One Solitary Life

One Solitary Life

 

He was born in an obscure village
The child of a peasant woman
He grew up in another obscure village
Where he worked in a carpenter shop
Until he was thirty

He never wrote a book
He never held an office
He never went to college
He never visited a big city
He never travelled more than two hundred miles
From the place where he was born
He did none of the things
Usually associated with greatness
He had no credentials but himself

When He was only thirty three
His friends ran away
One of them denied him
He was turned over to his enemies
And went through the mockery of a trial
He was nailed to a cross between two thieves
While dying, his executioners gambled for his clothing
The only property he had on earth
When he was dead
He was laid in a borrowed grave
Through the pity of a friend

Nineteen centuries have come and gone
And today Jesus is the central figure of the human race
And the leader of mankind's progress
All the armies that have ever marched
All the navies that have ever sailed
All the parliaments that have ever sat
All the kings that ever reigned put together
Have not affected the life of mankind on earth
As powerfully as that one solitary life

Dr James Allan Francis in “The Real Jesus and Other Sermons” © 1926

 

Let it be done unto me...

Done Unto Me According to Your Will

In our Gospel Mary accepts God's will for us as a model for all time (Luke 1:39-45) with her words "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Mary reminds us that we too share in the birth of Christ as the Word speaks to us; when we open our hearts and listen; when we let go of the world around us and surrender to him. He speaks not merely through our senses...or in words or sounds. But rather his Word becomes a palpable presence within us. Then we too join Mary in his birth...as the Word becomes our flesh, and we celebrate the birth of love and become bearers of his light to be lived and shared as Jesus did.

Perhaps the words of Bernard of Clairvaux say it best:

Let it be done unto me according to your word. Let it be to me according to your word concerning the Word, Let the Word that was in the beginning with God become flesh from my flesh. Let the Word, I pray, be to me, not as a word spoken only to pass away, but conceived and clothed in flesh, not in the air, that he may remain with us. Let him be, not only to be heard with the ears, but to be seen with the eyes, touched with the hands and borne on the shoulders. Let the Word be to me, not as a word written and silent, but the incarnate and living. That is not traced with dead signs upon dead parchment but livingly impressed in human form upon my caste womb; not by the tracing of a pen of lifeless reed, but by the operation of the Holy Spirit. Let it thus be to me, as was never done to anyone before me, nor after me shall be done

Annunciation Dialogue, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153)

Can we become today's John The Baptist

In recent weeks our world news and our discussions have focused on natural disasters, displaced refugees and the passing of President George Herbert Walker Bush. Sadly, the incessant noise of advertisements, beating the drum for Christmas sales, with the hollow promise of joy if you buy any given product, prevent our ability to process and certainly run counter to our mood…all is not calm, all is not bright.

Father Alfred Delp, a Jesuit priest writes of another turbulent time in our history. Not unlike today’s world, we need a blessed Advent, a transformation, a time to “put things back where the Lord God put them.” The following is an adaptation of a piece he wrote in a Nazi prison camp, shortly before he was hanged in 1945:

May the Advent figure of John, the relentless envoy and prophet in God’s name, be no stranger in our wilderness of ruins. (Luke 3:10-18) For how shall we hear unless someone cries out above the tumult and destruction and delusion? Not for an hour can life dispense with these John the Baptist characters, these original individuals, struck by the lightening of mission and vocation. Theirs is the great comfort known only to those who have paced out the inmost and furthermost boundaries of existence. They cry for blessing and salvation. They summon us to the opportunity of warding off - by the greater power of the converted heart - the shifting desert that will pounce upon us and bury us. 

The horror of these times would be unendurable unless we kept being cheered and upright again by the promises spoken….The first thing we must do if we want to be alive is to believe in the golden seed of God that the angels have scattered and still offer to open hearts. The second thing is to walk through the gray days oneself as an announcing messenger. So many need their courage strengthened; so many are in despair and in need of consolation; there is so much harshness that needs a gentle hand and an illuminating word, so much loneliness crying out for a word of release, so much loss and pain in search of inner meaning. God’s messengers know of the blessing that the Lord has cast like a seed into these hours of history. Understanding this world in the light of Advent means to endure in faith, waiting for the fertility of the silent earth, the abundance of the coming harvest. Not because we put our trust in the earth, but because we have heard God’s message and have met one of God’s announcing angels ourselves. 

“The Blessed Woman…” She is the most comforting of all the Advent figures. Advent’s holiest consolation is that the angel’s annunciation met with a ready heart. The Word became flesh in a motherly heart and grew out far beyond itself into the world of God/humanity. (Blessed Art Thou Among Women)

That God became a mother’s son; that there could be a woman walking the earth whose womb was consecrated to be the holy temple and tabernacle of God – that is actually earth’s perfection and the fulfillment of its expectations. (Be it Done Unto Me According to Thy Word)
So many kinds of Advent consolation stream from the mysterious figure of the Blessed Expectant Mary. The woman has conceived the child, sheltered it beneath her heart, and given birth to the Son. Advent is the promise denoting the new order of things, of life, of our existence. 

Advent comes in these three figures. This is not meant as an idyllic miniature painting, but as a challenge. My real concern is not with beautiful words, but with the truth. Let us kneel, therefore, and ask for the three-fold blessing of Advent and its three-fold inspiration. Let us ask for clear eyes that are able to see God’s messengers of annunciation; for awakened hearts with the wisdom to hear the words of promise. Let us ask for faith in the motherly consecration of life as shown in the figure of the Blessed Woman of Nazareth. Let us be patient and wait, wait with Advent readiness for the moment when it pleases God to appear in our night too, as the fruit and mystery of this time. And let us ask for the opening and willingness to hear God’s warning messengers and to conquer life’s wilderness through repentant hearts. (Watch for the Light, The Shaking Reality of Advent,”pp.90-91)

Our Time in the Desert

 

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 “Depend upon it sir, when a man knows he is about to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.” 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.

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.

In past month much of our focus has been centered on the devastating forest fires in California. To date 19,000 homes were destroyed and approximately 100 people have been reported dead. And two days ago we woke to the news of the massive earthquake that hit Alaska, causing extensive damage and loss of life. In recent weeks our Scripture Study discussions and Men’s Group have referred to having had our “spiritual nerves” more sensitized and “closer to the top of our skin.”

We, God knows, didn’t choose these cosmic events. Richard Rohr tells us that there may not be an external Designer and a micro-managing God working from the outside, but neither is the world devoid of His divinity. God’s divinity is so intimately present in the world, in us and through us, that the world can be regarded as an incarnate expression of the Trinity, especially in times of tribulation. The selfless dedication of emergency responders and ordinary people to provide shelter and comfort reminds us that God is intimately involved in our lives all the time. (adapted from Richard Rohr, A Spring Within Us “Reframing Our Cosmology”)

Be Vigilant at All Times

As we continue to absorb and be absorbed by the devastation caused by the fires in California, it’s quite remarkable that this Sunday's Gospel (Luke 21:35-36) calls us to stand up straight, expectantly, with our heads raised and our hearts watchful. As people of faith we are called to assume a posture of hope in the face of despair. It strikes me that to do so must be an act of determined will, for it runs contrary to our most basic instincts. When we hear that, as of this writing, 85 residents are reported dead and 19,000 homes were destroyed, it’s so hard to comprehend the promise that is meant for us beyond all that is described. It is difficult to believe that there will be anything more than what we can now see.

 

How is it that we can stand with our heads raised in hope in the face of suffering and despair? Perhaps our willingness to stand up and be seen and heard in a world that is shaking all around us, and our walking into our own suffering and the suffering of others, is where it all begins? Maybe when we step into the large and small heartbreaks of those who are in pain, we will meet Jesus. For that is where Jesus can always be found: waiting in the midst of the pain to somehow show us the way to new hope and new joy and new life.

And once we've done that for a lifetime and experienced the gifts of God in such unexpected places over and over again, maybe that’s when Jesus does return --- whether it is only to me at the end of my life or to us all at the end of this age? I guess we won't be able to keep ourselves from lifting up our heads in hope to see our redemption drawing near! Because we will have already encountered the source of that redemption in Jesus over and over again! (adapted from Dancing with the Word, Rev. Janet Hunt)

 

All Things New

 

Behold, I make all things new. —Revelation 21:5

As I’ve recently faced my own mortality through cancer once again, I’ve been comforted by others who have experienced loss and aging with fearless grace. Over the next few days I’ll share some of their thoughts. Today, join me in reflecting on this passage from Quaker teacher and author Parker Palmer’s new book, On the Brink of Everything: Grace, Gravity and Getting Old.

I’m a professional melancholic, and for years my delight in the autumn color show quickly morphed into sadness as I watched the beauty die. Focused on the browning of summer’s green growth, I allowed the prospect of death to eclipse all that’s life-giving about the fall and its sensuous delights. John 18:33B-37

Then I began to understand a simple fact: all the “falling” that’s going on out there is full of promise. Seeds are being planted and leaves are being composted as earth prepares for yet another uprising of green.

Today, as I weather the late autumn of my own life, I find nature a trustworthy guide. It’s easy to fixate on everything that goes to the ground as time goes by: the disintegration of a relationship, the disappearance of good work well done, the diminishment of a sense of purpose and meaning. But as I’ve come to understand that life “composts” and “seeds” us as autumn does the earth, I’ve seen how possibility gets planted in us even in the hardest of times.

Looking back, I see how the job I lost pushed me to find work that was mine to do, how the “Road Closed” sign turned me toward terrain that I’m glad I traveled, how losses that felt irredeemable forced me to find new sources of meaning. In each of these experiences, it felt as though something was dying, and so it was. Yet deep down, amid all the falling, the seeds of new life were always being silently and lavishly sown. . . .

Perhaps death possesses a grace that we who fear dying, who find it ugly and even obscene, cannot see. How shall we understand nature’s testimony that dying itself—as devastating as we know it can be—contains the hope of a certain beauty?
From Richard Rohr's Center for Action and Contemplation, Death and Resurrection, "All Things New," 11/18/18

 

 

Keep Awake

 

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 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.   Why?

Shortly after 9/11 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 to the New York Fire Dept., and was the first registered victim at Ground Zero, the sight of 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 lobby and carried to a nearby church shortly before Tower I collapsed.

What does this have to do with our gospel (Mark 13:24-37)?  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 practice 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. But about that day or hour no one knows.

 

 

The Power of Love vs. The Love of Power

 

While Jesus’ original audience for his message in (Mark 12:38-44) in which he compares the scribes to the poor widow, was targeted to the scribes, it could easily be directed to us today.  

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?

We are free to risk, to dare, to love, to live, to work, to dream, and yes, free to fail

What would you do if failure didn't matter? What would you endeavor, dare, or try? What mission would you attempt, what venture would you risk; what great deed would you undertake? Would you, like Bartimaeus in our Gospel (Mark10:46-52), shout out for healing even though the people around you try to shush you into silence? I wonder, could it be that Bartimaeus was so used to failure and disappointment that he saw no reason not to try one more time?

Would your cry be for healing? Would it be for justice, or peace, or equality, or any of the things that the world calls idealistic? Or maybe you would volunteer at a food pantry, or help out with ministering to the sick, or visit an elder who most have forgotten, or reach out to someone who is overwhelmed by grief... even though you don't know what to say?

So often, these things – whether great or small – seem either so hopelessly impossible or so ridiculously insignificant that we just don't even try. Yet the promise of the Gospel is that we are free ... free to risk, to dare, to love, to live, to work, to dream, and yes, free to fail, because we have God's promise that there is no small gesture and there is no impossible deed, and that the God who raised Jesus from the dead will also bring all things – even our failed efforts – to a good end.

So, if you're going to risk anything that matters, "not failing is not an option." Risk entails failure. Change entails failure. Creativity and innovation and experimentation all entail failure. And if we forget that, we will either never try anything that matters or end up sorely disappointed.
(Adapted from David Lose , Working Preacher, 10/23/12)

 

There's no such thing as a stupid question...really?

Throughout our lives, most of us have been told by our teachers that there is no such thing as a stupid question. Well, in Mark 10:35-45 James and John blow the lid off that myth. They really did ask a really dumb question at an even more inopportune time. Jesus just finished telling the twelve for the third time, that his fate was all about suffering, death, and resurrection. Yet, immediately following they ask if they can sit on his right and left side "in your glory."

Talk about not getting it! What do you suppose the Zebedee brothers had in mind? They want a piece of the “messianic action,” on either side of Jesus’ throne. James and John think they know what it mean to follow Jesus but they still don’t get it.  

Jesus is, as he tells James and John after their bold request, a servant messiah, and to follow a servant messiah one must become a servant: "whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Mark 10:44-45).

In fairness to James and John, answering the call to "servant-hood" does not come easy. We are so much like then in many ways, aren't we? We would much prefer to be known as a great "anything" but servant. Yet, when by His grace, we are called to give of ourselves to serve the least of our brethren, we know that we are in God's presence.

 

If I were a rich man...

For Christians, personal union with Christ is how we come to divine union with God. When we are free from those attachments that divert our attention from God, we are able to turn our lives over to him, and he comes alive to us through Christ. In essence, we get out of the way and let God’s love take us through the rest of our journey.

We can accept what Jesus says at face value in that wealth can be hazardous to our spiritual health; however, Jesus is not suggesting that it’s impossible for a rich man to “enter” the kingdom of God. In our reading this week Mark 10: 17-31 Jesus reinforces the metaphor of wealth as a spiritual liability to our gaining entry into God’s kingdom. But is he only talking about money and riches here? All too often we relate one’s being poor as an automatic “ticket to admission” to the kingdom. Yet, if we refuse to take responsibility for our own lives and well-being and passively accept our self-imposed fate as a “gift” in and of itself, we are missing the point. There are no merit badges for being rich or poor and co-dependent. Not taking responsibility for one’s own welfare…if one is able, is as much a distraction and a liability to entering God’s kingdom as being diverted from our union with God by coveting excess and abundance for abundance sake.

An important message in this reading is Jesus’ call for us to give up our “false selves,” as Thomas Keating calls it. Whether rich or poor, he asks us to set aside all the attachments, devices, security blankets and even spiritual practices that we devise as “props” so that we can stay in our comfort zones. As such, we hide behind an egotistical illusion of the false self. Simply stated, anything that gets in the way of our becoming closer to and being united with God is a stumbling block. Jesus makes it clear that people, places and things can be millstones, or "stumbling blocks" that can block us from our relationship with God.

Christian practice aims at our dismissing the false self by developing an awareness of God’s presence in our lives. Then as we can see our deep-rooted attachments and with God’s help, let them go as he takes them away and replaces them with Himself. (Keating, Open Mind Open Heart, p 72.)

I have always enjoyed Eugene Peterson’s citations in The Message on the false self or ego: Then Jesus went to work on his disciples. "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for? "Don't be in such a hurry to go into business for yourself."  

Is it Caesar's or to God's

 

Once again in Mark 10:2-16, the Pharisees ask Jesus about divorce "to test" him and once again they misunderstand or misuse the scripture to justify their agenda. They hope their question will expose Jesus as dangerous to families, in light of his scandalous comments in prior encounters.

In typical fashion Jesus turns the table on the Pharisees away from their legal foundation for divorce to God's design for marriage. Because of the hardness of your hearts, he [Moses] wrote you this commandment. But from the beginning of creation, God made them [husband and wife] male and female. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother, and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together no human being must separate.

God is love. We are products of God’s love and handiwork, a small but unique part of God’s great ongoing work of art. Love cannot be governed by temporal laws of man any more than God can. We speak of marriage, a construct of civil law that we attempt to apply to God’s law, as a contract. But is it? 

I can remember studying what goes into the essential parts of a valid contract in a Business Law course a long time ago. For a contract to be valid there must be a valid offer and a valid acceptance of that offer; there must be an agreed upon exchange, or a quid pro quo, that is “something for something,” and the contract must detail specified “consideration,” a term used to affix a value exchange, usually money or equitable services rendered.

“God established a creation, a covenant bond, with humanity, with A-dam. Adam’s name is not only the name of an individual, the founding father of the human race, but it’s also the Hebrew word for humanity…The difference between covenant and contract, in the Old Testament and throughout scripture, is profound. Contractual relations usually exchange property, exchange goods and services, whereas covenants exchange persons. So when people enter into a covenant, they say, ‘I am yours and you are mine.’ So God uses the covenant to enter into a relationship with those whom he created in his own image: humanity and all human persons.” (Scott Hahn, Contract vs. Covenant, Outlook, February, 2002.)

So how do we apply a transactional agreement to love? We can’t. Love cannot be governed by man. No human can break the love between two people; it’s not theirs to break. Once again in our reading, Jesus refuses to be trapped by either the Pharisees or his disciples as he challenges the rules of men with the law of God. Each of the synoptic gospels cite some variation on Jesus’ take on separation of Church and state with the famous quote Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s. This phrase has profound resonance throughout scripture and God’s law based on his love and covenant with man. It has become widely quoted as a summary statement of the relationship between Christianity and secular authority that goes far beyond whether it was lawful for Jews to pay taxes to Caesar.

"We renew our faith in the word of the Lord which invites faithful families to this openness. It invites all those who want to share the prophecy of the covenant of man and woman, which generates life and reveals God!”(Pope Francis, Openness, 9-27-15, Philadelphia)

"I leave you with this question, for each one of you to respond to. In my home, do we yell, or do we speak with love and tenderness? This is a good way to recognize our love.

(Pope Francis, Patience, 9-26-15, NYC)

In Jesus Name...

Go Figure? In Mark 9:38-50, the apostles are all bent out of shape because someone outside of their “elite” group dares to do their job and has been caught casting out demons. Ironically, none of the twelve were able to exorcise an unclean spirit from a boy earlier in Mark. Now, they want to forbid someone who is doing the same thing, but successfully.
Jesus’ response is unequivocal: Cut out all your elitist nonsense and get over yourselves; he was acting in my name.
What does acting in my name mean? Jesus tries to teach us that acting in the Name of Jesus is not merely a knee jerk response to a liturgical prayer.

It's living a life under the reign of God in Jesus, as Jesus.

Jesus was also unequivocal when he tells us that anything that gets in the way of living in His name, should be eliminated. So should stumbling blocks disguised as precious body parts, be severed? Again, the violence of Jesus' hyperbole here is palpable and unequivocal. It serves to remind us that preventing another from being “of Christ” and acting in his name is far worse than self-mutilation.


We ask:

What stumbling do we put in the way of others?


What does it mean to be “of Christ?”


What criteria should we use to determine if someone is "of Christ" or not?What about active church membership?


What if, rather than "active church membership," we call it "being a part of the body of Christ"?


Can one be "of Christ" and not be an integral part of the "body of Christ?

Whoever welcomes me...welcomes the One who sent me

 

 

 

 In Mark 9:30-37 the disciples continue to be confused with Jesus’ message partly because their burning question was not “How can I live my life as Jesus?” but rather, “How can I be seen as the greatest?”


Their self-centered thoughts were barriers to their understanding of what Jesus was telling them. In addition, their “arrogance,” reminiscent of Adam and Eve, breached the lines of communication with Jesus and their relationship with Him. They were unsuccessful in their attempt to heal the child because they were more intent on impressing the crowd; competing with each other and vying for Jesus approval rather than serving as instruments of God’s Peace. 

In citing the child, Jesus is telling us that we have to welcome those “non-persons” who occupy the lowest rung of society’s ladder: "whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

Once again Jesus is challenging us to reverse long-standing, ingrained, human habits and to set aside our common human understanding of how to win fame and glory, and instead learn from Jesus, God's way.

Who do you say that I am

When Peter responds to Jesus’ question with the right answer, that Jesus is the Messiah, we breathe a sigh of relief. (Mark 8:27-35). The rift between the reader and the characters appears to be closed. However what Peter quickly learns is that grasping Jesus’ identity is not simply about getting the title right. Naming does not define. Mark opens the can of worms again, this time between expectations of the title Messiah and the reality of what Jesus’ role as Messiah is. Jesus pivots immediately and  reveals how the Son of Man must suffer and die and be raised after three days. Jesus says all this with a boldness that contrasts the secrecy preferred only two verses earlier.


A suffering Messiah, is this what Peter and the disciples were prepared to hear or understand? Jesus does not suffer and die because suffering is good. The necessity of the suffering is attributed to his turning over the rules currently designed to exclude most observant Jews of the time. In so doing Jesus served as a model, reaching out to those who are ostracized, considered unclean or marginalized.  Mark has already profiled this suffering in the story of John the Baptist’s death in chapter 6. John is arrested and dies because he ran afoul of those in power. God’s kingdom does not line up with those who subscribed to the love of power vs power of love..


What we find then in this passage in Mark is a series of questions about identity and expectations. It is important that we realize that these issues are not locked in the past. This was not only a problem for the disciples or those early Christians to whom Mark is writing. Mark profiles a deeper dynamic that spans the ages: human knowledge based on religious tradition are often in tension with the aims of God? We know the way things are, how they are supposed to go. If we believe God is active is active in the world and that Jesus is very alive in the world, then the question posed to us is not whether we confess Jesus as the Messiah. That is the easy part. We know what the title is. Then the question really becomes how do we understand what the implications of the title Messiah are? And how do our expectations not align with God’s?

Open Your Hearts and Listen

How often have we read about Jesus’ healing the sick; restoring speech to the impaired; sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf? Somehow we have become jaded to Jesus’ ability to perform miracles: after all isn’t this what God and the most divinely inspired human can do? I recall having read somewhere that the great mystery of the incarnation of God in Jesus is not his divinity but his living fully in his humanity.

We spent most of this summer reading and discussing John’s Gospel. We delved into what the mystical significance of the Bread of Life; the sharing of the Bread, and what the Word becoming flesh in each of us means.

We strive to be in a “right relationship with God.” This is what being a Christian and living the Word is all about, right? But what does being in a right relationship with God really mean? Let’s close our eyes and picture this for a minute. Note, I use the word “picture,” not “understand,” in an effort to prompt our imagination and senses to feel the words as a palpable, sensory experience, and know what being in a relationship with God actually feels like, tastes like, and smells like.

God fully shared our humanity through Jesus as we through Jesus, fully share in God’s divinity. Anything less than that relationship with God would be reduced to mere acquaintance. So, with this as our premise, we consider Mark 7: 31-37 from the perspective of both the healer and one who is in need of healing. Do we ever think of ourselves as “healers”? Think of the times we listen, comfort and support one another.

Sure, we know what it means to want to be cured or be free of pain, and we can relate to medical professionals who are trained to provide healing and cure. But where does that leave us and what does this have to do with either Mark or the John of our summer and how the two Gospels relate?

There are so many ailments that are outside the bounds of the medical professional’s ability. But yet, somewhere within resides our ability to reach out and heal or be healed. The readings of John help us consider our Gospel in Mark with inspired eyes and ears.

What is required for us to be healed or the healer or both? Why do we resist the potential that resides within each of us? We hear but do not listen while remarkable things happen all the time, and we dismiss them as “coincidences.”

“Our ministering and supporting one another morph into the essence​ of our being and become who we are, as if they exist as an integral part of us. We become ever changed by their existence. Like an encrusted stone picking up moss while rolling down a hill, we are ever changed with each turn… And at the core is "love" God's love. I suppose, this is what's meant by becoming the Word. We need not speak of what we do, they describe us and speak quietly; and we give thanks for them.” (Ministries RRR 7-28-15)

Love of power vs. Power of Love

In  Mark 7:1-8,14-15,21-23 Jesus teaches that the people of God are not set apart by particular traditions or ethnicity, but by a purity that emanates from the heart, manifested by love for others. We do not need more religion, but more reflection on what proceeds from our heart. Yes, traditions can be good, and can point others to God. However, they can also send a message explicitly or implicitly, "you don't belong."

Jesus challenged the purity “laws” and turned them upside down. In their place he substituted a radically alternate social vision. The new community that Jesus announced would be characterized by interior compassion for everyone, not external compliance to a purity code, or by egalitarian inclusivity, but rather by inward transformation.

"No outcasts," writes Garry Wills in What Jesus Meant,"were cast out far enough in Jesus' world to make him shun them — not Roman collaborators, not lepers, not prostitutes, not the crazed, not the possessed. Are there people now who could possibly be outside his encompassing love?" 

“Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person;
but the things that come out from within are what defile…
from within come evil thoughts and they defile.”

Who do we judge when we sanctimoniously spurn those who are not like us or not part of our group? (Bible Study Blog, Bob Reina, August, 28, 2012)

 

Lord, to whom can we go?

 

In John 6:56-69, the followers of Jesus have heard words they do not understand. They are repelled! It simply is impossible to believe that Jesus is inviting them to eat his flesh and drink his blood…so, many of those who had followed Jesus up to this point now walk away. They have reached an obstacle which they cannot overcome.
It is not difficult to imagine his sadness as Jesus watched them leave…He feared that he was going to be completely abandoned. So, he turns to the twelve apostles and asks them what they are going to do...Peter speaks for us when he responds “Lord to whom can we go?”

We do all that we can in life to avoid being placed in position of vulnerability, yet in this Gospel we have the twelve surrendering control and choosing complete dependency on Jesus. That dependency reveals an ultimate statement of faith: Lord, we have no options. We have no choice but to keep following you.

Faith is deepened in situations where self-reliance is no longer possible, where it is difficult to rely on our intellect, reason or abilities.

The process of being attracted by something in Jesus - listening to what the Word says - and then asking: “am I going to leave or stay?” is part of our spiritual journey. For most of us, it can happen many times in a lifetime. We are faced with a choice: do I accept this, or do I acknowledge that I have to grow into its meaning? And what do I do? To whom do I turn while I am growing into understanding? These are the steps we take to be totally dependent, reliant, and available to Jesus. 
This is the challenge of the Gospel and in the end our response has to be personal…to walk away…or to stay and walk further into the Mystery.

...And the Word became Flesh and dwelt among us

The followers of Jesus have heard words they do not understand. Quite simply, they are repelled! In their minds and experience it is impossible to believe that Jesus is inviting them to eat his flesh and drink his blood…so, many of those who had followed Jesus up to this point now walk away. They have reached an obstacle which they cannot overcome. (John 6:51-58)

Isn’t that a little like us. We only know what we have experienced and a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing and can lead us to the wrong conclusions. When it comes to God, we know only a little. Like all living things, our understanding of God continues to grow and to change. And so to know only a little, and to think the little that we do know is all that there is to know, can be fatal. Like the followers of Jesus, we have some “knowledge” about God but do we really know Him not by words or intellect but in the depth of our being? Faith is deepened in situations where self-reliance is no longer possible, where it is difficult to rely on our intellect, reason or abilities.

Richard Rohr writes that the Eucharist is an encounter of the heart, knowing Presence through our available presence. In the Eucharist, we move beyond mere words or rational thought and go to that place where we don’t talk about the Mystery; we begin to chew on it.

We must move our knowing to the bodily, cellular, participative, and unitive level. Then we keep eating and drinking the Mystery until one day it dawns on us, in an undefended moment, “My God, I really am what I eat!” Henceforth we can trust and allow what has been true since the first moment of our existence: We are the very Body of Christ. We have dignity and power flowing through us in our naked existence—and everybody else does too, even though most of us do not know it. This is enough to guide and empower our entire faith journey. If Christians did not already have Eucharist as our central ritual, we would have to create something very similar. [(Rohr, Eucharist-Real Presence, July 24, 2018, Center for Action and Contemplation (Meditations@cac.org)]

I am the living bread that came down from heaven

 

Whether we say it aloud or not, I’m sure we are thinking it: Here comes another “Bread” story. What more can we possibly say? Hasn’t John really exhausted the subject? I suppose that this was my reaction when I first saw the lectionary scheduled for this week. I asked myself, what else can I say or write. I wondered how the priests and theologians were able to continue to plumb the depths of John’s gospel and help us understand its relevance to our lives. Later I tried to put myself in the audience of John’s day and began to understand how vital these stories of Jesus, the Bread of Life, are to our faith. We need to hear them again and again until Jesus becomes our bread of life in the depths of our very being.

I wonder if we fully comprehend the theological and existential significance of approaching and “gathering” around the altar, the table of the Lord, to receive Communion. And if we don’t, is it really any wonder? Let’s face it, debate about the meaning of the sacrament continues even now in this relatively tranquil ecumenical period between and within different denominations. The sacrament holds a pivotal place in the Church, in that it is central to our life of faith and yet can also be so very confusing.

John writes (John 6:41-51), “How can this man give us his flesh to eat...Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” In their literal interpretation these phrases had quite an impact on John’s audience then as they do now. He is speaking to us in the present time as directly as he did in his time.


St. Augustine attempts to clarify the connection between sacraments and our daily lives with his use of the phrase “visible words.” I find this phrase attractive because it helps me appreciate the Eucharist as the visible, physical reference to the presence of Christ in our lives. The Eucharist is the embodiment of the proclaimed and heard gospel and through imagery and our ability to relate to their physical forms, they enable us to bridge the metaphorical words of John with our humanity, and God’s incarnation in Jesus…through him and with him. As we fully absorb his presence in water, bread, and wine, we become incorporated into the “trinity.” When the word of God in scripture and the sacramental rites have worked their way through our senses and penetrate to the intuitive level of our being, the immense energies of the Spirit are released and our consciousness is gradually transformed into the mind of Christ. (Thomas Keating, The Mystery of Christ, p2)

The liturgy does not offer us a mere seat in the bleachers, or even a ringside seat. We are invited to participate in the event itself, to absorb its meaning and to relate to Christ on every level of his being as well as our own. The main thrust of the liturgy is to develop a relationship with Christ and engage all our faculties: the will, intellect, memory, imagination, senses and body. The transmission of the personal relationships through him…with the Father. It empowers us as we celebrate the mysteries of Christ, to not only perceive them as historical events but as manifestations of Christ here and now. (Thomas Keating, The Mystery of Christ, p8)

I am the Bread of Life

 

 I suppose it’s only human nature to have faith in the things we see rather the things we can’t. God knew our nature long before and better than we did. The whole purpose of his incarnation in Jesus was for him to be able to reach us through our faculties and physical senses. Yet, its’ “natural,” our nature, to center our world around those attachments in our life that serve us well and are under control and those that sometimes seem to control us. So, we place out “faith” in things we can see and touch like career, finances, family, relationships, and our own ability to control our lives. Unfortunately, life has a way of reminding us that our faith in those things may not be rewarded in the way we planned or expected.

Most of us are likely to experience a significant disruption in our careers at least once in our lives, and our finances are no more reliable. We entrust our life savings to financial institutions that engage in what is basically a sophisticated form of gambling. And people—yes, our family, and our friends—are all flawed and fallible and imminently capable of doing what humans do, and disappoint us.

In a very real sense, most of what we invest our faith in falls under the category of “perishable things.” After feeding the 5000 with five loaves and two fish, Jesus and the disciples crossed the lake, only to find that the crowd had followed them there. When they approached him, he abruptly accused them of seeking the “food that perishes.” In the dialogue that followed, it would seem that they were looking for a repeat of the miracle of manna in the wilderness.



But Jesus was constantly aware of the dangers of an enabling faith that is rooted in visible results based on spectacle. Getting what you asked for without spiritual elbow grease is not faith. Whenever we get whatever we ask for, it’s a matter of time before we begin to want more. Jesus was calling his followers to a completely different kind of faith. He called them to cast their lot with the One that God has sent (John 6:24-35). He was calling them to a faith without external props that deals with unseen things, hoped for and real. St. Augustine said “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.” The only “bread” that can truly satisfy our hunger is the bread that God offers us, the Bread of Life.



And the amazing truth is that when we take the risk of “casting our lot with the one whom God sent” to carry out God’s cause in the world, we find that somehow we experience a peace, a freedom, a quality of life that none of those “perishable things” can possibly provide. When we take the risk of faith and begin to quiet our restless hearts, we find the life God offers us truly satisfies us in ways we may never have expected.

Love Takes What You Have and Returns It More Beautiful Than Before

Is there any Gospel reading more familiar to us than Jesus feeding the multitudes (John 6: 1-15)Let’s put aside the inclination to call Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand a miracle. Why? Primarily because it misses the point and distracts us from the true miracles that take place in the story. John reminds us that the wonders Jesus performed throughout his ministry were signs, indications of the character of the God of love whose divine presence Jesus bears. Make no mistake, what Jesus did is anything but pedestrian but the point isn’t what Jesus did, but why he did it. Jesus reveals the God in him by his compassion, the hallmark of Jesus ministry. This single word summarizes God’s unconditional love for us and is at the core of his incarnation in Christ. 

Ok, let’s get back to our miracle… that was no minor endeavor. What we now call “food scarcity” was rampant in the ancient world. And so the disciples’ suggestion that the hordes of people go away and buy food isn’t just unrealistic it’s ridiculous. First, they were in a deserted place in the middle of nowhere, and second, they would likely not have any money to buy food anyway. And so Jesus tells his disciples to get over their self-concern and desire to be left alone, and feed them… themselves. 

Jesus had just heard about John the Baptist’s murder by King Herod at a feast. The metaphorical juxtaposition of images couldn’t be more powerful. After hearing the news, Jesus needed to retreat and be alone. John was his baptizer, teacher and mentor. Jesus, in the fullness of his humanity, yearned for solace. And yet manages to fulfill the consistent call of the Father to feed the hungry and heal the sick and fill the “empty.” 

Which brings us to the real miracle of the story: Jesus uses the disciples, even when they would rather look after themselves, to tend to the needs of these thousands of men, women, and children. They go from “we have nothing here but five loaves and fishes” to one of abundance to “thank you, God, for these five loaves and fishes.” Whatever their initial skepticism, or doubt, or self-indulgence, the disciples are caught up in Jesus’ words of abundance and “they all ate and were filled” as God worked through these reluctant disciples to care for the poor and hungry that he loves so much. 

And that miracle continues when a parent puts his/her own dreams aside to care for the needs of their children or aging parent. God is working that same miracle when a community of faith makes a promise that no one that comes to its doors will be turned away hungry, or when a Muslim family hides a Christian refugee from the wrath of murderous radicals. God is still at work performing miracles through us, his disciples eager, yet reluctant, and everything in between.  

The real wonder of this story is that it continues. God cares deeply and passionately for those who are most vulnerable:  the poor, the homeless, the hungry. And God continues to use us to care for them. 

Just maybe if we are serving our “needy,” however poor or rich, we are reminded of the similarity that exists between the scenes in John. Let those of us who have been fed by God’s heavenly food go and do likewise by sharing God’s love with all we meet and especially with those in deepest need. 

There are two miracles in this story. They have little to do with simply multiplying loaves and fishes, and by remembering them, we are hopefully prepared to continue to follow Jesus and care for those in need. And that is no small thing at a time like this. Thank you God, and thank God for you.

Summertime... and the Living is Easy

Rest… A break from all the bustle and activity. Rest…A chance to renew, to stop, to slow. Rest… And end of work, if only for a little while. Rest…An opportunity to stop doing that you may simply be. Rest…What a beautiful word!

Jesus' simple invitation in Mark 6:30-34  to "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile" is not just an invitation to take an afternoon off or go on vacation -- though those may be important elements -- this is an invitation to loosen our shackles and climb out of the cages we've constructed from a culturally-fed belief that more is the ticket to happiness and that work is the ticket to more.

Maybe that's the key thing about rest and our Scripture discussion and reflection? They provide a chance to step back from all the things that usually consume us so that we might experience God's presence and a sense of contentment and give thanks.

Jesus wants us to rest. He wants us to recognize the “trap” we call success and the rat race we call modern life. He wants us to reflect on how much time we really spend together and actually enjoy the things we’ve worked so hard to attain.

God wants us to live an abundant life. Abundant life doesn't consist of merely more and more. "Abundant" ultimately isn't a quantitative term but a qualitative one. How do we begin? Maybe we might consider just one evening when we will shut down our computer, or turn off our cell phones or, say no to one obligation or appointment. After all, it’s summertime and the living is easy.