Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Don't Ask, It's a Mystery




We celebrate those events in the life of Christ in the Gospel as stories that are meant to be lived as we are inspired to live them. I’ve come to realize that if I understand something and feel that I can explain it, it’s no mystery. Yet, there’s this undeniable urge to put our ego front and center and do our best to try to explain things that defy explanation. I was reminded when I heard Adam say, I was afraid, because I was naked. To which God answered, who told you that you were naked? (Genesis 3:8-19) Too often modern believers tend to place their trust in therapy more than they do in mystery, a fact that’s revealed when our worship resorts to the jargon of ego-satisfying, self-help and pop psychology: Let’s use this hour to get our heads straight or revisit our perspective. Really? Sure, let’s use this hour because we’re too busy later, after all, we’ve got the kids, or I don’t want anything to get in the way of my Super Bowl Sunday. Let’s use this hour, and get it over with and you can send me a bill… later I will zip off a check in the mail. There, that’s done. But the mystery of worship which is God’s presence and our response to it doesn’t work this way.

Somehow, the mistrust of all that has been handed down to us, has led to a failure of the imagination, evidenced by language that’s thoroughly comfortable and unchallenging. Our prayers become a self- indulgent praise of ourselves as we purport to “confess” our weaknesses. These prayers are anything but the lifting of our hearts and minds to God. There’s no attempt to at least meet him half way and listen and stop talking.
 

And so now in this fourth week of Advent we focus on the Annunciation (Luke1:26-28), a mystery of epic proportions that defies rational explanation. It stuns us to hear some attempt to reduce the virgin birth to a mere story of an unwed pregnant teenager. Have we come to a time when anything that did not stand up to reason or that we couldn’t explain, should be characterized as primitive and infantile? Why do we think that an almighty spiritual being is confined to man’s intellect and his feeble language to communicate? Do we not see how metaphor and poetry reveal meaning, not explanation, on a deep personal level?

A few years ago we had an opportunity to travel through Eastern Europe, making our way from the Black Sea to Amsterdam. I was taken aback by the devastation in human lives caused by the failure of the “great social experiment,” that created societies whose wealth was shared but only among those at the top. So great buildings were erected for the personal aggrandizement of the elite while sacrificing the welfare of the people who were desperate for food and who desired a modicum of personal enrichment. On the other hand, I was impressed with the number of churches and cathedrals that were reopened after decades of being forced to close. While they appeared to be flourishing, they served more to support tourism than worship.

Looking at the beautiful classical paintings and art in these churches made me wonder what it was that inspired the artists to create poetic images and visual metaphors depicting the “mysteries” of Christianity. It occurred to me that their art was spoken in a language all its own and derived its source from inspiration and not the intellect, and while the cynic might deride the image of the Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary, the artist understood it completely. Art and music are languages of the soul and bypass our rational being to speak to us at a level we cannot explain or know but do we really need explanation for something we feel down deep?

When we allow God’s love to break through into our consciousness as we contemplate the Mysteries of the Annunciation and Virgin birth, do we run from it? Do we ask it to explain what it cannot? Or are we “virgin” enough to surrender to our deepest self and allow it to fill our being? We cannot ask it to explain what it cannot.





Saturday, December 9, 2017

Oh Come, Oh Come, Oh come Emmanuel



 
By their nature the “Word” and “Light” and the realities they evoke lend themselves as apt symbols of the truth about Jesus and of What God is doing in Jesus in cooperation with the Spirit. The Trinitarian God is wholly part and parcel of this divine self-revelation and outreach to us.

This divine revelation is at the heart of our coming Christmas celebration. In the Christmas mystery we proclaim that Jesus is the divine revelatory presence of God among us and for us. St. John tells us that Jesus, as the Word of God, brings all things into being as the Light of God in this world. St. John further says that in Jesus and in the daily witness of those who live in his Holy Spirit, the darkness of this world is pushed back, step by step, moment by moment in a challenging exercise of religious and spiritual patience until at last, the full saving power of God dries the final tears and heals the wounds we so regularly cause each other in a world that lost its way within the life and time of Adam and Eve. (John: 6-8, 19-2)

Jesus is the Light of the world--he shows us our true selves, he previews our collective destiny, he is the on-going answer to our most selfless and generous and loving prayers.

Come, let us gather together this Christmas Day and this Christmas Season to celebrate God’s coming among us as one of us in Jesus—whose total reality is spelled out in his divinely given name: Emanuel, “God with us,.”’ (
Ronald Cioffi, December 23, 2011)





Saturday, December 2, 2017

Prepare the Way of The Lord


In January of 2007, The Washington Post videotaped the reactions of commuters at a D.C. Metro (subway) stop to the music of a violinist. The overwhelming majority of the 1000+ commuters were too busy to stop. A few did, briefly, and some of them threw a couple of bills into the violin case of the street performer. No big deal, just an ordinary day on the Metro. Except it wasn't an ordinary day. The violinist wasn't just another street performer; he was Joshua Bell, one of the world's finest concert violinists, playing his multi-million dollar Stradivarius. Three days earlier he had filled Boston's Symphony Hall with people paying over $100/seat to hear him play similar pieces. The question the Post author and many others since have asked is simple: Have we been trained to recognize beauty outside the contexts we expect to encounter beauty? Or, to put it another way, can we recognize great music anywhere outside of a concert hall?

So, I wonder, are we able to only detect the presence of God when we are in Church, immersed in liturgy, hymns and spiritually uplifting music? Do we require the proper scene to create a mood so that we can feel his presence? Do we need props to help us? Sometimes I wonder if Church even gets in the way by setting up forced expectations of something that can’t be forced. After all here we are in “God’s House,” and He’s been waiting for us to call on Him all along.  No, I don’t think it works that way.
So, why did the commuters not recognize the talent of the famed concert violinist? I can understand that we might not recognize the man himself; I know that as much as I have admired the young violinist, I would not recognize him. And what about his music? Not everyone likes classical music, although most people would recognize Bell’s virtuosity and marvel at his skill. Yet, in the Metro, far from Philharmonic Hall, we do not recognize his mastery. It’s not so much that we look for God in the context of “where he’s expected,” after all why do we even think that God is ever in a contextual setting programmed for and by us? It’s just that we are not open to his presence all around us. Perhaps it helps to recall Matthew’s Gospel two weeks ago: Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?
John was sent to prepare us for Jesus, to help us recognize his presence in one another and the world around us. How many times have we read (Mark 1:1-8 ) or heard John’s words: "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals?” Do we walk past him as the commuters did Joshua Bell?  Dear Lord we pray, please help us to see God at work in and through all the "ordinary" elements of our lives. And then who knows, we might even take him to Church with us as His house becomes our house.