Thought for the Week

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - True Treasure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Nature’s Signs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - "Understanding Mystery"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - No Human Losers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - Compassion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - False Appearances

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Words, Words, Words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feast of the Most Precious Body and Blood of Christ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feast of the Most Holy Trinity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pentecost - Remembering the Way it Was

Occasionally I will be driving to or from work on a weekday and I will notice a new building or a business going up. I know what will soon follow: Big signs announcing “Opening Day.” Following that there will be advertisements in the local newspaper or on television offering special deals. There may also be brightly clad individuals waving signs at the door or on the street corner. It’s all about letting us know that this is an important day for these people, for this company. They are not ashamed to let the whole world know about it.

I’m sure that a lot of planning went into this project of theirs, lots of money and effort as well. One thing for sure: They want us all to know how they feel about their new venture. There will probably never be another day like this in their history.

People find it important to celebrate special occasions: Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, new jobs, first-time accomplishments, et cetera. For the most part, the persons celebrating want the whole world to know about it too, even though much of the world could probably care less. For these people it’s all-important. First time events have special meaning.

]]> I have a hunch that this may have been the case with a group of folks who had just recently followed the leadership of a man named Jesus of Nazareth who, much to their distress, had only recently been killed by the Roman authorities.

So, here they are then, gathered in fear behind locked doors because they were only a small minority in he midst of a powerful empire. I can imagine them all sitting there, scared out of their wits, wondering what was going to happen next.

Well, you know the story: We’re all familiar with it. There was a strong and forceful wind whipping through the house. All of them gathered there felt the warmth of fire settling over them. But what happened next was even more important. They probably said: “Hey, something important is happening here; we have to talk about this to whomever will listen.

And that is exactly what they did: They couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They just had to tell people that this Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah was still with them and that his grand project he called God’s Good News was now meant to be preached throughout the world (or a least what there was of it in those days.)

So, what’s this all about? Well, any of us with a sense of history knows: It is the story of the beginning of the Church of Jesus Christ. Obviously, there was no record of it in Roman newspapers, no one standing on the street corner waving banners or signs.

So, how did the folks who experienced all this describe it? They remembered two signs, two phenomena: There was wind and fire. There is meaning and symbolism in those two events and it has all to do with spreading, scattering, dispersion, diffusion.

We all know the power of tornadoes or hurricanes. We know what happens when fire gets out of control: Whole city blocks are often destroyed. Forest fires wipe out thousands of acres of prime timber.

But in this instance wind did not destroy, fire did not destroy. Wind and fire were symbols of the power of Jesus’ Good News being spread throughout the land to bring something completely new into existence.

And all this happened, of course, not through the power of wind and fire alone, but through the courage and giftedness of some very ordinary people who just could not hold themselves back. They had to speak out.

So, what should we make out of all this? Here is my sense of it: Throughout the entire history of our church, from Pentecost to this Sunday in the year 2008, the power of Jesus Good News has been spread abroad in a very simple and ordinary way: By word of mouth! Given today’s means of communication, word of mouth does not seem very efficient, does it? But think of this: There is no mode of communication more powerful or more effective than the word that is shared between two people, two friends, nothing more powerful than the faith we share with each other. That’s the way it has been done since the first Pentecost, amazing, as it may seem.

What I think this also mean is that Pentecost is never over: We can’t simply fall back on the efforts of those few early Christians. Nor can we fall back on the words of the pope alone or the local bishop alone, we can’t fall back on the efforts of the preacher here today. All that will not get the Good News of the Church of Jesus Christ very far. Every one of us counts, every conversation we have with our brothers and sisters about what our faith means to us; all that is important for the spreading of the Good News of Jesus Christ.

So, what all this comes down to is this: There’s no stopping the effects of the wind, there’s no stopping the effects of the fire that comes from the faith we all profess as Christians. Above all, don’t be afraid to speak up. The future of your Church depends on you.

The scriptures: Acts 2: 1-11; 1 Corinthians 12, 3b-7, 12-13; John 20: 19-23

7th Sunday Ascension - Going it Alone

I would never have called my father a liberal, at least in the context we use that term today. He was always a careful and conservative man. He managed to get his family through the great depression of the Thirties which means, of course, that he managed his money carefully.

I can remember receiving only two “major” gifts from my father as I was growing up: He bought me a wristwatch for my high school graduation. On the train station when I was headed off for basic training in the U.S. Army, he shook my hand and I found there a fifty-dollar bill! Now, mind you, fifty dollars was no small change in those days, but I remember him saying: “Here’s a little something just in case you need it.” Then he gave me a hug, something he rarely did. He was conservative, of course!

]]> Nonetheless, I learned something from my father on that day at the railroad station: He was ultimately a softhearted, sentimental person. He also knew that this was the last time I would be part of the family. It turned out to be true. I never returned home again for any long period of time.

So, as I recall it, this was an important moment for my father. Difficult as it was for him, he managed to say goodbye, even with a few tears in his eyes.

This recollection reminds me of the line from one of Shakespeare’s plays (I think it was Romeo and Juliet) “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Well, I don’t know how sweet parting is, but I think all of us would agree that parting is something we do not eagerly look forward to.

The problem is that at this point in our life many things will change, nothing will ever be quite the same again. We will be on our own, for good or ill. Perhaps we could honestly say that at a parting we are all a little scared, especially if this is the first time we have left our family. What if we flunk out of college? What if our first job turns out to be more than we can handle? Could we ever go home again without embarrassment?

By the way, that phrase came from the title of a book by Thomas Wolfe: You Can’t Go Home Again.
It seems to be true: Once you leave the familiar confines of the place where you grew up, you will find that it is never the same even if you decide to go back. What is fundamentally different, of course, is you. You have changed in the meantime. So, if we do go home again, it will not be the same person who goes there.

I wanted to talk a little about leave-taking because that is what we are asked to think about today on the feast of the Ascension of the Lord.

Perhaps the word we use to identify this day is in some sense deceptive because implies a “going up,” Jesus’ going up to heaven, back to His Father. I have no doubt that at some point after Jesus’ resurrection He did indeed leave his friends. Whether Jesus “went up” is a question. But for the early disciples, “up” meant the place where God was. This was their sense of cosmology, their sense of the world. If Jesus went anywhere, it had to be up.

But we can set cosmology aside and simply ask about the implications of Jesus’ leaving. What is really clear is that Jesus, in the last few years of his ministry, developed a very close relationship with some very ordinary people, men and women, mostly working class folks. What is also clear is that he depended on them to help him fulfill his ministry. They were to be his trusted confidants. They traveled with Him; they preached as best they could, they took the responsibility of sharing bread with people. In simplest words, they were a “band of brothers.”

I can’t help but think, therefore, that after Jesus’ death and resurrection he must have come to the point where he needed to say goodbye to this band of brothers and sisters and that this must have given him a sense of sadness. After all, they had all gone through a lot together, some good times and some bad times.

So, it is interesting to notice that on the day he “headed for home,” Jesus wanted to make sure that his disciples would not be in complete despair over his going. He says to them: “Behold I am with you always, even until the end of the age.”

He did not say here how he was to be with them, but, for sure, this was not to be the end of the great adventure: Jesus gives his friends a task to continue working on: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

The logical question to ask, therefore, is this: What did Jesus expect would happen at “the end of the age,” at a point when the last disciple had passed on? Was this to be the end of the great adventure of preaching the kingdom of God?

Well, I have to believe that Jesus was smart enough to know that at some point his disciples would not be able to carry on his work. So, the only conclusion I can come to is that Jesus meant for his work to be carried on to the end of every age, throughout all of history. That has to be the only sensible way to understand Jesus’ work, namely that it now belongs to us, to his Church, with the help of the Spirit to carry it forward.

Of course, this work is more than about baptizing. It’s about all the ministries that we have learned to take upon ourselves as Catholic Christians: Lectors, Eucharistic ministers, catechists, visitors to the sick, comforters of the dying, et cetera. In short, there are pastoral leaders of all sorts available, depending on our unique gifts.

So, in the end we must say that we do not know whether Jesus was sad that he had to “go home.” Given what we do now know from history, we would have to say that He doesn’t need to worry. We’re trying our best to “keep things together.” Sure, we’ve made some mistakes, but, after all, we’re human, the Church is human, but we can still depend on Jesus to keep his word. “I will be with you until the end of the age.”

The scriptures: Acts 1: 12-14; 1 Pt 4:13-16; John 17:1-11a

6th Sunday of Easter - The Long Loneliness

Although I never personally met her, one of my all-time favorite people was Dorothy Day. She died in 1980 and during her lifetime she had several careers: A journalist, a Socialist, publisher of a monthly “penny paper” called the Catholic Worker. (It still only costs a penny.)

She was also a convert to the Catholic Church. She loved this adopted church so much that she had no fear even taking on the Cardinal Archbishop of New York on issues of war and peace.

Most especially though she was known for founding the Houses of Hospitality that welcomed any and all from the streets of large cities. She personally took on the responsibility of making the daily potato soup and bread, making up the beds, sitting and talking to people as long as they needed someone to talk to.

]]> Dorothy Day wrote a book, an autobiography late in her life entitled The Long Loneliness. It was sort of a sad book because Dorothy had experienced a hard life: First married, then divorced, then living alone.

But we learn from her autobiography that she found her greatest joy in being with others, with people of all classes of society. That was probably the reason why she founded The Catholic Worker and the Houses of Hospitality: She loved people and needed people to fill up her life because she was basically a lonely person.

It has occurred to me many times that perhaps most of us are basically lonely people. We come into this world all alone and we leave this world alone. But in the intervening years we long for and search for companionship: We marry, we join social groups or religious communities, and we make friends, often for life. All this tells me that we cannot bear to be alone.

Whoever was the author of the Book of Genesis he surely had a deep understanding of human nature. He is convinced that God created woman because it was not good for the man to be alone; so he created a helpmate. Then he adds this: “That is why a man leaves his father and mother and joins himself to his wife and they become one body.” One translation uses the word “cling”, the man “clings” to his wife because she is all he has. Without her he will be lonely for all of his life.

I have always thought of those lines as containing a deep insight into our deepest longings. Is it any wonder then that we spend so much of our life searching for that one person who will fulfill our deepest desires?

I often tell young people at their wedding that from this day forward they are meant to “cling to one another.” It is what will give meaning to their lives.

Despite this normal human longing, however, we are still destined to spend much of our life alone. Two examples: Occasionally I will walk back into church after Mass on a Sunday and look around. Not a soul is left in the pews. I say to myself: “An hour ago this place was packed with worshipers. They depended on me to celebrate the Eucharist; they waited for a word of encouragement in the homily. But now they have all gone their way and I am here alone (with Jesus!)”

Some years ago when I taught at a university, I would often join the drama students, taking a minor role in some play. Sometimes when the production was over, I would walk back out on the stage and look around. Not a soul in the bleachers; everyone had gone home and here I stood alone on the stage.

All this tells me that at many times in our lives we need to admit that we do stand alone. How must it be then for those who are sent to solitary confinement in prison? I would find that unbearable.

As I read the gospels, the story of Jesus’ life, I have the sense that he too must often have been lonely. True enough, he would choose to be off by himself in the desert or the mountains. But we also know that he longed for the companionship of his friends Lazarus, Martha and Mary. He “hung around” with the Twelve Apostles, with the Seventy Two, with many disciples. He was truly at home with the crowds. We also know, of course, that on the last night of his life he depended on his friends to support him: “Could you not watch one hour with me,” he cried out?

Perhaps it is not so unlikely, therefore, that he decided to establish a community of friends that would eventually become what we know as Church today. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to call together his friends and tell them that he would not leave them orphans. Even though he must eventually leave them and go his way, he would send them an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who would continue to be with them forever.

That is the way I have always thought of Church, as a gathering of friends at worship. True enough, Mass often seems like a formality that we take part in all alone but it does not have to be that way. There ought to be a sense of companionship in the pews and in the relationship of the presider and the folks.

If there is ever a situation where ideally Christians, Catholics, should not need not feel alone it would surely need to be in Church. That is one place where we definitely are one big family.

So, all these thoughts came to me as I looked through the liturgical calendar and noted that next Sunday we celebrate the feast of the Ascension of the Lord, Jesus’ leave-taking. And following that we celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the day of the Lord’s return in the Holy Spirit. All that tells me that we should never consider ourselves orphans. Jesus has never truly left us.

Perhaps Dorothy Day had it right: The best way to escape life’s Long Loneliness is to find a community and to cling to it. When you think about that, it’s probably the only option we have and not a bad one at that. The scriptures: Acts 8: 5-8, 14-17; 1 Peter 3: 15-18, John 14: 15-21

5th Sunday of Easter - Who’s Church?

It has always interested me to notice, at least among Christians, how important a role their church plays in their daily lives. Whether folks attend Mass regularly or not, they will ordinarily defend themselves as Catholics who belong to this or that church.

If you ask folks, particularly on the East Coast, or, say, in Louisiana, where they live, they will tell you: “I live in St. Monica’s Parish or “I live in St. Genieve’s.” Perhaps they will tell you that this is their church because it is the place where they feel ethnically and spiritually comfortable, welcomed, at home. Of course, they will also support and defend that church because it’s theirs. At least that is their conviction.

]]> For as long as the Catholic Church has been in existence, it has identified itself with the culture of the times in which it exists. We speak, therefore, of the “Early Church, Jewish and Christian. We hear a lot about the deep faith of the Church of the Middle Ages, or the more rich and flamboyant Church of the Renaissance, or, today, the Church of the Second Vatican Council. In every case the Church is identified with people, with their culture, their language, their habits and customs. One might need to say that the only Church that truly exists is the one that we know here and now, at this moment, in this place on this planet.

Another interesting element about Church is the question: “whose Church is it?” That may sound like a silly question because the Church doesn’t belong to anyone (not even the pope.) If the Church belongs to anyone, it belongs to Jesus Christ, the Founder!

But we have a lot of rather sorry history surrounding this very question: Who’s Church is it? Who controls it, whose is in charge?

I can still remember as a kid the disputes that went on in our Church of St. Henry over who was in charge: The church trustees or the pastor. In one instance, the trustees were so powerful that they actually persuaded the bishop to have the pastor deposed, sent packing!

Just recently we have a story in the Catholic news of the situation of a Polish church in St. Louis. There has been a battle going on for several years between the parishioners and Archbishop Raymond Burke over who owns the church’s financial assets, the parishioners or the bishop? The folks say, “The church is ours, we built it with our money.” The bishop says, “Sorry, I’m the boss, I call the shots.” In fact, it came to the point where the bishop closed the church altogether and excommunicated some of the parish leaders. The parishioners, for their part, went out and got their own pastor, a Polish priest from another parish! The battle continues. Pretty scandalous situation. But it tells you that people love their church and not even an archbishop is going to take it away from them. Of course, if someone tells you that it’s not about the money, it’s about the money! Jesus must be weeping.

In the Boston Archdiocese a similar situation is happening. The Archbishop closed a number of churches. In the case of the Church of St. Joan of Arc, the parishioners have occupied the church night and day for several months and refuse to leave.

Well, all of this tells you, of course, that over the centuries that the Church has been in existence, it has not existed in a vacuum. It always seems to take on the patterns of secular life, and that is not always a good model.

A good question to ask, of course, is this: What was it like in the beginning? What was in the mind of Jesus and the early Christians when Christianity took root? Obviously, Jesus himself did not set up any organization.

Within a few years, of course, those early disciples began to organize themselves into bodies called churches. Most of them were smaller than our normal parish today. Hence, the atmosphere was more intimate, close-knit.

Well, let me say that there is an answer to that question, Who’s Church Is It? You heard the answer a few moments ago when we listened to the second reading from the Letter of Peter

Let me warn you ahead of time that this is not the sort of language we use today. Nonetheless, it will tell you a lot about how those early Christians, our brothers and sisters, thought about themselves. Here is how the author of that letter to the Christians referred to them: Let me paraphrase it: “My brothers and sisters, remember, Jesus Christ is our living cornerstone, precious in the sight of God. And you too are living stones. Therefore, you must build yourselves up on the cornerstone that is Christ. After all, you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation a people set apart to praise the God who has called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

My friends, to my mind that is one of the clearest descriptions of Church that I have ever heard. It tells us who we are, how we are related to Christ and what our task in the world is all about.

How different that is from the way we often think of Church today with all our organization, all our laws, all the competition that goes on over who makes decisions, who has the power, et cetera.

It occurs to me to say, therefore, that it wouldn’t be a bad idea if every parish, every Christian community were to gather once each year, aside from Mass, and discuss questions like this: What does this Christian community think about itself? What responsibility do we take for our Church? How do we think about our leaders, the bishop and the local pastor? Do we collaborate for the good of our parish or do we struggle for power? The answers to those questions might give the parish a clear idea of how it thinks of itself.

The point is, my friends, we just can’t take our church, our Christian community, for granted. We are all living stones, as the letter of Peter described. We are built on the cornerstone that is Christ.

Whether all this will change bishops’decisions to close churches, I don’t know. Whether it will help Christians understand their role as members of a parish, I have no idea. But one thing for sure, if we could only decide to use the model of those early Christians we just heard about, we’d all be a happier Church and the question Who’s Church Is It? Would never even raise its ugly head?

The scriptures: Acts 6 1-7; 1 Peter 2: 4-9; John 14: 1-12