What's Going On?

Adversity can play a key role in honing our ability to hear what is beyond the usual scope of our ordinary consciousness. Facing stressful challenges outside the norm of our usual experience can heighten our awareness of events that otherwise would go unnoticed. Samuel Johnson put it nicely “Depend upon it sir, when a man knows he is about to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”

Not coincidentally and almost by definition, our Advent readings occur during the so-called Holiday Season. It’s a time when friends and family get together. With the Thanksgiving weekend over, it’s time to move on to Christmas. As enjoyable as these social activities are, we seek respite, time alone and a return to the solitary comfort of our home. It is precisely for such clarity and insight that people seek out desert experiences such as solitary retreats, in which we step away from many of the usual supports of life, family, friends, familiar surroundings and routine, in order to be open to God’s call. This is a time for personal transformation that may be revealed on tip toes or in the sound of gun fire.

Unlike John-the-Baptist in Luke 3:1-6 , we don’t always get a chance to choose our desert times and places. They sometimes are provided for us in the form of illness, change in employment, failures in relationships, death of a loved one and even, natural disasters. These deserts all hold new possibilities for hearing the word of God at ever deepening levels. They have a way of “concentrating our mind wonderfully.”

For the past three weeks much of the news and focus of our discussions have been on the reports of urban terrorists’ attacks and civil unrest, all of which are comingled with the noise of advertisements beating the drum for Black Friday; pre-Christmas sales, and the hollow political rhetoric of candidates and their commentators. How do we process all this, much less try to make sense of it? What’s going on? The question harkens back to another turbulent time in our Nation’s history when the Marvin Gaye song of the same name asked the question and in some ways served as a mantra for the time: Mother, mother There's too many of you crying; Brother, brother, brother; There's far too many of you dying…we don’t need to escalate…what’s going on?

Our Scripture discussions in recent weeks have channeled world events and our being asked to keep awake and be ready. It goes hand in hand with the uncertainty of what’s going on today but, making sense of it is easier said than done. We really have to work hard to find God in all this. Words come much more easily than the reality of recognizing him, in ourselves and in those who are hurting. “The Christian community is the place where we keep the flame alive among us and take it seriously, so that it can grow and become stronger in us. In this way we can live with courage, trusting that there is a spiritual power in us that allows us to live in this world without being seduced constantly by despair, lostness and darkness. That is how we say that God is a God of love even when there is hatred all around us.We need to wait together to keep each other at home spiritually, so that when the word comes it can become flesh in us.” (Waiting for God, Henri Nouwen)

 

Happy Thanksgiving

 

We shall become Christians on that day when sunshine means more to us than a further acquisition.  We shall become Christians on that day when the children of the world excite us at least as much as its rulers.  We shall become Christians on that day when we use our hearts to measure the worth of a  human being, on that day when greed or pride do not lead us to friendship but only to love.  We shall become Christians when we are joyful because so many people are in love rather than because so many people are affluent.  We shall become Christians when we learn to make music and poetry, to make love and peace, to make Jesus human and to make ourselves as human as He was.  We shall become Christians when the sight of the sea makes us dance more joyously than the purchase of a new car.  We shall become Christians when we allow Jesus to speak to us by His values as well as by his words.  We shall become Christians on that morning when we laugh and sing for the right reasons and when we weep not because we have lost something but because we were given so much.

Anthony Padovano, “Dawn Without Darkness”

Christ the King

The world was turned upside down by the horrendous terrorist attacks in Paris last Friday, 11/13/15. Following the attacks, it was impossible for me  get our gospel reading scheduled (Mark13:24-32) for Sunday out of my mind. (Mark was the focus of our discussion at our Scripture Discussion session on Wednesday, 11/11/15.) I do not believe in coincidence as Jesus' words continued to resonate as images of fear, pain and lostness played out on live TV from Paris and in my living room in me: “Keep Awake…the day or hour no one knows…after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken And then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.” Was it prophetic or was it a script? 

Next Sunday is the last Sunday before Advent and is the Feast of Christ the King. Our reading in John (John 18: 33b-37) picks up where Jesus left off in Mark with Jesus’ words, announcing "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here." 

These two readings could not have been more prophetic. How could the people of Paris who died or were injured or who lost love ones have known that this night would be so catastrophic? And where was God in all this? Couldn’t he just this one time send his army to prevent the terror being foisted on innocent people in the name of religion, in his name, just this one time? Why not we wonder. 

Our ability to make sense of all this is somehow all wrapped up in the mystery of God in which words come to us more easily than the reality of recognizing him, and perhaps ourselves, in those who are hurting? We become so wrapped up in religiosity and Bible-speak that we let the words flow trippingly off the tongue? Words, words, words. But how do the words become flesh in us and help us to process the events and find the indwelling God  in this human tragedy.

Aldolpho Quezada says in his book, Walking with God, “God does intervene but less in the circumstances of our lives than in our manner of responding to those circumstances.” His insight fits in with the psychological principle that it isn’t what happens to us but how we interpret what happens that causes us problems or anxiety or depression. For example, God may not intervene in the illness of a loved one but he will intervene in how we and our loved one react to the illness, seeing the suffering in the illness as essentially linked to the redeeming suffering of Jesus on the cross."

As for the Kingdom of God in the here and now, Richard Rohr tells us that for centuries all the world’s religions were pointing to heaven or the kingdom of God as something in the “next world.” God is with us, here and now, as revealed in the fellowship of broken people we call church and available to us in the seemingly small gestures of mercy we offer and are offered each and every day. It may not be where we expect God to show up, but it is just where we need him.
As for Paris, the overwhelming shared feelings of unity and support coupled with being able to mirror ourselves in those directly effected, gives us a glimpse of God's love at play.  So, we celebrate the feast of Christ the King, not because of his regal bearing, but because of his humility; not because of his power, but because of his compassion and his presence in us…What kind of king wields the power of love and shuns love of power and humbles himself and takes up residence in us, the least of these? 

Keep Awake... No One Knows the Hour or Day

 

Keep Awake for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. These words have been repeated for over 2,000 years, yet somehow we still fear the end of our life on earth. Sure, we are comforted by the many parallels in nature that reveal death to be a precursor to new life, but the fear of death lingers in the shadows. We have - or likely have - lived longer than our parents and grandparents. We know we are better fed, and while some might take issue with our respective quality of our lives, modern medicine protects us from pain, contagion and disease that will shorten our lives...Yet, we are still afraid. Why?

In the days following 9/11/01 the words Fear Not seemed a little harder to process and take to heart. Surely we had every reason to be afraid. I am reminded of Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest, who served as Chaplain to the New York Fire Dept. He was the first registered victim at Ground Zero, the term euphemistically applied which now defines the former Twin Towers. The details of his death are unclear: some say he was fatally wounded as he administered last rites to a dying firefighter; others recall his being killed while in silent prayer. Whatever happened, his lifeless body was discovered in the Tower lobby and carried to a nearby church shortly before the building collapsed.

What does this have to do with our gospel (Mark 13:24-37)? I can remember driving to Connecticut that morning as I did daily for over a year. It had rained heavily the day before and this day was a day among days. Who knew how that fateful Tuesday, that began with skies so blue and air so clear, would end as it did? As I approached the Tappenzee, I could hear Charles McCord tell Don Imus that “it appears that a plane has crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.” I looked to my right and could see the beginning of a smoke plume and immediately thought small aircraft. Minutes later now on the bridge, I heard McCord say that the North Tower was hit by another plane. What’s going on I wondered? I somehow managed to turn my car around on an unpaved, unfinished roadway before exiting into Connecticut…the bridge approaches were under construction and there was a way to do this maneuver far outside the bounds of what was permitted or legal but I knew that the bridge would be shut down and I had to get home. I also knew that I had to get to my wife and tell her to get out of Manhattan any way she could…now. She was alerted via the myriad of monitors in her office that something terrible happened and was still happening. Please go home I asked, maybe even demanded. We were afraid. It was a never-before-fear that was all so new to our adult lives; all I knew was we had to get home.

If the thought of finding God amidst such harrowing circumstances seems strange, perhaps it is because we are out of practice looking for Him. I am inspired beyond the time of my original writing a few years back by Nouwen, The Wounded Healer and Ronald Haney’s The God Within You. Haney writes “One of the best kept secrets in Christianity is this: God, infinite, all-powerful, eternal Trinity, Father, Son and the spirit, dwells within each one of us and is closer to you than you are to yourself. This is the mystery of the Divine Indwelling… And where God’s life is there is God. This is one of the most ancient doctrines of our faith. A belief that for the most part is lost in the dusty annals of history. It is a faith-conviction which if lived could make all the difference in our lives in as vivid as the Transfiguration, as subtle as water changed into wine, as dramatic as a prostitute repenting her way into sanctity.” (God Within You, Father Ronald T Haney.)

Knowing that Christ loves us may not save us from fear, nor will it save us from death. And so it comes down to this: The only way to truly overcome our fear of death is to "be prepared" and to live with the knowledge that God is ever present within and is closer to us than we are to ourselves. No, it will not protect us from fear but, as Jesus did in all his humanity he called on the Father to see him through his fear, not as our will but as His will be done.

In many ways, Father Mychal lived this gospel. In many ways this was a man who had arrived at Ground Zero long before 9/11. He had proved himself ready to lay down his life many times during his career. For him 9/11 could have occurred on any day or at any time... he was prepared.

As with Father Mychal, it means fighting the impulse to live for ourselves instead of for others. It means being prepared to die again and again to ourselves, and to every one of our self-serving opinions and agendas. But about that day or hour… no one knows. (Adapted from 11/25/12 blog RRR)

The Power of Love vs. the Love of Power

The ability to assess the impact of Jesus’ meaning as he compares the scribes to the widow depends on a variety of factors: who was his audience at the time; who was Mark’s audience at the time of his writing (Mark 12: 38-44). And perhaps more importantly for our purposes, how do his words resonate with us today? These questions are relevant to understanding Jesus’ overall message as emphasized by his quote, Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.

Jesus denounces the scribes for their hypocrisy and the way in which they amass their wealth. It is more important for the scribes to be seen in all their pompous finery and feigned reverence. The scribes are acknowledged for what they contribute to the treasury from their abundance, while she the poor widow gives from her need. So, whose contribution is truly greater?

The scribes were the educated class of religious leaders regarded as the professorial types of the time. As such they expected to sit in places of honor. In addition to doing nothing for the oppressed, much of their wealth was derived from the poor and the oppressed. This is part of an ongoing much larger criticism that Jesus levies against the temple-based authority that began with the clearing of the Temple earlier. Note, the money referenced is used to fund the Temple’s treasury; it makes no mention of its use to comfort or feed the needy.

I wonder how this message relates to us today. How do we approach stewardship and how do we maintain our focus on God and not on the temple? Over the centuries many explanations have been proposed to explain Jesus’ anger with the merchants in the temple and in this reading, the hypocrisy of the scribes. What about Jesus’ frustration with the church-governing bodies, the high priests, church councils and vestries whose public piety has nothing to do with sharing God’s love and whose adherence to rituals of worship are empty? Jesus was a radical whose focus was preaching the love of God and not about the man-made rules associated with misguiding the faithful in the name of God. Jesus sought to overturn “the tables” and rid the temples of all the piety, purity and social rules created in the name of God for the sole purpose of control and power.

Yet Church is vital to our lives because it provides a coming together where we can proclaim the Gospel and share the sacraments in which we perceive God’s grace most clearly. But then we are sent out to look for God as we partner with him to feed the needy and comfort those who are oppressed. Isn’t that the image we hold for the Church? Jesus’ anger is directed toward those who use the love of power to control their congregations rather than the power of love to create an environment that sets the stage for the sharing of God’s love. Do we have the courage to overturn the tables as Jesus did and tear down the walls that exclude, and to live the Word and let the Word become flesh in us?