Thought for the Week

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

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

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

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

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [August 8, 2010]

Some while ago, my friends, I happened to be reading a feature article in the New York Times on Multi-tasking, the ability some people have to do several tasks at once. The reference here was to technology experts who can manage 2, 3 or more computers or other complicated machines at once. The author pointed out, however, that “multi-taskers” also have difficulty concentrating on specific individual responsibilities in their daily life. Their minds seem to be self-trained to concentrate on lots of things but not on the one important thing.

Actually, I have the same problem in a less professional issue, namely cooking. Occasionally in the past I have invited several people in for dinner and I usually made a point of having my main dishes prepared before the invited guests were expected. However, it often happened that one or two people would show up early, and here I was trying to entertain, serve snacks, drinks and try to make sure that all the parts of the meal were ready at the same time. Inevitably, the mashed potatoes or the asparagus got cold as I tried to divide my attention between the living room and the kitchen.

]]> I’m always envious of people who can carry on a conversation, attend to peoples’ comfort and still remember how many spices to put in the turkey dressing? I wonder if that is a skill that is learned or will I be embarrassed for the rest of my life watching other people casually go about a multitude of their daily chores without missing a beat?

Ah, but I have accomplished one surprising “multi-task.” Each morning as I begin my hour on the treadmill, I first crank up my I Pod filled with good jazz and strap it to my ears. Hey, it works and makes the time go faster too; at least it seems so. Exercise and entertainment all in one; you can’t beat that.

Now given those mundane remarks, let me say that you will find some comparisons in the gospel for this 19th Sunday in ordinary to this problem of “multi-tasking.” Actually, Jesus is suggesting to the folks listening to him that it is always wise to be prepared at the very moment God seems to be calling us to some daily task. “Tighten your belt” he says “and have your lamp lit and ready at hand when the Lord calls.” (loosely translated!)

The point that Jesus is making is that God can call us at any time of the day or night with some important issue to attend to.

Now, do not be alarmed or imagine that some day you may hear God’s voice at the other end of the telephone line. Obviously, it does not happen that way. Believe me, however, when I say that I have heard what I thought was God’s voice coming at me in some ordinary daily experience. For instance, the very evening as I am writing this, a friend of mine called to say that his wife had only a few weeks more to live. She is battling cancer. There were tears in his voice and he simply wanted to talk in order to take away his feelings of sadness and desperation. He lives many miles distant from where I live and there is no way I could have just packed up and drove to see him. The telephone would have to do. We spent over a half hour in conversation. Actually, I listened mostly, but that was enough. God calling?

Now, obviously, I could have simply not answered the phone and gone on finishing this piece of writing. But as it turned out, that half hour on the phone was a sign of God’s grace for both of us.

In other cases, folks just want to chat, but there must be a reason why they want to do that. There may be some bit of news they want to share or a problem they want to explore. So, in such instances we simply “tighten the belt, light the lamp” and listen.
So, you see, in cases like that, we set “multi-tasking” aside and pay attention to the matter at hand.

I can also remember many instances in my life when I happened to be busy about something and suddenly some event in nature suddenly overwhelmed me: a sunset or sunrise, a fierce thunder storm, a sudden lightning bolt or simply something that makes one stop and say, “wow, how can that be?”

The point to all this is to say that “God experiences” happen at any time, in any place and perhaps when we are totally involved in something that we feel we can’t put down. Of course, unless we put it aside, we may be missing an experience of the divine clothed in human dress.

One thing we know for certain as we read the gospels. Jesus was an acute observer of nature and of human habits. How often he would stop and point out some purely natural earthly phenomenon and say, for instance: “See the birds of the air or the flowers in the field.” They do not “multi-task;” they simply do what they are created to do and nothing else.

A momentary aside here regarding what Jesus refers to as the “coming of God’s kingdom.” At the time of Jesus there was a strong notion that the end of Roman domination was very near. A (the) Messiah would come and restore Israel to its ancient status. Interestingly, people at that time imagined that Jesus was the coming Messiah and that he would restore the kingdom to Israel.

Jesus, of course, refused such kingship and insisted that the kingdom of God was already among them, that God could be experienced in many, many different ways simply by being alert, by having one’s belt tightened and a lamp ready to light the way.

What Jesus is talking about in these lines, therefore, is what he calls the kingdom of God within you, those experiences in this world that remind us that God is calling for attention. The sacred is always experienced through the human, the natural, the physical, the worldly, and the historical.

Yet, it is often difficult to notice the coming kingdom, the divine experience because it seems so ordinary, and it happens precisely when some other issue has our full attention.

Given all that I we will need to learn to be more perceptive regarding ordinary matters that happen around us. Some day we may be absolutely overwhelmed by what we notice and discover that it was all grace; everything is grace, or, as Jesus would say: “Be prepared for the kingdom of God is near, even at your very door step” or at the other end of the telephone line!

The scriptures : Wisdom 18: 6-9; Hebrews 11: 1-2, 8-19; Luke 12: 35-40

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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