My Lord and My God

 In many ways we are just like Thomas. We really don’t want to come by our faith "second hand" (John 20:19-31). Our parents taught us that things worth having are worth working for? So in keeping with our Gospel reading we ask, is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” For many of us, our religion was chosen for us by our parents or inherited through our family tradition, but our faith is ours alone.

Blind faith, if it’s faith at all, does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe “down deep” in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment and permits us to cruise through our spiritual journey without the opportunity to really live on the spiritual edge of life. True faith requires knowing what we believe, beyond any doubt and with no way of being able to really explain in words. So Thomas’ in refusing to accept what he was being told and say that he understood what he did not, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know and understand for himself 

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter of the Bible. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt, gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him.

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in a new reality, challenging us to know what we believe so  with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

He has Risen, Alleluia

 It’s only natural to think of Easter and the Resurrection as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is beyond extraordinary and solely in   the province of God. Yet, calling Easter a miracle makes the event exclusively God’s and removes us from having anything to do with it. I don’t believe that this is God’s intent since the incarnation of God in Jesus and His death and resurrection were for humanity's salvation and benefit and not God's. God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments and while God may work a miracle apart from man, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament in that a sacrament requires our participation for its existence. 

Easter is sacramental every time one of us reaches out to lighten another's burden no matter how large or small. Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities. We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful. We are sacramental with Easter when we sacrifice for one another and not for selfish advantage. Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives/devotes his life for another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds. 

John Calvin wrote that in becoming Son of man with us, he made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197) 

Jesus became incarnate to not only teach us how to live our lives but to reside in God through Jesus and lift us up into a life of communion with the very triune life of God. When we say “in him through him and with him” at the Eucharist, we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9). 

(Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

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The Power of Love vs The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate, the governor in the time of Jesus, who led the parade riding a white stallion, a symbol of Rome’s dominance. The parade was a reminder to the Jews not to cause trouble during Passover. As if to challenge Roman oppression, Jesus rode a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, in the opposite direction, entering through the gate from which Pilate exited. (Mark 11:1-10)

 Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control; however, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in the love of God. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking Pilate. 

Contrary to some long-held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place for the trials of our human existence. So then, why the cross? The cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers to “cease and desist.” Ironically, in the first century AD the cross was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event on Good Friday. In time, however, the cross became the central symbol of our faith…a symbol that reminds us that the journey does not end with Jesus’ death but we, along with Jesus are resurrected to eternal life. The cross reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a “nobody” who was raised up as we will be. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Seeing is Believing

 

Spring is only a few days old, but it's not very convincing. Temperatures  keep us off balance enough to wonder when winter will finally yield. And while it’s been a  relatively snowless winter, it's been  a very cold season.  And yet without fail,  the day's light lengthens and we are able to enjoy more light in our waking hours.  The birds have begun to arrive at the feeder and the tree frogs make an nocturnal racket. Their “calendar” is precisely aligned with the universe as their "time," not  a word in nature's dictionary, has  arrived. 

Yet here I am, layered in warm clothing, watching the woodpecker drill more holes in the Atlas cedar outside my window in search of nurturing syrup. The beacons of nature undoubtedly know what my human instincts doubt. I’ll believe it when I see it. And that's the essence our Gospel (John 9:1-41)…Seeing is believing, or is it?

Jesus is the light in the darkness, calling forth new life; all life springs from the light as it continues to lengthen on its way to summer. In this ambivalent month: temperate one day, cold another, the light warms the soil and beckons dormant seeds to “life’s” renewal. March knows instinctively what we intellectually know but find hard to believe.

We can deny the season but we cannot deny the light’s return. Seeing is believing…right? In our Gospel, Jesus restores a blind man’s sight. Yet, the Pharisees are unwilling to accept what they see, and ask a barrage of challenging questions: can he really see; is this the same man who was just blind?  Furthermore, they ask his parents if he was born blind; and how did Jesus open his eyes. What more can the man say; he was blind, Jesus gave him sight and now he can see. Still not wanting to believe what they have seen and heard, the Pharisees drive the man away…out of their sight. Those things that we have seen but cannot explain, we choose to dismiss and deride. That’ll make it go away.

Perhaps the unwillingness to believe in the obvious may seem an exaggeration burJohn is making a point.  Sometimes, despite what we see and hear, we find reality difficult to embrace. The inability to let go and put our egos aside is part of our human nature. It can be argued that believing and understanding reside in our intellect, while knowing is an intuitive part of our being not governed by by our intellect. We know air, we don’t need to believe in it. So, what does it take for His light to penetrate our hearts and and accept without question that which we can't see but know? Isn’t it curious how all in nature knows the light and responds according to its own being without question, and yet we can’t let go of our wintered-over hearts and open our eyes and see the light and listen to the cleansing waters of March:

And the riverbank talks of the waters of March;

 It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart.

And the riverbank talks of the waters of March;

It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart

 

This is My Beloved…Listen to Him

I wonder how aware are we of  the "voice" of God in our lives and the way in which it is manifested? While reference to "a spiritual calling" is commonly associated with clergy, we don’t often consider that we’re “called” to a career or a secular vocation or even volunteering. But, why not? I pose this question because the story of the Transfiguration (Luke 9:28b-36) reminds us to listen with all our senses for God’s will for us. And while the unworldly spectacle of the transfiguration blinded Peter, James and John, aren't we  easily be distracted by the “noise” of the world?

The scene  moves very quickly as Peter in his excitement is eager to commemorate and memorialize the event feels the need to freeze the moment and do something to capture this life-changing event… even before he has been able to process what he has just seen. We feel like saying to Peter "Please be quiet and just listen before you do or say anything!"  While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” 

Maybe everything started to become clear and make sense to Peter when he listened and heard the word of God, but as we know too well, it didn't last very long.  How many times did Jesus remind Peter of his destiny? Peter may hear but is he really listening?  

Peter's transformation comes about when he repeatedly fails, falls, and is lifted up again. We too try our best and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. We, too, have moments of insight and moments of denial. We too, fall down in fear and are raised up again and move ahead in confidence. This is a pattern that shapes our lives on this spiritual journey. We all must face the wilderness that ultimately leads to transformation and growth. This story is as much about Peter and Jesus as it is about us as we are asked to listen and to hear his voice and know God’s will for us.

 In these past weeks Luke has called our attention to Jesus’ humanity so that we might see our lives in and through his. But make no mistake,  in this gospel Luke reveals Jesus' divinity in no uncertain terms: “This is my beloved…listen to Him.”. And as we share in Jesus’ humanity, we also share in his divinity. We must listen with every fiber of our bing and allow the message to seep through the din of our day to day and know that we are being called each day to be transformed and allow our divine nature find it's way through on our journey back to "from whom we've come."

There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. Sometimes these graces have moved me in pleasant and sunlit directions. At other times the requested acts of love were born in the darkness of struggle and suffering. There have been spring times and there have been long cold winters of struggle for survival. God has come to me at times with the purest kindness, at times with the most affirming encouragement, and at other times with bold frightening challenges. I think that all of us have to watch and pray, to be ready to say “yes” when God’s language is concrete and his request is specific-“yes” in the sunlit spring times and “yes’ in the darkness of winter nights. (John Powell, S.J., The Christian Vision, The Truth That Sets Us Free, p147)

Our Time in the Desert

 Lent is an important part of our journey. Each step we take has been walked at one time in the gospels. We know that this, our spiritual journey, begins in the desert and leads us to the cross and to a tomb and “ends” with Easter, at which time our journey to God begins again. In our readings for this upcoming Sunday in Lent, Luke 4:1-13, we are told that “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”  What do these temptations or tests mean to us today? 

I have been fortunate to have had an opportunity to travel fairly extensively in my life, both for business and pleasure. Although less so much now, travelling was one of my passions. Today the desire to travel has been tempered by time, circumstance and the need to be more selective. Over the years I have observed that there are two types of  journeymen. I would categorize these as being either tourists or travelers. The tourist travels through his journey in comfort, ensuring that his experiences are familiar and safe. He makes sure that he takes “his stuff” from  home with him. There are many vendors along the way who, for a price, would be willing to accommodate the tourist’s expectations and satisfy his needs, most of which are soon forgotten when he returns home armed with photos, souvenirs, and pleasant memories. On the other hand, the traveler  becomes totally absorbed by the experience in which the destination is not the only focus but part of a continuum. He is enriched in mind and spirit as new experiences are revealed and long remembered.

A few years ago, we decided to take a trip to Alaska. Our goal was to experience it as up close and personal as we could, requiring that we leave our “comfort zone” and all the attachments of our lives back home. This required that we travel on a small ship that had access to small ports and "fjords." There would be no cell phones, internet or TV. Our accommodation was a small room reminiscent of spiritual retreat.  While a departure from the way we might typically travel, this was one of the most enjoyable trips we’d ever taken. We were living as being absorbed by the journey, in the journey, as "explorers" mindful of our days' activities, unencumbered by distractions. 

Jesus’ time in the desert somehow relates to our journey as a traveler leaving our comfort zone and sharing the food we have, instead of waiting for stones to be turned into bread. If our goal is to find God in all places and things, we may to find Him in "new" places, among "new" people. As an act of faith, like Jesus, we place ourselves in God’s hands and surrender to his will by the power of the Holy Spirit

Compassion is a Verb

Sometimes, Jesus’ teachings don’t always seem to make practical sense. When we hear him say "love your enemies and do good to them, turn the other cheek when struck, give to anyone who asks, do to others as you would have them do to you, be merciful, stop judging, forgive, and give to others," we feel a bit uncomfortable and frankly, guilty. After all, it’s okay for God to be able to do these things, but does He really want/expect to follow his lead? As right-minded Christians trying to do the right thing, we silently draw the line with some of these ideals and say, “No way!”  

There is still this a persistent ongoing frame of mind, that believes violent action deserves a violent response. Somehow, we continue to justify this. Yet, it is most clearly against the very grain of this Gospel and Jesus' teachings. Part of our difficulty has more to do with understanding the counter intuitive nature of human beings and God's love. 

Both the capacity for good and the disposition toward evil exist in every one of us. Viktor Frankl has this to say when reflecting on the Holocaust: “Our generation is a realistic generation because we have learned what a human being really is. When all is said and done, man is the same creature who invented the gas-chambers of Auschwitz; but he is also that being who walked upright into those chambers with the prayer ‘Shema Yisrael’ on his lips.” If we believe in God, we have to act like God. Whether we like that idea is another issue. If we don’t then perhaps, we need to reconsider our faith and whether we really believe in Jesus Christ. We are made in the image of God, not the image of ourselves. (Luke 6:39-45) The Christian must, at all costs, leave resentment and the need for retaliation behind, lose defensiveness and bring into the mind and heart the realization of who we represent in this world. God loves the sinner as much as He does the saint. And, both of these inclinations exist in every human being, even those who consider themselves holy. 

(Adapted from St. Benedict Church, Holmdel, NJ, February 20, 2022.)