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 according to your word

  

In our Gospel Mary accepts God's will for us as a model for all time (Luke1:39-45) 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. 

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 chaste 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 (Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) In Defense of Humility, Watch for the Light, p38)

Can we become today's John The Baptist?

 

In recent weeks our world news and our discussions have focused on the new Omnicom variant, a derivative of the Covid19 virus strain. Needless to say the recent appearance of this virus has seemed to put a damper on “getting back to normal,” again, as if there is a normal to which we think we will ever return. Fortunately, our experience for the past 2 years with Covid19 has provided a template for how we as individuals and institutions can best proceed, but in typical tradition, natural disasters never occur at an opportune time. So now as we enter the Third Week of Advent…all is not calm, all is not bright. We need a blessed Advent, a transformative time to “put things back where the Lord put them.”

Not unlike today’s world, Father Alfred Delp, a Jesuit priest, wrote of another turbulent time. The following is an adaptation of an essay he wrote in a Nazi prison camp, three days 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.  So many of us need our courage strengthened; so many of us are in need of consolation; there is so much harshness that requires a gentle hand and an comforting word.

“The Blessed Woman…” 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)

Advent’s consolation streams 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 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. No doubt for many of us the Covid 19 pandemic forced us to face stressful challenges that were outside the “norm” of our usual experience. I wonder how this time of confinement and isolation heightened our awareness of events that otherwise would have gone unnoticed.

Many people seek so-called desert “experiences” by way of solitary retreats during which forced confinement might help provide clarity and enlightenment that otherwise might be overlooked or taken for granted during “ordinary times” during which we are surrounded by our family, friends and our routine. 

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 in the case of Covid 19, natural disasters. These deserts all hold new possibilities for hearing the word of God at ever deepening levels.

Speaking personally, it’s too soon for me to assess how forced confinement has been a transformational experience. Perhaps it’s still too easy for me to dwell on the things I missed or have been taken away. Perhaps it’s not a matter of addition or subtraction or replacing what no longer is with something else. What no longer exists is not forgotten and may be a springboard to new ways and personal growth. One thing the pandemic taught is that life can turn on a dime and that the present is only as certain as our last breath. It’s all we can count on.

Richard Rohr writes in A Spring Within Us ,“Reframing Our Cosmology” that there may not be an external designer or 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. This was very apparent in the selfless dedication and courage of emergency responders, health care workers and “ordinary people” who put their lives on the line to provide support and comfort to those afflicted. I guess for me then, the greatest lesson from the pandemic particularly during this Advent, a time for watchful waiting, is that God is intimately involved in our lives all the time… we just need to open our hearts to see Him and know his presence.

 

Be Vigilant At All Times

 

We continue to try to absorb the devastation and loss of life caused by the effects of global warming. Likewise, we are frustrated that despite the recent meeting of world leaders dealing with global warming, little is said about loss of life among those disenfranchised peoples living in abject poverty. The focus has been on the science and the impact that fossil fuels have had on temperature change. Shouldn’t our efforts be directed to its effect on people as opposed to scientific discourse?  At least we know we can make a difference! It’s no coincidence that this Sunday's Gospel (Luke 21: 25-28, 34-36) asks us to stand up straight, with our heads raised and be 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 of the rising numbers of deaths due to starvation and the lack of water, not to mention the staggering rise of Covid cases in Madagascar, it’s so hard 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)

 

Behold, I make all things new

(The following post is from Richard Rohr's Center for Action and Contemplation, Death and Resurrection, "All Things New," 11/18/18.)

 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?

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. 

Shortly after 9/11 the words “Fear Not” seemed a little out of place as the world was more than just a little uneasy.  I am forever reminded of the photo of Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest, who served as Chaplain to the New York City Fire Dept, being carried out of Tower One of the World Trade Center minutes before it collapsed. He became the first registered victim at Ground Zero. The details of his death are unclear but 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. 

Who knew how that the day that began with skies so blue and air so clear, would end as it did?  In many ways, Father Mychal personified the words of Mark’s Gospel (Mark 13:24-39) in that he was a man who had euphemistically arrived at Ground Zero long before 9/11, as he had proved himself to be 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 the devastation of these harrowing circumstances seems strange, it is because we may be out of practice looking for Him.  Yet, we believe that Christ's death and resurrection hold the final answer to all our fears. In sharing in his resurrection, Jesus removed our reasons to fear death forever.  Of course it does no good to recognize this on a merely intellectual level.  Just knowing that Christ loves us may not save us from fear, nor will it save us from death.  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.

 

This poor widow put in more than all

 

For us to understand the impact of Jesus’ comparing the scribes to the widow would require knowing who Jesus' audience was at that time, and who Mark’s audience was at the time of his writing (Mark12:38-44). And as far as his Words written for all time, how do they resonate with 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, as they are seen in all their pompous finery and feigned reverence, and the way in which they amass their wealth. While the scribes are acknowledged for what they contribute to the treasury from their abundance,  the poor widow is blessed for what she contributes from her own need. Whose contribution is greater is rhetorical. 

As the educated class of religious leaders the scribes were regarded as the "professionals" of the time. As such they expected to sit in  the temple's place of honor. In addition to doing nothing for the oppressed, much of their wealth was derived from the poor and the oppressed. This was 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. 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. And what about today? I wonder what Jesus would have to say about the church-governing bodies, the high priests, church councils and vestries whose public piety seems to run counter to sharing God’s love. Their focus on the adherence on rituals of worship are empty distractions  to what Jesus wanted for his "church." 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 false piety, the purity codes and social rules created in the name of God for the sole purpose of control and power.

Church plays an important role in our lives primarily because it provides for a communal gathering in which we can proclaim the Gospel and share God’s grace through the sacraments. But the real "church" exists in the "pots and pans" of our lives. It is a place that has no walls and is not confined to a static place. Here we are sent out to look for God in those who need our love and support, as we partner with him to feed the needy and comfort those who are oppressed. Isn’t that the image we should hold for 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?

 

The Politics of the Greatest Commandment

 

Many people fight about who will be first in line, first in the door, or first at the table because for them being ‘first’ is about privilege and control. To me it sounds a little silly that so many intelligent people get caught up in the race of “who will be first?” So, here we are coming to the end a of another political “silly season” inhabited by gubernatorial, mayoral and local candidates.

Not much has changed since the first-century Jewish world. In the context of (Mark 12:28-34), to be ‘first’ carries the weight of the first stone laid, the cornerstone upon which all of the other stones must rest. Consequently, the greatness of the love commandment lies not in its devaluing all other commandments of Jewish law, but, rather, in its ability to hold up all other commandments on a “pedestal.” It’s less about beating out all of the other candidates to the finish line and more about helping them to do their jobs.

Mark’s Gospel records how Jesus, in love, surrenders his life to bolster us up in our weakness. The two love commandments come first in the law because it is on them that all of the rest of the commandments of the Torah rest, and really it is all that God asks of His people.

Testament. The first, phileo, refers to ‘brotherly love,’ or a love between equals and expects reciprocity. (This is where the city of Philadelphia gets its name). The other, agapao, refers to a complete and selfless love and expects self-giving. Neither love reflects a solely emotional state, but rather, points to the relation in which one person lives toward another.

The scribe in Mark’s account appears sincere in his inquiry, although Mathew’s account suggests that the scribe is trying to trap Jesus into weighing in on the use of the word for love. The word love (agape) is derived from the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible with which Jesus and his contemporaries would have been familiar). On the cross, Jesus acts with this agape love.

But agape love doesn’t always have to mean death. At its heart, what it really means, is simply putting others first. This is countercultural today and especially evident in running a good political campaign.

Acting with agape love as means stepping back from any other code of conduct may characterize our personal ethics and ask: What does this mean for my neighbor? Or, even more potently, Is this me giving myself to my neighbor? Is this me giving myself to my God? Because to put love of God and neighbor first means not just providing what we think is best for our brethren, but rather, to act in such a way that we give our very self to our neighbor and to let that be the foundation upon which everything else is built. Wasn’t that Jesus’ ultimate “gift” to us? (Adapted from Amy Lindeman Allen, Political Theology Today, 2015)

 

We are free to fail

 If you knew that failure didn't matter, what would you 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 (Mark 10:45-52), shout out for healing even though the people around you would try to silence you? 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 out for healing or justice, peace, equality, or any of the things that the world calls idealistic? Or, maybe you would be more inclined to quietly volunteer at a food pantry, or help, to the extent that you can, minister to the sick or infirmed. Maybe you would opt to visit an elder who most have forgotten? Despite the feeling that the worst of Covid is behind us, we are still limited to what organized ministry we are able to volunteer. I personally miss our time at St. Mark's or our Hospital and Nursing Home ministries. But there are no shortages of opportunities that come to us when we least expect or are completely unprepared. I suppose like looking for the presence of God, the key is to be aware.

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)

The First Will Be Last

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 had just finished telling the twelve for the third time, that his destiny as a servant messiah would result in his suffering, death, and ultimately, resurrection. Yet, immediately following this profound revelation, they asked Jesus if they could sit on his right and left side when he came to glory.

Talk about not getting it! What do you suppose the "Zebedee boys" had in mind? They wanted a piece of the “messianic action,” and sit on either side of Jesus’ throne. Needless to say they were still relating Jesus destiny to an earthly king and despite their time with Jesus during his ministry, James and John still didn't really know what it meant to follow Jesus to the end.  

Jesus, as he tells James and John after their bold request, is a servant messiah, and to follow a servant messiah one must also 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 as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:44-45). 

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

If we are truly in love with God, then the basics are not going to be enough. That love is going to want to be expressed in going above and beyond, in leaving the comfortable and familiar, in stretching and growing, and in following a voice other than our own. St. Teresa of Calcutta rightly instructs us that for “love to be real, it must cost, it must hurt, it must empty us of self.”  Being in love with God requires more than just checking the boxes. It requires a sincere and unconditional self-investment. Desiring God with our whole heart, mind, and soul means that I must also desire a relationship with my neighbor with that same degree of fervor. This is why following Christ can be difficult. It is less a matter of intellect and more a matter of heart and soul. (Weekly Bulletin, St. Benedict Church, October 10, 2021)

 

Is it Caesar's or to God's?

 

Once again in Mark10:2-16, 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 Adam. 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

 

In Mark 9:38-50 the apostles are all bent out of shape because someone outside of their “elite” group of 12 dared to do their job and has been discovered casting out demons. Ironically, none of the twelve were able to exorcise an unclean spirit from a boy earlier in our readings. Yet, they are indignant that someone not part of the twelve apostles has been successfully ministering to the afflicted and infirmed in Jesus name. Of course, they want the individual to cease and desist and prohibit him from doing the work for which they have been charged to do. Jesus tells them to cut out all their elitist nonsense and get over themselves. The accused healer was acting on behalf of Jesus and in his name.

 What does acting in Jesus name mean? It is not merely a knee jerk response to a liturgical prayer said or invoked without soulful intent. It is living a life in God as Jesus through Jesus.

Jesus was also unequivocal when he tells us that anything that gets in the way of living in His name, should be eliminated. Likewise obstacles that get in the way of others’ ability to follow Jesus must be eliminated. “If you hand causes you to sin, cut it off.” Once again, the intensity of Jesus' words 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.

Do we get in the way of others in their following the teaching of Jesus? What does it mean to be “of Christ?” What criteria should we use to determine if someone is "of Christ" or not?

 

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

 

 

 The disciples self-centered thoughts continued to be barriers to Jesus’ message that He was a Messiah who must surrender his life so that their/our lives will be saved. As close followers of Jesus and witness to his abilities to heal, they were taken in by their own deluded sense of self- importance which began to strain the lines of communication and their relationship with Jesus. Mark 9:30-37.

Their inability to help the child was inevitable as they were more interested in getting attention and impressing the crowd than channeling the grace of God through them in faith. As such they were not serving as instruments of God’s healing power and peace as they childishly competed with one another to get Jesus’ attention.

In referencing the child, Jesus reminds 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, habits and set aside our desires to win fame and glory and tells the disciples “Whoever wants to be first must be last and become a servant to all.” Though this isn’t as sharp a rebuke as the one he offered Peter last week, it nevertheless most likely stung. Because this is definitely not what they or we had been taught. Greatness, we assume, implies power, accomplishment, fame, wealth, and all the other things that allow us to make things go our way. And further to his point home, Jesus scoops up a young child, considered among the lowest in the social strata of that time, into his arms and tells the puzzled disciples. whoever welcomes a child like this welcomes him.

 

Who Do You Say I Am

 

Peter quickly learns that truly knowing someone means more than knowing his name. Believing is rooted in the intellect which is greatly influenced by the ego. On the other hand knowing is a palpable feeling deep inside that is hard to explain in words. Knowing requires a depth that goes beyond believing which the apostles are having a hard time taking to heart. 

Peter quickly learns that merely citing Jesus’ “title,” e.g., you are “the Christ,” is not enough. Mark opens the can of worms again, regarding expectations of the title, “the Christ,” and the reality of knowing Jesus’ presence as Messiah. Jesus 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 He emphasized only two verses earlier with the deaf mute.

Peter is really upset when he realizes that a "suffering" Messiah, is not what he and the disciples were prepared to hear or understand. What we find then in this passage in Mark 8: 27-35 is a series of questions about identity and expectations. These issues are not confined to the past as it was not just a problem for the disciples or those early Christians. It's just as real for us today. 

Mark uncovers a human condition that persists. We tend to apply what we believe our God should be and as such, find it easy to put words in his mouth that later can find their way to dogma and doctrine. We think we know the way things are, how they are supposed to go. If we believe God is active in the world and that God in the person of Jesus is very in our presence, 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 means. The question really becomes how do we understand what the implications of the title Messiah are? And how do our personal expectations align with God’s will for us? 

Believing in a personal God, means giving mental assent to the existence of a supernatural entity. In essence "Who do you 'think' I  am" should be "Do you 'Know' who I am." However, without spiritual transformation, belief is empty. We are transformed when we relate to God personally: knowing that each of us is accepted just as we are, and trusting that everything real in one’s life is a gift and a blessing in disguise. 

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 again with it. 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 free 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 night, we are freed from having to figure things out and we find delight in knowing that we do not know. (Mystery & Freedom, May, Dark Night p.133)

 

Be Opened

 

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. I recall having read somewhere that the great mystery of the incarnation of God in Jesus is not his divinity, after all God can do anything. But the true mystery is Jesus living his life fully human, just like us.

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. Knowing the mystery of the Eucharist required that we suspend "belief" and palpably feel with our "gut" its meaning. 

Striving to be in a “right relationship with God”  is what being a Christian means and what living the Word is what its all about, right? But what does being in a right relationship with God really mean? Let’s close our eyes and picture how being in a right relationship "feels" for a minute. Note, I use the word “picture,” not “understand.” This may 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. "Albert Einstein said that the 'true measure of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.' Being a disciple of Jesus Christ requires a great deal of imagination. It is not enough to simply attend to facts, rules and rituals and consider the job done. " ( St. Benedict Church Bulletin, August 29, 2021.)

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 being mere acquaintances. 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. But where does that leave us and what does this have to do with either Mark or John of our summer readings, and how the two Gospels relate? There are so many ailments that are outside the bounds of a 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 7/28/15)

 

Power of love vs. Love of Power

 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? (Word to Word, Bob Reina, August, 27, 2018)

To Whom Can We Go?"

 

Are you leaving or Staying? 

In John 6:60-69, 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 in their belief which they cannot overcome.

It is not difficult to imagine Jesus' sadness as he watched them leave… Fearing that he was going to be completely abandoned, he turns to the twelve apostles and asks them what they are going to do...Peter speaks for them and us when he responds “Master 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 willing to be vulnerable by 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, a place in which it is difficult to rely on our intellect, reason or abilities.

The process of listening to what Jesus is saying to each of us 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 our lifetimes. 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. 

( adapted from Tuesday, August 18, 2015, Word to Word, Bob Reina)

And the Word Became Flesh...

 

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)]

Another Bread Story

 

 

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 by now?  I suppose that this was my reaction when I first saw the lectionary scheduled for this upcoming Sunday. 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 extract its meaning and help us understand its relevance to our lives. I tried to put myself in the audience of John’s day and began to understand how vital our understanding of Jesus, the Bread of Life, is to our faith. In fact, we need to hear these stories again and again until our understanding  becomes "knowing" that Jesus, our bread of life, is a palpable part 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 gospel and through imagery we are able 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 in his humanity through our physical senses. We place out “faith” in tangible things we can see, touch and experience 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 be fleeting and not as fulfilling as we planned or expected.

Most of us are likely to experience a significant setbacks in our lives and what we once counted on were no longer as reliable. And even people close to us like our family, and our friends…well are not unkind, just hard to find and are 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.” 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 him there. When they approached him, he knew they were expecting a repeat performance of the feeding of the multitude.

Jesus was constantly aware of the dangers of a faith that is based on visible and tangible elements. Getting what you asked for without spiritual elbow grease is not faith. Jesus was calling his followers to a completely different kind of faith. Humans are conditioned to believe in those things they can identify with their five senses. “Seeing is believing,” right? Well maybe not in God’s way of thinking. Jesus was calling his followers to a faith without external props and to things that are felt and not necessarily seen.

When we take the risk of “casting our lot with the one whom God sent” to carry out God’s mission in the world, we experience a peace, a freedom, a quality of life that none of our “perishable things” can possibly provide. When we take the risk of faith, we find the life that God offers truly satisfies us in ways we may never have expected. The only “bread” that can truly satisfy our hunger is the bread that God offers us, the Bread of Life. (John 6:24-35).

Through Him With Him and In Him

 

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. For the one who made the world out of nothing and created light from darkness, multiplying some food and loaves was no major feat. John reminds us that the wonders Jesus performed throughout his ministry were always 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.  Compassion through Him with Him and in Him, is the hallmark of Jesus' ministry. This single word summarizes God’s unconditional love for us and is at the core of his incarnation in Jesus. 

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. We are reminded in our reading in Mark last week that the disciples had just returned from their ministries and with Jesus were looking forward to rest and retreat. Jesus instructs them to put aside their self- interests and desire to be left alone, and feed the multitude… themselves!  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  we hear about first responders tirelessly searching for survivors in the Surfside Florida disaster and the unsung heroes of the Covid19 pandemic. How about a parent who puts his/her dreams aside to care for the needs of their children or aging parent first. God is still at work performing miracles through us, his disciples eager, 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.  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.