You Can’t Go Home Again

In spite of his works and remarkable teachings, Jesus’ family and old friends treated him with skepticism. In a culture that measured a person's worth by their place in society, Jesus had clearly overstepped his bounds. After all, he was “just” a carpenter and as such, was relegated to a lowly place in society at that time. Carpenters were itinerant workers who left their home and went from town to town to seek employment. Their families were often left without financial security while they were away. Their time away and loss of economic support or social position often caused them to lose the respect of their own families whom they “abandoned.” By daring to step above his station in life he did not fit into the world of His family and old friends. He, despite his notoriety, was no longer what his home town folks of Nazareth expected him to be. They did not trust him. So, he went back out on the road to serve the surrounding villages. Although Jesus went home, he wasn’t made to feel at home (Mark 6:1-13).

Several years ago I was faced with having to leave a job and career to which I was totally committed and loved for over 30 years. A corporate reorganization resulted in my position and group being eliminated and absorbed. No, they said I wasn’t being fired; "your performance was exemplary; it’s just that your position would no longer exist.” The music stopped; my chair was gone, and now I had to leave a place where I was no longer wanted. How was that possible? I had to uproot my family and an established lifestyle, leave my friends behind and go to a place where I was wanted…but just not here anymore.

Little did I know at the time that this pain and anguish would lead to new opportunities, personal growth and a transformation of sorts that would not have been possible had I remained anchored in that comfortable place. Little did I know that what seemed like an interminably difficult period of loss and “exile” protected me from the peril and upheaval awaiting those in that place I left behind. Little did I know then that in the long run, it was all for the best… and all part of a plan.

Despite having walked the dusty roads of Nazareth he knew so well from his earliest beginnings, his childhood, Jesus was rejected by friends and family. It was as if they did not know him. He was amazed at their lack of faith. It’s not a comfortable scene for us to imagine? Bur then, Padovano writes “home is not a place; it is an attitude which depends on how much we are able to feel at home with ourselves as well as others. Home is something which happens to a person; homecoming has less to do with geography than it has to do with a sense of personal integrity or inner wholeness… The most redemptive all experiences is that by which the human heart is reconciled with itself. One does not remain with his family if he is not heard or listened to or if he gains attention only if he makes an enormous effort or if he is loved merely when he happens to agree with his family.” (Anthony Padovano, Dawn Without Darkness, pp 28, 34)

Who Touched Me

Who has not been touched by the events of this past week? Last Wednesday evening, June 17, 2012, we ended our Scripture discussion group as we usually do, with a prayer, asking the Lord to help make the words we read and discussed come alive in us as we “returned” to our lives and our routines. A gunman opened fire on a similar group of people as they ended their sessions in a church in South Carolina. Along with many, I watched the evening news just before bedtime, and was shaken. I wondered how many groups were meeting to discuss the Bible on that Wednesday night and wondered how many of the millions of people in the countless number of sessions that just ended, or was still ongoing in different zones throughout the country, related as I did. How could this be? How could this possibly occur where two or more were gathered in his house and in his name? 

I wished that we were still together, meeting back in our church classroom, to hold and comfort each other and try to find God in this tragedy. Surely someone could have found meaning in all this. And while I know we’ve discussed on numerous occasions man’s free will and God’s covenant with man that permits us to exercise that will, somehow that was not enough for me at the time. My intellect grasped the words; my heart did not. Sleep, when it finally came was interrupted by strange dreams that, I knew had to be somehow connected. But how could I possibly complain about my discomfort at a time when I was not personally affected…or was I?

It took fewer than two days for the answer to come in the form of one of the most profound “sermons” that reached more people at one time than anyone could ever have imagined. There in Charlottesville, South Carolina, God revealed his love through the distraught voices of the families and friends as they forgave the killer and prayed for healing. Where did this compassion come from? No words by head of state or Church could possibly be as spiritually articulate as these “ordinary” people. In them and through them was God. And I knew at once that His love could not exist in the presence of hate. Yes, God spoke to me and to millions of astounded people throughout the world. 

In Mark 5:21-43 we are reminded that only in admitting our vulnerability are we able to receive help, and only by owning those moments of desperation are we able to discover the courage to be and act as Jesus.. And as the world and our culture crumble around us, we're invited to enter a new world of acceptance and inter-dependence. And we can start to describe that world, even call it the kingdom of God.

What are you afraid of?

 

What are you afraid of? Lord you have to be kidding might have been our response. These men are skilled fishermen caught in the storm of their lives; their boat is about to capsize and despite all their experience, they are unable to take control and fear for their lives. And Jesus who has done marvelous, mystical things on behalf of others is sleeping.

In our Gospel, (Mark 4:35-41), it’s hard to imagine that Jesus’ response and questions to the apostles were not rhetorical: Quiet! Be still!” Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?

We know that parables were used by Jesus to get his listeners and us to think, expand our frame of reference and perhaps shake us up a bit. This story while not necessarily a parable, fits the bill. It does shake us up a bit. How would we have behaved as characters in this story? How would we have responded to Jesus’ question? What would it be like to trust our ability to have faith in the midst of overwhelming, and in the apostles’ case, incapacitating fear?

Have you ever gotten to a point in your life where you were powerless to control and take charge of a serious life-impacting situation? I can recall a number of times when I was confronted with having to make decisions that I knew would alter my and my family’s lives forever. These were not easy and options were very limited. In all cases, fear of the unknown resulted in feelings of helplessness, bordering on paralysis…there was no place to hide…no one to whom I could turn.

Fear or suffering gets us to a place in which our nerves are raw and exposed and that place between us and the bottom is very thin. This thin place seems to minimize the semi-permeable membrane that serves as a barrier between us and God. If we are open and receptive, in time we will hear or feel his prompting and finally be able to overcome our immobility and we begin to move. Sometimes it takes minutes, days, weeks…or even years.

Jesus’ lesson for his apostles in the midst of the storm is to trust in God. The storm will pass and we will “somehow” manage to make it through, different from the way in which we “entered,” transformed, with insight and a greater inner experience of God in us than we ever had before.

Albert Nolan writes that “God is closer to me than I am to myself. God is one with me and with you…If God is closer to me than I am to myself and we are in some profound sense one, then I have nothing to fear. I will be cared for at all times and in all circumstances. Nothing can really harm me and whatever happens will be for the best. I am loved beyond measure because I am one with the whole mystery of life.” ( Jesus Today, A Spirituality of Radical Freedom. p 143)

It's A Quiet Thing

Gardening is all about hope; we sow in the fall and plant in the spring and wait. Somehow, we know that eventually the earth will keep its promise despite harsh winters and cold, late springs. It’s all about patience in the knowledge that if we wait and are vigilant spring will come. Perhaps this exceptionally late spring on the heels of a long and bitter winter remind us that gardening is not for impatient people. No, impatient people want things to happen now, on their time schedule and are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The current moment is empty for them. Bur patient people dare to stay where they are. Patient gardeners, like the sower in our parable do not go away; they remain present and prepare for what they know is inevitable, spring and new growth and the fruits of their labor.





The passage in (Mark 4:26-34) reminds us that the Kingdom of God occurs without any help or involvement from us. We, except for our presence, have nothing to do with it. The parable implies the hidden and smallness of the quiet beginnings of the kingdom and also underscores the lack of involvement on the part of the sower. He cannot or does not make his garden happen by force or will. The sower doesn't even water or weed his planting! He just sows and then sleeps and rises night and day and patiently waits. The earth takes care of it all as the mustard yields its bounty and sends out its large hearty branches as it and the kingdom grow organically. Inevitably, God's hidden, mysterious work in the world and in us will be fruitful.

Being patient gardeners and living patiently go hand-in-hand; however, living patiently is not the same as passive living; we trust that somehow “things” will all fall into place. This enables us to live actively in the present and wait there like the sower until the earth is ready. Yet waiting involves actively preparing just as an expectant mother prepares for her baby. She is aware and attentive to the baby's presence as the child is nurtured and quietly grows in her womb without any help from her. Likewise the gardener waits knowing that despite the absence of any outward signs, the earth is busily going about preparing its bounty unnoticed. Paradoxically, this active waiting is actually a way of controlling the future. The mother and gardener just know.

Giving up control over our future and letting God define our life, according to God’s love and not according to our fears or wishes, are not easy and run counter to our take charge culture of success. The spiritual life in which we wait actively present in the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us…new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy or prediction, is a very radical approach toward life in a world preoccupied with control. And so it is with the kingdom of God; we let it unfold, and know that we are an integral part of its growth and transformation in the here and now and into the future.

Do This in Memory of Me

How often have we said the Creed and breezed through the line “I believe in the Communion of Saints” without giving it much thought? Sure it’s a phrase that we have heard and even repeated throughout our lives without really thinking about it as more than just a line in a prayer.

The early Christians referred to all members of the community as “saints,” not necessarily because they achieved moral excellence, but because they were made “holy” by belonging to a “group” whose lives were connected in serving God. In this sense community and communion are synonymous with church which goes beyond a mere place of worship. 

The Communion of Saints like the vine and the branches, connects all people in present time with those who came before, and those yet to be... it’s eternal. Love is eternal. God is eternal. God is love. We share love with one another. We share God with one another. 
Yet, when we think of Communion it’s only natural for us to think of the Eucharist, (Mark 14:12-16, 22-26) the sharing of the Lord’s Supper with one another. Here’s where the line in the Creed, "I believe in the Communion of Saints" comes in: we share God’s love with one another when we receive and give the Eucharist to each other; likewise when we share love with one another, we metaphorically are celebrating the Eucharist and we do this in memory of Him.
In this dynamic act of sharing the presence of the Trinity becomes clear to us: Love is in us and shared through us for Him, by the power of the Holy Spirit, in Jesus name, Amen. 

It is more than just the line in a prayer, isn’t it?