or she now in the state of mortal sin? Father Mikulski deals intelligently and compassionately with those questioners. He will freely admit, however, that there are no "quick and easy answers" to such vexing problems. They are problems of the heart!

I suppose it could be said that there will always be folks who imagine that there will be someone out there who has the final answer to all religious issues. That's what keeps columnists thinking and writing. People always search for answers to the mysteries of faith or religion.

As you may have noticed in the reading of the gospel a moment ago, Jesus was also perceived by some as a person who could answer all religious questions: Someone in the crowd on one occasion was concerned about how many folks would be saved.
"Are they few in number," he asked? He was probably hoping that Jesus would say "Hey no problem, you're definitely on the list!" Actually, Jesus did not answer the question (much to the questioner's consternation, I should imagine.) In so many words, Jesus simply says: "There will be more people saved than you can imagine and they won't all be Jewish. They will come from the north and the south, the east and the west and take their place at the feast of the kingdom of God." Jesus, obviously, was answering the question of a Jewish person who imagined that Jews were to be preferred over all others in terms of salvation. In a sense then, Jesus might be considered the first ecumenist. "People from the far corners of the earth," he says, "will be welcomed to the table of God's kingdom.

All this, of course, leaves many people with questions. I have a few of my own.
If, for instance, we think of salvation as being eternally welcomed into the loving arms of God, is that state of life (hereafter) deteilnined purely by one's faith or by the particular religion one espouses? Is it affected by how one "practices" the faith of that religion? We don't really know. It is all a great mystery. What of individuals, for instance, who have never had the opportunity to choose a particular faith, or who have chosen, for whatever reason, to discontinue the "practice" that faith? If salvation is eternal, can eternity be determined by circumstances of earth and time? I obviously have no answers to those questions, but I have an intuition that tells me that the "criteria" for salvation must be far more extensive and mysterious than ecclesiastical laws.

Another question that often bothers me is the "accidentalness" of our faith. It seems almost accidental that I, a Catholic, happened to be born into a line of Catholic ancestors. Historically, I could as easily been born into a non-Catholic family or even a non-Christian family. What would be my destiny in that case?

So, you see, my questions are more numerous than my answers, but here are some thoughts on the matter nonetheless.

First of all, salvation (whatever it means) is a supreme mystery. We do not know how our spiritual lives will be affected by the accidents of human existence. Even human choices are often made with incomplete knowledge.

Secondly, I think it should be said that each of us is responsible for dealing with our life choices in our own way. None of us can judge the intent of others. Each of us is unique in the eyes of God and it is God who ultimately deals with us in ways beyond the insights of our ecclesiastical laws and doctrines.

Nonetheless, speaking for those whose faith I share, I must insist that we ought to be humbled and thankful for what that faith means to us. At the same time, the fact that we may have at hand many resources to nourish our faith: Scripture, liturgy, devotions and many other things, all these should not give us a sense of superiority over those who, for whatever reason, have not taken the opportunity to avail themselves of them.

Secondly, speaking as a Christian and a Catholic, my attitude toward people of other faiths or of no faith ought to be one of understanding, civility and charity. My assumption ought to be that such folks are people of sincere and unique faith, different than mine, perhaps, but sacred to them. They, like as, live on the truths that they espouse, whatever they may be.

All this started out with Father Mikulski's column where folks imagine that there are going to be simple answers to complex questions. Perhaps James Joyce had it right when he said "Catholic means here comes everybody." Jesus seemed to imply the same when he insisted that folks would come from the north, the south, the east and the west to feast at God's kingdom. Perhaps that means that we may be acting presumptuously if we imagine that we know who will and will not be saved. Does it even make any difference whether we know the answer to that question? Ultimately, it might be safer to say that we are destined to live with the questions. Jesus still seemed to have the safest answer: Everyone is invited to God's banquet table.

The scriptures: Isaiah 66:18-21, Hebrews 12: 5-7, 11-13, Luke 13: 22-30

Posted by Julie Galligan at 12:46 PM.

August 18, 2007

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Beyond Family

Whenever I read that gospel we have just heard a moment ago and I come to the end, I always say: "Hey, that can't be the end, can it? There must be something more. The whole passage ends on a pretty sour note. Is this what Jesus' life and career was really all about? Did he actually come to stir up trouble, even in family relationships? Did he really mean to set fathers and sons, mothers and daughters at odds with one another? Was Jesus nothing more than a disturber of world peace?"

This gospel passage really does sound like it, doesn't it? I often wonder what Doctor Dobson, the well-known founder and CEO of Focus on the Family thinks about that gospel? He is always preaching reconciliation and good family relations, which, of course, is good sociology, but I'm not sure it was ever Jesus' vision of family. In fact, when you read through the gospels, you find that Jesus says very little about family as we understand family.

However, beyond his birth family, the family of Joseph and Mary, Jesus gathered around him another extended family, known as the disciples, learners, students, followers; but he associated with these folks for an entirely different reason than simply neighborly living. They were called to be his family partners in a way of life called the kingdom that he was about to establish, a kingdom which would involve them in a radical life style that would last down through the ages of history. In other words, this family would never pass out of existence.

So, in a sense, Jesus considered himself as having two families, his birth family and what I call the Kingdom family.

So, what is all this about, this dissension Jesus is preaching here? Did Jesus really mean to divide the world instead of bringing peace? After all, isn't peace one of the most important things we all long for every day of our lives? Is there not already enough dissension in our world now without Jesus contributing more to it? This doesn't look very much like the "soft-sell" portrait of Jesus we see on the holy cards.

Well, as much as we might like to imagine Jesus as a soft and mellow person, there are parts of his preaching and his life that give us a completely different understanding.

Jesus was what we might call today a man of radical universal, world-wide vision. He was truly a person who thought and planned beyond the everyday. In scriptural terms, Jesus was a prophet, a speaker of hard things, a man who called others to think hard about life in this world and what was wrong with it. He was much like Jeremiah whom we met in the first reading, the one who got thrown in a well because he bothered people.

I'm sure that if Jesus had really wanted to follow in his father Joseph's footsteps and be a carpenter for all his adult life, he could have done that, but obviously he decided to do something more earth shaking, more unpeaceable. He came to establish a peace that was more than folks simply getting along with one another. In other words, Jesus kind peace would cost something.

There is another short and astonishing passage earlier in the gospels that tells us even more about how Jesus actually felt about his mother and the family. One day his disciples let him know that his mother, brothers and sisters were nearby looking for him. Actually, the reason they were there is because they wanted to rescue him. They were worried that his radical preaching would get him into trouble as John the Baptist had gotten into trouble for his preaching. But Jesus made an amazing response: He simply said: "Who are my mother and my brothers? Those who hear the word of God and keep it, they are my mother and my brothers and my sisters." Period. Now, that was not really an insult to his family. Jesus was just pointing out that his family was bigger than the one most people imagined. His family were to be the ones who would be ready to follow him in establishing the kingdom, no matter what.

So, what could all this mean in terms of family life as we know it? Not much, really. But it could have a lot to do with the way we imagine ourselves as Jesus' extended family, like the disciples and apostles, every one of us who go by the name Christian.

My hunch is that most Christians imagine following Jesus to be a fairly simple matter: Saying one's prayers, keeping the moral code, attending worship on Sunday. Obviously, most of us already follow that pattern of Christian life and feel satisfied over it.

It seems to me, however, that if Jesus came to preach and live the radical life that he did live, perhaps what that might mean for his followers, his true family, is that we ourselves are called to a more radical life than simply saying prayers, being moral and going to church.

I'm not ready to tell you how to do that, how to be as radical as Jesus was, but, clearly, every Christian is called to reexamine his life from time to time and ask him or herself what they are truly dedicated to, what they really stand for, what issues we will not bend on. It is all a matter of living with our conscience even though it bothers us to do so.

To use the model of Jesus' life, we might say that at some point in our life we need to leave home, leave the comfortable ways we are used to and decide what we really want our life to look like.

Perhaps we could even say that up until this point, our life may have been too easy, too unquestioned, too soft. I don't think it means that we have to be at odds with our family, our relatives and friends. But, at the same time, it might be important to realize that we have another family, the Jesus family, that is asking more of us than mom, dad and the kids ever did at home. As I think of it, perhaps that is what Focus on the Family really could mean.

The sciptures: Jeremiah 38: 4-6, 8-10, Hebrews 12: 1-4, Luke 12: 49-53

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:20 AM.

August 11, 2007

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Never a Worry

Sometimes, if I had nothing else to do, it would be interesting to imagine how Jesus would look and act in the context of contemporary society.

One of the elements that stands out, for instance, is Jesus' free spirit toward money and material things in the world of his time.

If I were asked to create a fictional picture of Jesus for today, for instance, I might have him seated at a poker table in Las Vegas, wearing a blue eye shade cap, gazing intently at his cards, but without a hint of how he felt about his chances of winning. The bets are in now and he has obviously lost the hand but he looks not in the least disturbed. He pushes the chips over to the winner and says: "Hey, what the heck, its only money. Deal em' up again.

Now, it's safe to say that that scenario never happened in Jesus time. But I think it does describe pretty well Jesus' attitude toward what we consider the material things of this world.

Jesus, obviously, was born into a poor family in a land where riches were part of the life only of Roman aristocrats or people who were "hangers-on" of the rich and the famous.

One can readily imagine then that Jesus had little concern for that life-style. Indeed, he had some harsh things to say about the power of the rich over the poor.

But he also had some "encouraging" words for the poor and disenfranchised of his time and especially for his own followers, maybe even for ourselves living centuries afterward.

First, let's see exactly what Jesus did say about worldly possessions. "Do not live in fear, little flock." He says. "It has pleased your Father to give you the kingdom. Sell what you have and give alms. Get purses for yourselves that do no wear out, a never-failing treasure with the Lord which no thief comes near nor any moth destroys. Wherever your treasure lies, there your heart will be."

That is a pretty mysterious quotation, at least in terms of the way we perceive possessions today. Jesus does have some insights here, however, which could make sense to us: First, he says: "Do not fear, little flock, it has pleased the Father to give you a kingdom." First of all, I think it may be true to say that we do have some fear about what is ours. We hold on to what we have. Most of us don't go trekking off to Las Vegas every week or two and gamble away our money. Only the very wealthy or professional gamblers do that. But even if we are not gamblers, we are usually apprehensive about what we own or what is under our care. Obviously, we are not paranoid over it, but it concerns us nonetheless. We wouldn't want to lose it.

So, perhaps Jesus does have a point: If we are prudent with our possessions, what is the point of living scared over them. The old saying still holds: "You can't take it with you. Don't expect to see a U a Haul trailer with your possessions following the funeral hearse. "Live free of care," Jesus might say, "life is more than what you own." 0 course, we all know that and we believe it, but it's not always so easy to live with that freedom every day.

But there is another line in that quote that may seem mysterious to us in terms of our contemporary way of thinking and living. Jesus says: "It has pleased your Father to give you the kingdom." Now, that does not seem like a very fair exchange: Give up your stuff and you will get a kingdom! What kind of kingdom do we get in exchange?

Obviously, it has nothing to do with land or titles or inheritances. God does not dole out such things. Rather, I think it has to do with attitude, with the way one perceives one's life in this world. There is a phrase I have used many times regarding the kingdom of God. It goes: "The kingdom of God is what life would be like in this world if God were in charge." Of course, God is in charge, but that does not mean that we always see things the way God sees things.

Fundamentally though, I think it could mean that we try to imitate some of that sense of life that Jesus had, that life truly can be simple, uncomplicated if we choose to make it so. There are certain things that are important and others that we can disregard as unimportant, and we need to know the difference. Each person will need to know that in his or her own regard.

There is a third, sort of wild statement that Jesus makes that may seem incomprehensible to us: "Sell what you have and give alms." Now, most folks actually do that: Each time we place money in the collection basket, each time we support causes for the poor, we do give alms. But we do not always sell what we have. That would be a gamble we would not readily take.

But the point I think Jesus is making is that we should not think of what we own as totally our own possession. Even if we don't choose to give it away, we should still consider it as something only under our care and for our use.

The general sense I have of this whole passage where Jesus speaks of possessions and the kingdom is that we should try to live freely, not constrained by worldly things. We came into this world without them and will depart this world without them. In the meantime, one would think that we could live with joy without the exclusive possession of things of this world. Life, after all is our choice to make it what we want it to be.
Jesus might say: "Hey, be like me, be free. It all depends on where your heart is." Not a bad way to live, really.

The scriptures: Wisdom 18, 6-9, Hebrews 11: 1-2, 8-19, Luke 12: 32-48

Posted by Julie Galligan at 12:40 PM.

August 04, 2007

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time - True Value

It occurred to me some while back when the terrible tornado struck the little town of Greensburg, Kansas and even several years earlier when Hurricane Katrina engulfed the city of New Orleans, that there is nothing like a natural catastrophe to clear one's mind and balance one's values.

Folks in those two towns lost most of all their material possessions and yet when they were interviewed by the news media they generally seemed to have a kind peaceful sense of things. They admitted that their cars, boats, houses et cetera were important to them, but that their lives and the lives off their neighbors, friends and even the lives of strangers were more important to them. Even more important were items like family photos, scrap-books and personal records. These would be difficult to replace.

Reflection on all this seldom happens in the ordinary course of life until....until some human catastrophe strikes and we are compelled to think about our lives in a completely different manner. "Now that these things are all gone," we say, "what's left, truly left to give meaning to my life?" Obviously, we don't need a flood or a tornado to clear our mind about human values, but tragedies do happen occasionally, nonetheless. We learn a lot about life when life is out of our control.

Some thoughts of this sort came to mind as I read the scriptures for this 18th Sunday in the church calendar.

A Jewish philosopher named Qoheleth reflects on life's meaning and comes up with some pretty depressing thoughts. "All things are vanity", he says. On a particularly "bad hair day", I suspect many of us might say the same thing.

The little dictionary on my word processor defines vanity as either excessive pride in one's appearance, or the state of worthlessness. Vanity is a state of mind that asks, what is truly important in life? What gives meaning and substance to what we believe about life? The man or woman driving a new Lamborghini convertible, for instance, with plates reading, "It's Mine!" is probably a bit vain. Of course, if I could afford a Lamborghini, I'd probably want to let people know that it's mine too and that it's paid for. Anyway, you get the idea.

But Qoheleth is more radical: He says "all is vanity," everything in the world is vanity. Now, either he is obviously one depressed guy or he is comparing worldly possessions to matters of the heart or the spirit. To my mind that might include all those personal treasures we mentioned above that the people in New Orleans and Greensburg lost.

I occasionally have the same feeling as Qoheleth (but not for long!). I ask myself, what does all this stuff I have really mean in the overall perspective of life? How important is it? I surely can't take it with me when I die. So, what does it mean to me now? How does it enhance my life? Does it give me any clearer sense of life's meaning?"

Of course, it seems that only philosophers have the time to ask those sorts of questions. The rest of us have to work. But somebody needs to ask them, nonetheless.

Jesus of Nazareth was obviously no philosopher, but he thought deeply about life as Qoheleth did. People probably asked him occasionally to settle questions for them as the two brothers did today regarding an inheritance. (Inheritances are always contentious matters). In this instance Jesus is so clever. He simply says "Hey, I'm no "Judge Judy, I don't care about your inheritance." Besides, all your possessions won't guarantee you life anyway. So, stop squabbling over money."

Having the speaker's chair at that moment, Jesus adds a few other choice remarks about values to the crowd around him. "Let me tell you a story" Jesus remarks, "about a guy who had more grain stored up than he knew what to do with. But he wants still more; so he builds more granaries." Then comes the tough question: "What will he do with all this grain on the night he dies?" The answer is obviously pretty clear. He leaves it behind!

Of course, these are the sorts of questions we don't usually like to ask because we all possess material things even though we say that they don't rule our lives. They are still important to us, and we all know that we are going to die someday.

In the last analysis, I suppose we are all going to hang on to the stuff we have, but as we look around at them occasionally, it might be well just to ask, "What does it all mean? How would I feel if a tornado came through and destroyed it all?" The folks in New Orleans and Greensburg, unfortunately, did not have time to ask that question, but my hunch is that they and we all have learned something from it. Just to ask the question is important even though we will not always have an answer.

The scriptures: Ecclesiastes 1: 2; 2: 21-23, Colossians 3: 1-5, 9-11, Luke 12: 13-21

Posted by Julie Galligan at 10:17 AM.

July 28, 2007

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time - God Time

I don't know whether it is my imagination or my age, but I have a sense that the world is moving faster than my mind can cope. Perhaps it is the pace of modern technology that is doing it. There are so many new modes of communication being discovered and manufactured every day that I can hardly keep up, much less know how to use them. It's frustrating because I don't want to seem ignorant in the eyes of others and yet I often have little use for I Pods, Pod Casts, Web Logs and such things. Of course, I don't use my old IBM Selectric typewriter any more either. So, that tells you something.

Something else that often concerns me is that I don't seem to have the patience to deal with life's interferences as I used to: I fume under my breath when someone in the checkout line takes an extra minute or two to write a check instead of using a credit card. I get impatient if I miss the green light while driving. I hate being put on hold when calling a local business. Actually and realistically I do not lose very much time in any of these circumstances; it's just the annoyance of having to wait. Of course, I also find myself wasting time watching television when I could be doing something more constructive.

All these examples have something to do with time, whatever time could mean. Philosophers say that it is nothing more than an artificial construction we use to set activities apart, one from the other, or to keep our lives straight.

In a sense, however, time itself is a rather limited way of dealing with our world. Perhaps that is the reason we are so often impatient: We know that we have only so much time for anything, including our preparation for death.

That bring up an interesting question regarding our human way of perceiving human time and "God-time," how we perceive the world human world and the Divine world, the world of God I have a sense that we humans often assume that the way we understand or perceive our world is also the way God perceives it, that our perception of time must be the way God perceives time.

Take the activity we call prayer, for instance: Most folks who pray assume that God must be on their side that God listens and that God must respond right now without delay because that is what most human beings assume in their daily activity. Time is precious.

Or, once again, folks who pray for something usually assume that God must be as interested in this plea as they are. So, people pray as though God were concerned about their lives. In the last analysis, it's really an act of faith we make when we pray.

The point in all this is to say that we humans, we earthly creatures, always deal with God from our perspective, our human point of view: We speak human words, we talk about the situations in our lives that are important to us as though God were equally concerned. It is ultimately the only option we have.

So, we have some examples of all that philosophical rambling in our scriptures for this Seventeenth Sunday in the Church year. The first comes from the Book of Genesis and the intimate conversation Abraham had with God regarding the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, two of the most morally corrupt cities of the Middle East. Abraham is given to understand that God intends to wipe out both communities for their wickedness. So then, begins the long dialogue between Abraham and God about whether it is just to do such a thing even though some of the folks in those towns may well have been morally upright. In the end Abraham convinces God that even if only ten just persons were found there, God should relent and forget about the destruction. From the human point of view, that seemed to be the only just thing for God to do.

The point of the conversation is not who won or lost, but rather that Abraham can assume that God must "have a heart" and that like any human person, God would not simply be crass enough to wipe out two entire towns because there were a few "bad apples" living there. In other words, Abraham uses his sense of human ethics, not "divine ethics" to win his argument.

The gospel has a similar example of an intimate God-man conversation, Jesus and the Father. Actually, there are many instances in the gospels where Jesus talks directly to God, the last being his plea asking whether God had abandoned him on the cross.

In this particular gospel, however, one of Jesus' friends asks him to teach them how to pray. I have no idea whether Jesus had any memorized prayers ready at hand, but he came up with one very intimate and personal conversational-type prayer we know as the Lord's Prayer. We never think of it much, but Jesus seems to assume that his words are the very words God will want to hear and God will listen. It's just another example of the way we humans pray: We simply use the only method and words we have and assume that God must be on the same page with us.

Is God, indeed, on the same page with us? Who knows? It's all a great act of faith. It is simply another example of how we use the only human means we have at hand and our faith convinces us that God would not simply disregard our human condition.

I suppose I've been doing this all my life when I pray on the assumption that God and I have this personal relationship. Sometimes it seems to have worked, at other times I may have been using the wrong language. Of course, that won't stop me from trying again. God's sense of time is probably different than mine.

The scriptures: Genesis 18: 20-32, Colossians 2: 12-14, Luke 11: 1-13

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:10 PM.

July 21, 2007

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time - "Into Great Silence"

There is a marvelous film by a young director in Germany that appeared in this country back in April. I suggest that every Catholic should see it. It is now on DVD, which means you can turn your living room in to an art theater.

The title of the documentary is "Into Great Silence". It is an intimate look within the walls of one of the oldest monasteries in the world, tucked in the shadows of the Dauphine Alps of France. This is the venerable Grande Chartreuse, a monastic house of the Carthusian order, one of the strictest in Christendom and founded by Saint Bruno in 1084.

What is so remarkable about this film is that it is the first time in the monastic history of the Carthusian order that anyone has been allowed within the walls to film their lives.

In the deepest sense this film is an austere, silent meditation on the monastic life in its most original form: No music except the Gregorian Chant of the monks themselves, no commentaries, no interviews, just the pure silent daily lives of these men dedicated to contemplation.

Anyone seeking to learn something spectacular about monastic life in this documentary will be sorely disappointed. It is a very ordinary film in terms of the way these men live: Each day, each week, each year repeats itself in a sort of predictable rhythm determined by the hours of morning and evening, light and darkness, sung prayer, liturgy, study, reading, contemplation, work, meals, silence, sleep. As one reviewer described it: This is monastic life in its purest form.

So, why would anyone, any Catholic, want to view this film that is so different from the way ordinary people live? Why are so many who are not religiously inclined flocking to see it?

My sense is that there is something about the monastic life that appeals to the deepest instincts of people, religious or not. If one were to ask a citizen on the street what he or she desires most in life, they might tell you that they would prefer to simplify their lives. They would be happier, they would say if there were more predictability, less distraction, less stress, less noise.

Alas, it is not possible for most folks: There is a living to be made. Besides, monastic life demands a unique and radical call, a full dedication to the task of silence. This would drive most folks crazy, of course.

Nonetheless, whether or not one chooses this way of life, there is still a certain attractiveness about it that one can adapt, even emulate in one's life. These daily habits: Prayer, contemplation, work, silence, are the fundamental elements at the base of all human life, however they are adapted.

I have another reason, however, for recommending this film and it has to do with the theme of the scriptures for this Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time: It's all about hospitality.

Although this is the first time in their history that the monks of the Grand Chartreuse have opened their doors to the outside world, historically speaking the monasteries have always welcomed strangers and visitors. In Medieval times in Europe, for instance, monasteries were always places of refuge, centers of learning and piety.

Interestingly, they are once again becoming centers of hospitality for those who come seeking time for prayer, direction and contemplation. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, made his monastery in Kentucky famous as a place for people to come, pray and be quiet. The point is that monastic life by its very nature is a hospitable way of life.

We have two citations regarding hospitality in our scriptures for this Sunday: The first concerns an event in the life of Abraham, father of the Israelite nation. Two complete strangers come by his tent in the desert in the heat of the day. Middle Eastern custom will not allow a desert traveler to pass by without being given water and food. Who knows where the next campground will be? So, Abraham considers it a gesture of kindness to himself if these strangers will accept his hospitality.

Jesus also comes in from the desert sands and heat one day to the home of his friends Martha and Mary. They consider his presence in their home a gift to themselves and, in turn, provide him with the simplest nourishment, food, water and conversation.

Reflecting on these two events, it occurs to me to say that hospitality is truly a very simple thing: You share what you have and people will be more than grateful to receive it. Guests in your home, for instance, are a living grace, a unique gift to be appreciated.

Back to the Carthusian monks at the Grande Chartreuse: Think about all the people in the world whose lives will somehow be affected, even changed, because they happened to pick up that DVD, brought it home and learned something about a way of life completely different from their own. And all this as a gift from some men behind their monastery walls in France who had nothing more offer than silence.

The scriptures: Genesis 18:1-10, Colossians 1:24-28, Luke 10:38-42

Posted by Julie Galligan at 01:05 PM.

July 14, 2007

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Stranded

As some of you may already know, part of my work during an ordinary week is to staff an office here in the Archdiocesan pastoral center. There are times when I am the only priest on duty, besides the Archbishop, and he is often busy or out of town. Therefore, the gracious secretaries at the switchboard down stairs often forward to me questions they have from callers that they are not able to answer. The questions are sometimes profound such as the request for a priest to administer the Sacrament of the Sick to someone who is dying. At other times a person may want to know if Catholics still have to make their "Easter Duty." I often long for the day when someone will call in with a serious theological or moral dilemma that I could really dig my teeth into or look up in a theological reference book. But, alas, it does not happen often.

One question no one has ever asked me is the one that a scribe, a student of the Torah, asked Jesus one day and that is recalled for us in the gospel for this Fifteenth Sunday in the Church calendar. "Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" As I say, no one has ever asked me that question, but I suppose I might come up with the standard answer I was taught in grade school and from my mother. "Don't commit any mortal sins", or "Be a nice boy," or "Keep the commandments." And, like the response of the Jewish scribe, I would probably say, "Hey, I'm already doing all that. Is that all there is to it?"

If, indeed, keeping the commandments were the only requirement to "inherit eternal salvation" life would be rather simple.

I must say at this point that this is a rather important question in the minds of most Catholics, indeed, many Christians and others as well. What is in store for us after death? Will I "go to heaven?" I believe many people are concerned with eternal life, even though they many never ask the question publicly.

The simplest answer for most people is always the legal one: "Keep the commandments." Whether we do, indeed, keep the commandments is another issue, but we know from study of scripture that this is at least the basic requirement. But I also believe that most of us realize intuitively that there must be something more to life and the afterlife than simply "keeping our nose clean." Would that it were so simple.

When one reads the response of Jesus to the scribe, we get the sense that keeping the Law, that is, loving God and neighbor, was the expected basic requirement to realize eternal life. But, like any serious person, the scribe knew intuitively that there must be more and that it had to something to do with love of neighbor. I have a hunch that the scribe probably thought that if he was keeping the basic sense of the law, he loved his neighbor. But when he naively asked Jesus who his neighbor was, it was at that point that he got a different sort of an answer than he was looking for, the famous story of the man who was left for dead on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho.

What must have made Jesus' story all the more difficult for the scribe to hear was the fact that two of the individuals traveling along the road were "religious types:" Priests offered sacrifice in the temple. Levites were lower-level administrative functionaries. But they were both religious individuals you could expect, knowing the Law, would have been only too happy to carry it out in practice. Alas, such was not the case.

This is one of those beautiful stories of Jesus that contains an immense irony, the irony being that "religious types" who know the law by heart are often the ones who are the last to keep it in practice. In other words, knowing the law by heart does not mean that one is thereby "keeping it."

I do not mean to say that this story is limited to "religious types." Indeed, many of us, religious or otherwise, have a tendency to avoid the "messy" implications of "loving one's neighbor."

I will readily admit that on several occasions I have personally seen street people outside our pastoral center, lying in a corner of the building out of the wind to stay warm. And in each case I took the easy route and simply called the Neighborhood Watch authorities that circle the area in their van to pick up people who may be inebriated.

Looking back on those incidents, I was probably thinking: "Well, I don't know the guy." Or, "What can I do anyway? The Neighborhood watch people have all the proper facilities to care for the homeless." A simple answer to a complicated situation, but at any rate, it took me, a "religious type" off the hook. In the last analysis, I probably didn't want to "get involved." In that case I would have had to do something. It would interrupt my day.

I always find it interesting that when there is an accident on the highway, people are more than happy to stop and see if there is something they can do to help, but when it happens that an inebriated street person is lying on the sidewalk unable to move, we will often look the other way and walk right on by. The assumption always seems to be that someone else is better qualified to help in such a serious situation.

The fact is, of course, that "my neighbor" may not be the inebriated person on the sidewalk but simply someone asking for a handout for a meal. And yet, we (I) don't want to get involved. I've got too much to do at the moment.