Are We Looking or Just Waiting

The Mystery of Christmas embraces both the feasts of the Nativity and the Epiphany. In the Nativity we commemorate God’s humble entrance into human life, incarnated in Jesus. In the Epiphany we celebrate Jesus as God’s gift to the world and embodies the expression for our longing for intimacy with God. (Matthew 2: 1-12)

Like the Magi, we need only the light of strong, unwavering faith to see Him, to find Him, to serve Him in the people around us and in the circumstances of our everyday living. Like the Magi, we need only to trust in and know God's love for us…only then we will recognize His presence and His power in sunrise and sunset, in storm and calm, in the faces of children and wisdom of the elderly, in moments of elation and heart-break. We will see His radiance and warmth behind every cloud of sorrow or failure that darkens our days.

The Magi went to extraordinary lengths to look for the Christ Child. They serve to remind us that there are those who wait for the coming of the Jesus with those who make the effort to find Him. Like the magi, our search goes on - but so does Epiphany…Are we actively looking or merely waiting… and what gifts do we bring?

 

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 the realization that it’s not a mystery when I know I really understand a scripture concept and yet feel that I can't explain it. Yet, there is an undeniable urge to let our egos run rampant and we do our best to explain that which defies explanation

Somehow, the mistrust of all that has been handed down to us has led to the failure of the imagination, evidenced by language we choose that is comfortable and unchallenging to our senses. Sometimes we quickly turn the page or change the subject because something we encounter in scripture challenges our ability to fully comprehend its meaning...instead of just letting it rest long enough in our imagination for it to speak to us without words?

As we approach the fourth week in Advent we focus on the Annunciation according to Matthew (Matthew 1:18-24), a mystery of epic proportions that defies rational explanation. It bothers me when I 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 does not stand up to conventional wisdom or that defies explanation should be characterized as primitive and infantile? Why do we think that an God would be confined to the confines of  man’s intellect and language to communicate His message to us? Metaphor and poetry reveal meaning, not explanation on a deeper personal level that is unique to each of us IF we are willing to open our hearts and suspend our ego and just listen?

Richard Rohr recalls visiting the Church of his youth at Christmas and found and drawn to the Crèche. Staring at the statue of the Baby he was moved by the scene. Of course he knew that this charming bucolic setting was not the way it really was; yet, it inspired his knowing that the Incarnation of God in man could not be denied.

When we allow God’s love to break though our consciousness and contemplate the mystery of the Annunciation and Virgin birth, we do we not 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 penetrate our very being?

"For many of us mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming ‘little children’ again in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love with it again. And in that love we find an ever increasing freedom to be who we really are in an identity that is continually emerging and never defined. We are freed to join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are…Confusion happens when mystery is an enemy and we feel we must solve it to master our destinies. And Ignorance is not knowing that we do not know. In the liberation of the dark night, we are freed from having to figure things out and we find delight in knowing that we do not know." (Gerald May, Mystery and Freedom,the Dark Night of the Soul p.133) 

Who Do You Say That I AM?

 

This week’s account of John in Matthew 11:2-11 is quite a contrast to John's first fiery appearance. What happened to the outspoken firebrand, the radical Messianic prophet? He attracted large crowds as he fearlessly rebuked religious leaders with his preaching. While his arrogant, self-assured confidence made us a little uncomfortable, we were eager to hear what he had to say about the Advent of the One. But this week, we see a different John, pacing his small prison cell, wondering if his ministry was all in vain. He was having his doubts about whether Jesus truly was the long awaited Messiah. By all accounts, Jesus was not measuring up to John's expectations. Desperate for some validation, he manages to send a messenger to put the question directly to Jesus: “Are you the one?”

Rather than answer John’s question directly, Jesus cites all that he has done and dispatches the messenger: 

Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.

Matthew gives us reason to suggest that John was aware of Jesus ministry and his works. But was he looking for something more spectacular? Were Jesus’ works a little too mundane for a Messiah? What was it that he wanted to hear from Jesus? Maybe John’s sights were set on a different kind of Messiah, one based on his concept of what a Messiah is, because he hadn’t prepared himself to see God at work. To say the least John and Jesus' styles were as different as their personal behaviors and lifestyles.

As a child I sang in a boys’ choir at a "High Mass" every Sunday and on Holy Days. I remember singing the beautiful Magnificat, the Canticle of Mary in May and at Christmas time. We sang the hymn in Latin. However, I was confused by our director, Sister Henrietta’s translation. The haunting melody and cadence and its sweet sounding words in Latin, betrayed the theme of the humble virgin’s Hymn of praise. It sounded more like a revolutionary battle cry:

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty. 

Was this the powerful Messiah John was expecting? Perhaps Jesus’ answer to John says it best: What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? And yet, John was right, the Messiah was all about dethroning the mighty but Jesus was all about exalting the lowly, or filling the hungry. Jesus was interested in deeds and not words, Go and tell John what you hear and see. Jesus was all about repentance, a metanoia…turning the mind around. His revolution was about social change…the fruits worthy of repentance. 

And so I wonder, are we any different from John? What limits have we placed on our imagination, on our expectations? Sure the beautiful Church services, with its inspirational sermons, hymns and fellowship at Christmas all serve to create a sense of God, but do we continue to carry that sense of God with us when we leave the Church and tend to our day-to-day activities in the other 167 hours of the week? Have we prepared ourselves to look for God in the ordinary people, places and things of our lives, in the ordinary nickels and dimes of our lives? 

We do not come to know God just by contemplating Him in secure spiritual isolation or by our scripture discussions every Wednesday night. No, God comes to us when we provide shelter for the homeless or offer a cup of water to the thirsty, in either a fancy Waterford glass or plain Dixie cup. It's a Quiet Thing.

When it all come true
Just the way you planned
It's funny but the bells don't ring
It's a quiet thing

When you hold the world
In your trembling hand
You think you'd hear a choir singing
But it's a quiet thing

There are no exploding fire works
Where's the roaring of the crowd
Maybe it's the strange new atmosphere
Way up here among the clouds

Happiness comes in on tiptoe
Well, what do you know

Christ The King

 

Although his time on earth was short, Jesus created quite a stir during his even briefer ministry (Luke 23:33-43). As a revolutionary he upset Jewish law, tradition and the Roman hierarchy. He consorted with the most unlikely disenfranchised, despised members of society and violated conventional tradition. He upset the “purity code” by proclaiming that it wasn’t what went into your mouth that mattered but what came out. He wasn’t a priest, or a prophet. He performed many miracles that included healing the sick and bringing the dead back to life. Yet he was "unable" to save himself and was executed with 2 petty criminals. And to compound the indignity, the soldiers knelt at his feet, not to worship, but to gamble for his clothes, while deriding his reign as “king of the Jews.” It amused them because they were Romans and they knew what a real king looked like, and this definitely was not it. A real king was arrogant and had power. So they mocked him.  

Yet, for some reason, one of the two thieves also being executed alongside Jesus, reprimands the other who scorned Jesus’ weakness and and takes pity on the condemned man. After which he asks Jesus to "remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Now, where did that come from?  What prompted this dying man to realize that Jesus  was the Messiah and Savior... and a king? Somehow, the second thief knew that the significance of Jesus' death went beyond mortal understanding. 

We celebrate Christ the King, not because of Jesus' regal bearing, but because of his humanity; not because of his power, but because of his compassion; not because of his triumph, but because of his suffering; not because he fixes our lives, but because he shows us the way to live and how to fix our own lives.  

And what about this kingdom of God? Where is it? Richard Rohr writes that “if we go to the depths of anything, we will begin to knock upon something substantial, ‘real’ and with a timeless quality to it. We will move from the starter kit of ‘belief’ to an actual inner knowing. This is most especially true if we have ever loved deeply; accompanied someone through the mystery of dying, or stood in genuine life changing awe before mystery time or beauty. This ‘something real’ is what all the worlds’ religions were pointing to when they spoke of heaven or the kingdom of God. They were not wrong at all; their only mistake was that they pushed it off into the next world. If God’s Kingdom is later, it is because it is first of all now…In other words, heaven/ union/ love now emerge from within us much more than from a mere belief system and  as Jesus promises the Samaritan woman, “the spring within her will well up into eternal life. (John 4:14)”

 

Be Not Afraid

 

"Be not afraid... Fear not."  People have derived comfort from Jesus' words for over 2,000 years, yet we are still afraid.  What's more, we are too frightened to admit our fears, particularly the biggest fear of all - death.  The fear of death overshadows our lives.  We have  or likely have  lived longer than our parents and grandparents.  We are better fed; we lose few babies, and modern medicine protects us from contagion and disease that will lengthen our lives... and yet, we are still afraid.  

Shortly after September 11, 2001 the words “Fear Not” seemed a little out of place.  Surely we had every reason to be afraid.  I am reminded of Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest, who served as Chaplain in the New York City Fire Dept., and was the first officially registered fallen victim at “Ground Zero,” the name given to the site of the former decimated Twin Towers in the early days of rescue and later search.  While 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 lobby and carried to a nearby church shortly before Tower I collapsed. 

What does this have to do with our gospel (Luke 21:5-19)?  Who knew how that fateful Tuesday that began with skies so blue and air so clear, would end as it did?  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. 

If the thought of finding God amidst such harrowing circumstances seems strange, perhaps it is because we are out of the practice of looking for Him.  However, we can be certain that Christ's death and resurrection hold the deepest answer to all our fears.  Christ was executed like a common criminal and was totally forsaken by his friends.  By His overcoming death and our sharing in his resurrection, He took away all our reasons to fear forever.  Of course it does no good to recognize this on a merely intellectual level.  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 our life in such a way that its meaning cannot be taken away by death.  As with Father Mike, it means fighting the impulse to live for ourselves instead of others.  It means being prepared to die again and again to ourselves, and to every one of our self-serving opinions and agendas.  

(Adapted from Johann Chrisoph Arnold, Be Not Afraid, Advent Readings, 2001)

                         

Seven Brides for One Brother

 

 I don’t think the Sadducees really cared about Jesus’ opinion on resurrection (Luke 20:27-38.) Not unlike some of our political news reporters who ask leading questions for which they already know the answer, the Sadducees tried to embarrass Jesus by having him say something that “contradicts” the Mosaic law. Yet, motives aside, was their question really unreasonable?  

The Sadducees did not believe in man as spiritual beings and viewed the person strictly from a human perspective. Resurrection and life after death were not consistent with their beliefs based on the Torah.   Jewish law determined their stance on women, marriage and procreation. So querying's about remarriage and life after death were intended to trap Jesus fidelity to Mosaic law. 

The Sadducees based their beliefs on the first five books of the Old Testament, the Torah or the laws of Moses. However, Moses was dealing in a time and place during which a man was responsible for insuring the preservation of his “tribal” lineage and his family. Jesus’ stance on earthly convention had nothing to do with the laws of Moses. God cannot be defined or confined by man’s laws. We are limited to understand only to the extent that our intellect permits. God does not conform to human understanding or is confined by our earthly dimension.

Of course, in all cultures and especially in Jesus' time, marriage and procreation were crucial to maintaining lineage, stability and survival. Jesus was not rejecting or taking a stand on marriage but rather teaching that marriage is a human social contract and as such is irrelevant in the next “age” in which procreation and adherence to Mosaic law is not applicable or necessary in life eternal. 

 David Steindl-Rast writes in Deeper than Words that “Jesus’ resurrection has nothing to do with coming back to life (as Lazarus did in John’s Gospel). The Nicene and Apostle Creeds do not refer to resurrection as ‘coming back’ to this life. No, resurrection is a sacred movement of life's completion. It’s a new beginning in a new dimension of existence in which the power of love breaks the bonds of death consistent with our humanity. The followers of Jesus knew and experienced the resurrection of Jesus Christ as a life-changing event.”

“For many of us mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming ‘little children’ again in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love with it again.”  (Gerald May, Dark Night of the Soul).

 

You've Got to be Carefully Taught

It is impossible for us not to have grown up without biase or “preconceived notions” of people, places and things. From the time we are born we are surrounded by visual and auditory signals that influence the way we view our world. In time these “prejudices” are tempered by our intellect, personal convictions and we either accept or reject those preliminary biases and opinions. And so it is in the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10). In this Gospel Luke really exaggerates the stereotype of the despised man in the community to make a point: Zacchaeus (let’s call him “Z”), was rich; a chief tax collector, and he was short (?). In the shame-based culture of his time, being a tax collector was tantamount to being a traitor. The tax collector was expected to “extort” money from his people and turn it over, minus his commission, to the Roman oppressors. As Luke referenced his height, my guess is that Z was probably shorter than most people of his time. In any case, we can understand why Luke’s audience would rush to judgment.

 Rodgers and Hammerstein characterized how “inherited” racial prejudice and intolerance can destroy relationships in, South Pacific's, “You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught." On the other hand, they can be overcome by understanding and love. In that song Lieutenant Cable describes how his Philadelphia blue-blood upbringing has caused him to retreat from his love for the Tonkinese girl, while Nellie, the young nurse from Little Rock, cannot accept the fact that the much older sophisticated Frenchman she loves, had fathered inter-racial children out of wed lock.

Z knew who he was and knew what he had done. He saw shame in the eyes of his community and was quite happy to be concealed. There are those among us who are naturally drawn to the promise of healing and wholeness but instead opt to “hide up a tree” because they are among the disenfranchised and not a part of the in-crowd. Like Z, it’s safer for them to look from a distance than risk shame or embarrassment.

In keeping with Luke’s familiar surprise endings and his unlikely heroes, Jesus called Z out and “invited himself” to his home. In turn, Z immediately responds and repents, at which point the story reverts to the crowd that demonizes a person it doesn't like based upon its pre-conceived notions and prejudice.

Nancy Rockwell writes “what Jesus treasures in the despised is their ability to hang on, to survive with part of their own humanity intact, despite the way they have been treated by the world. This part of themselves becomes their shining light, becomes the window of their soul and a lighted path for all out souls…They are here to show us how to keep going in deep darkness, how to survive the bullies, how to have hope in mean times…No wonder, then, that we celebrate the saints in the dark of the year, a time they understand well, a darkness in which they shine.” (The Bite in the Apple).

There but for the grace of God go I

 

In reading this parable Luke 18:1-9 it’s only natural for us to take the side of the tax collector. After all these months of discussing Luke, we’re pretty sure we have a good handle on what he’s trying to tell us.  We know that Luke was writing to an elite audience whose rigorous adherence to the law revealed its position in society. Besides, anytime we try to draw a line between who's "in" and who's "out" as this parable asserts, it’s reasonable to assume that God is on the side of the poor wretched tax collector. But this straight up and down seems a little too easy and another Luke red herring. Once we fall prey to the temptation that divides humanity into groups, we have aligned ourselves squarely with the Pharisee. 

This parable is not about self-righteousness and humility any more than it’s about a pious Pharisee and desperate tax collector. Rather it’s about God…who alone can judge and “justify.” Judgment is based on law and is at the mercy of human interpretation and bias. David Steindl-Rast writes  in Deeper Than Words that Justice is rooted in love not law…and is not a matter of imposing laws, as one imposes with a cookie cutter, patterns on flattened dough; it’s more like the yeast in the dough, it makes things work from within …Judging does not mean punishing but setting things right. Genuine justice ‘justifies’ in the way the printer justifies the lines on a page by making the margins straight. In nature whatever we look at closely shows itself ‘justified’---in harmony with divine order…nature is the great example of love in this sense. 

This story is at the very heart of the good news.  God sees all about us, and knows all about us—good and bad--and accepts us as we are.   

 

 

Out of the depths I cry out to you O Lord

Throughout our readings in Luke we encounter several widows that Jesus selects as the focus of his parables. These women are always depicted as especially vulnerable since without a family, means of support or any prospect of marriage, they were marginalized  with little hope for survival. Yet, despite their vulnerability, Jesus portrays these women as people of remarkable determination, strength and faith. I realize widows provide unique opportunities for Jesus to illustrate his point with his audience; however, I wonder that if over the centuries, in our male dominated world and our social and religious institutions, we didn’t overlook a point that Jesus was making as to the prominence of women and pivotal role they played? In every case these Biblical characters demonstrate more than enough resolve and strength to make the case for our re-examining these stories and the role of women as leaders that can challenge our institutional hierarchies . Perhaps, I am out of my element in this venue to adequately deal with the social issues regarding gender inequality, but I introduce it here as food for thought and the subject of another conversation. Yet, I still can’t help but wonder, that given Jesus' knowledge of what was to come, what was the messages his texts and sub texts.

The widow in our story (Luke 18:1-8) is persistent and forceful enough to get the justice she demands even from an utterly unjust judge, who is, through lineage, included among the “chosen ones of God.” While the parable is framed by references to prayer and faith, the emphasis is on justice and how it figures into the confrontation between the vulnerable justice-seeker and the unjust power-broker. The powerful and just God takes the place of the unjust judge in the end, granting justice to his vulnerable, chosen ones who cry out to him day and night.

We are told that there is only one other use of this term chosen one in Luke. And this reference is reserved for Jesus who while on the cross, is mocked by the religious leaders as “God’s chosen one.” These so-called leaders, like the unjust judge in the parable, inadvertently get it right in spite of themselves. Jesus, the chosen one cries out from the cross as he petitions the Father and commends his spirit to him and breathes his last.

Finally the parable leaves us with a question that resonates beyond the cross and tomb and the resurrection: “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” We find part of the answer in past Gospels in which a number of people are commended for their faith: the centurion who believes Jesus will heal his slave, even from a distance; the sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet and loves much; friends of the paralytic who are willing to dig through a roof; the bleeding, unclean woman who dares to touch Jesus’ cloak in the crowd and is healed; the Samaritan leper, whose gratitude takes him back to Jesus where he falls at his feet in thanksgiving, and the blind beggar later in this chapter who sees Jesus for who he is and cries out to him. Perhaps the lesson suggests that the willingness to persist in prayer, as in our widow, against all odds is the sign of faith we seek.

Believing is Seeing

 

 Ten lepers approached Jesus. They kept their distance. That was the rule for lepers. They were unclean, and therefore considered separated from God and society. In our gospel (Luke 17:11-19), the lepers were all cleansed by Jesus. However, only one of the lepers returns and in thanksgiving and prostrates himself at Jesus' feet. Andre Prior writes that ten is a number of completeness and true completeness or wholeness comes from recognizing God's presence in Jesus. The Samaritan returned and praised God, but also recognized God’s working through Jesus, as the reason for Jesus declaring the man’s “wholeness.”  Why is it that we can talk about Jesus' ministry and lose sight of the fact that he is the earthly, human manifestation of God? I suppose it's because Jesus did such a good job in the manifestation his humanity. The Samaritan saw through the act of cleansing and healing and recognized the Almighty at work. 

In a very real sense, true worship comes about when we recognize the active presence of God in our midst. In keeping with Jesus’ “radical” penchant for keeping us off balance and not following expected patterns, this story is deliberately subversive. Lepers were not very respectable, and Samaritans were despised by many if not all Jews of the day. Lepers were unclean, feared and anyone having anything to do with them would be considered as cut off from God in Jewish law. 

We see a continuum in Luke’s theme as this story is reminiscent of past gospels and our recent discussions of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son (in Luke 15)? In a sense, the Samaritan leper is like the lost sheep and is incomplete and lost without the other ten. And in some way the Samaritan leper in Jesus’ time may be considered a metaphor for Muslims of our time. Not all Muslims are radical.  

Worship is not simply about hearing God's story or even praising God in response; rather, hearing and discussing the story helps us see God at work in our lives and the world. This is the key to the Christian life as we are called simply to see...and to help others do the same. 

At the outset of this story, ten men live in a "no-man's" land of exile... socially, religiously, and physically unclean. By the end of the story, all ten are made well. But one has seen God through Jesus, recognized his blessing and rejoiced in it. And because he sees with his heart what has happened, the leper is not just healed, but is made whole, restored, drawn back into relationship with God and humanity. What is true stewardship, worship, and Christian living? It is the tenth leper turning back in recognition, thanksgiving and praise who has been made whole. For now as then, seeing makes all the difference. In the Samaritan leper's case believing is seeing the presence of God in Jesus. How does that work for us?

Adapted from Andrew Prior and David Lose, The Text This Week, Luke 17:11-19, 2013

Just Do It!

 

While it’s easy to dismiss the disciples’ request (Luke 17: 5-10) for "more faith" as trivial, don’t we sometimes feel somewhat lacking in our fiath as the disciples did? In typical human fashion we have this notion that faith is something we can measure and naturally want more of it. But can you blame the disciples or us? After spending the summer reading Luke’s Gospels we sometimes ask who in the world can live up to Jesus’ expectations as characterized in the parables. Is it any wonder that we feel inadequate and think we need more faith?

We sometimes feel overwhelmed by what it is we think it means to be a “good Christian,” indulging in self-doubt, not quite sure if we really have what it takes to follow Jesus. It’s only human to think that being a disciple is beyond our human abilities and out of reach. But isn’t that the whole point? We are only human and God loves us for our humanity, reminding us that faith rarely is heroic and we need to manage our expectations accordingly. 

When I truly accept that we are spiritual beings on the way to our creator having a human experience faith takes on new meaning. Yet, can we really define what is undefinable. When we feel daunted by the ego's wallowing in inadequacy we need to remember that living our lives in faith can be pretty ordinary. It’s what Theresa of Avilla calls the “pots and pans of life.”  I think that’s what Jesus meant when he compared faith to a tiny mustard seed that grows quietly and beyond any expectation. It’s not about quantity; all God wants is for us to just be. Even the simplest things done with love and compassion can have a huge impact.

And so Jesus tells his us that we have all the God-given opportunities to do whatever it is that needs to be done. It’s all the ordinary stuff we do all the time and, taken together and blessed by God, it’s pretty extraordinary! And just like the Nike slogan, Just Do It!

Better Late May Be Never

The story of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16:19-31 is in keeping with many of our recent discussions and typical of Luke’s Gospels in which we encounter a number of assumptions and reversals. The first reversal is that the beggar is given a name and the rich man is not.
When we encounter the poor or homeless we are moved to pity and a desire to help. Yet, too often this desire or inclination stops with the intention. It’s not that we don’t care; we really do, but something happens to cause us to “look the other way,” just long enough for us to put the “urge” out of our minds and for us to forget it. Let’s face it, getting physically involved with those who are “different” from us can make us a little uncomfortable. Perhaps the operative word here is “different.”

So it is with the rich man in this parable. Both characters die and Lazarus is with Abraham in paradise and the rich man is in hell. While the story does not have a judgment scene, we assume that the rich man is not condemned because of his wealth but because he was “indifferent” to the plight of Lazarus. He did nothing to relieve his suffering in this life. Lazarus was not in the rich man’s line of sight because he was different …and the rich man was indifferent.

Yet doesn’t the rich man reveal a certain compassion and “piety” when he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to “warn” his brothers? Doesn’t this “better late than never piety” count for anything? No, it really doesn’t…the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Jesus is telling us that piety and talk are cheap grace; it’s what we do with our wealth, i.e., our time, our abilities and our resources that count. While the rich man could have helped Lazarus before, he did not, and Lazarus cannot do anything to help the rich man now.

This Gospel stresses the urgency for us to act in this lifetime and suggests that the righteous and the “wicked” may see each other after death…but if they are attentive to the presence of the Kingdom of God, they may see both each other while on this earth.

Crime and Punishment

I think Alfred Hitchcock must have liked Luke. Likewise, I’m sure Luke would have been a big fan of Hitchcock’s films, many of which had surprised endings in which the expected ending was somehow turned upside down, leaving us to wonder what just happened. And so it is with Luke 16:1-13. We’re convinced that the dishonest manager is finished, but is he? 

Most of us have had jobs that conformed to specific job descriptions that “rolled-up” to specific performance standards to which the employee was held accountable accountable. (With the advent of Human Resources, employee evaluations became more objectively measured and less given to whim and subjectivity.)  If our performance exceeded expectations, we were rewarded accordingly; likewise, if our performance fell short of expectations, we might have been subjected to either remediation, probation or dismissal. Now the “dishonest manager,” as Jesus has already named him, is an “employee at will” and could be fired without so much as an opportunity to speak, much less redeem himself. The rich man was completely in his right to fire him for squandering his property. 

So, here’s Luke’s surprise ending: instead of being punished and used as a model for bad behavior, the unjust manager was given credit for being shrewd because by ingratiating himself to his employer’s debtors and discounting what was owed, without any authorization, his employer looked upon him favorably or at least in a new light. Instead of being thrown in jail, he was given credit for using his resources to provide for his future as he was forced to leave his job. 

I don’t think we would regard the manager as a model citizen but he was able to secure his future by leveraging new friendships of those who were at one time in his debt. The dishonest manager was not respectable because he defied the law. Couldn’t the same be said of Jesus? He broke all the laws and was executed.  

Jesus refused to yield to the love of power and lived the power of love by defying the hypocrisy of those who sat in judgment. He reached out with compassion to the “crooks” and “sinners” in us all, who might otherwise never feel worthy of meeting the expectations of a “harsh judge.” Laws can be said to be "black and white," but the "spirit of the law" as it was originally intended is a much different "shade."  

Are there those we dismiss or overlook as if they have no value? How about those whose lifestyle is different from ours…do we dismiss them as having nothing worth contributing? Are they either too young, too old, too impaired to add any value to our lives and to our community? Looking for the good in people is impossible if we treat them as having no redemptive value.   

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” (Saint Theresa of Calcutta)

 

Lost and Found

 

(Note: I originally wrote this blog in 2013 and again in 2016. Each time, including this 2022 rendition, I revised it to reflect how the event currently affects me. Over time the emotions associated with being lost and found have never diminished.)  

We all know what it’s like to lose something or someone. Perhaps we can remember a time when we felt lost ourselves. We all know those associated feelings that border on fear, if not terror.  Luke 15:1-32 helps us to remember how we felt when we experienced loss and the joy we felt when we were “reunited” or “found.” One of my most memorable experiences with feeling lost goes back to my early childhood and today, almost 80 years later,  it is indelibly ingrained in my memory.

I was not more than five years old and my mother, sister and I were at a crowded beach in Coney Island. I must have gotten a little bored sitting on the blanket alone with my mother and sleeping baby sister. So I began pestering my mother about wanting to get some water for my pail to bring back to the blanket where we were sitting and make some mud pies. Mom resisted my going to the shore alone despite it being less than 50 yards away but she did not want to leave my sister sleeping unattended. I finally convinced her that I could not possibly get lost as the water was so close and I would always be aware of where mom was sitting. She yielded and so I made my way with my metal pail and shovel in tow, carefully drawing a  Hansel and Gretel-like “directional” line in the sand with my foot.

I played at the surfside for a bit, filled my pail and turned to make my way back to the blanket. Of course, the line was obscured and I began to panic because despite not being able to find the line in the sand, fear blocked my ability to remain calm and scan the heads and faces and see my mother waving (as I learned later.) And so I began to cry. A woman standing nearby immediately came to my aid, and assured me that we would find my mother. Although it must have seemed an eternity in a matter of seconds my mother  gathered me up in her arms and held me close, assuring me that I was not lost and that I was always in her sight. Perhaps the reason I can still remember this event so vividly  even as I write today, is because of how palpable the safety of my mother’s arms felt.

I relate this childhood experience with the stories Jesus uses in our gospel to describe what it means to lose and to find and to be lost and be found. I wonder what is the more memorable of the two emotions, the fear of being lost or the joy of being found. In both instances Luke depicts the joy in finding what was lost and being found. There was no recrimination just joy.

Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

 

 

Please R.S.V.P.

 

Any literal interpretation of Jesus’ words in Luke’s gospel (Luke 14:25-33) would likely challenge the credibility and sensibility of today’s contemporary reader. It’s hard to imagine that the people of Luke’s time were not shaken when they heard the words "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” The family in Luke’s time perhaps more so than today was considered a “sacred union,” a community in essence, without which there would be no real existence.

After all these weeks we finally understand that Luke has a reason for speaking so directly to his audience, who while relatively affluent, was living in difficult times. Luke’s world was not a peaceful one; the Jews and early Christians faced a domination system that threatened their existence. David Steindl-Rast tells us that while the intellect interprets words literally, metaphor speaks through a “poetic” instinct that feels meaning beyond word or language. He suggests that we shoul read the Bible or Gospels as we might read poetry or look at a work of art. Literal translations deny our ability to feel the words that take individual meaning beyond mere intellect. Is this not another way of understanding what we mean when we say and the Word was made flesh? The meaning not the words become part of our being; we don’t just understand what we are reading, we know down deep inside us.

Now back to Luke and Jesus’ invitation, I suppose we can ask for a “rain check” because we are not sure we’re ready or willing at this time to commit. But by saying “maybe later” or “no” to Jesus’ invitation, we are being denied the opportunity to experience the Kingdom of God here and now.

We know that following Jesus is more than passively sitting back and just listening to Jesus’ words.  His words are meant to remove and minimize barriers that get in the way of our faith’s journey. In essence, this is what it means to live in “His likeness” and what it means to be alive and active in the “Body of Christ.”

Living for others through the love of God, is the only way to find joy, peace, and a relationship with God and each other in this world. This is at the heart of Luke’s gospel and at the heart of Christianity. 

A Reluctant Dinner Invitation

 

 I’m sure we all played the familiar game: who are the three people you would like to invite to dinner and why. The guests may have likely included Saint Theresa of Calcutta, Martin Luther King, Mary, St. Paul, and my parents. Of course, it was a given… Jesus was always at the top of my list. The proposed dinner guests would invariably change depending on where we were at given points in our lives, but Jesus would be a constant. 

However, after reading Luke these many weeks I might rethink inviting Jesus to dinner. Really, he always tends to make a scene or create a disturbance, making the guests uneasy. We could find ourselves possibly siding with the Pharisees as they raised their eyebrows at Jesus and his disheveled group of “hangers on” who tended to eat and drink to excess. And remember the woman who in the middle of having a “meltdown,” crashes an important dinner party and bathes Jesus' feet with her tears and hair? Really! And, what about Jesus taking poor Martha to task for complaining about her sister who instead of helping with dinner preparation, hangs around with all the men in the dining room. And now here in Luke 14:1,7-14  he is not only telling us who to invite to our party, but where they should sit when they do arrive. Frankly, Jesus can be an unconventional risky guest at the very least. 

Although it can be confusing and at times disturbing, there is a consistent theme in Luke’s gospels. He warns us about becoming too comfortable with convention, and protocol for protocol sake. Self-imposed cultural niceties fast become devices to exclude “others” who are different from us. Of course it’s easier for us to associate with those who are just like us and reinforce our comfort zone. But perhaps we should ask why do they make us uncomfortable? Do we see in them, something about ourselves that make us uncomfortable? Perhaps we believe that associating with the “disenfranchised” cannot help us socially, economically, or emotionally…but what about spiritually?

Keep your eye on the prize

 

Once again Jesus is wasting no time in making his way to Jerusalem: “He was passing through from one city and village to another, teaching and proceeding on His way to Jerusalem.” (Luke 13:22-30) Because we know the end of the story, the very mention of Jerusalem strikes an ominous chord since it meant rejection by his followers and the horror of the cross. Along the way some unnamed person in the crowd asks Jesus, “Lord, are there just a few who are being saved?” Whatever his motives, the enquirer may have been aware of the increasing opposition from some religious leaders as Jesus' message continue to inspire increased interest. Jesus did not answer the question directly but in typical fashion answered his question with a question and asked, “Will the saved be you?”

Jesus was speaking to a crowd made up mostly of Jews who faithful to the Hebrew Scriptures, tried to live in basic accordance with them. In giving his answer, Jesus was not addressing a faithless audience. He was talking to religious people, most of whom assumed that they would go to heaven because they were good Jews. 

He provides his audience and us important and practical lessons on the subject of his Kingdom which he says requires our earnest effort and  our urgent attention. It requires our dedicated focus because the entrance door is narrow. It requires our urgent attention because the door is soon to be closed. It requires our careful self-examination because once it is closed, the door will be eternally-closed.

Our Lord did not say, “Good question sir! Now, let’s divide up into groups and come up with a consensus as to what each of you thinks about what I said and report back.” Jesus was in a hurry; he’s moving quickly, his time is limited and he wasn’t interested in speculation about theology. He was concerned about the personal salvation of his listeners. So, rather than opening it up for discussion, Jesus gave a command that applied the question to his hearers’ hearts: “Strive to enter by the narrow door.”

Strive implies a concerted effort. I am reminded of our young competitive Olympians whose dedication to their sport is all consuming. It can be said that every athlete who wins strives to win. They invest great energy and effort into winning. It is not an accident if they win. It is the result of deliberate and sustained effort and commitment.

The fact that the door is narrow implies that it takes some deliberate thought and effort to go through it. There aren’t many doors into this “place,” so that we can’t take our pick. There is one and only one door which is Jesus Christ. He alone is the way, the truth, and the light. “No one comes to the Father except by Him” says John. There isn’t one great big door that’s easy to find and we can stroll through without giving it much thought. There is one narrow door. 

Jesus isn’t talking about being united with God by works or human effort. He is talking about our attitude toward it. He has been telling us all along that nothing takes precedence over our relationship with God. Nothing on earth should get in the way and that our relationship with Him and our quest is not just good for an occasional stimulating theological discussion but requires living in a God centered way through love and Jesus’ teachings. Our journey is not easy and we, like the Olympic athletes, must dedicate our lives to the goal and strive to enter by the narrow door every day of our lives.

 

I Come to Bring Fire to the Earth

 Luke’s Gospel (Luke 12:49-56) appears to be a departure from his preceding accounts. In earlier writings he reminds us not to be “foolish” and to be at the ready but He also tells us that God’s Kingdom is ours and w need not  be afraid. So his message: "I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!"

History, by its very definition is an account of the past which while a recording of what has transpired, cannot be separated from the time and events of the day in which it was written. Nor for that matter, can it be read in a vacuum. Likewise, history’s account is influenced by the author’s own perspective and his audience. And so it is with Luke, who while conditioned by traditions that he has inherited, is focused on his goals for relating the story of Jesus to his community.

What we learn from history is projected forward and applied to our own current day personal experience. As interesting as the historical context of Luke’s day may be, we ask what we can learn from this account and what does it say about us and our lives today. Jesus’ words set in the time of Luke were written for an audience that lived almost a century after Jesus died. This period reflects the turmoil of Luke’s day: there was wealth; poverty; political domination; dissension among the ranks of the new Christian communities, and a growing impatience created by the apparent "delay" of Jesus’ anticipated return.

No doubt that Luke is providing insight for what is in store for Jesus as he makes his way to Jerusalem. Here, we get a glimpse of Jesus’ humanity when he says what stress I am under until it is completed! Jesus proclaims that the Kingdom of God is a “new world order” that is centered on the power of love not the love of power. As with the “rich fool” those governed by wealth, status and power will live in a “house divided" on so many different levels. Families, nations and communities will live in turmoil. There is no other way to peace but through love, forgiveness and humility. So, when we look at our world beset by violence, war with thousands of people seeking refuge, and a government in our country beholden to party affiliation and not the people it represents, how does this gospel speak to us in 2022?

Gird your loins and light your lamps

 

Last week’s Gospel reminded us to keep our “eye on the prize” and not be distracted from anything that gets in the way of our relationship with God. As with Mark, Luke’s Gospel (Luke 12:32-48) does not linger and is focused Jesus' making his way to Jerusalem. The message is clear in its words and its cadence. There’s no time to waste on earthly distractions and useless baggage that only serve to get in the way. These gospels teach us that the essence of discipleship is living the Word of Jesus that in time defines who we are as it becomes an integral part of our human behavior. The Word has become “flesh” in us.

In Luke's account of the "foolish farmer" we learn that for all his self-directed future plans for additional wealth and surplus, he would not have time to “eat, drink and be merry.” Little did he know that this was to be his last day on earth. This week’s reading is more assuring as Jesus tells us:

“Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom…
Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven
that no thief can reach nor moth destroy.”

In these readings we are assured that there’s nothing we can do to earn God’s unconditional love; it’s God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom for no other reason than it simply pleases Him. It’s not because of what we’ve done or really, who we are but simply because it pleases God to do so. One of the messages here is to trust in God’s love and we will be free of all anxiety, guilt and unworthiness.

It is beautiful to be loved for ourselves isn’t it? However, Jesus’ message as Luke continues to narrate Jesus' journey to Jerusalem, is not to start living recklessly but to be prepared…the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.

So, we are asked to travel light; to free ourselves of those things that get in the way of our being God centered and not us-centered. Living fully human does not mean living unto ourselves as did the rich farmer who had to have more of those things that were as finite as his fragile life.

Suppose we ask, what if we too started giving things away just for the pleasure of it as God does for us?

Lord Teach Us How to Pray

   

As with most new fathers to be I had no idea what to expect as to my feelings toward the new baby. Naturally, all the attention was understandably focused on the new mother to be. No one had any words of wisdom for me or shared insight as to what I would likely experience. I like most “fathers-in-waiting” just sat on the sidelines and silently wondered what it would be like. So, when my son was born, I was overwhelmed by new feelings and sensations and the strength of my love for this stranger, almost from the very beginning of his life.

Not too long after the birth of my second child approached. I was uneasy about my feelings and filled with false guilt as I secretly wondered how I could possibly love her (it was to be a girl), as much as I loved my son. There’s no way, I thought, I could duplicate those “feelings?” However, after my daughter was born, I realized that my love for her was just as great…I learned that I did not have to divide my love in order to share it, or consciously love one more or less than the other. It was already there, “pre-packaged” for me in both of my children. Today, I reflect on those years of parenting, and marvel at how much greater is the love of God for each one of us.

In our Gospel (Luke11:1-13), Jesus teaches his disciples how to pray. Over the years I’m sure his lesson created considerable controversy and raised much doubt about all prayers being answered: So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is this really true?

Our children provide a unique model as we try to comprehend how much God loves us. Over the years, my children would ask for many things. All requests were heard and I know all their requests were answered, if not always to their satisfaction. In some cases they received what they asked for; in many they did not. Often, however, my alternate suggestion, which they may have resisted at first, turned out to be an even better “gift” than what they had originally requested. I don’t remember ever not listening to their requests, despite how outlandish some may have been or I thought they were. I don’t remember not answering them one way or another. Even when they were denied for whatever reason, I listened, and our mutual love for each other never suffered albeit with some difficult encounters.

Luke’s Gospel us that this is the way it is with God: If you then...know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?

Who is My Neighbor

The Parable of The Good Samaritan is one of the most well known gospel stories in the Bible. The story (Luke 10:25-37) tells of a man who is savagely beaten and robbed while going from Jerusalem to Jericho and given up for dead in a ditch. A priest and a Levite pass by without helping him. But a Samaritan stops and cares for him, taking him to an inn where the Samaritan pays for his care and then some. The parable's overarching theme teaches that enemies can have compassion for enemies; compassion has no boundaries, and that judging people on the basis of our perception of differences is contrary to the Jesus' message.

So who were the Samaritans? We are told that while they were Israelites and descendants of Abraham they broke with traditional "tribal" lineage and were considered outcasts and enemies of the Judeans. In addition, they chose to worship at a central temple on Mt. Gerizim, rejecting the temple in Jerusalem as the cornerstone of the faith. So, in this parable in which Jesus' audience would have expected a Jew to be the hero of the story, they were likely shocked to hear that it was the Samaritan instead. Only by understanding this pivotal paradox does the powerful message of this parable serve as a lesson for the audience then and for us today. 

Scripture scholar James Martin defines a parable as a “metaphor or a simile drawn from nature or common life arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness and leaving the mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application in order to tease it into active thought.” He goes on to say that “parables are poetic explanations of spiritual concepts impossible to fully comprehend literally. For example the reign of God is far too rich to be encompassed by any one definition, no matter how theologically accurate. In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a man from a hated ethnic group was ultimately revealed to Jewish listeners as the good guy who cares for the stranger. As with this parable, many run counter to the expectations of the audience and therefore are subversive to conventional wisdom.” (Martin, p200).

The lesson in this parable emanates from an answer the lawyer's question posed to Jesus: “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?"  By referring to the Law, Jesus refers the man to an authority they both would accept as truth, the Old Testament. In essence, He is asking the lawyer, what does Scripture say about this and how does he interpret it? 

The lawyer answers correctly, "...love thy neighbor as thyself," and Jesus acknowledges that he has given an orthodox answer but he doesn’t stop there. As an educated man the lawyer realized that he could not possibly keep this law, nor would he have necessarily wanted to. There would always be people in his life that he could not love. Thus, in an effort to limit the law’s parameters, he asks the question “who is my neighbor?” The word “neighbor” in the Greek means “someone who is near,” and in the Hebrew it means “someone that you have an association with.” This allows for a limited interpretation of neighbor as fellow Jew and would have excluded Samaritans, Romans, and other foreigners. Jesus uses the parable of the Good Samaritan to correct the lawyer’s limited definition of “neighbor” and corresponding duty to his neighbor. (Martin p200)

This Gospel reminds us that we are to set aside our prejudice and show love and compassion for our “neighbor.” And our neighbor is anyone we encounter as we are all creatures of the Creator and we are to love all of mankind as Jesus taught.