August 30, 2010

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time [September 5, 2010]

As often as read or hear of an account in these recent days of young Moslem men or women who strap about their body a deadly explosive device and decide to kill themselves along with many other innocent people, I say to myself, “what drives young men and women to do such a dastardly act? What is the so-called “sacred” vision that gives them the reason to walk into their own death? Truly, not many American young people can bring themselves to such an end. Is there something in the Arab psyche that impels them to kill others who have no evident quarrel with them, nor any animosity? Surely, there must be some so-called dedication that drives them to interpret the Koran in such a violent manner. Is it their religious devotion that drives them or is it some political or cultural motivation? I am at a loss to say. Indeed, I believe most Americans cannot understand the motivation behind such violent actions.

Unbelievable as it may sound, there seems to be some deep-set religious intent involved. The Moslem people are deeply religious; indeed, I would say that they are, as a whole, more religiously dedicated to their faith than many Christians. Think, for instance, of the arduous yearly trek across the desert to Mecca or some other sacred Moslem shrine. How many Christians are willing to fall on their knees 5 times each day and pray to their God as Moslems do? Not many, I suspect. Indeed, in this regard, Moslem people seem more dedicated religiously than Christians.

I simply meant to reflect on these thoughts because the gospel for this 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time speaks clearly of our ultimate Christian concern, our dedication to the call of our God.

Let us begin by saying that Jesus himself was a Jew, a Middle Eastern citizen. With that, then, he inherited from his Jewish ancestors a sense of dedication to the vision to which he felt God had called him. Remember the scene at his baptism in the Jordan when he heard God call him to a special and unique task in the world, namely to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God. It seems clear, therefore, that Jesus was dedicated to this vision until the last moments of his life on the cross. Without any doubt, Jesus was a driven person, more so even than the other young men of his time. The prophets of old and John the Baptist were his only match.

It is not so unlikely, therefore, that we should hear Jesus say what sounds to us like outrageous overstatement: “He who does not set aside (hate) his own mother and father, his family and even his own self is not worthy following me. Jesus’ listeners must have gasped and rolled their eyes at that.

Truly, however, Jesus really meant those words. The vision of the proclamation of the good news of God was more important to him even than the closest family ties. Obviously, these words sound extraordinarily harsh to us but Jesus wanted his disciples to know that his vision was enormously important to him, indeed, he considered the vision of the kingdom to be the means to eternal salvation.

So what could all this mean to the contemporary Christian or Catholic? First of all, giving up all, including family for the sake of our faith is a bit extreme. Only very dedicated Christians or those called to monastic life can bring themselves to follow this difficult way. Obviously, of course, we can all name saints who have given up their life in the world for their faith.

But for ordinary Christian, folks like you and me, it would seem that our call to holiness is to discover how our Christian life and our secular life intersect. If they are at odds with each other, something has gone wrong. We should be able to be responsible laypeople and dedicated Christians at the same time. It does not seem to me that Jesus is calling us to set aside (hate) our secular calling, our work, our pleasures, and our responsibilities in order to fulfill our Christian vocation. Indeed, the Christian should be able to respond to the call of Christ through his every day work in the world, whatever that might be. Kneeling in prayer 5 times daily might be well, but for the most of us we have other secular responsibilities that in some fashion accomplish the fulfillment of God’s kingdom. The way of the Christian is not an either or way but a both and endeavor, both God and our dedication to God’s good world.

Could it be therefore that our Moslem brothers and sisters might learn something from our Christian dedication to the God who claims our faith? I surely hope so. Terrorism, of whatever sort, is not an answer to the fulfillment of God’s kingdom. Let us learn to understand each other better and live in peace.

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:10 PM.

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 29, 2010]

Taking the Heat

Most folks on Chicago’s South Side remember vividly the events that occurred at the Church of St. Sabina this past summer. Father Michael Pfleger, pastor there for the past 30 years, incurred the anger of some Chicago Catholics and the concern of the Archbishop for remarks he made at a neighboring non-Catholic church regarding the character of Hillary Clinton and her run for the presidency. Indeed, the situation became so heated that Cardinal George, Archbishop of Chicago, decided to ask Father Pfleger to take two weeks off to rest and reflect.

Several points must be noted here, however. First, Michael Pfleger is a Caucasian, although people say he thinks and preaches like an African American preacher.

However, Father Pfleger has worked tirelessly with the black community for thirty years to make the neighborhood safe for all. He’s part of them: He makes war on drug dealers, reports to the police incidents where liquor stores are making sales to minors; he makes constant efforts to prevent gun skirmishes between gangs; he fights discrimination of any sort. The Catholic population at St. Sabina, by the way, has risen from several hundred to over two thousand during his pastorate. They love him. The color of his skin is of no concern of theirs.

In short Michael Pfleger has been the salvation of those who live in the neighborhood of St. Sabina. He is, without a doubt a social and religious activist.

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

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

My personal feeling is that Father Pfleger, despite his particular style as a pastor/preacher, is truly a prophet. He speaks prophetic words for which he often “takes the heat.” He’s ok with that. His sense is that religion and religious rites make little sense unless they are somehow connected to the lives of the people who live in the neighborhood. That was Jesus’ style.

The point, of course, is that if you are going to preach change, be ready for the “flack” that will come with it. Most people are seldom ready for change, especially if it affects their religious and even secular lives.

This model of prophecy and its results is precisely what we find in the scriptures for this Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Jeremiah, the great Jewish prophet, was so despondent at the heat he was taking from religious leaders and people of his time that he accused God of letting him get trapped because of the hard words that God Himself had asked him to preach. “You tricked (duped) me into it,” he said. “From now on I’m just going to keep my mouth shut. Ok?

But then Jeremiah begins to think over his decision and he decides that he cannot stop saying hard things. Preaching and the love of his God lie deep in his heart. He has to say something, no matter what people say, no matter the heat.

The point of Jeremiah’s decision is that if you want to be a prophet, if you want to breathe threats, if you want to be God’s preacher, your life may become messy and miserable. You’ll catch the heat.

So, Jeremiah goes back to work, preaching God’s hard words. He could do no other. By the way, he also got himself thrown into a dry well for his efforts!

The gospel today closely matches the Jeremiah reading. Using different metaphors, Jesus tells the people who want to follow him that the road may get rough. There may be some tough times ahead. “Are you ready to carry the cross that I will carry,” he asks? “Whoever is not ready to deny himself (take the heat) and follow me, cannot be part of my vision.” “Whoever chooses the easy way will ultimately lose his way.”

The point of both these scriptures is this: Jesus’ way is never the easy way, never has been. If we want to have any sort of impact on the world, it will ultimately cost us. People generally do not like to hear hard words; it may cause them to change their life’s ways and that is always hard.

That brings the question back to us: Are we ready for change? Are we ready to take a serious look at our life’s habits, are we ready to pick up life’s crosses?

Father Mike Pfleger was ready to do precisely that, despite the heat he caught. I’m sure he must often have said to himself: “How the heck can I live with myself if I don’t pick up the cross? How can we, by the way?

The scriptures: Sir 3:17-18, 20, 28-29; Heb 12:18-19, 22-24a; Lk 14:1, 7-14

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:03 PM.

August 16, 2010

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 22, 2010]

Somewhere in my personal “archives” I have a well-weathered photo of my grade school class dating back to the early thirties. Counting all eight grades, there were probably 20 youngsters. The boys were all dressed in farm overalls, the girls in cotton dresses. Some of us were wearing shoes, others were barefoot. (This alone tells me that the photo was shot in early summer)

At any rate, my hunch is that all of us were probably cousins. Most likely most of us were also Catholic, although I know for certain that there was at least one Lutheran family living in our area.

What I find humorous today is that we all looked so much alike, Caucasian, light skinned and light hair. All of this tells you that in those days we were a very ethically hetrogeneous group of young folks: Germans, Swedes, Norwegians, a scattering of Russians and East Europeans.

I know the reason for this ethnic similarity. Our parents and grandparents all came from Central Europe because of the unsettled social conditions at that time.

How different all this sounds when one considers the ethnic groups, say in Los Angeles or indeed in any metropolitan where one may find a dozen or more single ethnic groups worshiping at the same church. Our times were obviously different, but interesting, nonetheless.

Interestingly, Catechism classes, were not taught in school, probably because the teacher also happened to be a Lutheran; moreover catechism was taught in our own church during summer vacation! No problem, therefore, of the intermingling of church and state in those times.

Nevertheless, it never occurred to those of us who were Catholic that our young Lutheran friends would not be “saved” as we, obviously would be!! Any question of salvation for our non-Catholic friends was out of the question. It was simply assumed, Thank God, we did not even know how to ask the “salvation” question.

The reason I brought up the ethnic question is because both the first reading and the gospel for this Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time concern the issue of who is “saved” and who is not “saved.”

The first reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah must have seemed a rather astonishing prediction to any Jew within listening range. God, who is speaking through the words of the prophet Isaiah predicts that in days to come people from all over the Middle East and even from Africa and surrounding countries will gather in Jerusalem to glorify the Lord God along with the “chosen” people.

Throughout much of Jewish history the people of Israel imagined themselves a people, chosen and set apart by God to be saved. Hence, Isaiah’s prediction must have disturbed at least the more conservative elements in the population. Being a respected prophet, however, he could get away with that.

The gospel repeats the same theme of inclusion. The apostles, as always, have questions for Jesus. This time it was the same question people of our time often ask: Who will be saved? Initially, Jesus replies that only a few will pass through the narrow gate, but then he modifies that response by repeating all that Isaiah of old had said: “People from the East, South, North and West will take heir place at the feast of the kingdom of God, whereas many of Jesus’ own people will be left looking in from the outside.” It is a reference here to the long Israelite history of disobedience to the divine law, the Torah.

The implication here in Jesus words is that those who have been instructed in the Law of God will be held to greater responsibility than those who have never heard the word of God. So, we can draw two conclusions from these passages. Those who claim to be part of God’s kingdom will need to show responsibility in keeping the law.
Those who are not instructed in God’s law will have an equal chance of salvation. In other words, faith brings with it a moral responsibility.

Given all that I have said, I must say that I do not know whether my Lutheran schoolmates were instructed in catechism. All I know is that they were nice kids. I have no doubt that some day I will meet them in heaven if I myself can show that I have been faithful to the Christian tradition handed on to me.

Scripture: Isaiah 66:14-20; Hebrews 12: 5-7, 11-13; Luke 13: 22-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 01:16 PM.

August 10, 2010

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary [August 15, 2010]

My friends, today we have a summer break in the usual Sunday readings from Luke the Evangelist who is describing Jesus’ “on the road” instructions for the disciples. We celebrate the Assumption (the homecoming) of the Blessed Virgin.

Every Catholic and most Christians will insist that, next to Jesus, Mary is deservedly the most important and, indeed, the best-known person in the Christian scriptures.

Historically, we know very little of Mary’s life other than what has been handed on to us from the gospel tradition, particularly from Luke the Evangelist. From that source, for instance, we know that she was a young Palestinian girl, spouse of Joseph of Nazareth; we know that she brought forth into our world, Jesus of Nazareth, Son of God. Like any mother, we know that she and Joseph were particularly cautious regarding their Son’s safety. Remember the temple scene when Jesus as only twelve years old? Or the scene later in his life when rowdy crowds threatened him?

But think of this too, put yourself back into Mary’ historical setting: In those times, the mother of the family was responsible for the family’s religious upbringing. Could that be why Jesus was such a fierce defender of justice and rights of the poor? Could he have learned that from his mother? If the mother of the family provided water for the family’s daily use, could we imagine the strength of Mary’s neck and shoulders from carrying heavy water jugs from the common cistern?

In those times, even as today, the wife and mother provided bread for the family. Can you imagine, therefore the power of Mary’s arms and shoulders, muscular from lifting and dropping the heavy millstone to grind wheat or barley for bread at the evening meal?

Much of that work, of course, was done on the front porch of the house, which meant that Mary spent considerable time under the hot sun. No tanning salons necessary for her.

So, why am I relating all these historical assumptions of Mary’s life? I do so because I believe one’s devotion to Mary has a better foundation in imagining how life was for Mary than from admiring a beautiful painting by Botticelli or some other Italian Renaissance painter. Artistically beautiful as they are, they do not tell us very much about the “real” Mary, the spouse, the mother, the guardian, the homemaker.

A recent Catholic writer describes Mary as a “mench,” a Yiddish word that describes a person with the admirable characteristics of fortitude and firmness of purpose, someone who is honest, upright, responsible and decent. Not even pious writers or artists can do as well to tell us who Mary was and is.

Is it any wonder then that the Church should choose the first reading for this feast from the book of revelation with its beautiful symbolism, which reads:

“A great sign appeared in the heavens, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon beneath her feet and on her head a crown of twelve stars.” What an image of the woman whom we call mother of the redeemer, mother of Jesus, son of God.

People who work in ecumenical relationships between Catholics and Protestants today say that many Protestant groups are now rediscovering Mary, glad to have a feminine figure in the bible worthy of honor and admiration.

I can readily understand why we earthlings have honored Mary in art, music, song and story. It is as though we just cannot say enough about her except by calling forth her virtues through of the best human gifts we can muster

Is it any wonder then that we call Mary Mother of the Church, indeed mother of all Christians?

“Blessed are you among women and blessed is the Son you gave us to find our way to God.”

The scriptures: Revelation 11:19; 12: 1-6, 10; 1 Corinthians 15: 20-27; Luke 1: 39-56

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:28 PM.

July 27, 2010

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 1, 2010]

Good friends: most Christians have come to know the Holy Scriptures as Good News. The word gospel, the words of Jesus, is an ancient way to describe the Good News. And, indeed, for the most part, the scriptures are good news, at least for those who come to them with an unbiased mind and heart.

But there are instances in the Scriptures when the writer or speaker does not seem very happy. Indeed, in some cases he sounds downright depressed. After all, the scripture writers or speakers are human individuals with human feelings. Some days they may be highly spirited, happy over the way life seems to be for them. On other days, of course there is not a spot of blue in the sky or in their feelings about life and how it appears to them when they rise from sleep. So, of course, we can forgive them for that, sensitive as they are to life around them.

Now, with all that, my friends, we are offered two pieces of scripture for this 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time that seem to be the most depressing of any in the corpus of the Jewish and Christian writings. The first comes from the book of Ecclesiastes, referred to in Hebrew as Qoheleth. It is basically a philosophical essay on the meaning of human life. As the author sees it, there is no divine plan in history, nothing good in nature or personal existence. The only satisfaction one can have is to live life as fully as possible because when life is over, that’s all there is.

Is Qoheleth the ultimate pessimist or a realist? You will surely remember the opening words of the text from memory. “Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth, vanity of vanities, all things are vanity. The laborer must ultimately leave all things behind.” So, what is the point of working or even of living? All things in this world are only temporary. Remember the old comic play, You Can’t Take it With You?” That is Qoheleth’s point of view: enjoy life now because soon you will not be able to have that opportunity.

The gospel spells out a similar theme: The context is a quarrel between two brothers over an inheritance. (Sound familiar?) At any rate, they ask Jesus to settle the dispute. In so many words, Jesus says: “Listen, why ask me, go settle it yourselves.” “Besides,” Jesus says, “avoid greed in all its forms. A man may be wealthy, but his wealth does not assure him of eternal life.”

While on the subject, Jesus tells the crowd the story of a man who had such great wealth that he ran out of space to store his harvested grain. “I’ll just build more,” he says, “then I will be eternally happy.” “That man is a fool,” Jesus says. “This very night your life may be taken from you; then what advantage will your piled up wealth be then?”

So, you see, in both instances the authors simply say that material goods do not add up for eternal happiness. So then, where does ultimate happiness lie?

This is my sense of the question: Yes, it is true that material possessions, great or small, in this life do not add up to everlasting happiness, but could we not say that material things in themselves are a gift of God. All material things on this earth are a gift of the divine creator-God. So, then, why not celebrate and give thanks for them because their very presence in the cosmos is a symbol or sign of the richness of God.

However, what about the value of life itself? Granted, we cannot live forever, but could it not be said that the life of any creature born to this earth somehow leaves a stamp on all creation? Life is forever changed especially knowing that this material reality, this human person has been here, not simply on planet earth but in the cosmos. In some fashion or other, this individual being has carried on the eternal line of being. It is all a great mystery, of course, how all this takes place. Even common sense can tell us that all created beings some how fit into the picture of life in the cosmos. Despite what Qoheleth may say, therefore, death is not the end. And even the man with great wealth who must ultimately die, still has left some identifiable mark on the cosmos. Death is never the end; nothing in the universe ever is lost in the mind of God. Otherwise why would God have allowed this or that piece of the cosmos to exist at all? In the mind of God all life is eternal, even though we here on this planet may not recognize it. All life, of whatever species, class or kind, is somehow eternal in the mind of God. Could we not say, therefore, that all life, whether recognizable to the human eye or not, must be celebrated and praised for the manner in which it mirrors the power and mind of God.

Surely, of course, we do not look forward to death and we cannot avoid it, but could we not say that during life we are all part of that endless string of being that has made planet earth what it is in our time? Much has been handed on to us from the eternal past; should we not do our best to eradicate the evils we have also inherited?

In short, life in all its forms as they exist in cosmos is a sign of the eternal power and love of God. I can just imagine God remarking to himself, “wow, that turned out pretty well, didn’t it?” And to ourselves we should say: “thank God that in some mysterious way, I had a part in God’s creative and endless power to make all things a mirror of God’s eternal self. Now, with that thought, anyone should be able to go to bed each night and say: “Thanks be to God for me; thank God for everybody and God for everything in this glorious universe.

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

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:15 PM.

July 20, 2010

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 26, 2010]

If someone were to ask me to list the greatest needs in my life, I am sure I could recite at least a dozen in a matter of seconds. Like most people, at least those of my acquaintance, I seem to have many needs, real or assumed. I always seem to be short on something: money, patience, wisdom and freedom. Understanding, forgiveness, reconciliation, and many more.

The very question, it seems to me, is a sign of our human insufficiency. Suddenly, we realize that we are not in total control of our lives. No matter how hard we try, we can find no answer to our dilemmas. Searching for “quick fix” solutions does not always work. Appeals to psychologists, friends, priests, ministers and counselors, even lawyers are too embarrassing, at least to the person who says: “I’d rather die than pretend that I cannot handle my own life.

Ah, but then comes the sudden idea when everything else has been tried: Why not pray to God for an answer. My hunch is that many people, whether religious or not, will try that solution. It is sort of an “up against the wall issue.” When nothing else works, try God.

That solution may at first seem rather over simplistic. I have personally often asked God for many things, but, for the most part, I was left hanging in the air. It is often difficult to distinguish between God’s intervention in my life and purely natural causes or solutions. Appealing to God when all else has failed almost seems like a “stopgap” solution. Why should I appeal to God only in “up tight” situations? Do I ever talk to God at any other time, for any other special cause of lesser importance? Should I imagine that God even cares about my problems?

Well, my friends, we are not the first to be faced with that human dilemma. Indeed, we have one unique instance in our scriptures regarding this question. It appears in the Book of Genesis, the famous story of the sin cities of Sodom and Gomorrah of ancient renown.

Abraham, father of the Israelite nation is on a journey to visit those places, just out of curiosity. However, in a vision he hears God say: “Listen, don’t waste your time going there. I’m about to wipe them out” Abraham, basically a compassionate man, cannot believe that a just God might do such a thing. Then the bartering begins: “Lord, God, listen, let’s say you could find 10 just persons there, would you still follow through with your planned destruction?” “Well, for 10 just people, maybe not,” replies God. This conversation, of course, goes on until Abraham has God down to only one person. God gives in. “Okay, you win, I have heard your prayer; there will be no destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Here we have one of those biblical instances, which insist that if one repeatedly “harasses” God about an issue, God will relent. It is also one of those classic situations, which claims that one can change God’s mind if you repeatedly try hard enough.

I admit that there may have been situations in biblical history where repeated pleading with God has “worked.” My sense, however, is that it is a kind of word game with God, bringing God down to the level of senseless situations.

On the other hand, there may be a better way to appeal to God in such conditions. “God, if it is your will, please give me a break, okay? If it’s not your will, I’ll try to make it on my own, okay?

But there is a way to think about such situations for which we have prayed and “lost.” Think of this: Today, May 31, a nurse here in our house suddenly died of cancer. It was a great shock to us all. She was one of the family. We had all been healed by her great care and compassion. So, why should this happen to someone who could still be doing such good for everyone? It is a question that arises at most funerals. There is no answer to the question of “senseless” death. Indeed, in some sense any death seems unexplainable. Seemingly, however, God does not interfere with the course of nature God has created. Suffering and death are an integral part of the way the cosmos functions. In short, such incidences occur because of the normal rise and fall of all beings. It is a death and resurrection story once again. Ultimately, the manner in which mysterious incidents seem to occur, happen according to the laws God has created for this mystery we call the cosmos. Therefore, the question remains: what good does it do to pray to God, even in perilous times? My sense of it is this: Ultimately, God’s ways in the cosmos, are indefinable, indeed, when one thinks about it, everything in the cosmos, including ourselves, is a great mystery. But that does not mean that we should stop praying. I like to think that Thomas Merton, the monk and mystic had an answer to prayer; here is what he writes: “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you and I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing

And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road although I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death, I will not fear, for you are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. This is one of the most honest prayers I have ever read.

Praying, therefore, must be an admission of our human inability even to know how to ask the right questions or plead for the right causes. Nonetheless our effort to do the best we can must surely count for something.

Genesis 18: 20-32; Colossians 2: 12-14; Luke 11: 1-13

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:08 AM.

July 14, 2010

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 18, 2010]

First of all, let me say up front that hospitality has to be one of the eight gifts of the Holy Spirit. I say that because every human act in this world is a form of grace. Any human act done with the hope of making something or someone more closely resemble the face of God has to be holy.

Let me give you one example: Back in the thirties of another century, I grew up in grain country, wheat, barley, oats, rye, flax, corn and beans. In the hot and humid August of the year one or the other of those fields of grain needed to be harvested. In those harsh times many men rode the rails, hoping to find temporary employment on farms and ranches near the Great Northern tracks.

And so it was that each fall, my father would hire such men, put them up in the hay mow (“No smoking, guys, okay?) They washed up in fresh well-water, ate at our table, shared with us their stories of life on the road. For a youngster like myself, the yearly adventure was pure heaven. I can remember my mother making sure that they had several roast beef sandwiches to take with them once they finished the job and headed off for the next farm.

For that short two weeks, these men were part of our family. We never asked their family heritage or their personal background. On their part, they helped us to harvest the grain before the fall rains descended upon us.

Family hospitality: It’s not complicated, only a sense that another human being may need food, water, lodging and a paycheck to carry on his itinerant style of life down the railroad line.

It must be as old as human beings are old on this earth. At least it appears so if we read the story from the book of Genesis listed for our current Sunday. The author simply writes that the Lord God appeared to Abraham at a remote place in the desert. The vision took place in the character of three wandering Bedouin men. In such circumstances, of course, one does not simply wave and say, “Stop by again some time when you are in the area. " No, as Abraham and his wife Sarah did, you pour a bowl of cold water to wash hot bare feet. You offer whatever food you have; you sit in the tent and listen to the stories of life in the desert. That’s hospitality. One does not expect any recompense. The fact that visitors simply graced your door and accepted food and water would have been a heaven-sent gift. One does not expect rewards in such circumstances.

The gospel lays out for us the famous hospitality story of Jesus’ visit to the home of Martha and Mary. Martha, as we read, provides the work of hospitality, providing food for the table. Mary, on the other hand, provides company for Jesus as the food is being prepared. Why would one need two cooks in the kitchen?

At any rate, Jesus comments on the fact that both women have provided him with gifts, one of action, the other of listening.

What all this implies is that the Christian is called to ministries, action and contemplation in whatever situation it is called for. St. Paul made the same point to his early Christian community: “There are various gifts given by the Holy Spirit as needed.”

Here is a short side issue that must not be overlooked. In both stories, it is the women who provide the food and water. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, in the first story, and Martha in gospel story hat follows story.

It has been my experience (given a few exceptions) that the hospitality of nourishment seems to be the special gift of women. In my growing up, it was always women who took complete responsibility for providing food. Perhaps this gift had its origins in pregnancy, birth and the care of children. At any rate, we always assumed that a mother could carry on this task with greater giftedness than a man.

The final point in all this is that the gift of hospitality is not meant for us alone. It is a shared virtue. It is based on the human insight that none of us can live in this world without the support of others, whether with food and drink, kindnesses of all sorts, compassion, love and tears. Unless we can appeal for help from someone when we are in stress, life will become almost completely unbearable.

And so, I repeat as I began: Hospitality is one of the 8 gifts of the Holy Spirit. We have been gifted by our God with graces too numerous to recall. But of what use are they unless another human being realizes that you wish to share them. It is at that point that grace builds on grace and in the end we are all the better-blessed for it.

Readings: Genesis 18: 1-10; Colossians 1: 24-28; Luke 10: 38-42

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:08 AM.

July 07, 2010

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 11, 2010]

Think a little with me, my friends, about an every day matter we call law; yes that human phenomenon we either hate or upon which we depend to keep our lives sane and our world in some semblance of good order. In some sense we are talking about whatever it is that keeps the world, indeed the cosmos from flying into deep space.

It does seem that all created matter has a certain natural order that drives it. Even the heavens seem to look the same whenever we gaze on them. The planets always seem to be in the same spot. The sun always “rises” and “sets” whether we can see it or not. Seasons come and go, days and nights are usually predictable.

But of course, there are catastrophes: Hurricanes, floods, tornadoes et cetera which seem to us complete disorder. But think of it: That is nature doing exactly what it was created to do. It is only from our vantage point that such phenomena seem chaotic. But from nature’s point of view all matters follow their created instinct. They have no other option.

Ah, but then we think for a moment about that other phenomenon in the cosmos called man, man and woman. Does it not seem that these creatures have the freedom to do exactly what nature cannot do, namely, to break the law of its nature, cause chaos, destruction, mayhem, harm to self and another? It seems that way to me.

But again in some sense, this is the unique gift of humankind: We have the freedom and the power to do well and to do harm. Other creatures do not seem to have that power.

And so, it does seem that over the millennia that humans have been present on planet earth they have found it necessary to create certain restrictions which will make it possible them to live together without taking advantage of one another or doing each other mortal harm.

I should imagine that there has been the necessity of law even in those ages when human beings lived privately and simply. Everyone had sufficient room to live and food to eat. What more could one ask?

Now, for those of us who believe that our lives are governed by God or that there is also a spiritual law, a law of the human spirit; (some call it natural law, the law of our nature), this law should be sufficient to maintain good order in us personally and in our relation with others. The rule seems necessary whether a person claims belief in God or not.

Given that long introduction to law, let me now call your attention to the scriptures for this 15th Sunday in Ordinary time. The author of first reading from the Book of Deuteronomy (a word that means “second law”) points out to us that the law of God (which is the law of our human nature) is not something far off that we need to go out and retrieve it, nor too deep that we would not understand it. No, he says, God’s law is on your lips and in you heart. You only need carry it out!

No, my friends, that is a piece of wisdom most of us seldom reflect upon. Again, it is the law of our nature, the law that God has instilled in us from our conception.

When one reflects a bit on that piece of wisdom, it could be assumed that the written laws of history should not have been necessary. If humankind is filled with God’s Law, why should anyone threaten us with a human law? I have only one answer to that question: Original sin or the sin of our origins. Each of us naturally knows what is right and just, but other human factors seem to steer us in another direction: unfettered desire greed, selfishness, the craving for something beyond what we already have, those sorts of things.

As a result of that human failing, we need to call on our deepest instincts of honesty, integrity to keep us on the naturally good human track. In short, no one, no law forces us to do wrong. Goodness is our natural inclination and our obligation.

In some sense of course, the written law is a blessing inasmuch as reinforces our normal tendency to do good.

The gospel for this same Sunday tells us the beautiful story of the Good Samaritan, which we all know so well by heart.

But think for a minute, my friends, of the introduction to that story of the religious interpreter of the Divine Law who asked Jesus to recite the Law of Moses which Jesus did including the final law: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And “who is my neighbor,” the lawyer asks. Jesus, of course, answers with the story of the Good Samaritan. In short, the neighbor is the one who is in need, no matter whether he or she happens to be your race, creed or liking

So, you see, we are back to the question of the law of nature. Your neighbor is even the one whom you may naturally dislike and refuse to assist.

Again, where is the Law? It is in that natural human realization that your neighbor is yourself. You cannot avoid doing good even when you dislike the implications.

Thank God, therefore, those human written laws are part of our normal human life urging us to do the good that we should do by nature, but often need a little “encouragement.”

The Scriptures: Deuteronomy 30: 10-14; Colossians 1: 15-20; Luke 10:25-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:53 AM.

June 28, 2010

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [July 4, 2010]

Are you a city or a country dweller? That may sound like an odd question, but I have the sense that it will make considerable difference in the way you perceive the world and life itself.

My own experience is that of a country dweller, at least until it became important to my parents that I choose the closest city to live and attend a Catholic secondary school. In all honesty, I made no objection to that choice. I did not like farm work or the isolation from my friends who lived in the city. (In a moment I will appeal to the scriptures try get a sense of the advantages of city or country life.)

In the meantime, let me say that the advantages of life in either the country or the city depend either on your personal tastes or upon your need to make a living.

Some people, of course, seem to have the best of both choices: they live in the city but spend their vacation time on a farm or a ranch. Their subsistence does not stem from tilling the soil. Perhaps they are merchants or bankers or real-estate brokers. Their weekends, therefore, provide a release from the pressures of city life.

When one compares the advantages and disadvantages of city versus country living, the city has all one needs within walking distance. Cities are also places from where one’s living comes. Here is where people interact for good or ill. The city may be a crowded noisy, smelly pressure pot, but it also provides rich cultural and recreational fare if you can afford it.

The rural environment, on the other hand, is a place of quiet where nature in all its beauty provides the best quiet and peaceful experiences one can hope for. The seasons are distinct, the weather can be wonderful (full of wonder) or it can scare the dickens out of you. In the country, you are on your own whether to enjoy the world or to deal with its natural dangers.

All this I offer as an introduction to the scripture for this Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

The early chapters of Genesis seem to say that God first created humankind to either be tillers of the soil or herders of goats and sheep. This way of life seemed to go well until “the man” began to create towers and cities. That is when life began to fall apart; God needed to “step in” and scatter folks abroad. Nonetheless, the lesson was not learned. Some time later we hear the sad story of the sinful cities of Sodom and Gomorrah that were eventually turned into salt for their sinfulness. (Or so the story goes) Given that bad start, the man continued to gather into cities until it eventually it became obvious that cities were the most convenient way to live together, unless you loved the soil and the smell of sheep and goats.

Hence, in the first reading from Isaiah the prophet in scriptures chosen for today we actually hear a beautiful panegyric (poetic praise) for the city of Jerusalem; he waxes eloquently regarding the city he loved, comparing it to a nursing mother who fondles her children in her arms and provides rich milk from her abundant breasts. He is referring, of course, to the city, the temple, its beauty and its religious services. (Now, that is graphic language meant for a different age, but it is poetically true nonetheless)

The Hebrew people had only one city of any note, Jerusalem. Many herders and rural dwellers loved the wind and the sand of the desert, but Jerusalem was still “mother.” This is where God chose to meet his people for nourishment. This is the city that Jesus Mary and Joseph visited many times, perhaps to buy groceries at the markets, but also to worship at the temple

I imagine we Twenty First Century city dwellers might feel less inclined to speak so lovingly of our cities but we love them nonetheless for all the beautiful accoutrements. In some sense, New York City or South Bend, Indiana could be considered not as a street tramp, but a mother where many good things, cultural or spiritual are abundantly provided. Given all that, we must say that cities are neither good nor bad. It is the people who build them, destroy them and rebuild them who must judge the quality of city life.

Let us now turn for a moment to Jesus and his sense of place, whether the country or the city. In the selection from Luke for this Sunday we hear Jesus instructing his disciples as follows: “The Lord appointed a further 72 and sent them out before him to every town and village that he intended to visit. The harvest is rich but the workers are few.” This indicates quite clearly that Jesus meant his ministry for the cities and villages for a simple reason: that is where the most people are. And so we have names of many villages listed from the North, south to Jerusalem. If the people accepted him, he would preach and heal; if he found opposition, he would shake the dust off his feet and travel elsewhere.

Thus it is still today. Lay Catholics are finding it more and more difficult to find a church in their rural neighborhood. Priests are becoming more and more scarce each year. Therefore they find it necessary to travel considerable distances to participate in Sunday worship.

Finally, it should be noted that Jesus did not spend his entire time in the cities of Palestine. In several points in the Gospel we note that Jesus would go out into rural areas (wilderness?) to pray to the Father and simply to catch his breath from overwork. He invited the apostles to follow him when people were overwhelming him with requests.

In conclusion, it is my sense that in the age in which we live, it is almost imperative that we be citizens both of the city and the country. As in Jesus time, the pressures on our time are increasing. Therefore, a weekend away or a vacation in the wilderness or the shore is practically obligatory for us in order to maintain our sense of psychological and spiritual balance. Of prime importance is the need we have of contemplation and meditation. Some can find such places in their quiet office cubicle; others need to get out of town and find God in the quietness of God’s good nature. God will find you in the place you choose. Just choose it, don’t delay.

Isaiah 66: 10-14; Galatians 6: 14-18; Luke10: 1-12, 17-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:28 PM.

June 21, 2010

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [June 27, 2010]

A few days ago I happened to be reading one of Thomas Merton’s essays in his journal. It was entitled, "My Book into which every thing can go." Here is what he wrote: “Beyond all and in all is God.” Perhaps in the end, therefore, the book of life is the book of what one has lived. If one has lived nothing one is not in the book of life.

It has often occurred to me in this eighth decade of my life to ask the question: What is in the book of my life? What have I accomplished, what have I done during these 80 plus years that has been of any lasting value, indeed how has my work, my plans made any difference in the kingdom of God? That seems to be a serious question. Perhaps, on occasion, you too have asked yourself that question. Where do I fit into the plan of God for the fulfillment of the kingdom?

It may seem like a mysterious and insignificant question until we reflect on the fact that during the short span of our life we may have held impressive positions: president of the university, superior of the house, head of a department, president of the United States, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Perhaps we amassed several higher degrees, academic or honorary. People may have sponsored dinners in our honor, said congratulatory things about us. Perhaps it seemed very important at that moment in our history; honorary plaques hang on the walls of our rooms. And all for what? What’s it all about? (Remember the famous song and film with Michael Caine and Diane Warwick back in the ‘60’s? “What’s it all about Alfie? Is it just about the moment we live?) Good question. What is it all about? What have all these years of effort meant in the broader scheme of God’s plan for the cosmos? Do we and all our successes ultimately count for very much?

We have all preached countless homilies, given many learned lectures during our life. Have they ultimately changed anything in anyone’s life? Who will remember it tomorrow?

All this may sound rather depressing, but I think it is an important question to ask occasionally. So, where do we, have we fit into God’s plan for our small world. What did we think we were doing? What difference did we think it would ever make?

Perhaps we did imagine that we had brought about some significant progress for human life in the modern world. But others follow us who will far out distance us in various successes. It happens, it happens all the time.

So, the ultimate question is this: Given the billions of people who have passed through this planet earth, where do we fit in? Did we ever imagine that the world might very well get along without us? You see, these questions are all about perspective? How we perceive God’s kingdom in this world. How does the world see us?

Interestingly, some individuals mentioned in todays scriptures already thought about these questions. In the passage from the First Book of Kings we hear the story of the passage of prophetic power from the shoulders of Elijah to Elisha. Elisha hardly felt worthy to accept the prophetic power of a man like Elijah, and all his successes; yet it seemed to be important in the scheme of salvation that the seamless transfer of power should assure the continuity of God’s communication with the Israelites. Elijah is now without power; Elisha now carries the mantle of prophecy, but for how long and with what effect? Prophets throughout history have come and gone. Who remembers Dan Berrigan and Elizabeth McAlister? So too with presidents and kings and governors and superiors of houses and all of us, and to what effect? We play our role and others succeed us.

The gospel also provides a small piece of Jesus’ life on the road along with many successes but also many failures. In this passage we learn a little something about the cost of discipleship. People clamor around Jesus making bold promises about their willingness to follow him. Jesus always replies, in so many words, asking: “Do you realize how all embracing this ministry will be? Can you give up everything for the sake of the kingdom of God? Think about that.

But here follows an interesting little aside about power: Jesus and the disciples are passing through Samaritan country. The Samaritans, of course, will have nothing to do with these Israeli preachers: James and John, the bold ones, therefore ask Jesus whether they should call down lightning fire from heaven. “Jesus,” the text says, “rebuked them.” “Shut up he says, we’ve got work to do, let’s keep on traveling.”

This is an interesting little vignette because it points out the hubris of power. These two apostles bravely thought they could call down fire from heaven in order to force these Samaritans to accept the good news. What ever happened to freedom of will the freedom of conscience? It’s no wonder that Jesus told them to shut up.

There is sobering insight that can be drawn from these two passages of scripture: First of all, power does not belong to us alone or for very long. Secondly, despite all the impressive things we have done in our life, the power always passes on to someone else. Often all that is left is a scant memory of someone and something.

The sobering fact is that unless we somehow can imagine our life’s work as part of God’s plan for his kingdom, part of the book of life, it will not be remembered for very long, if at all.

On the other hand, if we are able to set aside our own hubris, our pride of self and try to find our place not in the little kingdom we have built but in God’s plan for the cosmos, there may well be joy in heaven where no person, no good act is ever forgotten.

Scriptures: 1 Kings 19: 16b, 19-21; Galatians 5: 1, 13-18; Luke 9: 51-62

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:48 AM.

June 18, 2010

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time [June 20, 2010]

Before I bravely begin another reflection, let me make the point that I am not always so perfectly clear regarding what I am talking about in these writings that I do each week, but for some mysterious reason I seem to muster the courage to forge on ahead, trusting my human instincts, with the hope that my writing will not fall into the hands ecclesiastical powers. At this point in my life, changing careers is neither a choice nor a desire.

Nonetheless, there is some deep intuition that seems to prod me to ask questions, to search for answers, to plumb mysteries. In doing this, I always feel that I am on safe ground because I invariably begin by examining some particular selection of the Word of God. There are many scriptural selections that beg for answers or at least further exploration.

And so it is on this Sunday that we celebrate a familiar selection from the writer Luke: “Who do people say I am?” Jesus asks his friends. “Well, they reply, “some say you are a prophet or a man sent by God, a person who does marvelous deeds. Then Jesus turns to his confidant, Peter, the brave one, who replies with certain bravado: “Why, you are the Christ (the Anointed) of God.” Interestingly, Jesus does not say whether that answer is “right” or “wrong.” He simply continues with a mysterious prediction that he would need to undergo much suffering and ultimately be executed for breaking the law by preaching without the authorization of the temple authorities. Horrors!

The point that Jesus is making here, a point Peter obviously did not fully understand, is this: “Peter, in a short while, life is going to get rough. All of us are going to be tested. I’m inviting you to have the courage to join me in this last great venture. If you try to escape the persecution that is near, that is if you try to save your life, all your efforts thus far will have no meaning. If you decide to risk your life with me, you will have abundant rewards. It sounds like a “divine conundrum.” Living means dying and dying means living. How do you figure that out? The answer only comes when we follow Peter’s life until the end when he is finally crucified in Rome, all for taking the risk and following Jesus.

The critical issue here is Jesus” question: “Who do people say that I am? Who do you say that I am?”

In some sense that was an unfair question to Peter: if one examines it psychologically: my hunch is that we ourselves truly do not know who we are. Yes, we know our name, we know how we feel about ourselves, we know what we are skilled at and know where we do poorly. But when we ask the deeper question, who am I really? The answer to that lies in the mind of God.

But that does not mean that we should abandon the quest of human identity, the question, “who am I?” I would suggest that if we should decide one day simply to disappear into the nearest hiding place and think about that question, some rather astonishing answers would surface.

However, one other insight comes out of that brief conversation between Jesus and Peter. Jesus tells Peter to get ready for suffering, maybe even death. That will give you some insight about my identity. Why so? Simply, because life is filled with contradictions, with disappointments, with failures. In other words, the person who thinks about those great mysteries (Why me???) will ultimately begin to come to some light, some personal intuition. Suffering can bring a glimmer of understanding out of life’s mysteries. On the other hand, if we are determined to face great obstacles with a certain quietness of soul, insight will come; maybe not the full enlightenment we hope for but a sort of gradual peaceful acquiescence amidst life’s quandaries.

Hence, I make the humble suggestion that if someone asks you who you are, just say, “well I am an on-going question.” The ancient and famous oracle at Delphi, Greece offers some insight,“ know thyself.” To that I would add: Life is not a puzzle to be figured out, but a mystery to be contemplated. I think I will leave it there, lest I drift into dangerous waters.

Zechariah 12: 10-11; 13:1; Galatians 3: 26-29; Luke 9: 18-24

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:12 AM.

June 10, 2010

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time [June 13, 2010]

Back in the year 1967, Stanley Kramer, the famous Hollywood director, did a film that is still remembered by many people today. It was a half-serious comedy on inter-racial marriage. The title was: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. It is the story of a young woman, daughter of a wealthy San Francisco family who has fallen in love with a handsome young African American doctor. The plot, of course, centers on the mother and father who were not so enthusiastic about the possibility of their lovely white daughter marrying a black man. It was at a time in modern history when such marriages were still not recognized as legal in parts of the South. At any rate, it took a good part of the film for the parents to get used to this situation. Actually, I cannot remember if the couple did marry, but there were some great lines in the film about race relations in the 60’s.

A film such as this will call to mind our own prejudices (we versus them) and how long it often takes for us to overcome them. Race relations between whites and blacks are fairly peaceful today but perhaps for many of us there was a time when we wondered if it was even appropriate for us (whites) to comingle with our black neighbors. Of course, we would not admit of prejudice, but I’m sure, from my own experience, that I might have wondered if it was appropriate to strike up a relationship with folks of other races. As far as I can remember, there were no black students enrolled in our Catholic school, even though the black population of our city was roughly 10%. We just did not think much about race in my time. We lived in the North.

I imagine, however that historians and sociologists would tell us that segregation has been a “natural” phenomenon from the beginning of recorded history. At any rate for those of us who follow Judaeo-Christian history and culture there are many incidences of racial and religious tensions.

To make a point of this, we have a familiar story from the gospel of Luke today that describes an incident in Jesus’ life and work. He is invited to the home of a local Pharisee for (men only) dinner. In he midst of the meal a woman, seemingly well known in the city, and pays Jesus the respect of anointing his feet with perfumed oil. The host is aghast at this and asks Jesus if he knows what sort of woman this is, that she is a sinner. (She may simply have been a member of the social underclass for all we know) The point is that she broke into a men-only dinner and touched a rabbi. What was Jesus to do for this act of respect and kindness? Well, we know from our reading that he forgave the woman her sins, whatever they were.

The table host immediately protests such actions…forgiving sin in public. Then Jesus makes an interesting statement that biblical scholars translate as follows: “I tell you, her great love proves that her many sins have been forgiven; where little has been forgiven little love is shown. Obviously, the woman showed great love in anointing Jesus’ feet; it was in this act that her many sins were forgiven.

This is one of those beautiful “putdown” stories in Luke’s gospel, more than in any of the other three gospels that shows immense respect and concern for women.

An interesting point is that all this happened “at table” where so many other of Jesus’ conversations took place. This incident is similar to the many other incidents where Jesus reaffirms his special compassion for those regarded by others as outside he law and of no account, those suffering from the disadvantages of physical, psychological and spiritual infirmities---women, mentally disturbed people, all were welcomed at table with Jesus. In other words, it is at table that relationships are sealed, where we get to know one another, especially if they happen to be strangers.

In some sense, Jesus was declaring the “old” law of discrimination not to be operable any longer. With love everything can be forgiven.

I have never thought much about that line in my preparation for confession. I always seem to ask: “What have I done wrong” than, how deep is my love?

Perhaps, like the couple mentioned above, we too are often faced with human situations involving people we do not know; perhaps we even find ourselves at table with them. The tendency at first may be to say to ourselves “they are not like me.” But if we simply hold our minds open, we will find that by dessert time our minds may have become acclimated to the lives of these of these folks and then we will find ourselves thinking: “Hey, they are just like me.” Sometimes, of course, it just takes little while for all that to sink in.

Readings: 2 Samuel 12: 7-10, 13; Galatians 2: 16, 19-21; Luke 7: 36-8-3

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 11:20 AM.

June 01, 2010

Body and Blood of Christ [June 6, 2010]

A good friend of mine who lives far from where I live and write, e mailed me some while ago and asked if I ever tire of writing from the scriptures. “Doesn’t it ever get old,” he asked. “How do you come up with ideas week after week year after year?” I cannot remember precisely how I responded but I think I said something to the effect that scripture is always like a banquet table laid out with the finest food and wine. People come and dine, but amazingly the food never seems to diminish, new plates of fresh and attractive servings keep on appearing as though out of nowhere.” That is something the way I experience God’s word.

I must admit, however, after I have read a particular passage that is assigned to the current Sunday liturgy and then seat myself at my trusty I Mac word processor, there are some moments when I just sit there in front of a white screen….nothing coming to mind. Then, I go back to that passage and read it slowly again, and “wow,” an idea pops into view and there we go. All one needs is a little hint from a phrase and we’re off and running!

Well, actually, it is not all that simple, but there is no doubt in my mind that the scriptures like no other sort of classical writing is filled with original thought, new ideas, fresh insights. They lie just below the surface ready to be plucked when they appear.

I say this with particular insight on the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi, we once named it.)

The scriptures are all about bread and wine, about being nourished and nourishing others. The central story is about the long teaching Jesus did one day. It ran on into the evening and his listeners still had not had anything to eat. Jesus disciples reminded him of the situation. His response: “You give them some food to eat.” Of course, as the story proceeds, the disciples protested that they had only a few loaves and some fish. Jesus blessed and said, “Now, pass those around.” Of course, we already know the ending; we’ve read it before. There was more than enough to go around. “Now pick up the remains,” Jesus said. “Nothing must go to waste.” Fabulous story just filled with ideas for our time, place, culture and conditions.

Back to my original thought: There seems to be no end to the enlightenment to be found in the scriptures.

So, how does this passage about the bread, fish and three thousand people fit our time and place today?

The question is this: Is there enough food to go around in the age in which we live?

I found some truly amazing insights on a web-sight titled: www. stop the hunger.com. The folks at this site bring statistics into real time. For instance, on an ordinary (of course no day is ordinary) over 13,000 people will die of hunger. On one particular day, the researchers determined that 1,021,795,769 people were undernourished, while 1,146,175,278 are overweight and 341,133,043 are obese. In the United States alone millions of dollars are spent on obesity-related diseases, more is spent on weight loss products and programs. Some pretty serious figures in a world where everyone could be fed with the help, good will and cooperation of all nations.

Okay, I realize that such figures may not belong in a homily, strictly so-called. Nonetheless, the scriptures are also about real life and homilies ought also be about the realities of current life.

Passing on to a less frightening thought. The scripture about feeding the 5,000 can also find some relevance in other, different sorts of feeding. We all realize that we personally cannot make a serious dent in those numbers. It is true, nonetheless, that there are ways in abundance that we can feed one another. We all live together in couples, families, groups, friends. Even a superficial glance will tell us that many people of our acquaintance are mentally, spiritually, emotionally hungry. Yes, perhaps we individually are hungry for a kind glance, a smile, a hug, or a gentle word. True, we must live on food, but there is food and there is food. Was it Paul who said that man (sic) lives on more than food but on every word that flows from the mouth of God.

So, we are back to food once again and the question arises, what do you hunger for, what food do you have that you would be willing to share with others so that all may live? “We can’t do everything,” but, with a push from God, we’d better do something for someone beside ourselves.

I close with a powerful line from Paul: “The Word of God is like two edged sword, cutting deep between flesh and marrow.” In other words there is a deepness in God’s Word that cannot be measured or even countenanced.

Yes, there will be enough food for another homily next week, God willing.

Genesis 14: 18-20; 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26; Luke 9: 11b-17

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:30 PM.

May 25, 2010

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity [May 30, 2010]

Trinity as Experience

Some while ago I happened to be thinking about my theological history. Actually, it is not as pretentious as the title may sound but I, like most people, have absorbed an immense amount of religious knowledge in our lifetimes. It all started when my mother (it was always my mother) taught me the Sign of the Cross, then the Our Father, the Hail Mary, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, the Apostles Creed, the acts of faith hope, charity and contrition. Now, that’s a hunk of theology right there.

Then came the Baltimore Catechism by Cardinal Gasparri that I grew to hate. More religion in high school taught by our pastor John Hogan of fond remembrance

Oddly, there was a significant gap in my religious history during my novitiate year in the Congregation of Holy Cross and indeed during the four years of philosophy.

But then came the four-year study of theology, the queen of the sciences. After ordination I was pretty much on my own, but as I reflect on it, my sense of theology began to grow more deeply and broadly than in my four years of formal training. This was so because now I had the opportunity to choose the kind of theology that fit my desires, not abstract Thomism, but what I call experiential theology, discovering God in all that surrounded me each day.

Unfortunately, no one ever taught me that this was important during my days in class. Once I had memorized a batch of material for an exam, I would forget it. Experiential theology, however, continues day after because I am bombarded by the God experience practically all the time. Fortunately, at some point I came to the sense that all I needed to do was open my eyes, mind and soul to the sacred and that is when theology began to blossom for me.

Unfortunately, many people “put theology and religion away” when they finish their preparation for the Sacrament of Confirmation, whereas that is exactly the point in life when the experience of God should come alive. All this comes to mind in preparation for the great feast of the Trinity, the celebration of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

In order to come to some understanding of how the study of God came about we must begin with the Hebrew Scriptures, which we may describe as mainly existential or experiential, as opposed to abstract speculation. The God of Israel was perceived of as a God of the book, the Torah, a God who spoke personally to certain individuals, the prophets, for instance. Their God was one to be trusted to keep promises, to punish, but also to reward for behavior good or bad. In short, the God of Israel was a personal God.

The God of the Christians, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ was also perceived as one who loved and punished, warned and rewarded. The God of Jesus was called Father, creator, the right arm of justice, the rock of salvation, et cetera. In short, the God of Jesus could be recognized in the words and actions of Jesus himself.

Hebrew and early Christian theology, depended mainly on human experience rather than the human skills of logic and rational proofs.

Jesus’ last words to his apostles were the promise of the Holy Spirit who would remind them of everything he had told them.

In short, the God of Jews and Christians is One who comes close to his people. This God can be known in all that is good, true and beautiful in the world. In a sense, the God of Jews and Christians can be intuited or personally experienced; this God need not be proven logically because this God has already demonstrated his presence in signs for all to see and hear. This God shows his presence in all the human signs that spell out goodness, justice, love, compassion and heart felt mercy.

In some sense then God is all about us, ready for the hearing and seeing.

Given all we have said thus far, therefore, it must be said that the Christian’s catechism is always open not to theories or propositions but to all things in this world that betoken a God who is ever present to those whose hearts are open to the mystery of creation itself. We are called to be forever-learners until we shall see our God face to face.

The scriptures: Proverbs 8: 22-31; Romans 5: 1-5; John 16: 12-25

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:15 PM.

February 10, 2010

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 14, 2010]

I am still amused when I reflect on my first year in college at the University of Notre Dame back in the early fifties of another century. I was exposed to courses I never knew existed: Latin, philosophy, logic, public speaking and many others. Here I am a young fellow from the farm along with some military experience but hardly a liberal scholar. So with that I began the process of being liberated from my youthful ignorance.

With utter amazement then I can remember the first piece of homework given in our fundamental philosophy course: “What is Happiness?” I could not even imagine anyone having the time to dwell on such an obvious issue. Is this what philosopher’s do for a living, I asked myself? Anyone with an ounce of brains can tell you what happiness is: it means having a car, money in your pocket, being able to go where you wish, having a girl friend and on and on.

Well, obviously, the professor did not consider these answers worthy of a grade. He wrote on the margin of the answer sheet: “Let me speak with you after class.”

That was the beginning of my great enlightening. Happiness, I learned, had little to do with money in the pocket or a car to drive wherever you wished. This was a philosophy class, after all. This was a class where one asked philosophical questions, deep, reflective questions about life itself and its meaning.

Later, in a conversation with the professor I discovered that happiness was indeed one of the most important questions people from ancient times had asked. The answer to that question would guide a person in all his activities throughout his/her lifetime. Philosophers such as Aristotle, Plato, Socrates had plumbed that word to its roots with their young adult students and written treatises upon it.

It is not unlikely, therefore, that Jesus of Nazareth himself should have commented upon the question. He may not have considered himself a philosopher as such in the tradition of the Greeks, but as we know from our reading of the gospels he was indeed a wise person and often debated with the scribes over many of life’s issues.

It is with the issue of happiness before us in today’s gospel that we discover Jesus’ deep and surprising insight into some of life’s problems and their solutions.

In this selection of the gospel he is speaking to a large crowd of folks along with some of his own loyal supporters. They are all of peasant stock, local folks who might be considered among the poor of the land, tenant farmers, local artisans and others. In all matters of daily life their Roman occupiers dominated them. Given this social background, therefore, one would hardly consider them satisfied with life. They were not universally a “happy people” in our sense of that word today.

And yet, in this discourse before us we hear Jesus calling them happy despite that fact that they were poor, hated, insulted, denounced, unnoticed indeed, the bottom rung of humanity in the minds of many. Surely this must have left many of his listeners stunned to the core…that is, until he follows this surprise with another: The rich of the world may think that they are the happiest people in the world: no worry about money, food, security and all the rest. Indeed, they should feel aggrieved because all these “riches” will not last forever; in the world to come they shall truly be on the “bottom rung of human society.

Jesus is simply making a searing critique on the divisions in human society. He is saying that human advantages do not make for happiness; indeed, they distract us from those matters in life that bring peace of mind and soul, wholeness, contentment, satisfaction simply being alive and the recipient of God’s goodness.

At the same time, the discourse on happiness is a scathing condemnation of the lifestyle of the rich and self-contented. Their happiness, based on wealth, will not last. A day will come when all these short-lived treasures will be taken from them in death.

Ultimately, the discourse of Jesus on the state of riches and poverty is a critique upon the satisfied of the world, on those who wrongfully imagine that this is all there is to life…nothing more. In simpler terms Jesus is insisting that the poor already know what true happiness consists of, that is, knowing one’s place in God’s good universe and “jumping for joy” over it. (Jesus own words).

Have circumstances regarding poverty and riches changed in our age. Sadly, I think not. Many still feel deprived unless they have the best the secular world has to offer. Unfortunately they have not yet, with all their wealth, found true happiness, but they do not yet know that to be true.

What then can make us and keep us happy in the true philosophical sense? I can only describe it in a list of words. If you are thankful for what you have, contented in simply being a human person, free and carefree, untied to an agenda, open to the world around you, forgiving of your neighbor, in peace with whatever happens, consider yourself a happy person. “Jump for joy” because you have already inherited God’s kingdom.

At my age, I probably won’t do much “jumping” but I can imagine what it must feel like.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 17: 5-8; 1 Corinthians 15: 12, 16-20; Luke 6: 17, 20-26

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:17 AM.

February 02, 2010

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time [February 7, 2010]

Think a little with me, my friends, about one of life’s deep mysteries at least a mystery for me. It is a question that many of us who are a little older often think about. How is it that we have become who we are? What series of happenings brought me to this point in my history that I can clearly understand my identity? Why have I chosen this career and not another, this way of living that is unique to me and to none other? Contrary to the stories that are told in the reading from the prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of St. Luke today, our decision to follow our way of life did not happen at one spectacular moment in our history; there was no overwhelming vision that steered us in this way rather than another.
My sense of it is that there have probably been a whole series of events that have happened, and not just ordinary, garden-variety occurrences. No, rather there were small epiphanies, momentary flashes of enlightenment that we cannot explain except that they came from God.

Let me offer you a couple examples: Several years ago one of my best friends, a mountain climber, lost his hold on a rock outcropping on Little Bear peak in Colorado and fell over a thousand feet to his death. I think I grew up at that moment and suddenly realized that so few things in life are under our control, we are fragile creatures. Death comes upon us unawares. But it was a sacred moment for me. There was a mystery in it all.

On another occasion I was called to a hospital emergency room to be with a mother whose young college-age daughter had just committed suicide. I could only think: Human life is tenuous; who knows what is occurring in the mind of a person that they will take their own life like this?

Finally, I was once called to a hospital to calm a young man and his wife whose first child had just died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. (SIDS) The man was so overwhelmed with grief that he literally put his fist through a wall.

I remember asking myself whether the hand of God was part of these tragedies. I thought to myself: Even God must be weeping in these moments of life.

My point in all this is to say that I came to grips with my life during those moments. I would take nothing in life for granted hereafter

There are, of course, many, many events that are also unexplainably beautiful: There is transcendence in the birth of a child; there is something of God in the first words a child speaks, the first step it takes. They come close to being divine occurrences. We grow up in those moments; we see life in some deeper fashion.

Having considered all that, we have two events in our Sunday scriptures for today that were interpreted as beyond the human: The first happened to Isaiah at a moment when felt the call to be a prophet. He is in the Jerusalem temple; God appears to him in the midst of angelic creatures; the building shakes; the odor of incense is overwhelming. Then he hears the voice of the Lord God saying: “Who will go for us? Whom shall we send?” His immediate response is: “Here I am, send me.”

I interpret this event as a unique vocation that happened at a moment’s notice. It is quite unlike most vocations, however, that come about as a result of many sacred moments in life.

The second vocation event happens to three of Jesus’ followers, all who make their living as fishermen. Their skill and luck, however, are running against them. Jesus takes matters in hand and suddenly their boats are overflowing with fish. The three can only describe this as a divine event that led to their decision to follow Jesus. Of course, we know the rest of the story from history: Peter James and John became the first leaders of the Church.

The point of these stories is to say that a vocation rises up out of ordinary human events that we, in turn, interpret as divine occasions, the work of God in human form. True, some events may seem tragic, as we have just described. But even the tragic events in human life speak of God.

I think there is no one answer to my opening question: How did I come to this point in my life? It is rather a whole series of events that happened rather haphazardly in life. Our task is one of interpretation, of imagination. God is ultimately discovered in the details, the unexplainable, the beautiful, the overwhelming, The awesome and yes, even in the tragic. Strange, isn’t it, how we end up being who we are, doing what we do? For some, perhaps the lucky few, it comes in a flash of insight. But for the rest of us…well it may be a lifetime and perhaps that’s not so bad, you know?

The scriptures: Isaiah 6: 1-2a, 3-8; 1 Corinthians 15: 1-11; Luke 5: 1-11

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:51 PM.

January 26, 2010

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time [January 31, 2010]

Consider, my friends the following scenario: Let us say that a young Catholic man decides to go off to the seminary. He has been an exemplary student, amicable in character, well liked by all.

So, he heads off to the seminary. Eight years later he returns to the home parish for his first Mass. All the eyes in the church are upon him expecting a pleasant word from the successful hometown boy. He steps to the ambo to speak: His first words are: “Folks, this is the lousiest parish in the entire diocese. The Christian spirit is completely lacking in this community. I hope that the bishop assigns me to this parish for my first appointment; believe me, I’ll clean up this community like you have never seen it cleaned before.”

Well, given that bit of excess hubris and arrogance, the people in the pews are astonished. They start walking out by the pew-full. After Mass some of the more critical individuals even stand on the porch step and boo him as he comes out. Obviously, this guy is not starting out in the most favorable of conditions. Of course, it is all fiction. I could not imagine it happening in real life.

But it has happened in our church at certain points in history. Even popes and bishops who were well liked in their early tenure became intensely disliked later on because of the overbearing manner in which they chose to govern the church.

I realize that there are certain questionable comparisons in this story, but the scene resembles that described in the two readings for this Sunday’s liturgy. It is about prophetic speaking and working.

From the book of the prophet Jeremiah, the first reading we hear, the author is speaking about his call to prophecy and the anguish it will cause him. In contemporary language, the text says: “I God have formed you to take on the powers that are in place. I will make you a pillar of iron, a wall of brass. Do not worry, however. I stand beside you; kings and priests will not prevail against you. Put on your armor and go do battle with them.

That was Jeremiah’s charge: Take ‘em on, Jeremiah; clean up this unholy scene. That is exactly what Jeremiah did, and he took the heat along with it.

The scene in the gospel follows the same pattern: Jesus comes home from “seminary.” Filled with all this new knowledge, he is asked to read the scriptures and preach. Much to the great satisfaction of the synagogue attendees, Jesus chooses a soft passage from Isaiah the prophet and applies it to himself: He proclaims his role as a preacher of good news, advocacy for the poor and the oppressed. The audience was impressed. “Go get ‘em,” they say.

But then comes the surprise: “Get this folks, I’m not doing any of this good work among you folks; you are not worthy of God’s gracious words. I’m going on to other towns!

Ah, the anger that arose at that point. Here is a local young man, fresh from seminary, telling these people that they are not worthy of his prophetic preaching.

They kick him out of their town, threaten him with brute force. So much for the brave work of prophets.

It is important to notice, however, that these two scenes are not time limited. They are models of human reaction that could occur in any community when a prophetic speaker comes into their midst and preaches hard words.

Unfortunately, I believe that there are few people today, whether in secular of religious communities who pay much attention to prophets. Often they are considered as odd, or as crackpots or as people who always have an issue to settle. In short, they are considered bothersome people.

In this regard, I think of former Vice President, Al Gore who was one of the first to speak for greater control over climate change. He was mocked and is still considered something of an extremist in the scientific community. Any critique of a present condition that will make people uncomfortable is bad news.

All this may sound rather esoteric to most folks. Rarely do we consider it our business to speak out in public about a serious issue, which affects the community at large. Who wants the heat? Who wants to be bothered? After all, there are people elected to deal with such issues

The late Senator Thomas (Tip) O’Neill said it best: “All politics is local.” How true this is: Most issues that affect the common citizenry are local. The Supreme Court is not needed as judge in ordinary issues between on person and another.

The question, then, arises: Do prophets like Jeremiah, Isaiah, Jesus or even contemporary local prophetic types need to be considered rare? My ideal instinct tells me no, but reality speaks otherwise.

All that prophetic speech, therefore, leaves us not only with a question, but also with a charge. Who has the wisdom and insight to see the questions that will affect our futures? I hope it is not “the other person.”

The scriptures: Jeremiah 1: 4-5, 17-19; 1 Corinthians 12: 31-13-13;
Luke 4: 21-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 03:24 PM.

January 21, 2010

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time [January 24, 2009]

There is something fascinating about having the opportunity to listen to a really good speaker, someone who can truly hold your attention and make you wish that you had the same skill at the podium.

In the successive ages of history when public orators were rare but polished at their trade, even commoners would gather in courtyards to hear them and be mesmerized by the smoothness of their art.

In the Romano-Greek age of history, for instance, scholars like Aristotle, Demosthenes, Cicero and even Paul of Tarsus were recognized as classical speakers. The fact that we have the records of their rhetoric still in existence today gives you some insight into the importance of these speakers.

Later in history we find Martin Luther and John Calvin fascinating the crowds and changing history. Later still such people as Susan B Anthony, Woodrow Wilson and Winston Churchill come to mind. Of course, who can forget the great Roosevelt’s: Teddy and Franklin, the presidential speakers.

So what about contemporary religious orators? Every Catholic will remember watching Msgr. Fulton Sheen on television (Uncle Fultie) as we called him. He was the great “Communist fighter” of his time. He also made the most of the scarlet cape that he would whip back as he entered the stage. Hiss speeches can still be found in libraries.

My pick for the greatest American religious orator of our time, of course, goes to the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Not a man woman or Child can forget the famous “I have a dream” speech at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. Here truly was a speaker who moved a nation.

With all that now said, let us take a brief look at two biblical orators referred to in the scriptures for this Sunday: Ezra, the scribe and Jesus the orator.

Let us say, for instance, that you had drifted from the church long ago and had not seen a catechism from your childhood. Then one day you discovered one in a used bookstore. You began to read it and suddenly fond memories of your catechism days returned. Perhaps tears came to your eyes.

That is the situation we find in the selection from the Jewish Testament of Nehemiah. The Jewish people had just recently returned from Babylonian exile. A sacred scroll was found buried in the rubble of the ruined temple. Ezra, the scribe, called together the entire Jewish congregation and read from the scroll beginning at daybreak and ending at noon. The text says that all the people wept and blessed the great God in thanks for being able to hear The Word once again. Ah, the power of the Word and words!

The gospel text tells of an incident in Jesus’ life that turned out to be prophetic. He returns one Saturday to his home synagogue in Nazareth. Seemingly his skill as a religious orator had preceded him. He is asked to stand, take the scroll and read. He chooses a passage from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah: It read, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor…” He replaces the scroll in its cupboard, sits down and says: “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, Jesus is saying: “I am about to make Isaiah’s prediction my own. I am going to fulfill what Isaiah foretold. I will bring good news he poor, the downtrodden, the dispossessed.” Everyone in the synagogue was astonished at his claim. Nonetheless, this is exactly what Jesus began to do: He preached good news and did marvelous signs of healing throughout his short career. Interestingly, we are still listening to those captivating words and signs each Sunday throughout the year.

Finally, whether we consider ourselves great orators or not, we all say words every day, some good, some not so good. They are simply a chain of syllables that we form with our lips. In themselves they have little meaning. But in the way they are used they can either do tremendous good or terrible evil. It is up to us to decide. We could follow the steps of MLK and bring justice to others or we could simply keep our mouth shut up and do nothing. It’s our choice to decide.

The lesson we draw from these scriptures, therefore, is that words have astonishing power for good or evil. We can change the little world around us for the good, or we can sit around and gripe that nothing good is happening.

Our words have an effect on others whether we know it o not. So, let those words always be good and constructive, loving and hopeful. The world will thank you for it.

The scriptures: Nehemiah 8: 2-4, 5-6, 8-10: 1 Corinthian 12: 12-30;
Luke 1: 1-4, 4: 14-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:40 AM.

January 13, 2010

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time [January 17, 2009]

Contrary to what many people may think about the daily life of priests, it is really not such a bad life. Priests, like anyone else, of course, have their down days, but they also have their individual interests, hobbies, travel, sports; they usually get a day away from the madness of the parish office or the classroom. We all need to get away from the daily grind occasionally.

One of the pleasant features about being a priest or minister is that you have the opportunity to take part in the celebrations of others: weddings, baptisms, anniversaries, family gatherings.

Personally, the celebrations I like best are weddings. One will usually find people at their humanly best on such occasions. Watch how they dress, for instance. It will be fancy, fancy. How comfortable they feel in a gown or in an ill fitting tuxedo is questionable, but they will wear them, not to show off, but rather to let the bride and groom know that this affair is special for them. Of course, by the end of the reception some may look a little bedraggled, clothes wrinkled, eyes a bit drowsy from the fine food and drink, but, all in all everyone has a good time. It’s a celebration

I am sure that it will not be news to most people who have heard the gospels read in church Sunday after Sunday that often they tell about ordinary things that happen in life. The life portrayed in the gospels was not so different than it is today. But we need to remember when reading the gospels that a story, which seems so ordinary will often have a deeper meaning, something we need to think about before it becomes clear what this story is trying to convey to us, what the author had in mind. It’s called analogy. Jesus often used analogies to convey a lesson. He would say, for instance: “The kingdom of God can be compared to a farmer or a vintner or a rich man who gave a banquet for his son. Immediately, of course, you will know that the story is not about a farmer or a vintner or a rich man. It is about something with a deeper meaning and importance. It is the task of the reader or listener to figure out what that. means So, with all that, you may have noticed the theme of marriage or a wedding banquet running through the readings for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Isaiah the prophet and poet in the first reading is attempting to console the Israelite exiles. In so many words he writes: Some day you will return to your homeland because your God has made you his bride; you are his espoused; you will wear a diadem of gold and diamonds.

Of course, we know that God does not marry anyone. This is an example of an analogy of something precious. Generally, in those times, an entire village might attend weddings whether invited or not. In this instance there was such a crowd that the wine that was supplied by the groom ran out. Then, you see, we have this interesting little conversation between Jesus and his mother. Let me paraphrase it: Mary: “Son, did you notice that the wine is getting low?” Jesus replies: “Hey, mother what business is that of mine?” Mary tells the waiters: “Do whatever he tells you.” And what does he do? He changes 180 gallons of wash water into the best tasting wine you could find.

End of story? Well, not quite. We need to get back to the notion of analogy. Again, as before, the new wine is of supreme taste, not something off someone’s traveling cart. Not only that but the amount of wine is overwhelming: 180 gallons. Extravagance in the extreme!

Now, however this event took place, the early Christians remembered it in some form and passed it down for future ages. They remembered it because it was a sign to them of God’s gracious and abundant goodness. Life in God’s kingdom is like the most glorious feast you can imagine. God wishes only the best for his people, especially those who are poor, destitute, living in depressing conditions. So, this is a good news story for people who could expect little out of life.

Ultimately, it is not very important how this event took place, how much wine was produced. What is important is to realize that God provides abundantly for his people. God’s love is overwhelming,

The final point, of course, is this: God does not change water into wine at every wedding or any wedding. It is simply a story of God’s goodness, God’s will for us. God leaves the “miracle-working” up to us. It is our responsibility to bring some semblance of abundance to the little world we live in: Food, water, housing, medical care and the rest. The fact is that we can do “miracles” if we wish. On the day I wrote this hundreds of delegates are meeting in Copenhagen Denmark to determine how the world’s nations can clean up the universe for a future generation. If they are successful, it may well be a miracle.

None of us are at that meeting, of course, but in many, many different ways we can help to keep our earthly home livable.

Finally, we must say that gospel stories are not simply cute little anecdotes in which everything always works out for the best. They are stories with theological lessons: The lesson is this: Do something so good that it will seem like a miracle to others. Let the vintners take care of multiplying wine.

The scriptures: Isaiah 62: 1-5; 1 Corinthians 12: 4-11; John 2: 1-11

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 02:25 PM.

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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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 Cindy Lentine 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.

Back to the Good Samaritan story: The most intriguing part of the story is the ending. Jesus makes it all the more embarrassing to listen to it because he wants to make sure that the scribe knows that it was an "ordinary" lay person who probably did not know much about the Law, but ultimately had more compassion on the injured man than both "religious types." That must have been tough to swallow.

So, is this simply a story wherein Jesus takes a few "cracks" at "ecclesiastics", "religious types?" No, rather I would think that it is a story meant for all so-called religious people who feel that they are already fulfilling their duty to God by keeping the law. Alas, sometimes keeping the Law can get a bit messy, but that shouldn't excuse us. The word neighbor is never to be considered a mere abstraction inscribed on stone or printed in a catechism. In the end, the lesson in the story is that there is only one law, the law of human nature, the neighbor, especially the suffering neighbor. From that neighbor we simply cannot turn a blind eye.

The scriptures: Deuteronomy 30: 10-14, Colossians 1:15-20, Luke 10:25-37

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:56 PM.

July 07, 2007

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Life As Travel

It has often occurred to me that so much of what we take for granted throughout our life has to do with two things: Travel and communication. It might be said that all of us, whether we have adequate transportation or not, we have a longing to travel, even if it is merely from our home to the local park or even the grocery store. Often we feel that a typical day has not been very productive unless we have "gone" somewhere and done something. Perhaps this longing has been built into our deepest soul over the millennia: We are never quite satisfied with the place or situation where we are. Our intelligence, our longing for the yet unfulfilled, the unimagined always seems to carry us further and further out there somewhere. Perhaps when we arrive there, we will find our cherished goal fulfilled. We are seekers by nature and the point is that we cannot always find what we are searching for in the place or situation where we presently are. Therefore, we have the need to travel.

The discoveries in science, for instance, the longing for education, for exploration over the centuries, all have had to do in some way with travel, the travel of the mind, indeed, the travel of the heart.

In that regard, our longing for heaven, or, if you will, our longing for eternal life, in whatever way we understand that, has something to do with travel. We travel from this world to the eternal kingdom. I think we have the feeling that we were not meant to live here as dwellers on this earth forever but rather that there is an eternal home for us where we will finally be happy, fulfilled, at home. St. Augustine made that point once in a sermon: "Our hearts were meant for thee, 0 God, and restless will they be until they rest in thee." I think that means that everything we long for during our life somehow has a spiritual dimension, even it is something like searching for a new job or a change in scenery, a vacation, a search for a mate in life. All of these have something to do with ultimate reality, although we may interpret "ultimate" in different ways.

The second element in our human nature that seems to be so prominent is our need to communicate. We go somewhere in order to be in touch with someone or many.

We have something to share, something that is important to us and we want someone to hear it. Perhaps we also want to hear the response of this other person in order to validate our hunch about something in life. Dialogue is very important to us. We build up our sense of life in this world by communicating with someone or with many.

I think this must also have been important to Jesus because, as we find in the gospel for this 14th Sunday in the Church calendar, he was constantly on the road during his adult life preaching what he called the Kingdom of God or Heaven's Reign. I think we could even say that this was the very core of Jesus' life, his desire to travel far and wide to spread the word about this Kingdom in which he believed so earnestly. You will notice, of course, that he felt the need to travel in order to do this. He felt that as many people as possible in his small world needed to hear about this. St. Paul too was another missionary who felt the same way about spreading the news of Heaven's Reign, although he covered many more miles in doing it than Jesus did.

It is interesting to think of Jesus as the first great communicator. (It was not Ronald Regan!) You will notice in today's Gospel that he felt he could not handle the task alone. Therefore he hires on 72 people without pay, lay people, lay couples and sends them out two-by-two to do exactly what he was doing, two things: travel and communication

There is one thing I find interesting in the story about sending people out to preach. First, they had no training or experience, which did not seem to bother Jesus. Perhaps he felt it would be a fairly simple matter. No need for theology! Just talk to others about God as you personally know God.

Secondly, Jesus insisted that these couples should not be encumbered by distractions, worldly or otherwise. "Just go as you are. Forget about a change of clothing or money to buy things. If you have a message and people feel it is a good and beneficial message, they will take care of you. Most important of all, just wish them Shalom."

That must seem like a rather simplistic way to preach something as important as the Kingdom of God, but it seemed to work because the couples came back with, some interesting stories about the success of their travels

When one compares this simple missionary journey style preaching with the way it is done today, one begins to wonder whether we are actually doing any better at it even with all the modes of travel and sources of technology we have available to us: Here we are, preaching from the pulpit to five hundred or a thousand people at one time, using the Internet, radio, television, et cetera. Is all that more effective than the personal message we may have to share with someone?

In this regard, I often think about the Mormon missionaries in their black suits and badges walking around the local neighborhood, talking to anyone who will listen. Although I am no great admirer of their theology, their efforts seem sincere.

So, what should all this mean to us, as we gather here on a typical Sunday, listening to another message about God's Kingdom? We are hearing it from a preacher, obviously, a priest, deacon or lay minister, one person communicating with, say, a hundred people in the assembly. If, however, the message about the Kingdom goes no further than the minds of the gathered assembly, I wonder if it has been very effective? Remember, Jesus "sent them out two-by-two." (Husband and wife?)

It would seem to me that if the message is worth hearing, it is worth being spread, two-by-two or any other way available. If, by our baptism, we think of ourselves as followers of Jesus then perhaps we ought to also think of ourselves as those who are responsible to make sure that his message about the Kingdom gets spread far and wide. How else will it happen unless we do it?

So, here we are back to travel and communication, places to go and things to say. Isn't it interesting to notice that Jesus seemed to depend on lay folks like you to get the word out? Given all that, perhaps I should take a vacation. I think you could handle it.

The scriptures: Isaiah 66: 10-14, Galatians 6: 14-18, Luke 10: 1-12, 17-20

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:48 PM.

June 30, 2007

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Shouldering the Load

On occasion I hear young or middle-aged folks complain that they missed out on some of the quaint practices of the Church before the Second Vatican Council. They will ask me, "What was this or that custom all about? Why did they do that? I find it interesting that they want to hear about those practices because at the time they really did not mean much to us. It was simply the way Catholics did things.

There is a humorous little pre-Vatican II anecdote that has floated around for years about one such custom. It concerned what we knew in those days as the Humeral Veil. The humeral veil is something like a shawl, although heavily embroidered; it is wrapped around the priest's shoulders and used when he carries the Blessed Sacrament in procession, or blesses the people with the sacrament. There is a moment in a service called Benediction when the priest kneels and the altar server drapes this veil from behind over both shoulders of the priest. On one occasion a server who was just a little guy and new at all this, forgot that the priest would kneel. So, he tried to reach up, and failing that, he took a boy's solution. He flung the veil through the air several times until it finally came to rest over the priest's head and he lost his glasses in the process. We're not told how it all turned out, but I suspect the priest simply took over and rearranged the veil the way it was meant to be worn. I hope the little kid did not lose his job over all that. He meant well and nobody explained how he should do all this.

So, the point is, we all need a sense of humor, but this story is also about prophets and we also need prophets.

The first reading for the liturgy of this Sunday is about prophets and about the cloak or the mantle draped by Elijah over the shoulders of the younger man, Elisha, as a symbol of transferring his vocation. The gospel is also about prophets because all the followers of Jesus have a prophetic vocation.

The question, of course, is what does all this mean? Well, if one consults a biblical dictionary, we find a one-sentence description: "A prophet is a person who serves as a channel of communication between the human and divine worlds."

Prophets, therefore, are people who have one foot on earth and the other in heaven, or rather that they are concerned with both worlds and about how they are connected. But ultimately, prophets are flesh and blood people, which means, of course, that also suffer occasion for their vocation and work.

So, who are these men and women of our day who have taken the prophetic shawl on their shoulders? First, let me say that prophets are not fortunetellers nor are they doom and gloom predictors. They are simply human beings who see life a little differently that most other folks, folks who seem to see deeply into the human condition and have the courage to speak out about it. They would naturally be concerned, then, about issues of justice and peace, about terrorism, about violence, about human communication.

Let me offer two very different examples of prophets: I can remember, for instance, in college reading two books by the French author Albert Camus: One, The Plague, the other, The Stranger. They were both concerned about the problem of evil in the world and what we should do about it. Camus was neither a Catholic nor even a Christian, but he had a deep sense that there was something wrong in the world that needed to be righted. So, Camus, to my mind, was a prophet, perhaps without realizing it.

I think too of a modern day prophet His name is Samuel Ruiz and before his retirement some years ago he was the bishop of Chiapas in southern Mexico, a diocese that covers 137,000 square miles and contains 1.5 million people. He has only 55 priests and some 100 native peasants who are permanent deacons. There are also some 7000 catechists. The people are poor: They make a living growing corn, beans, coffee, fruit and graze some cattle in the dry hill country. They are a peaceful people and desire nothing more than to be left to care for their families.

But the Mexican authorities have been at war with Samuel Ruiz and with the peasants there in Chiapas. Mexican soldiers have killed hundreds of peasants. Ruiz himself has been threatened with his life. His aged sister was accosted and beaten up by soldiers.

But throughout all this Bishop Ruiz has defended his people against state violence at the risk of his life. The people of Chiapas think of him as a saint (and he's not even dead yet!) They don't call him a prophet, but that is what he is. He defends his people against violence and terror, all without guns or bombs. But he would be embarrassed to be called a prophet. "I am simply living and working with my people," he says. "That's what a pastor does."

So, we are back to the mantle of responsibility, the mantle of prophecy we talked about earlier. Whether we like to believe it or not, we are all prophets by our baptism. Whether we like it or not, we are all expected to speak for God and witness to our faith, whether in the marketplace, in the world, in school and factory and office, at the mall on Wall Street or in the halls of government. Remember what a prophet does: He or she communicates between the human and the divine worlds. For each of us that will be done in unique ways. We all live different lives and are "mantled" with different responsibilities. But one thing for sure: Christ flings the mantle of Christian responsibility across all our shoulders. How we wear it makes all the difference.

The scriptures: 1 Kings 19: 16, 19-21, Galatians 5: 1, 13-18, Luke 9: 51-62

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:39 PM.

June 23, 2007

The Birth of John the Baptist - Bothersome People

Of all the major personalities in the Sacred Scriptures that have fascinated me throughout the years (besides Jesus, of course), one stands out as a cultural icon and a religious misfit! John the Baptist!

The first question that may pass our mind is to ask, "Is this all he ever did? Was baptism his main calling? After all, he was not called, "John the Preacher," or John the Miracle Worker. He was a baptizer, period."

Every Advent season he appears in our Catholic liturgical calendar and, of course, we remember him not only for his baptizing, but also for what he wore and what he ate, namely, camel's hair and dried insects! That will tell you immediately that this was one tough guy!

Not only that, we remember him because he went around insulting at least some so-called upper-class people who imagined that they were religiously upright, telling them that they were a bunch of snakes hypocrites. Now, that takes a little "brass." I don't think I would have the "bad sense" to call my religious superiors "snakes," for whatever reason.

Nonetheless, John (which, of course, was his true first name) is better remembered for his title, "baptizer," because that, in part, is what he did, if not for a living, at least for a cause.

It should be pointed out, of course, that it was not simply a matter of pouring water or immersing some people in the Jordan River that John did. It was his message of repentance that accompanied the baptism that was his main cause. The baptism was only an external symbol of an interior disposition he was calling for.

However, some questions arise about the reasons why John decided to take on this rather peculiar life-style. What went wrong in his young adult life that made him so angry? He was, after all, the son of pious parents: His father, Zechariah was a priest at the temple. His mother was a devout Jewish woman. Even his birth was in some manner miraculous: His parents were advanced in age when he was conceived, say the gospels. What then could have made John so antisocial, so antireligious? Were his parents negligent in his upbringing?

I have no particular insight in all of this, of course, other than to say that he is an example of a justly angry man, indeed, so angry at society at large, religious and secular, that he was willing to risk losing his head over it, which, of course, he did!

What we are dealing with here, therefore, is an iconic prophet, a man who was not willing to admit that all manner of things in the world were going fine. On the contrary, to his mind, life was short and there was only so much time to put things back in order. In other words, he was an utterly serious person and not simply a "crank." He saw something wrong in the lives of the Jewish community that no one else seemed to be aware of and he was willing to talk about it.

Thus, we have the opportunity on this hot June Sunday to celebrate his birth in our liturgy and to think a little about prophets in general. We might like to believe that prophecy is not as frequent today as it was in biblical times. Nonetheless, prophets are present among us and there are still issues that they call forth for us to think about.

My sense is that prophets are important to every age of human society. A society without thinkers and critics is a society that is prone to propose simplistic answers to complicated questions. It is appropriate, therefore, that some individual or individuals should arise to call our attention to the misbegotten issues of our times.

Most of us, of course, might prefer to "live and let live." If something does not seem broken, why fix it?

The prophetic person, on the other hand, has the sense that some things in the world are, indeed, broken. There are always issues in the world that need fixing. It is the prophet who has the insight to call these to our attention. There are " broken issues" that affect us all, particularly the causes of the poor and the vulnerable of our society, those without advocacy. Prophets, therefore, are the ones who have the "brassiness" to speak out even before the rest of the community even sees the "broken issues" that affect us.

There is one characteristic that prophets also commonly seem to have: They think globally. They are cosmic thinkers. The entire human community is their concern.

So, under that definition, whom could we describe as prophets today? Realizing that there might be varying political sides on the following issues, I offer them, nonetheless, as worthy of prophetic consideration.

Scientists, for instance, who have been warning us for years of the dangers of global warming are, to my mind, prophets. It is only becoming clearer to us now, however, what destruction lies ahead of us unless we do something fast.

Scientists who warned the world. years ago about the AIDS epidemic that was sure to grow into a global problem are only now being considered as wise people who had the courage to speak out.

Pope John. Paul II warned the world about the danger of the U.S. invasion of Iraq. As we see now, he was a true prophet.

The bishops of the United States also spoke of the immorality of a preemptive military strike in Iraq. Given the chaos that has ensued in that country, they could well be considered prophets today.

So, there are issues that need critical attention, not simply by certain prophetic individuals, but by all of us. Perhaps the problem with the bulk of society is that we do not have the courage to speak out against problems that we know exist. Our sense is that our outcry may cause too much controversy. So, we would often rather let things go and solve themselves; not always a wise or helpful answer.

We may well be better off, therefore, for having prophetic folks among us. Although 1 admit that I myself do not always have the "prophetic stomach" for public criticism, I am happy to know that there are a few "crabby" individuals out there who are willing to disturb my peace and upbraid my lethargic conscience. I draw the line, however, at wearing camel's hair jackets and eating dried insects!

The scriptures: Isaiah 49:1-6, Acts 13:22-26, Luke 1:57-66,80

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 12:26 PM.

June 16, 2007

11th Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Feminine Aspect of Ministry

I imagine most of us who go back a ways in our Catholic history and memories can recall visiting an "old time" parish rectory and being met at the door by the "housekeeper." Whether they were featured in Catholic films or novels of those days or simply remain in the recollection of ordinary Catholics, they always seem to be presented as the typical "hard-nosed" and officious combination of cook, executive secretary, director of traffic and general designate for the smooth working of the parish. It was generally understood that no one reached the monsignor's office unless she gave the "green light."

Those were the days, of course, when the business of the parish was conducted from a rectory that also served as the priests' residence. The aroma of freshly-baked bread or beef stew could often be noticed emanating from the kitchen. Obviously, these ladies were prime examples of what we today call "multi-taskers". They were skilled at many responsibilities and generally did an admirable job at fulfilling their pastoral and domestic responsibility. But, sadly, they were ordinarily just considered "the housekeeper."

For many people, however, the housekeeper would be their introduction to the world of the Catholic Church. Not a bad experience for the most part.

Unfortunately, however, they were more often appreciated for their efficiency and talent for control than for their feminine instincts and insights.

Much of all that has changed today, of course, many churches don't have rectories any more. Priests work in the pastoral center during business hours and then return to their homes or apartment at the end of the day. So, housekeepers, valuable as they once were, have pretty much disappeared.

Most of us who grew up in those times could never have imagined that at some point in our Catholic history women would play a different and more critical role in the Church. Indeed, without the support of women, our Church would literally collapse. For example, their gifts are spread throughout diocesan pastoral centers and parish offices. They are chancellors, pastoral administrators, pastoral leaders, executive secretaries, RCIA leaders, faith formation coordinators, youth ministers, parish nurses, grief and funeral liturgists, hospital chaplains, and spiritual directors. The list goes on.
In the so-called "old days", of course, many of those tasks and ministries were carried out by priests or nuns.

Given the diminishing number of clerical and religious vocations today, however, lay women have found a rightful place in their ministry to the people of God. We are all the richer for it.

Doubtless, women's roles in the Church will continue to grow as time goes on. It is difficult to understand how the Church has even managed to carry on its work throughout history without their gifts and talents. Alas, historically half of the Catholic human race has not been represented in God's kingdom.

I offer these remarks because the gospel for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary time contains some remarkable insights into the way Jesus thought of women and how they related to his ministry of preaching the kingdom of God. The gospel opens with a narrative describing Jesus' presence at a dinner at a Pharisee's home. A woman, of doubtful reputation or social standing comes in. She is in tears. She shows her love and desire for forgiveness by washing Jesus' feet and anointing them with precious oil. The men guests are aghast, insulted. Rabbis did not ordinarily allow their feet to be anointed by women, whatever their background or reputation.

Jesus, of course, could not let that situation pass. He does not get into an argument with the men; he simply tells a story of forgiveness that no reasonable and compassionate person could disagree with. It was a pretty brave action on Jesus' part, given the power of men in those times and the position of rabbis as well. Most rabbis would doubtless have thrown the woman out of the house, indeed, she would probably not have been allowed inside.

All this tells us something about Jesus' character: First, the male-female separation of the species in those days did not concern him. What astonished him was the woman's courage to come right into that enclave of men and anoint his feet. He could not let the incident pass without making some appropriate remarks not only about forgiveness, but especially about courtesy, good manners. This is a great example of Jesus' respect for the human person and his disregard for social customs that demeaned the character of women.

There are also several more lines in this gospel that tell us something about the general place of women in Jesus' ministry. A number who had been healed of various illnesses are named: Mary of Magdala, who, by the way, was the one who would give the first sermon after Jesus' resurrection, five words: "I have seen the Lord." Shortest sermon in Christian history! Then are listed Joanna, Susanna "and many others."

All that tells us that Jesus' ministry consisted not only of men, The Twelve, for instance, and The Seventy Two, but of many women as well. What did they do? We don't know. Perhaps some, like Mary Magdalene, preached or others "assisted him out of their means." I imagine even Jesus' ministry needed financial support in those days.

The more important point, of course, is that women in Jesus' time were assumed to be a natural part of his ministry, traveling the roads with him, assisting with their gifts in whatever way they wished. It must have been a great scene to see that variety of folks, women and men, coming into villages talking about that mysterious thing called The Kingdom of God.

Well, obviously, lots of centuries have passed since that moment in history and in the meantime women have had to struggle to maintain their rightful place in the Church. I am personally happy that I have had the privilege to live in an age and time when women and their unique gifts have once again enriched our world and our Church. Jesus, obviously, started something big. We are living with the happy results of all that even to this day.

The scriptures: 2 Samuel 12: 7-10, 13, Galatians 2:16, 19-21, Luke 7:36-8.3

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:22 AM.

June 09, 2007

Most Holy Body & Blood of Christ - Dining As Transcendence

I have found over the years that restaurants, in addition to being places of fine dining, can also be the setting for various human experiences. If you can take your mind off your salad for a moment, look around and envision the lives of the folks who are eating with you. Imagine what brought them there. Was it some special occasion, an engagement dinner, for instance, a birthday, a jubilee anniversary? Whatever it might be, and if you take the occasion just to watch them (when they are not watching you) you can learn something about human behavior, about what is going on while something else is happening.

Think, for instance, of the young couple that is sitting at table, smiling, holding hands and toasting each other with a glass of Merlot. You can tell immediately that they are at that table not simply for the food and drink, but to celebrate some intimate occasion, perhaps an engagement or a first wedding anniversary. No matter what the reason for their coming, the food, drink, music are only the setting for something personal, something more important.

I simply wanted to cite that example as a way of pointing out that one of the most important and frequent actions that we do, namely, eating, carries with it deep meaning. To eat is one thing, but to dine with someone is something completely different. In its best sense, eating can be a moment of transcendence, an exposure to mystery.

It is not often mentioned in scripture commentaries, but meals were very important to Jesus. Luke's gospel, for instance, has Jesus often going to a meal, coming from a meal or being at a meal with a variety of people. Obviously, this was not simply "freeloading" on Jesus' part because each time Jesus did dine with others there were other matters happening, particularly discussions of secular or religious matters. Moreover, simply sitting at table with certain groups of people was itself a sign of something, particularly when folks of certain social classes joined Jesus at table. The fact that Jesus did sit at table with social outcasts already tells you that he was making this meal a moment to comment on social justice issues.

The point is that Jesus did all this while eating because eating is a moment when we are facing each other and doing more than eating. We are discussing the issues that concern us deeply.

I am talking about all this, my friends, because we are gathered here today at a meal, as we do each Lord's Day. We are celebrating the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. What are we doing as we come here together, not only on the occasion of this feast, but each Sunday? First of all, we come to be nourished, we hear Jesus say to his friends: "Take this bread and eat it. Take this cup and drink from it. Do it all to remember me. So, this is a nourishment meal, food for the spirit.

Secondly, it is a feast that gives us the opportunity to stand in awe over the mystery of it all. We call it adoration, but we need to remember that there would be no opportunity for adoration if we did not have, first of all, the celebration of the Supper

But beyond all that, we also come here to get some sense that we are bonded to millions of other Catholics around the world, all who are doing exactly what we are doing. In other words, we become part of the world Church when we come to this table.

But there are also some other things that flow from the celebration of the Eucharist beyond adoration, many centuries ago, St. Augustine, the bishop of Hippo in North Africa, gave a sermon to his folks about Eucharist and here in part is what he said: "Remember, you are the body of Christ and its members. If, then, you are the body of Christ and its members, it is your own mystery that you celebrate, your own mystery that is placed on the Lord's table. It is to what you are that you answer “amen.” Therefore, be a member of the body of Christ so that your amen will be true.

I think that is all very interesting because Augustine says, "you become what you receive." In receiving the Body of Christ, we become the Body of Christ. What that says to me is that receiving the Body of Christ is not a private action, not some grace meant for me privately. It is food for the entire Christian world, all of us together. In eating together, we become family.

Finally, there is a quotation I can remember from my seminary theology days that seems appropriate here. It goes like this: The Church makes the Eucharist and the Eucharist makes the Church. In other words, in the bread and wine we bring Christ to the table and in turn Christ bonds us into his Body. This is all a great mystery and I'm not sure I understand it all, but I am willing, as you also are to do it all in Jesus' memory and that's enough.

The scriptures Genesis 14: 18-20, 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26, Luke 9: 11b - 17

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 10:09 AM.

June 02, 2007

Most Holy Trinity - Beyond Words

Trinity Sunday is one of those Sundays of the liturgical year when any of you who are listening to this homily could as easily have given it yourself. Truly, I do not have any deeper insight into the mystery of God than you do. It is not something one learns in theology courses. Mysteries are not learned they are experienced. So, here I go once again brashly venturing into the Mystery of God imagining that I am saying the last word about it.

I must confess that as I approach the preparation of the homily for this Sunday each year, I do so with fear and trembling. Before I turn on the word processor, I stop and say a prayer that the Lord will spare me from heresy. (The professional word is "heterodoxy", saying something contrary to the faith.)

A theologian I once read complained that more heresies are preached on the Solemnity of the Trinity than on all other Sundays of the liturgical year combined. I find that statement a bit excessive because most preachers and theologians struggle to find words, examples and metaphors that will do justice to God, but alas, we sometimes fail in the process. So, I pray that at least I shall not draw the God of Mystery down to the level of senseless metaphors. I always hope that I shall leave enough room for the minds of my listeners to experience their God in the way God invites them. After all, each individual’s sense of God is unique, secret, sacred, unexplainable and even incommunicable!

Perhaps the best a homilist can do is simply to stand before his brothers and sisters in all humility and share his thoughts, hoping that they will be wise and humble.

Nonetheless, a word must be spoken. That is the task of the homilist. With that in mind I make no pretense of proclaiming any new doctrines, but simply saying how God appears to me.

Perhaps the best way to approach any exploration into God is to repeat over and over again those lovely lines from Godspell, that beautiful Broadway musical of the 70's lines which were originally written by bishop Richard of Chichester, England who lived from 1197 to 1253. "Oh most merciful redeemer, friend and brother, three things I pray: To see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly; follow thee more nearly, day by day." The musical sounds that accompany those words still run through my mind to this very day.

What that good bishop was trying to do with those lines was to say: "I don't know who or what God is, but I imagine God as someone whom I could see, love and follow. In other words, he speaks from the heart rather than from the Intellect. I think he could pray to a God of that description. I could also do that.

There is always something to be said, of course, about theological discourse, about a word about God. That is what the word theology means, "A word about God." People have been trying to utter a word about God since humans first learned to speak words. The reason for that is because the concept of God overwhelms most people. They cannot leave it alone. Their life depends upon it. There would be no point in living if one could not imagine that God were part of one's living.

Great scholars and many other reflective people have devoted their entire lives to thinking and writing about God. The question, of course, is whether we know any more about God after our thinking than we did before. The inner being of God will continue to be a mystery to us. That, after all, is the definition of God.

What we a left with then is to come up with human words that we believe will describe God for ourselves. Words are ultimately all we have to work with, words and thoughts. Words are what we do best; words describe our human, insight and intelligence. If then we can say something that we think is respectful of God, perhaps that is about as close as we can come.

A theologian I once read said that all God-talk is analogy, analogies and metaphors. People are crafters of words, but when one deals with mystery, you are also at a loss for words.

So, we are left doing what our Hebrew ancestors have done so well throughout history. Realizing that one cannot define God, they chose human phrases that they thought best described God: Rock of our salvation; Defender of the poor and the oppressed, Strong Arm, Outstretched Hand, the One who wipes tears away, Lion of Judah, King of all creation, Shepherd of Israel and many more.

Obviously, the author, the poet who penned those words did not assume that God was King and Rock and Shepherd. He just assumed that this must be the way God deals with God's people. Once again, they are analogies or metaphors that come about as close as you can to mystery.

My hunch is that the best kind of theology, the best kind of God-talk is the way we pray. If you pray the way I do, you probably have your own words and thoughts to satisfy your yearning to be in touch with God. Do they describe the inner being of God? Probably not, but that's ok. If we are going to talk to someone, we obviously need words that communicate. Perhaps the fact that we can even come up with some words that describe what is sacred to us, is the best we can do.

If you think that your prayer words are not very adequate in talking to or about God, think of Saint Thomas Aquinas. He is considered the deepest theological thinker in all of Catholic history. He wrote stacks of books about God. But the story has it that when he completed the Summa Theologica, his most prestigious and definitive theological work, he admitted that it was nothing more than straw, straw for burning. That was a great and humble admission of his human effort to write and speak about mystery.

So, if Saint Thomas felt that way, perhaps the rest of us are not lost in our efforts to say words about and to God. As long as we humbly trust our best instincts and intuitions about what is sacred to us, we will not fall into heresy. God is big enough to embrace everything we say about God. So, let us not be embarrassed to speak to God as Redeemer, Friend and Brother. God must surely know how we struggle to say something respectful to Him. If God wanted something more from us, I'm sure he would let us know. In the meantime, let's just keep doing what we have been doing. Pray and words will come.

The scriptures: Proverbs 8: 22-31, Romans 5: 1-5, John 16: 12-15

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 09:57 AM.

February 17, 2007

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Getting Even?

I have pretty much stopped watching Law and Order, CSI Miami or CSI Las Vegas and even Judge Judy (if I happen to be at home in the afternoon.) I have decided that they are a pure waste of time and I always feel guilty if I have given in occasionally.

The reason why I have finally seen the light is because they all follow the same stale plot: Two people get into an altercation, one wins, the other loses (usually gets killed) and then the cops spend the rest of the hour trying to figure out the motives and put the guilty guy behind bars. If you've seen one of these dramas (?) you've seen them all. They are all about someone getting hurt or offended and then attempting to get even. It's a repetition of the eternal human story and it's been going on since the days of Cain and Abel, maybe even before that. That's why the crime dramas are so popular and have lasted so long on TV: They simply tell the fictional story of what is actually going on every day on the streets of every city in the world. Even more, they tell the story of each of our lives, the effort to get even, to level the playing field. It seems to be inherent in the human condition whether we like to admit it or not.

What is there then about us that incites us to get even? Granted, most of us probably will not go out and do physical harm to someone who has offended us, but other less violent incidents do happen. Some of the grizzliest crimes have started over a small offense and continued to exacerbate until one person gets killed and the other person goes to prison for life. Sad!

I think it has something to do with a deep-seated tendency in all of us to protect our person, our identity and our human rights. But, of course, the problem is that this human protective tendency can and has often gotten many of us into deep trouble. Is there any antidote to all this violence? Law has not done much good, nor psychology or counseling or, even preaching!

So, if all these don't work, perhaps we simply have to ask the question, what is the ideal, what would work in the best of all possible worlds? Where do we go for answers? Well, as a preacher, I have no other place to go than the scriptures which is exactly what are invited to do on this particular Sunday.

As an introduction, I need to say that for many people the scriptures often sound like "pie in the sky," simple answers to complex questions. But my response is that you need to start with the ideal not the real. You need to ask the question, not what works, but what is the most reasonable, ideal solution for a human problem. And, I must say, that is exactly what the scriptures invite us to do, look at the ideal and then see if it "works,"

We have a background for that in the two scriptures for this Sunday: The first is the story of a battle between two powerful political characters of the Old Testament, Saul and David. Saul is king of Israel; David is the young upstart who wants to be king. They each have their private armies: David and his men come upon Saul in the middle of the night and have the opportunity to "dispatch" him on the spot. But, instead, David says, "No, he is God's anointed, we can't kill the king." So, instead he steals Saul's spear and water jug, runs off to a hill and dares Saul to come and get it. Not exactly the ending we might have wanted to hear, but the point of the reading is that David thought twice about even killing his sworn enemy. It's a tale about forgiveness... sort of.

The gospel picks up the same theme. It is the continuation of Jesus' Sermon on the Plain, the Beatitudes: "Turn the other cheek. Love your enemy, do good to those who hate you," et cetera. It is doubtless one of the most beautiful and challenging pieces of writing on forgiveness ever written.

The problem is many people will simply pass it off as pure idealism. "It might sound nice," they will say, "but has it ever worked?"

Without doubt, Jesus was the consummate idealist. Some will say that he paid for it with his life, but he consistently thought in terms of the highest ideals, not whether they would work or not. So, Jesus could easily have asked: "Have you ever found any other option that has worked better than forgiveness? If you have, let's talk about it."

I think that is a good option for life, whether we are thinking about revenge or not. We need to have some principle on which to live, the highest and the most ideal, even the most difficult.

I don't know whether this will ever stop the human desire for revenge. It has not quieted the battles between the Israelis and the Palestinians, the Sunnis and the Shiites and hundreds of other ethnic and political groups over the years. Perhaps the best option then is to ask how the Beatitudes of Jesus affect our personal life. We have to start somewhere; perhaps it will catch on and we will be able to say we did something to make the world more peaceful.

The scriptures: 1 Samuel 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23, 1 Corinthians 15:45-49, Luke 6:27-38

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:23 PM.

February 10, 2007

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Where Happiness Lies

This may sound like a question without any depth to it, but it has always puzzled me why all the characters, the models in advertising, whether on television or the print media always seem to be laughing. There they stand on the page or the screen laughing heartily about something. You will say, "Hey, it's just advertising; they don't have to be laughing about anything. Better they laugh than that they look depressed. That's not going to sell cars or TV's or even underwear! True enough. At least they look happy whether they are so or not.

Of course, true happiness has to be more than a pretty smile put on for the public. I'm sure we all have those days when we are in "that" mood when we'd prefer not to talk to anybody, but if we were asked, we would readily admit that we are happy that God has given us another day to do His work, and that we have some friends who support us no
matter how we happen to feel, that we are blessed with a safe home, sufficient food and all the rest.

So, perhaps we need to say that happiness is something deeper than feelings, that it is something metaphysical that has to do with the way we look at life in general.

I read an article a long time ago about a Gallup poll that tried to determine who the happiest people in the world might be. Interestingly, they found that the people of Iceland seemed to be the happiest. That surprised me because Iceland has always appeared to me to be cold, dark and dreary place.

But the folks there all say that they are happy because they live close to one another and depend on each other for support. That made sense to me because most of us here in the U.S. live private lives and get along without each other's help; for the most part.

There are two scriptures in today's liturgy that give us a rather interesting insight on happiness. The first comes from the words of Jeremiah the prophet who I suspect may not have had many friends because he begins this little section with the words: "Cursed is he man (women too?) who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh."
"Don't trust a single person on earth", seems to be Jeremiah's advice. But then he follows that up with the words: "Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord."

So, what at first seems to be a kind of "lousy" attitude toward others on Jeremiah's part turns into a comparison. In other words, you may not always be able to trust your neighbor, but you can always depend on God. Who else?

Nonetheless, I must take issue with Jeremiah on trust. Actually, for the most part, during my life I must say that I have been treated respectfully by others. I have come to trust them. Without trust, life become chaos. So, if I were to amend Jeremiah's words, I would say "Jeremiah, it's both and. I trust both God and my neighbor, but I'm willing to take my "hits" if my neighbor does occasionally fail me."

When you heard the gospel, I'm sure you recognized it immediately by the title we've given it over the years: "The Beatitudes," the question of what makes for true happiness. "Blessed are the poor, the hungry, those who weep, those who insult you," et cetera.

Here is the context for all that: Jesus himself came out of a culture of the poor, the anawim. Palestine in those times was radically divided between rich and poor, between the powerful and the powerless. Even the temple authorities could not be trusted to support the poor of the nation. That is why Jesus can say that "they have treated the prophets in the same way," i.e. with utter disrespect. (Jesus considered himself a prophet, of course.)

So, when Jesus calls his followers "blessed" happy, fortunate, what he is saying is that in God's eyes they are fortunate because forever God has cast his lot with the poor and the dispossessed, with those who have been abandoned by authorities of church and state.

At first, all this may sound Iike "pie in the sky" theology. Just trust in God and everything will turn out ok!

In the course of my life, however, I have heard of many instances where the anawim, God's poor have been able to subsist precisely because of their trust in God. I think, for instance, of the many situations in Central and South America during the oppressions of the peasant classes where they were able to carry on their lives precisely because of their faith. Even today rural families meet together in what is called communidades de base, small faith sharing communities to read the scriptures and ask how this or that particular gospel passage speaks to their Iives. During the day, of course, like all others, they go out to the fields and work or to the market to sell their goods. But at evening time they also come back together to pray and pore over the scriptures that speak to their condition. God does support the poor!

With all that, therefore, we are left to ask what can make us truly happy? Perhaps the people of Iceland or the peasants in El Salvador or Guatemala or Costa Rica may have an answer for us: You pray to your God for protection and you also trust your neighbor because fundamentally speaking people are generally good and trustworthy. That is not "pie in the sky." That's simply the way things are (with a few exceptions!) If they are not that way, then we may need to do some more thinking about what true happiness is all about.

The scriptures Jeremiah 17:5-8, 1 Corinthians 15:12, 16-20, Luke 6: 7, 20-26

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:22 PM.

February 03, 2007

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Seduced by Beauty

For as long as I can remember, I have been fiercely devoted to beauty, to anything beautiful. I did not grow up in a family or a community where beauty was particularly appreciated. In those days people had other things to do, namely to make a living and stay alive. So, I readily admit that I am no connoisseur of fine art although I know that I appreciate what I think is beautiful.

There is a phrase I once read and kept in my files from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's novel, The Idiot. Prince Myshkin makes the bold statement: "Beauty will save the earth." I think that is true even though it may seem rather stupid to say so. Many will say that armies or the World Bank will do a better job at that, or they will ask how beauty is going to raise concern for the environment, for the poor, for racial justice, for the right to life, for gender equality and all the rest. I have no answer for that except to say that the appreciation of beauty will steer us in a direction to ask deeper questions about what is happening in the world.

People who appreciate beauty will ordinarily be peaceful, gracious and reflective. They would rather enter into a gentle, intelligent conversation than a raucous argument simply to make a point.

There seems to be a certain comforting, meditative, reflective quality about anything that is beautiful, whether it is a painting by Van Gogh or a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, or a piece of music by Beethoven or Mozart. In short, beauty has the power to humanize us, to make us appreciate what is deepest and best about being human.

Most Catholics, I should imagine, don't think much about beauty and the liturgy. They may say, "Well, I've been to Mass and fulfilled my obligation this Sunday and that's enough for me.

Actually, I am not sure that is enough, at least for me. I have shocked people on occasion when I have told them that there is no point in coming to Mass if they cannot say that they expect something beautiful to happen to them while they are here. I don't mean simply the music, singing, the color of vestments or the smell of incense, but just the whole experience of transcendence, that sense of God that happens when we worship together. I have always believed that God must be a God of beauty and grace. I also believe that one can experience all that in the liturgy if it is well done and if we are willing to participate in it.

I say all that as an introduction to the scriptures for this Fifth Sunday in the Church's calendar. Both the first reading from the prophet Isaiah and the gospel of Luke speak about transcendence, about discovering the power and beauty of God in the ordinary experiences of human life.

The prophet Isaiah, who himself must have been something of a mystic, describes his experience of God in the temple: The Lord is seated on a high and lofty throne. His garments and the smell of sweet incense fill the entire holy space. Angels chant, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts." And then in the midst of all that, Isaiah hears God ask: "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" "Here I am", Isaiah says, "send me." And that transcendent experience, of course, begins his great career to speak bold words to kings and their minions.

Did all this really happen? Who knows? What is important is that Isaiah experienced it and then he began his public career of prophecy

Blue-collar workers will not ordinarily tell you that they have transcendent experiences on a regular basis. They have more important things to think about. But it happened in the case of Peter and his friends as they were out fishing. They had caught nothing and suddenly Jesus appears and gives them directions and suddenly they fill their boats with fish.

For Peter, this is an overwhelming experience, a miracle, if you will. Jesus suddenly appears to him as more than human, someone like God, and so he admits that he is just an ordinary man, a sinful person. Then Jesus tells Peter and the rest: "It's ok, my friends, just follow me and I will teach you about higher things. I will teach how to catch people."

Both of these passages, to my mind, are simply examples of transcendent experiences, finding God in something that at first seemed be just "ordinary." Not only that, but after these experiences happened, both Isaiah and Jesus' disciples were ready to begin their public careers.

I think that may be true of all of us: Once we have experienced God in a special way, we will be ready to begin our work, our public life with confidence.

All that leads me to believe, therefore, that grace is everywhere for those who are able to sense its presence even in what might seem to be strange places.

Father Andrew Greeley once made a point in an article he wrote on liturgy and beauty: "Sometimes it is said that if God really wanted us to believe, he would speak to us. To which God might well reply that he shouts to us all the time through the beauty that surrounds us. We can hardly go anywhere without being enticed and inundated by beauty. Even in the church there is beauty, in the liturgy, in the sacraments, in the
assembly who believes and worships."

Well, with all that, my friends, I repeat, that although I am no connoisseur of fine art, I truly believe that we live daily on what nourishes our spirit. Grace is everywhere and beauty will help you discover it.

The scriptures: Isaiah 6:1-2a 3-8, 1 Corinthians 15:1-11, Luke 5:1-11

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:21 PM.

January 27, 2007

4th Sunday in Ordinary Time - The Threat of Words

As I write this in early December, Pope Benedict XVI is in Turkey on a pastoral visit to the Orthodox Church. The headline of a column in the Chicago Tribune says: "Pope trip to Turkey fraught with risk. Past remarks haunt him in Muslim nation." So, the Vatican decided to leave the Pope-mobile in Rome and offer the Pope an armored car during his visit. We are all praying for Pope Benedict's safety during these next four days.

Why is the Pope in danger? Well, it all goes back to some remarks he made in a speech on Christian-Moslem relations back in September at the University of Regensburg, Germany. In that speech the Pope quoted a 14th century Byzantine emperor, Manuel Paleologus. The words were these: "Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached."

The Pope did not ascribe to these words himself, but he did not make that point in his speech either. So, the result of all that has been a long war of words between the Moslem world and the Vatican. Who knows how or when it will end. We pray that there will be no violence.

I wanted to advert to that event because it speaks to me of the power of words, whether understood or misunderstood. Once a word is spoken and misunderstood, it can cause immense problems in relations between individuals, between churches or even nations.

I'm sure all of us have had the common misfortune of speaking before thinking and then berating ourselves afterward for what we said. Often nothing we can say can correct the wrong. There is no doubt about the fact that there is power in our words. Once those words are out there they are out there for good.

Our scriptures for this Sunday's liturgies each speak of the way that words work in this world. The first reading comes from the Book of Jeremiah the Prophet, who, by the way, was a man of tough words, that is, prophetic words, words that would have the effect of challenging people and disturbing the peace. So, here he is thinking about all this and he experiences God speaking to him: "Don't be crushed. I will not leave you crushed before them (your enemies.) I have made you a fortified city, a pillar of iron, a wall of brass against the whole land and its people." In contemporary words it could read: "Don't be afraid". God says. "Your task is to speak for me. Speak your mind and I will defend you."

I can think of instances in our own times when certain people had the courage to speak their mind for what seemed just and right to them. I think, for instance of Mother Theresa of Calcutta who had no fear about speaking out in the highest places for the poor, for the dying on the streets, for the unborn. She was a woman small of stature but unhumbled in her determination to speak for those who had no voice of their own. Some people in high places did not always like to hear what she had to say and sometimes said so publicly but that did not stop Theresa. She had nothing to lose in speaking her mind about an important matter. She was a prophet in her own time.

The gospel is a continuation from last Sunday. Jesus gives this very brief homily in the synagogue one Saturday about how he sees his own future: He chooses some lines from his favorite prophet, Isaiah: "The Lord has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord."

Now, those don't sound like very threatening words to me. In fact, the text says that everyone was amazed at the "gracious words that came from Jesus mouth."

That is something I have often wished for myself and for all of us, that our words would be gracious. Gracious could mean a number of things: Well chosen, for instance, filled with grace, wise, insightful, comforting, encouraging, but also challenging and prophetic.

Words are precious entities: They can do tremendous good or great evil. They are not simply "throw away" pieces of speech. They speak for ourselves, for what we believe, what we hold dear, what we will not negotiate on.

But you will notice too in that same gospel piece that Jesus' words also raised some hackles. "He's only a local fellow," they said, "where did he get all this knowledge." "Does he think he's so much better than the rest of us local folks?"

At that point, things get messy: The folks drove him out of town and even would have pushed him over a precipice if they could have."

It all seems like a lot of "smoke and mirrors", much ado about nothing. But it all proves the point again that our words can have consequences beyond their meaning and our intention.

Returning to the speech by Pope Benedict for a moment. John Allen, the columnist for the National Catholic Reporter had an interesting headline recently. He wrote: "Who will say no to the Pope?"

If someone in Vatican high places had said to Benedict: "Benedict, those lines might be misunderstood; you'd better change them." Well, seemingly nobody did make that suggestion, although everyone says that the Pope would have changed the text if someone had asked him to.

Once again, all this says to me that we have a responsibility to counsel each other if we think our words will get us into trouble. Often times we don't see or realize the implications of what we say, so we need the help of our friends to help us say the right things or even to help us accept the consequences when things go wrong.

The scriptures: Jeremiah 1: 4-5, 17-19, 1 Corinthians 12: 31-13:13, Luke 4: 21-30

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:20 PM.

January 20, 2007

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Word Power

Some while back I happened to be listening to a segment on NPR's Morning Edition regarding the development of language, human communication. The newsperson was pointing out that at the time the first immigrants from Europe came to America there were already more than 200 different native languages being spoken in this land. Then to these were added all those other languages brought here from overseas. Soon after that, of course, the Native people were expected to learn a "foreign" language, Spanish and English, mainly. But on the part of the Europeans, learning the languages of the Native people was not even considered all that important. This was not a so-called "cultured" tongue.

Interestingly enough, today many of the Native tribal people living in America, like the Oneida people of New York State, for instance, are making an effort to retain that spoken heritage and are even calling on the Berliner Language Schools to help them pass this on to non-Native people. It is a precious treasure that should not be lost.

Listening to all that got me thinking about language and words because words are a sign of what makes human beings human, that is, the way we think of ourselves, the way we pass our knowledge and wisdom on from one generation to the next.

What also got me thinking about words and language is the theme that appears in two of our scriptures for this Sunday. They are both concerned about proclaiming a message, words.

The first comes from the Book of Nehemiah, and it describes an important moment in Israelite history. The Israelite people had been in exile for many years where there was no chance of hearing the Word of God. Now they are back in their own land and their first thought is how they could rebuild their nation and recover their culture and their spiritual heritage. They had not heard a reading of the Torah for many years. They were in exile in a foreign country. So, on this particular day, a copy of the Torah is brought forth and Ezra, the scribe, the interpreter, reads it publicly and amazingly all the people begin to cry because they had not heard these words for so long. Now, all of a sudden they once again hear some words that give them hope. Notice, it was the actual reading of the words that created new life for the nation. Again, the power of words....!

The gospel for this Sunday also gives us a sneak-preview of Jesus' early career. He is to be a speaker of words.

So, he comes home one Saturday morning and as usual goes to Sabbath services, a normal thing for him. We don't know how much experience Jesus actually had in preaching, but interestingly enough, he is asked to stand and say a few words extemporaneously in the synagogue. It is not something most preachers would want to do on a moments notice without some preparation.

At any rate, Jesus opens the Torah (The Old Testament scroll) and his eyes fall on a selection from the prophet Isaiah and he quotes it verbatim:

The spirit of the Lord is upon me;
Therefore he has anointed me.
He has sent me to bring glad tidings
to the poor, to proclaim liberty
to captives, recovery of sight
to the blind and release
to prisoners, to announce a year of
favor from the Lord.

Now, here is where it gets really interesting. Instead of giving a long homily on that text, he simply sits down and says: "Ladies and gentlemen, today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing." In other words, he is saying I think my career, like that of Isaiah, is to preach words, words that will give new life, good news." Then he sat down. That has to be one of the shortest homilies in history. Would that they were all that short.

But that was not the last word Jesus ever said. He did, indeed, become a preacher of words, as we know: Hard words, encouraging words, critical words. But people kept coming. Some even were willing to stay well beyond their dinner hour. So, it is clear that Jesus was a man who knew how to use words.
Now the point is that words have meaning, words have power. Remember those first words from the Book of Genesis: "God spoke and things came into being."
Perhaps we may not often think about it, but words have the power to change the world, either for the good or the bad. Think of Martin Luther King's words in his speech, "I have a dream." Or think of Hitler's words on radio that brought on World War II. Think of Shakespeare's plays or Beethoven's symphonies or Thomas Merton's journals. Think also about the words we speak, the words we wish we'd never said or the words we wish we'd said and didn't!

The point is that our minds and our tongues have the power to create things good or bad. Our minds, our tongues have more power than all the armies in the entire world. With a word we can encourage, we can make people laugh, we can counsel people, we can advise people, and we can console people. We can also listen to the words of others and grow. In short, every word we say can make a difference in this world. Think again about Jesus. All he did was to use ordinary human words and see what a difference it made in the world.

We're not Jesus, obviously, but our words count too. Say some nice words to someone this week and watch what happens.

The scriptures: Nehemiah 8:2-4, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-30, Luke 1:1-4; 4, 14-21

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:19 PM.

January 13, 2007

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - A Union Made in Heaven

I must confess to you that I have lost count of the number of marriages that I have celebrated with young people during my pastoral life. Some of the funniest experiences and most embarrassing moments I have ever witnessed have also happened at weddings; I shall spare you the details at this time.

There is something unique about this human bonding that we call marriage. It is an occurrence that is extraordinarily significant because the two individuals who participate in it are convinced that this is for life. Sadly, this is not always so, but their conviction about it when they stand at the altar is that this relationship is unique, like none other and will never be duplicated again in the history of the world. In other words, marriage has a sort of celestial quality about it: These two individuals are convinced that their relationship was made in heaven. It may indeed be true, for all I know.

The fact that engaged couples go through countless rituals, secular and sacred, and incur huge debts in the process of being married tells you right away that this event in their lives must hold special meaning for them and deserves to be remembered and celebrated.

When I try to help young people prepare for this special occasion we call sacrament, I make a point in saying that marriages are one thing and weddings are another. Weddings are simply rituals that give special meaning to a relationship that is already sacred. I try to explain that marriages are a sign of the banquet of God's kingdom. (I don't think they always really understand or believe this, but it sounds good to them.. We have so few metaphors as it is to describe sacred human events.)

When we speak, therefore, about those "extravagances" that are associated with weddings (clothing, transportation, meals. et cetera) what we are really trying to say in our secular language is that this moment, this relationship began in heaven or at least in the mind of God. For that reason a couple might well be wiling to "splurge" a little in order to call the world's attention to what they are engaging in. If one needs to go into debt for a few years...well....that's the price one pays for celebration.

Given this entire introduction, let us delve into the scriptures for this Sunday that begin the long list of Ordinary Sundays that, with a few exceptions, will take us all the way into next November.

The scriptures for this second Sunday's liturgy rather surprisingly have in them metaphors about marriage, but not marriage, as we commonly understand it. The references to marriage are rather about the extravagances of God's love for his people.

It seems as though, even as much as we try to imagine what our relationship to God is all about, we can't find metaphors which by themselves are rich and adequate enough to describe God's love for us unless we choose this most human relationship we call marriage with all its references to love, dedication, fidelity, et cetera.

There are some really beautiful images in the scriptures today, therefore, that describe this kinship between God and us.

Isaiah was one of the most famous and prolific authors in Old Testament literature. He was also a poet (fortunately) and he uses some interesting words to describe the God-Israel, God-us relationship. Let me just repeat a couple: "You shall be called `My Delight.' As a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, so shall your God rejoice in you.' " I grant you, trying to imagine our relation to God always seems somewhat abstract to us. So, perhaps poetry may be the best way to imagine it. It seemed to work for Isaiah.

When you heard the reading of the Gospel a moment ago, you probably said to yourself: "Wow, that must have been some wedding!" That was probably your thought because of the reference to the 6 stone water jars that held about 120 gallons of water-turned wine. It does seem somewhat extravagant for a small village wedding. We recall, of course, that Jewish weddings went on for several days which is probably why the wine ran short.

But there is a point not often thought about regarding the amount of wine. The clue to its meaning only comes at the end where the evangelist John lets us know that this turning of water into wine was the first of the signs Jesus did that revealed his glory (power?). John is telling us that there is a meaning in this sign and the meaning is in the amount (120 gallons)! In other words, this is the way God deals with us, superabundantly! This is what God's kingdom is all about, God's abundant love for his people.

So, you see, when we try to delve into the way God deals with us, we need to go to poetry, like Isaiah did, we need to go to stories about weddings that will never be forgotten, not even until this very day. That's about as close as we can get to an understanding of this God-us relationship, but it is rather revealing, when you think about it, realizing always that God is mystery.

Now, as I said earlier, I do not attempt to go into all this scriptural exegesis when I talk to young folks about their forthcoming marriage, but I do suggest that their marriage will also be an event like none other and that God in His heaven must also be rejoicing in it. In a sense, one could say that every marriage, as Jesus said, is a story, a metaphor for the kingdom of God. Wouldn't it be interesting if someone at the wedding reception actually used this as a toast? Maybe I'll try it sometime!

The scriptures: Isaiah 62:1-5, 1 Corinthians 12:4-11, John 2:1-12

Posted by Cindy Lentine at 04:18 PM.