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Homily – 21st Sunday Ordinary Time
August 22nd, 2021
In our Gospel today we hear that: “...many of the disciples broke away and would not remain in the company of Jesus. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Are you going to leave me, too?”
In the words of scripture scholar, Barbara Reid: “The commitment to be bound to another person for life is never made once and for all, but must be renewed again and again…”
And each time we find ourselves in this place, we are led yet again to the threshold of decision.
This has been true for our Jewish ancestors of faith as they fled Egypt seeking the Promised Land. Each time they doubted and turned away from God, the covenant between them and God was renewed. As Christians of our time, we encounter these same struggles. Our renewal of intention to follow our faith occurs each and every time we come together for Eucharist. We affirm our faith and baptismal promises together. We share in the breaking of the bread and wine. With each Communion, we renew the radical choice to accept and reciprocate God’s offer of love. Ritual prayer and belief in the Holy One who understands our weaknesses, gives us strength to move forward.
This is the source of and summit of our faith. This is also the source that provides us the strength and vision to commit to our life partners. In both instances, we find it essential to renew these commitments over and over again.
Today’s readings cast a bright light on the life decisions before us—the kind that determine the fundamental direction we will take that will consequently influence every other decision we make.
Major decisions like these are always based on insufficient evidence-- the not-fully-knowing—that falls short of our desire. We will never “know” God in the fullest human sense. We will never know everything about our chosen partners. Yet, making such decisions are no less than an evolutionary experience—for they embrace the dying to self and letting go to create a new order of living.
Yet there are times when the commitment we made to a life partner cannot be sustained. In these cases, we may find ourselves moving beyond the relationship to a more life-giving road in our discernment process. Whatever the case, if the Spirit of Life is at work, the commitment to follow the life and love offered by God far surpasses an oppressive relationship.
Faith is an important gift to depend upon as the Spirit moves us on our pathway of commitment to the teachings of Jesus, while giving thanks to God for all we have been given as we journey forward. Along the way, we may find ourselves lacking the faith we feel necessary. This is not an uncommon spiritual dilemma, as praying for an increase of faith was modeled by many of our revered saints. And the Holy One has always been there to shine the light we need.
May our prayer today mirror the desire to be all that we can become for all those we have chosen to accompany us on our journey.
Have we, like the apostles, come to believe?
To whom do you depend on to guide you on this journey of faith and love?
August 22nd, 2021
In our Gospel today we hear that: “...many of the disciples broke away and would not remain in the company of Jesus. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Are you going to leave me, too?”
In the words of scripture scholar, Barbara Reid: “The commitment to be bound to another person for life is never made once and for all, but must be renewed again and again…”
And each time we find ourselves in this place, we are led yet again to the threshold of decision.
This has been true for our Jewish ancestors of faith as they fled Egypt seeking the Promised Land. Each time they doubted and turned away from God, the covenant between them and God was renewed. As Christians of our time, we encounter these same struggles. Our renewal of intention to follow our faith occurs each and every time we come together for Eucharist. We affirm our faith and baptismal promises together. We share in the breaking of the bread and wine. With each Communion, we renew the radical choice to accept and reciprocate God’s offer of love. Ritual prayer and belief in the Holy One who understands our weaknesses, gives us strength to move forward.
This is the source of and summit of our faith. This is also the source that provides us the strength and vision to commit to our life partners. In both instances, we find it essential to renew these commitments over and over again.
Today’s readings cast a bright light on the life decisions before us—the kind that determine the fundamental direction we will take that will consequently influence every other decision we make.
Major decisions like these are always based on insufficient evidence-- the not-fully-knowing—that falls short of our desire. We will never “know” God in the fullest human sense. We will never know everything about our chosen partners. Yet, making such decisions are no less than an evolutionary experience—for they embrace the dying to self and letting go to create a new order of living.
Yet there are times when the commitment we made to a life partner cannot be sustained. In these cases, we may find ourselves moving beyond the relationship to a more life-giving road in our discernment process. Whatever the case, if the Spirit of Life is at work, the commitment to follow the life and love offered by God far surpasses an oppressive relationship.
Faith is an important gift to depend upon as the Spirit moves us on our pathway of commitment to the teachings of Jesus, while giving thanks to God for all we have been given as we journey forward. Along the way, we may find ourselves lacking the faith we feel necessary. This is not an uncommon spiritual dilemma, as praying for an increase of faith was modeled by many of our revered saints. And the Holy One has always been there to shine the light we need.
May our prayer today mirror the desire to be all that we can become for all those we have chosen to accompany us on our journey.
Have we, like the apostles, come to believe?
To whom do you depend on to guide you on this journey of faith and love?
Homily – Nineteenth Sunday Ordinary Time
August 8th, 2021
The first reading recalls for me a time when I was discouraged. I shared the third floor as a bedroom with my two younger sisters. The house we were renting was very large. The walls in our room were quite dingy, the temperature on the cool side, and the space was so expansive it felt like a huge, dark cavern. We had our three beds lined up in a row, with an old buffet we used as our dresser drawers. The younger girls never cleaned up after themselves. I was of the age, just on the brink of the abstract thinking that occurs as the teenage years approach, and felt very discouraged and removed from the rest of the family. My father noticed me sulking on the edge of the steps and asked me what was wrong. I told him that no one appreciates anything I try to do. My younger sisters don’t listen to me. “Well, how do you think your mother and I feel when our kids don’t follow our wishes?” he asked. “Now get yourself together and just do what you know has to be done.” I experienced the first pangs of growing up that day…
Yes, there is Elijah thinking he is a total failure—that his so called “call” must be a mistake—that he is a mistake. So why would God call him to do anything? None of the people listen to his message, nothing changes. He just wants to hide away under a tree and ask God to take him. He actually wants to die. Yet the angel, as a messenger of God, just keeps feeding him till he is strong enough to move on.
In the Gospel, people are complaining under their breath about what Jesus is trying to tell them. How can this be: Jesus as the bread from heaven? He has two parents and is just like you and me! And Jesus just waits for the Spirit to inflame the hearts of the people in order for them to receive him as the Bread of Life.
The angel fed Elijah so he could continue on, and we have the Spirit of God feeding the people so that those whose hearts were open could believe and see that Jesus was the nourishment they needed and waited for.
My parents taught me that you had to keep on trying your best. They fed me with their strength and purpose of doing what was right, to be open to the possibilities that would come my way.
How kind and patient are we with one another? Do we give others the space they need to grow into what is being asked of them?
August 8th, 2021
The first reading recalls for me a time when I was discouraged. I shared the third floor as a bedroom with my two younger sisters. The house we were renting was very large. The walls in our room were quite dingy, the temperature on the cool side, and the space was so expansive it felt like a huge, dark cavern. We had our three beds lined up in a row, with an old buffet we used as our dresser drawers. The younger girls never cleaned up after themselves. I was of the age, just on the brink of the abstract thinking that occurs as the teenage years approach, and felt very discouraged and removed from the rest of the family. My father noticed me sulking on the edge of the steps and asked me what was wrong. I told him that no one appreciates anything I try to do. My younger sisters don’t listen to me. “Well, how do you think your mother and I feel when our kids don’t follow our wishes?” he asked. “Now get yourself together and just do what you know has to be done.” I experienced the first pangs of growing up that day…
Yes, there is Elijah thinking he is a total failure—that his so called “call” must be a mistake—that he is a mistake. So why would God call him to do anything? None of the people listen to his message, nothing changes. He just wants to hide away under a tree and ask God to take him. He actually wants to die. Yet the angel, as a messenger of God, just keeps feeding him till he is strong enough to move on.
In the Gospel, people are complaining under their breath about what Jesus is trying to tell them. How can this be: Jesus as the bread from heaven? He has two parents and is just like you and me! And Jesus just waits for the Spirit to inflame the hearts of the people in order for them to receive him as the Bread of Life.
The angel fed Elijah so he could continue on, and we have the Spirit of God feeding the people so that those whose hearts were open could believe and see that Jesus was the nourishment they needed and waited for.
My parents taught me that you had to keep on trying your best. They fed me with their strength and purpose of doing what was right, to be open to the possibilities that would come my way.
How kind and patient are we with one another? Do we give others the space they need to grow into what is being asked of them?
Homily – 17th Sunday Ordinary Time
July 25, 2021
There is a very moving and clear message in our readings today. It focuses on treating one another with charity and patience through the simple gift of sharing a meal.
In the story of the loaves and fishes, Jesus teaches the people to give thanks for and use what they have. This required great faith, as no one could understand how five loaves and two fishes would provide enough for five thousand people. Yet, by believing that God provides and satisfies us, when we attempt to share what we have with the belief that is what we are called to do, no matter how paltry we believe our contribution is, somehow, in some way, miraculous things happen. The ripple effect of our good intentions reaches far beyond what we can imagine. For sharing what we have and giving thanks to God, are the ingredients to providing an abundance for all. The resources to feed all and for all to be satisfied, lie within the community. The meme “Pay it forward” often captures this intent.
Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, tells us to preserve the unity of the Spirit among us through the peace that binds us together: one body, one spirit, one hope, one faith, one baptism, one God and Creator of all, who works through and is within all. Yes, it is within the faith community that this takes place.
Our liturgical prayers today mirror this message:
Through this sacred meal we become a new creation.
This bread and wine nurtures afresh in us the discerning gifts of wisdom, light and truth.
Whenever you re-member me like this—whenever you include me within your community gathered—through the breaking of bread, I am among you.
Our hymns today also repeat the message:
We, as earthen vessels, hold the Body of Christ.
We serve one another till all are fed, like the One who loves us did.
From this faith community, this fountain and source of life, comes love, peace, grace and hope.
Is the message of Jesus complicated? Only if we lose focus on the simplicity of the true gift, given with great faith.
What are we willing to re-direct to those in need, trusting that God will provide enough to satisfy?
July 25, 2021
There is a very moving and clear message in our readings today. It focuses on treating one another with charity and patience through the simple gift of sharing a meal.
In the story of the loaves and fishes, Jesus teaches the people to give thanks for and use what they have. This required great faith, as no one could understand how five loaves and two fishes would provide enough for five thousand people. Yet, by believing that God provides and satisfies us, when we attempt to share what we have with the belief that is what we are called to do, no matter how paltry we believe our contribution is, somehow, in some way, miraculous things happen. The ripple effect of our good intentions reaches far beyond what we can imagine. For sharing what we have and giving thanks to God, are the ingredients to providing an abundance for all. The resources to feed all and for all to be satisfied, lie within the community. The meme “Pay it forward” often captures this intent.
Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, tells us to preserve the unity of the Spirit among us through the peace that binds us together: one body, one spirit, one hope, one faith, one baptism, one God and Creator of all, who works through and is within all. Yes, it is within the faith community that this takes place.
Our liturgical prayers today mirror this message:
Through this sacred meal we become a new creation.
This bread and wine nurtures afresh in us the discerning gifts of wisdom, light and truth.
Whenever you re-member me like this—whenever you include me within your community gathered—through the breaking of bread, I am among you.
Our hymns today also repeat the message:
We, as earthen vessels, hold the Body of Christ.
We serve one another till all are fed, like the One who loves us did.
From this faith community, this fountain and source of life, comes love, peace, grace and hope.
Is the message of Jesus complicated? Only if we lose focus on the simplicity of the true gift, given with great faith.
What are we willing to re-direct to those in need, trusting that God will provide enough to satisfy?
Homily – 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 20, 2021
When I was a very young girl, I lived with my large family in a very small house. All the kids were tucked away in the bedrooms while my parents slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. One night there was a severe thunderstorm with wind that seemed to rock the entire house. The lightening lit up the whole neighborhood. The thunder was so loud I held my hands tight against my ears, certain they would burst. Running to the living room, I barreled into my parents’ bed shaking uncontrollably. Snuggled tight against my mother’s chest, she rubbed my back and tried to reassure me all would be well. I remember her words: God sees us in our need and will protect us. The sound of my mother’s heartbeat was a comfort to me as I fell back to sleep, and assured me that all, indeed, would be well.
Where do the seeds of faith come from? Many times, as is found in our scripture readings today, faith is born from fear. The fear propels us into a dark place, yet deep down our desire is to believe that we will pull through. My mother’s belief in a loving God and her calming words abated my fear. She sowed the seeds of faith for me that night.
Our readings today present the sea as the principle symbol for chaos.
Job has lost all his belongings and his children from great storms and raiding armies that ravaged his land, his family, and his property. He was inflicted with terrible maladies that disfigured him. He laments and goes on and on about his turmoil that will not go away. God responds that Job just didn’t see the whole picture. And because of that, Job let his fright over what he didn’t comprehend propel him into discontent and despondency. In the end, however, it was his faith in an all-seeing God that pulled him through.
The psalmist is thankful to God for being saved from the dangers of the sea and being brought safely to harbor. The Gospel tells of the violent storm on the sea with the disciples struggling to survive. Jesus is awakened by their fearful cries for help. Once Jesus calms the seas, all is well. The disciples depended on Jesus, and reached out to him to return the sea to calmer waters.
What is the big picture? It is a God who created all things in a dynamic order; a God who made a covenant to the people that they would never be abandoned.
Understanding God as Creator of the Cosmos, causes us to step back and try to fathom such a dynamic force that brought us into being. This is the God who watches over us. This reality propels us beyond our wildest imagination and is experienced through the eyes of faith.
Our lives are met with chaos at times. Having the vision to see the big picture, understanding that we only fear what we cannot comprehend, can sow seeds of faith in a God that is so very good to us. My mother knew that.
What person in your life renewed your faith and helped you to see and understand in your time of fear?
June 20, 2021
When I was a very young girl, I lived with my large family in a very small house. All the kids were tucked away in the bedrooms while my parents slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. One night there was a severe thunderstorm with wind that seemed to rock the entire house. The lightening lit up the whole neighborhood. The thunder was so loud I held my hands tight against my ears, certain they would burst. Running to the living room, I barreled into my parents’ bed shaking uncontrollably. Snuggled tight against my mother’s chest, she rubbed my back and tried to reassure me all would be well. I remember her words: God sees us in our need and will protect us. The sound of my mother’s heartbeat was a comfort to me as I fell back to sleep, and assured me that all, indeed, would be well.
Where do the seeds of faith come from? Many times, as is found in our scripture readings today, faith is born from fear. The fear propels us into a dark place, yet deep down our desire is to believe that we will pull through. My mother’s belief in a loving God and her calming words abated my fear. She sowed the seeds of faith for me that night.
Our readings today present the sea as the principle symbol for chaos.
Job has lost all his belongings and his children from great storms and raiding armies that ravaged his land, his family, and his property. He was inflicted with terrible maladies that disfigured him. He laments and goes on and on about his turmoil that will not go away. God responds that Job just didn’t see the whole picture. And because of that, Job let his fright over what he didn’t comprehend propel him into discontent and despondency. In the end, however, it was his faith in an all-seeing God that pulled him through.
The psalmist is thankful to God for being saved from the dangers of the sea and being brought safely to harbor. The Gospel tells of the violent storm on the sea with the disciples struggling to survive. Jesus is awakened by their fearful cries for help. Once Jesus calms the seas, all is well. The disciples depended on Jesus, and reached out to him to return the sea to calmer waters.
What is the big picture? It is a God who created all things in a dynamic order; a God who made a covenant to the people that they would never be abandoned.
Understanding God as Creator of the Cosmos, causes us to step back and try to fathom such a dynamic force that brought us into being. This is the God who watches over us. This reality propels us beyond our wildest imagination and is experienced through the eyes of faith.
Our lives are met with chaos at times. Having the vision to see the big picture, understanding that we only fear what we cannot comprehend, can sow seeds of faith in a God that is so very good to us. My mother knew that.
What person in your life renewed your faith and helped you to see and understand in your time of fear?
Homily – Trinity Sunday
May 30, 2021
Past discoveries of our physical universe have plunged us into a new era of understanding the creative force that drives change. This change manifests itself in the physical world as ancient and contemporary scientists, along with expansive pictures from the Hubble telescope, obliterate the ancient thought of the world being held in a dome on a flat surface. We know now that the cosmos is a dynamic force that continues to expand and recreate itself. --The Divine Verb: Our Creator’s Imagination, 2018 by MECollingwood (an excerpt)
In other words, our universe continues to be born in relationship to all the creative forces that energize it. As that force expands, the relationship grows deeper. This dynamic is called “grace.” Grace then can be understood as the active and holy communion of all creative energies.
Within our Eucharistic Prayer we state that “We rest in a love that helps us see our lives as part of a great unity, a coherence of grace.” Where did this love come from?
Our Creator God desired to share this presence and force. The Source of All Life was reflected in all its glory through Jesus and the Holy Spirit: three expressions of Divine Life in everlasting communion. As that love expanded throughout the universe, we became recipients of this dynamic trio of love. And the physical, intellectual and spiritual dimension of human life continues on, reinventing itself in remarkably new ways…
Mary reveals her profound receptivity and generosity to the action of the Holy Spirit in her life. As she experiences and accepts God’s dynamic action in her life, she shares her news of being with child with her elderly cousin, Elizabeth, and offers aid to her who is also with child.
The relationship expands, the grace increases, as the love is shared.
The readings selected for today mirror our faith in God’s presence among us, right relationship with the Holy One and with one another, and our call to increase the Spirit of God in our world while living in love.
As we break bread with one another, we recreate and celebrate this Gift of Unity among us. By so doing, we proclaim our faith in the mystery of Trinity.
What names capture best for you the ever-expanding communion of love that is Trinity? How does Mary’s life model this for us?
May 30, 2021
Past discoveries of our physical universe have plunged us into a new era of understanding the creative force that drives change. This change manifests itself in the physical world as ancient and contemporary scientists, along with expansive pictures from the Hubble telescope, obliterate the ancient thought of the world being held in a dome on a flat surface. We know now that the cosmos is a dynamic force that continues to expand and recreate itself. --The Divine Verb: Our Creator’s Imagination, 2018 by MECollingwood (an excerpt)
In other words, our universe continues to be born in relationship to all the creative forces that energize it. As that force expands, the relationship grows deeper. This dynamic is called “grace.” Grace then can be understood as the active and holy communion of all creative energies.
Within our Eucharistic Prayer we state that “We rest in a love that helps us see our lives as part of a great unity, a coherence of grace.” Where did this love come from?
Our Creator God desired to share this presence and force. The Source of All Life was reflected in all its glory through Jesus and the Holy Spirit: three expressions of Divine Life in everlasting communion. As that love expanded throughout the universe, we became recipients of this dynamic trio of love. And the physical, intellectual and spiritual dimension of human life continues on, reinventing itself in remarkably new ways…
Mary reveals her profound receptivity and generosity to the action of the Holy Spirit in her life. As she experiences and accepts God’s dynamic action in her life, she shares her news of being with child with her elderly cousin, Elizabeth, and offers aid to her who is also with child.
The relationship expands, the grace increases, as the love is shared.
The readings selected for today mirror our faith in God’s presence among us, right relationship with the Holy One and with one another, and our call to increase the Spirit of God in our world while living in love.
As we break bread with one another, we recreate and celebrate this Gift of Unity among us. By so doing, we proclaim our faith in the mystery of Trinity.
What names capture best for you the ever-expanding communion of love that is Trinity? How does Mary’s life model this for us?
Homily – Pentecost
May 23rd, 2021
Ancient times often contain golden nuggets of information that jogs the memory and sensibilities of human nature. One such example is the Chinese understanding of age. In the minds of the Chinese, human age is counted from the beginning of pregnancy, not from the birthing moment Western minds recognize. This particular piece of wisdom informs what we celebrate today.
On this Pentecost Sunday, the remembrance of the Spirit of Life infusing the hearts and minds of the disciples has become a sacred memory that is prayed and celebrated each year. The Catholic Church refers to Pentecost as the “Birthday of the Church.” As the teaching intends, this day is to be remembered as the moment the Spirit moved in, with all her strength and grandeur, to flood the bodies and souls of those scared disciples hidden in a room, lighting the fire of faith within them.
Yet, we all know that any type of faith community isn’t formed in a particular moment or day, nor is a church realized by any one event. In fact, unless there is both physical and spiritual preparation for such an event, no such development could ever happen. Similar to pregnancy, there needs to be a nurturing environment that allows life to flourish. True in the formation of human life, true in the formation of the spiritual life of a community of faith.
If we dig deeper into what caused and still supports the church being church, we find the process of conversion happened over time. Not only didn’t the disciples understand the breadth and depth of Jesus’ teachings, they needed the Spirit of God to persist in raising their consciousness of what such a belief system entailed. One example of this would be the disagreement between Peter and Paul on accepting Gentiles into their communities.
Another very significant element to this spiritual awakening was the steadfastness of women. They were not only relied upon to keep the fires stoked in this gradual development of what eventually became known as a church of believers, but the widows provided financial support for the disciples in their evangelization efforts. It was the women who presided at the house liturgies. It was the women who spread the faith within their communities.
Spirit Sophia, along with her feminine human counterparts, held the day!
Birthing comes natural to women, be it the birth of a child, or the birth of a church. Without women, neither have a chance of becoming much of anything.
As time passed, women continued to support the church but were cast aside in their role as leaders while patriarchs stole the limelight. Scattered through the years are very few women who were able to break through this stronghold.
As our longing increases, today’s Eucharistic Prayer makes it clear that we still await “…the growth of the world borne ever onward in the stream of universal becoming.” Yes, we do recognize a church that continues its need for nurturance, that is in dire need of a renewed vision. The creative energy among us is palpable as we look to the Spirit of Pentecost for guidance.
How will we spread this ancient wisdom we hold within us?
What shape will it take in reforming the church of today or of the future?
May 23rd, 2021
Ancient times often contain golden nuggets of information that jogs the memory and sensibilities of human nature. One such example is the Chinese understanding of age. In the minds of the Chinese, human age is counted from the beginning of pregnancy, not from the birthing moment Western minds recognize. This particular piece of wisdom informs what we celebrate today.
On this Pentecost Sunday, the remembrance of the Spirit of Life infusing the hearts and minds of the disciples has become a sacred memory that is prayed and celebrated each year. The Catholic Church refers to Pentecost as the “Birthday of the Church.” As the teaching intends, this day is to be remembered as the moment the Spirit moved in, with all her strength and grandeur, to flood the bodies and souls of those scared disciples hidden in a room, lighting the fire of faith within them.
Yet, we all know that any type of faith community isn’t formed in a particular moment or day, nor is a church realized by any one event. In fact, unless there is both physical and spiritual preparation for such an event, no such development could ever happen. Similar to pregnancy, there needs to be a nurturing environment that allows life to flourish. True in the formation of human life, true in the formation of the spiritual life of a community of faith.
If we dig deeper into what caused and still supports the church being church, we find the process of conversion happened over time. Not only didn’t the disciples understand the breadth and depth of Jesus’ teachings, they needed the Spirit of God to persist in raising their consciousness of what such a belief system entailed. One example of this would be the disagreement between Peter and Paul on accepting Gentiles into their communities.
Another very significant element to this spiritual awakening was the steadfastness of women. They were not only relied upon to keep the fires stoked in this gradual development of what eventually became known as a church of believers, but the widows provided financial support for the disciples in their evangelization efforts. It was the women who presided at the house liturgies. It was the women who spread the faith within their communities.
Spirit Sophia, along with her feminine human counterparts, held the day!
Birthing comes natural to women, be it the birth of a child, or the birth of a church. Without women, neither have a chance of becoming much of anything.
As time passed, women continued to support the church but were cast aside in their role as leaders while patriarchs stole the limelight. Scattered through the years are very few women who were able to break through this stronghold.
As our longing increases, today’s Eucharistic Prayer makes it clear that we still await “…the growth of the world borne ever onward in the stream of universal becoming.” Yes, we do recognize a church that continues its need for nurturance, that is in dire need of a renewed vision. The creative energy among us is palpable as we look to the Spirit of Pentecost for guidance.
How will we spread this ancient wisdom we hold within us?
What shape will it take in reforming the church of today or of the future?
Homily – Second Sunday of Easter
April 11, 2021
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand. (excerpt from a poem by Myra B. Welch)
The first Christian communities knew this only too well. They distributed their goods to all those in need, assuring their community of a secure foundation of faith by consoling and being generous with one another. They understood the worth of the soul as lives changed for the better. They shared the touch of the Master’s hand.
The story of Thomas in today’s gospel revealed Christ’s compassion and understanding. Thomas’ doubt was remedied by allowing him to search for the truth himself. Christ had faith in Thomas, and trusted that he would find the truth he was seeking.
In this gospel, we are presented with Christ’s knowledge that no one could move beyond their own limited circle of life without the gift of forgiveness. It is through forgiveness that a door to new life is opened. And that new life, grounded in love, will never fade away. To forgive is the touch of the Master’s hand that we gift to one another.
The human perspective is a limited one. We can only see what we perceive to be true, what is within our scope of vision. Yet the universal pattern of creation holds all life together in the act of resurrection. If Love is eternal, then we never die! The God of Love, implanted within us, evolves and ultimately triumphs. The faith journey we walk provides opportunities to observe all of creation experiencing the Christ-life everywhere—resurrecting in one form or another. We share the touch of the Master’s hand, the loving touch of our Divine Creator.
How has your loving touch resurrected someone’s life?
April 11, 2021
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand. (excerpt from a poem by Myra B. Welch)
The first Christian communities knew this only too well. They distributed their goods to all those in need, assuring their community of a secure foundation of faith by consoling and being generous with one another. They understood the worth of the soul as lives changed for the better. They shared the touch of the Master’s hand.
The story of Thomas in today’s gospel revealed Christ’s compassion and understanding. Thomas’ doubt was remedied by allowing him to search for the truth himself. Christ had faith in Thomas, and trusted that he would find the truth he was seeking.
In this gospel, we are presented with Christ’s knowledge that no one could move beyond their own limited circle of life without the gift of forgiveness. It is through forgiveness that a door to new life is opened. And that new life, grounded in love, will never fade away. To forgive is the touch of the Master’s hand that we gift to one another.
The human perspective is a limited one. We can only see what we perceive to be true, what is within our scope of vision. Yet the universal pattern of creation holds all life together in the act of resurrection. If Love is eternal, then we never die! The God of Love, implanted within us, evolves and ultimately triumphs. The faith journey we walk provides opportunities to observe all of creation experiencing the Christ-life everywhere—resurrecting in one form or another. We share the touch of the Master’s hand, the loving touch of our Divine Creator.
How has your loving touch resurrected someone’s life?
Homily – Easter Sunday 2021
RESURRECTION: There was enormous power in that moment! That power changed lives; it redefined the way people thought about God; it created a new consciousness; and in time it even caused a new holy day to be born.
The ancient world could not make sense of an empty tomb with any theory except grave robbing. That is why Mary of Magdala thought someone took Jesus’ body away. In ancient times, there just could not be any other explanation.
An undeniable explosion of power does not lend itself to a particular explanation, and thus it forces us to acknowledge that whatever Easter was and is, we can approach it only inside the time and space vocabulary of human existence.
So, what does the resurrection of Jesus really mean?
The founding moment of the Christian story is not about either an empty tomb or the resuscitation of a deceased body. Its original proclamation by Paul, the earliest of New Testament writers, asserted that in some manner God had raised Jesus into being part of who God is. He entered into the oneness of God. For Paul, the Easter event was a matter of Jesus being raised to a new dimension of life that he does not, and perhaps could not, describe, but believed it is beyond the power of death ever to threaten or strike again.
All four gospels agree: Early in the still dark morning, women went to the tomb.
Mary of Magdala makes it personal: “I do not know where he is.”
“Whom are you looking for?” were among the first words of Jesus in reply.
It was through the spoken intimacy of Mary’s name by Jesus that the reality of the resurrection is revealed. She now looks at the empty tomb, not as a manifestation of death, but as testimony to the power and possibilities of life. And now, Jesus’ voice summons Mary to new life, and each time we reflect on this story, we, too, are called to see with new eyes.
What did she see?
There is a different kind of seeing from simply having a scene become visible before our eyes that tells the story here. There is a different kind of seeing that speaks of a breakthrough in our thinking, leading to a new understanding; it speaks of putting together things that had never been put together before and thus, in that imaginative combination, a new insight is formed.
Could it be that resurrection is the ability to see that Jesus had taken his humanity to a new dimension, and had now stepped into embracing a divine reality? Was it a step from self-consciousness into an awareness of the oneness of all things?
For Paul and for other early Christians to whom Paul says Jesus “appeared,” resurrection was a moment of new revelation that occurred when humankind’s survival instinct could transcend its limitation and give way to embracing others in love. The resurrection is the experience in which a new “seeing” of both God and life is born. These experiences suggest that God and human life can flow together. They persuade believers that every limit on our humanity can be broken.
Understood as the early Christians experienced it, resurrection is an ongoing and life-reordering process, not an event that happened once in history a long time ago. It did not happen to Jesus alone; it is also something that happens to and in each of us.
Easter is an experience which opens our eyes to the meaning of God found in the midst of life, in the expression of love and in the courage to be. We are resurrected when we learn that God is present when we live fully, love wastefully and become all that we are capable of being.
The risen Christ calls us to go beyond our boundaries, our fears, our lines of security; to learn to give ourselves away and know that we are part of who God is, and can never be separated.
The Easter experience in the New Testament is not about bodies walking out of graves. It is about a transcending dimension of life into which all can enter, an experience in which life is expanded, love is unlimited and being is enhanced. The Spirit of our Living God gives us the energy to continue forward on this exciting adventure, discovering new possibilities as we draw closer to this abundant life. God’s presence and power calls us into our essential oneness, our universal consciousness, our interconnectedness. We are part of who and what God is.
In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
As Emerson suggests, God is not a noun we are compelled to define; God is a verb that we are invited to live. There is a difference, and it is in that difference that resurrection is both experienced and entered.
NOTE: I decided to build the Easter message on the work of Gail R. O’Day, dean and professor of NT and Preaching from Wake Forest University School of Divinity, along with John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopalian bishop, progressive theologian, scripture scholar and author. Their thoughts, along with my own, have been woven together to shine an “Easter” light on God’s journey with humankind, and our evolving realization of the interconnectedness of our existence with this Holy Oneness of Being. MEC
RESURRECTION: There was enormous power in that moment! That power changed lives; it redefined the way people thought about God; it created a new consciousness; and in time it even caused a new holy day to be born.
The ancient world could not make sense of an empty tomb with any theory except grave robbing. That is why Mary of Magdala thought someone took Jesus’ body away. In ancient times, there just could not be any other explanation.
An undeniable explosion of power does not lend itself to a particular explanation, and thus it forces us to acknowledge that whatever Easter was and is, we can approach it only inside the time and space vocabulary of human existence.
So, what does the resurrection of Jesus really mean?
The founding moment of the Christian story is not about either an empty tomb or the resuscitation of a deceased body. Its original proclamation by Paul, the earliest of New Testament writers, asserted that in some manner God had raised Jesus into being part of who God is. He entered into the oneness of God. For Paul, the Easter event was a matter of Jesus being raised to a new dimension of life that he does not, and perhaps could not, describe, but believed it is beyond the power of death ever to threaten or strike again.
All four gospels agree: Early in the still dark morning, women went to the tomb.
Mary of Magdala makes it personal: “I do not know where he is.”
“Whom are you looking for?” were among the first words of Jesus in reply.
It was through the spoken intimacy of Mary’s name by Jesus that the reality of the resurrection is revealed. She now looks at the empty tomb, not as a manifestation of death, but as testimony to the power and possibilities of life. And now, Jesus’ voice summons Mary to new life, and each time we reflect on this story, we, too, are called to see with new eyes.
What did she see?
There is a different kind of seeing from simply having a scene become visible before our eyes that tells the story here. There is a different kind of seeing that speaks of a breakthrough in our thinking, leading to a new understanding; it speaks of putting together things that had never been put together before and thus, in that imaginative combination, a new insight is formed.
Could it be that resurrection is the ability to see that Jesus had taken his humanity to a new dimension, and had now stepped into embracing a divine reality? Was it a step from self-consciousness into an awareness of the oneness of all things?
For Paul and for other early Christians to whom Paul says Jesus “appeared,” resurrection was a moment of new revelation that occurred when humankind’s survival instinct could transcend its limitation and give way to embracing others in love. The resurrection is the experience in which a new “seeing” of both God and life is born. These experiences suggest that God and human life can flow together. They persuade believers that every limit on our humanity can be broken.
Understood as the early Christians experienced it, resurrection is an ongoing and life-reordering process, not an event that happened once in history a long time ago. It did not happen to Jesus alone; it is also something that happens to and in each of us.
Easter is an experience which opens our eyes to the meaning of God found in the midst of life, in the expression of love and in the courage to be. We are resurrected when we learn that God is present when we live fully, love wastefully and become all that we are capable of being.
The risen Christ calls us to go beyond our boundaries, our fears, our lines of security; to learn to give ourselves away and know that we are part of who God is, and can never be separated.
The Easter experience in the New Testament is not about bodies walking out of graves. It is about a transcending dimension of life into which all can enter, an experience in which life is expanded, love is unlimited and being is enhanced. The Spirit of our Living God gives us the energy to continue forward on this exciting adventure, discovering new possibilities as we draw closer to this abundant life. God’s presence and power calls us into our essential oneness, our universal consciousness, our interconnectedness. We are part of who and what God is.
In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
As Emerson suggests, God is not a noun we are compelled to define; God is a verb that we are invited to live. There is a difference, and it is in that difference that resurrection is both experienced and entered.
NOTE: I decided to build the Easter message on the work of Gail R. O’Day, dean and professor of NT and Preaching from Wake Forest University School of Divinity, along with John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopalian bishop, progressive theologian, scripture scholar and author. Their thoughts, along with my own, have been woven together to shine an “Easter” light on God’s journey with humankind, and our evolving realization of the interconnectedness of our existence with this Holy Oneness of Being. MEC
Homily – Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 14, 2021
Before I get started, I’d like to begin with these words of Maya Angelou on this St. Valentine’s Day:
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”
It’s good to remember these words, especially because this day is also World Marriage Day. As we pray this liturgy together, it is important that we keep our eyes on the prize, seeking to become people of love, people of hope.
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The time we live in is not an extraordinary time. It is actually a time that has been experienced by people since the world began. And as we ponder this reality, our thoughts go to the human experiences of isolation, loneliness, and despair that we visit in the scripture readings of the day.
In ancient Israel, any physical condition that showed itself with bodily fluids exiting the body, was deemed “unclean.” Bodily fluids belonged inside the body. Emissions other than the normal functions of elimination were out of place. Of course, we know that leprosy was a term used for many illnesses, but the particular disease, Hansen’s disease, makes the skin break open and exude fluids.
Every culture determines their own meaning and organizes their own structures in a distinctive way. It was the priests in Israel who determined what belonged in a certain classification and what did not—what human condition that would be rendered “Unclean” or “Clean.”
Our first reading from the Jewish law book, Leviticus, spells out the rules and regulations for a leper, and how they must dress, speak, and to whom they must answer. They were to go outside the city and live alone. The person afflicted was judged to be sinful, which made the disease not only physically loathsome and socially dangerous, but morally reprehensible as well.
We are in the middle of an all-out pandemic with the COVID virus. Each culture across the globe seems to be dealing with it their own way. Each nation, down to each local community, appear to have their own standard of care. The difference in our time as compared to ancient Israel, is our advancement in science and healthcare. Yet people across the globe are dying at rising rates and there is still much difficulty getting the vaccine to everyone.
Regardless of the time in which people live, the effects for the person who contracts such a scourging disease are the same—isolation, loneliness, and despair.
Our Gospel tells of Jesus offering healing to a desperate man with leprosy, who leaves with a thankful and hopeful heart. Jesus healed this man who approached him. He regarded human need more important than ritual regulation. He told the man to present himself to the priest so he could be deemed “clean”, but did not want the event to be broadcasted publicly. Despite Jesus’ wish, the man spread the news of his healing far and wide, which made it necessary for Jesus to go outside the city and live alone.
Several centuries later, legend has it that two lepers came to St. Bridget begging for healing, and she washed the first one, and he was healed, and she bid him wash his companion, so that he too might be healed. But the one who had been healed refused, and would not share the gift of healing, for now that he was clean and whole, he disdained to touch the ragged skin of his fellow leper. Bridget became angry, but she didn’t say anything; she just took the water, and as she washed the second leper herself, his disease went into the skin of the one who had refused to share the gift of healing. Now he cried out twice as loudly for Bridget to heal him again, and was sorry for his pride. She healed him again, and then he had gotten not only the service of healing, but the gift of what he really needed as well, which was the wisdom that good things are meant to be shared. This is wisdom that inspires and changes the soul.
Each and every time we can reach out to another in need with a compassionate heart, they experience a healing. Each time we are grateful for the goodness of someone’s healing touch, we are thankful. Each time our hearts are raised in believing in a new dawn ahead, we are hopeful.
The loving touch of we, as Jesus’ Christ-bearers can give, will heal souls as well as bodies.
My friends, we are living in such needy times!
What “good things” are being asked of you to share?
February 14, 2021
Before I get started, I’d like to begin with these words of Maya Angelou on this St. Valentine’s Day:
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”
It’s good to remember these words, especially because this day is also World Marriage Day. As we pray this liturgy together, it is important that we keep our eyes on the prize, seeking to become people of love, people of hope.
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The time we live in is not an extraordinary time. It is actually a time that has been experienced by people since the world began. And as we ponder this reality, our thoughts go to the human experiences of isolation, loneliness, and despair that we visit in the scripture readings of the day.
In ancient Israel, any physical condition that showed itself with bodily fluids exiting the body, was deemed “unclean.” Bodily fluids belonged inside the body. Emissions other than the normal functions of elimination were out of place. Of course, we know that leprosy was a term used for many illnesses, but the particular disease, Hansen’s disease, makes the skin break open and exude fluids.
Every culture determines their own meaning and organizes their own structures in a distinctive way. It was the priests in Israel who determined what belonged in a certain classification and what did not—what human condition that would be rendered “Unclean” or “Clean.”
Our first reading from the Jewish law book, Leviticus, spells out the rules and regulations for a leper, and how they must dress, speak, and to whom they must answer. They were to go outside the city and live alone. The person afflicted was judged to be sinful, which made the disease not only physically loathsome and socially dangerous, but morally reprehensible as well.
We are in the middle of an all-out pandemic with the COVID virus. Each culture across the globe seems to be dealing with it their own way. Each nation, down to each local community, appear to have their own standard of care. The difference in our time as compared to ancient Israel, is our advancement in science and healthcare. Yet people across the globe are dying at rising rates and there is still much difficulty getting the vaccine to everyone.
Regardless of the time in which people live, the effects for the person who contracts such a scourging disease are the same—isolation, loneliness, and despair.
Our Gospel tells of Jesus offering healing to a desperate man with leprosy, who leaves with a thankful and hopeful heart. Jesus healed this man who approached him. He regarded human need more important than ritual regulation. He told the man to present himself to the priest so he could be deemed “clean”, but did not want the event to be broadcasted publicly. Despite Jesus’ wish, the man spread the news of his healing far and wide, which made it necessary for Jesus to go outside the city and live alone.
Several centuries later, legend has it that two lepers came to St. Bridget begging for healing, and she washed the first one, and he was healed, and she bid him wash his companion, so that he too might be healed. But the one who had been healed refused, and would not share the gift of healing, for now that he was clean and whole, he disdained to touch the ragged skin of his fellow leper. Bridget became angry, but she didn’t say anything; she just took the water, and as she washed the second leper herself, his disease went into the skin of the one who had refused to share the gift of healing. Now he cried out twice as loudly for Bridget to heal him again, and was sorry for his pride. She healed him again, and then he had gotten not only the service of healing, but the gift of what he really needed as well, which was the wisdom that good things are meant to be shared. This is wisdom that inspires and changes the soul.
Each and every time we can reach out to another in need with a compassionate heart, they experience a healing. Each time we are grateful for the goodness of someone’s healing touch, we are thankful. Each time our hearts are raised in believing in a new dawn ahead, we are hopeful.
The loving touch of we, as Jesus’ Christ-bearers can give, will heal souls as well as bodies.
My friends, we are living in such needy times!
What “good things” are being asked of you to share?
Homily – Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
2/7/21
So many circumstances are beyond human control, and women and men often feel helpless in the face of them all. This is what Job was trying to express in our first reading. Job sees no value in the life thrust upon him, and is unwilling to accept his lot in life. Life ceases to be an adventure for Job, and takes on the guise of a drudgery that torments him.
Our biblical tradition contains many examples of good people complaining about the circumstances of their lives. Yet, we need to remember that complaints can actually be statements of faith—as we plead for God to alleviate our suffering, we acknowledge God’s power and believe that an intervention may happen. In that faith, even as the light seems dim, hope rises anew.
Jesus comes to heal the brokenhearted, as the psalmist reminds us today. He binds up their wounds. His healing power goes out to all those who approach him. If we invite him in, he will sustain us. He gives strength to the weak so they have the courage they need to face their fears.
Mark’s Gospel is a testament to this very truth as Jesus, once again, comes to the rescue. Peter asks Jesus to visit his mother-in-law who is very ill. Through Jesus’ touch, she regains her strength and her health. She immediately rises and goes to work ministering to others; preaching by example. Through the power of God, Jesus released her from her sorry plight.
Later in the story, Jesus is aware that the crowds seek him for his miracles. At the same time, he knows that he must be about preaching and preferred they would gather to hear his message. And then there are those demons hanging around; they seem to know what he is about, even though the crowds don’t get it.
If we want the Kindom of God to be a reality, to be at hand, here and now, we have to get rid of the evil forces that roam about. The battle we face is between the power of the Spirit and the power of evil.
Paul believes there is no option for him but to preach—it is his destiny. Much like Jesus, he learns how to do this in a way that the message he preaches does not appear to be separate from the real people, like Job, who struggle with real circumstances.
Our lives tell our stories.
Many times we don’t know what is expected of us. We go along not knowing what will come next. After complaining and seeking recourse, we are often able to “see” more clearly and realize the need to get out of ourselves and share our faith with others. Paul called this preaching. Jesus called it proclaiming the Good News.
If someone wants to know who you are or what you think, all that will really satisfy their curiosity is to look at what you do—your faith in action. Similar to Peter’s mother-in-law, your actions will be a force that will not be silenced.
By the power of the Spirit, Jesus addressed the needs of his day; by the power of that same Spirit, Paul did the same. Now it’s our turn. We are the ones who must take up the challenge to bring the same Good News to the brokenhearted, the enslaved, and the weak among us.
How has God transformed you with healing love in times when you felt hopeless?
In what ways can we help others experience divine mercy?
2/7/21
So many circumstances are beyond human control, and women and men often feel helpless in the face of them all. This is what Job was trying to express in our first reading. Job sees no value in the life thrust upon him, and is unwilling to accept his lot in life. Life ceases to be an adventure for Job, and takes on the guise of a drudgery that torments him.
Our biblical tradition contains many examples of good people complaining about the circumstances of their lives. Yet, we need to remember that complaints can actually be statements of faith—as we plead for God to alleviate our suffering, we acknowledge God’s power and believe that an intervention may happen. In that faith, even as the light seems dim, hope rises anew.
Jesus comes to heal the brokenhearted, as the psalmist reminds us today. He binds up their wounds. His healing power goes out to all those who approach him. If we invite him in, he will sustain us. He gives strength to the weak so they have the courage they need to face their fears.
Mark’s Gospel is a testament to this very truth as Jesus, once again, comes to the rescue. Peter asks Jesus to visit his mother-in-law who is very ill. Through Jesus’ touch, she regains her strength and her health. She immediately rises and goes to work ministering to others; preaching by example. Through the power of God, Jesus released her from her sorry plight.
Later in the story, Jesus is aware that the crowds seek him for his miracles. At the same time, he knows that he must be about preaching and preferred they would gather to hear his message. And then there are those demons hanging around; they seem to know what he is about, even though the crowds don’t get it.
If we want the Kindom of God to be a reality, to be at hand, here and now, we have to get rid of the evil forces that roam about. The battle we face is between the power of the Spirit and the power of evil.
Paul believes there is no option for him but to preach—it is his destiny. Much like Jesus, he learns how to do this in a way that the message he preaches does not appear to be separate from the real people, like Job, who struggle with real circumstances.
Our lives tell our stories.
Many times we don’t know what is expected of us. We go along not knowing what will come next. After complaining and seeking recourse, we are often able to “see” more clearly and realize the need to get out of ourselves and share our faith with others. Paul called this preaching. Jesus called it proclaiming the Good News.
If someone wants to know who you are or what you think, all that will really satisfy their curiosity is to look at what you do—your faith in action. Similar to Peter’s mother-in-law, your actions will be a force that will not be silenced.
By the power of the Spirit, Jesus addressed the needs of his day; by the power of that same Spirit, Paul did the same. Now it’s our turn. We are the ones who must take up the challenge to bring the same Good News to the brokenhearted, the enslaved, and the weak among us.
How has God transformed you with healing love in times when you felt hopeless?
In what ways can we help others experience divine mercy?
Homily – Feast of St. Bridget
1/31/21
What does it mean to take on St. Bridget as the namesake of our faith community?
At first glance, perhaps some thought it convenient, as the Leadership Team took that name before any liturgical community formed. But as time went on, this faith community adopted her name, prayed to her at every Board Meeting, included her prayer on our e-newsletter, and made sure we celebrated her feast day each year with great gusto. Her cross of thrushes appears on our letterhead and newsletters.
That was what happened on the surface. Truth be told, we have many members who collect used medicine bottles for the medical needs in Haiti; supply the Edna House, a home for women recovering from alcohol and drug addiction, with feminine hygiene products; donate nonperishable food and household items to the local food bank; and supply Malachi House, a hospice home that serves persons who are terminally ill, without regard to gender, race, religion or national origin and without cost to the resident or family, with home healthcare equipment, needed food and household items, and quarterly financial donations.
Seems to me we grew into the ministry of St. Bridget, following her ministry of hospitality, her kindness and generosity to the poor, aiding women in carrying their burdens, forming a Social Justice Committee with an eye on racism, a Liturgy Planning Committee that aids in the formation and focus of our prayer, soliciting volunteers for the technical and musical assistance needed for our weekly Zoom liturgies. And we continue to discern the path of simple and uncomplicated existence quite remarkably!
We face the future before us with anticipation. In addition to what we already include in our outreach ministries, volunteer committees and liturgical assistance, a new ministry of grace has opened up for us quite organically: Zoom liturgies where local and nonlocal people gather for weekly Eucharist.
Yet, we are being called to carve a path for our future gathering place when the covid restrictions are lifted and those who live locally can meet for in person liturgies and meetings. While there is no indication that our Brecksville residence will be closed to us when the restrictions are lifted, we have grown in our scope of who we are and what we are called to become. The question has arisen: Are we being called to look for a place to gather where a more diverse population may find a spiritual home?
To contemplate and pray about this, we will be forming a Retreat Team that will focus its energies around discerning the Spirit of St. Bridget and how we are called to live it as we move forward as a faith community. This retreat will be open to all who wish to participate, and will be held in Zoom sessions. The dates have not yet been selected. However, if you feel energized by this idea, you are invited to join the team as we explore and contemplate Bridget’s Spirit, and how it is rising in this Community. Please take this opportunity to prayer, and make yourself known if you wish to participate in this preparation.
The readings today, although focused on the faith and gifts of St. Bridget, also energize us to exercise our own prophetic gifts both within and outside our faith community.
What are your prophetic gifts that you can offer as we go forward to spread our mantel in the Spirit of St. Bridget?
1/31/21
What does it mean to take on St. Bridget as the namesake of our faith community?
At first glance, perhaps some thought it convenient, as the Leadership Team took that name before any liturgical community formed. But as time went on, this faith community adopted her name, prayed to her at every Board Meeting, included her prayer on our e-newsletter, and made sure we celebrated her feast day each year with great gusto. Her cross of thrushes appears on our letterhead and newsletters.
That was what happened on the surface. Truth be told, we have many members who collect used medicine bottles for the medical needs in Haiti; supply the Edna House, a home for women recovering from alcohol and drug addiction, with feminine hygiene products; donate nonperishable food and household items to the local food bank; and supply Malachi House, a hospice home that serves persons who are terminally ill, without regard to gender, race, religion or national origin and without cost to the resident or family, with home healthcare equipment, needed food and household items, and quarterly financial donations.
Seems to me we grew into the ministry of St. Bridget, following her ministry of hospitality, her kindness and generosity to the poor, aiding women in carrying their burdens, forming a Social Justice Committee with an eye on racism, a Liturgy Planning Committee that aids in the formation and focus of our prayer, soliciting volunteers for the technical and musical assistance needed for our weekly Zoom liturgies. And we continue to discern the path of simple and uncomplicated existence quite remarkably!
We face the future before us with anticipation. In addition to what we already include in our outreach ministries, volunteer committees and liturgical assistance, a new ministry of grace has opened up for us quite organically: Zoom liturgies where local and nonlocal people gather for weekly Eucharist.
Yet, we are being called to carve a path for our future gathering place when the covid restrictions are lifted and those who live locally can meet for in person liturgies and meetings. While there is no indication that our Brecksville residence will be closed to us when the restrictions are lifted, we have grown in our scope of who we are and what we are called to become. The question has arisen: Are we being called to look for a place to gather where a more diverse population may find a spiritual home?
To contemplate and pray about this, we will be forming a Retreat Team that will focus its energies around discerning the Spirit of St. Bridget and how we are called to live it as we move forward as a faith community. This retreat will be open to all who wish to participate, and will be held in Zoom sessions. The dates have not yet been selected. However, if you feel energized by this idea, you are invited to join the team as we explore and contemplate Bridget’s Spirit, and how it is rising in this Community. Please take this opportunity to prayer, and make yourself known if you wish to participate in this preparation.
The readings today, although focused on the faith and gifts of St. Bridget, also energize us to exercise our own prophetic gifts both within and outside our faith community.
What are your prophetic gifts that you can offer as we go forward to spread our mantel in the Spirit of St. Bridget?
Homily – Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 24, 2021
Every person alive sees the world through their experiences and their own imaginations. Our Creator’s gift to us are the human senses we all have in common, and is the way we perceive and connect with the created world.
How wonderful it would be to see the world through the eyes of the Divine Energy that fashions us all! Is this even possible? Our readings today give us hints as to how it might be.
In the reading from Jonah, the prophet who finally decides to deliver Yahweh’s message to the people, he tells them to straighten up or become extinct. Yet, what Yahweh said would be done to them, was not done. What Yahweh always said was that if their actions continued down a destructive course, destruction would surely follow. They would reap what they sowed. It has little to do with God. It’s all about what they chose to perceive and how they chose to act.
As we continue our preparation for the Season of Lent, the reading from Jonah, as well as our Gospel message today, gives a very clear calling: “Change your life and believe in my Message.” It is simply stated, but can become terribly challenging. We are called to follow and believe in Jesus, the Divine Messenger. And there will be a cost to such a commitment. We can live up to the challenge if we seek to understand the voice of the Spirit among us. By doing so, we are able to identify opportunities to see, to identify the face of God in our midst, and respond by promoting justice among us.
Our psalmist today speaks of the Blessed One as the teacher: “You enjoy teaching all who are open to you, all who choose to live in truth.” I’m certain we have all had that experience ourselves. It’s much easier to guide others in truth if they follow what we lay out for them. The problem comes when others reject our guidance and close their minds to our messages. In those instances, we have little recourse but to help pick up the pieces of their lives after they have failed. Our faith attests that the Compassionate One does the same. There is always an off ramp where rescue efforts are waiting to be employed. We’ve all been on both sides of this scenario. We know and see it all too well!
St. Paul tells us that time is of the essence. There is no time to waste, so don’t complicate your lives unnecessarily, keep it simple! For the world as you see it is fading away…
Our world and our church are in transition as we speak. New world leaders are emerging. Old patterns of behavior, our tangled webs of life, are being abandoned and new ideas are being born. This new Spirit growing among us is energizing our imaginations, elevating our senses, and allowing us to see a new order. For the world as we have experienced it is fading away. We are birthing a new one in our very midst. And new life comes when we are able to imagine what life can be; when we receive glimpses of what God is doing.
“The Kindom of God is at hand!” exclaims Jesus. And we are being called to create it with eyes of faith.
We discover the Divine Energy—always on the move—in glimpses, in small wonders, in clearer sight, as we embrace our Christian journey in the spirit of truth and justice.
What urgent response to this call do you believe is needed in our times?
January 24, 2021
Every person alive sees the world through their experiences and their own imaginations. Our Creator’s gift to us are the human senses we all have in common, and is the way we perceive and connect with the created world.
How wonderful it would be to see the world through the eyes of the Divine Energy that fashions us all! Is this even possible? Our readings today give us hints as to how it might be.
In the reading from Jonah, the prophet who finally decides to deliver Yahweh’s message to the people, he tells them to straighten up or become extinct. Yet, what Yahweh said would be done to them, was not done. What Yahweh always said was that if their actions continued down a destructive course, destruction would surely follow. They would reap what they sowed. It has little to do with God. It’s all about what they chose to perceive and how they chose to act.
As we continue our preparation for the Season of Lent, the reading from Jonah, as well as our Gospel message today, gives a very clear calling: “Change your life and believe in my Message.” It is simply stated, but can become terribly challenging. We are called to follow and believe in Jesus, the Divine Messenger. And there will be a cost to such a commitment. We can live up to the challenge if we seek to understand the voice of the Spirit among us. By doing so, we are able to identify opportunities to see, to identify the face of God in our midst, and respond by promoting justice among us.
Our psalmist today speaks of the Blessed One as the teacher: “You enjoy teaching all who are open to you, all who choose to live in truth.” I’m certain we have all had that experience ourselves. It’s much easier to guide others in truth if they follow what we lay out for them. The problem comes when others reject our guidance and close their minds to our messages. In those instances, we have little recourse but to help pick up the pieces of their lives after they have failed. Our faith attests that the Compassionate One does the same. There is always an off ramp where rescue efforts are waiting to be employed. We’ve all been on both sides of this scenario. We know and see it all too well!
St. Paul tells us that time is of the essence. There is no time to waste, so don’t complicate your lives unnecessarily, keep it simple! For the world as you see it is fading away…
Our world and our church are in transition as we speak. New world leaders are emerging. Old patterns of behavior, our tangled webs of life, are being abandoned and new ideas are being born. This new Spirit growing among us is energizing our imaginations, elevating our senses, and allowing us to see a new order. For the world as we have experienced it is fading away. We are birthing a new one in our very midst. And new life comes when we are able to imagine what life can be; when we receive glimpses of what God is doing.
“The Kindom of God is at hand!” exclaims Jesus. And we are being called to create it with eyes of faith.
We discover the Divine Energy—always on the move—in glimpses, in small wonders, in clearer sight, as we embrace our Christian journey in the spirit of truth and justice.
What urgent response to this call do you believe is needed in our times?
Homily – The Baptism of Jesus 2021
January 10, 2021
The feast we celebrate today marks the closing of the Christmas cycle. Jesus’ baptism expands the universality of God’s presence, bringing the hope of justice to all nations, now found in Jesus who will embody God’s movement in the world.
Interestingly, this was probably a very uneventful occasion, as only Jesus saw that the sky was torn in two; only he saw the dove descend; and the voice spoke directly to him—a private affirmation of his messianic importance.
We have all experienced something of this nature ourselves. Signs appear: a clock on the wall stops ticking the day someone retires; a mother’s spinal headache disappears after her infant is baptized; in the middle of a rainstorm, the sun comes out and a rainbow appears as a sign of hope; a wounded warrior comes home from overseas and his family lets go of the long-standing quarrels among them; an elderly relative transitions to new life just when a new baby is born into the family. The Spirit’s manner is executed with gentleness and understanding. This justice will not compound the distress of an already suffering people, rather, it will be a source of consolation.
Yet author and poet Toni Morrison reminds us: “I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom.”
There is much about those attacks on our Capitol in Washington D.C. that is eerily familiar, especially the absolute sense of entitlement with which thousands of white insurrectionists—part of the citizenry of these United States—stormed the capitol complex and the freedom they enjoyed in doing so.
Sinclair Lewis, an American writer from Minnesota, critical of American capitalism and materialism, wrote this warning: “When fascism comes to America, it will come cloaked in American flags and bearing crosses.”
Is this becoming clearer?
There is sickness with symptoms as old as humankind, writes Meta Herrick Carlson. … a rush of power born by inciting fear in others, a wave of victory in causing enemies’ pain. There is a push to solve the mystery, to isolate the suspect and explain the evil simply to a safe distance from the anomaly. There is a temptation to skip the part that feels near the suffering that shares the sadness, that names our shared humanity. There is a courage in rejecting the numbing need for data in favor of finding the helpers, loving the neighbor, resisting terror through random acts of connection. There is a sickness with symptoms as old as humankind, but so is the remedy.
It is necessary, but so very difficult, to bring healing and truth together when the truth is so painful. The prophetic call for the Church is to consistently privilege justice over religious symbols.
How are we doing?
Those who claim the Gospel as our starting point will have to be brave. Bravery requires precision. It requires thinking clearly about what all the issues are. It requires using language carefully. It requires resisting pablum and platitudes. It requires resisting “what about-isms” when calling out wrong. It requires truth-telling, even in the face of rage and handwringing. It calls for wisdom. But is also calls for friendships, love and laughter. It calls for strength and God-given companionship.
Jesus is challenging us to carefully consider the complexity of that connection where what is political and what is theological intersect, cautioning us not to blur the lines between what humans say law is, and what God declares as moral.
In the reading from Acts today, Peter declares: “I begin to see how true it is that God shows no partiality…” In Jesus’ day, those possessed by demons were considered the most unclean of the unclean. And Jesus touched them; he healed them.
At Jesus’ baptism, only he saw and heard the divine affirmation of his ministry. And through our baptism, we share in his prophetic ministry—a commitment to serve the poor and the cause of compassion and justice. We become the chosen prophets of our time.
The Christmas Season ends with our community poised for the Lenten journey of baptismal renewal. As we prepare for this sacred time, let us ponder these questions:
What divine voice are we listening to? What have we seen over these past few days? How will we console a suffering people?
January 10, 2021
The feast we celebrate today marks the closing of the Christmas cycle. Jesus’ baptism expands the universality of God’s presence, bringing the hope of justice to all nations, now found in Jesus who will embody God’s movement in the world.
Interestingly, this was probably a very uneventful occasion, as only Jesus saw that the sky was torn in two; only he saw the dove descend; and the voice spoke directly to him—a private affirmation of his messianic importance.
We have all experienced something of this nature ourselves. Signs appear: a clock on the wall stops ticking the day someone retires; a mother’s spinal headache disappears after her infant is baptized; in the middle of a rainstorm, the sun comes out and a rainbow appears as a sign of hope; a wounded warrior comes home from overseas and his family lets go of the long-standing quarrels among them; an elderly relative transitions to new life just when a new baby is born into the family. The Spirit’s manner is executed with gentleness and understanding. This justice will not compound the distress of an already suffering people, rather, it will be a source of consolation.
Yet author and poet Toni Morrison reminds us: “I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom.”
There is much about those attacks on our Capitol in Washington D.C. that is eerily familiar, especially the absolute sense of entitlement with which thousands of white insurrectionists—part of the citizenry of these United States—stormed the capitol complex and the freedom they enjoyed in doing so.
Sinclair Lewis, an American writer from Minnesota, critical of American capitalism and materialism, wrote this warning: “When fascism comes to America, it will come cloaked in American flags and bearing crosses.”
Is this becoming clearer?
There is sickness with symptoms as old as humankind, writes Meta Herrick Carlson. … a rush of power born by inciting fear in others, a wave of victory in causing enemies’ pain. There is a push to solve the mystery, to isolate the suspect and explain the evil simply to a safe distance from the anomaly. There is a temptation to skip the part that feels near the suffering that shares the sadness, that names our shared humanity. There is a courage in rejecting the numbing need for data in favor of finding the helpers, loving the neighbor, resisting terror through random acts of connection. There is a sickness with symptoms as old as humankind, but so is the remedy.
It is necessary, but so very difficult, to bring healing and truth together when the truth is so painful. The prophetic call for the Church is to consistently privilege justice over religious symbols.
How are we doing?
Those who claim the Gospel as our starting point will have to be brave. Bravery requires precision. It requires thinking clearly about what all the issues are. It requires using language carefully. It requires resisting pablum and platitudes. It requires resisting “what about-isms” when calling out wrong. It requires truth-telling, even in the face of rage and handwringing. It calls for wisdom. But is also calls for friendships, love and laughter. It calls for strength and God-given companionship.
Jesus is challenging us to carefully consider the complexity of that connection where what is political and what is theological intersect, cautioning us not to blur the lines between what humans say law is, and what God declares as moral.
In the reading from Acts today, Peter declares: “I begin to see how true it is that God shows no partiality…” In Jesus’ day, those possessed by demons were considered the most unclean of the unclean. And Jesus touched them; he healed them.
At Jesus’ baptism, only he saw and heard the divine affirmation of his ministry. And through our baptism, we share in his prophetic ministry—a commitment to serve the poor and the cause of compassion and justice. We become the chosen prophets of our time.
The Christmas Season ends with our community poised for the Lenten journey of baptismal renewal. As we prepare for this sacred time, let us ponder these questions:
What divine voice are we listening to? What have we seen over these past few days? How will we console a suffering people?
Homily – The Epiphany 2021
January 3, 2021
Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, two prominent contemporary scripture scholars, discuss the merits of the Epiphany story in their book, The First Christmas.
According to their research and understanding, Matthew’s story of the three wise men from the East who travel to Bethlehem led by a star is not historically factual. There was no special star, no wise men, and no plot by Herod to kill Jesus. Yet, if the story is viewed as a parable, all those players and symbols of light, actually happened. Do we believe that Jesus is the light shining in the darkness? Yes. Do the Herods of this world seek to extinguish the light? Yes. Does Jesus still shine in the darkness? Yes.
If we focus on the geographical import in this story, the wise men came from the East. Yet this story is about sacred geography, not physical geography. What matters in this parable is that these men were Gentiles. And as Gentiles, they are from “the nations” who are drawn to the light of Jesus, knelt before him, and pay him homage. The nations are acknowledging one born “King of the Jews”, and he is their king as well.
The use of light and darkness are many and rich and have been central to the Christian tradition since its beginning. Jesus’s birth is the coming of light into the darkness. Jesus is the light guiding the wise men, representing the nations—and he is the light of the world.
Like much of the language in the Bible, the imagery of light is both personal and political. The contrasts between darkness and light can be associated with other central contrasts: bondage and liberation, exile and return, injustice and justice, violence and peace, falsehood and truth, death and life. It is important to see that these contrasts all have a personal meaning as well as a political meaning. So it is with the stories of Jesus’s birth. They address our personal yearning and the politics of his world and ours. To see it only as personal is to miss half of the meaning in this parable.
The spiritual author, Joyce Rupp, talks about the feast of the Epiphany as an opportunity to celebrate and recognize again the manifestation of God to all peoples of the Earth. God present in human form; an ordinary child being led by the events and circumstances that surrounded Him.
It is also possible to think of the Epiphany as the feast day for all who have set out on that search to ‘see’ for themselves the Messiah, the Christ, the Holy One of God. To follow that inner stirring, the ‘calling’ spoken deep within our hearts, to set out into new and unknown places, following that bright shining inner ‘Star’ that is guiding us with hope and expectancy.
How has your path been marked with light this Christmas Season?
January 3, 2021
Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, two prominent contemporary scripture scholars, discuss the merits of the Epiphany story in their book, The First Christmas.
According to their research and understanding, Matthew’s story of the three wise men from the East who travel to Bethlehem led by a star is not historically factual. There was no special star, no wise men, and no plot by Herod to kill Jesus. Yet, if the story is viewed as a parable, all those players and symbols of light, actually happened. Do we believe that Jesus is the light shining in the darkness? Yes. Do the Herods of this world seek to extinguish the light? Yes. Does Jesus still shine in the darkness? Yes.
If we focus on the geographical import in this story, the wise men came from the East. Yet this story is about sacred geography, not physical geography. What matters in this parable is that these men were Gentiles. And as Gentiles, they are from “the nations” who are drawn to the light of Jesus, knelt before him, and pay him homage. The nations are acknowledging one born “King of the Jews”, and he is their king as well.
The use of light and darkness are many and rich and have been central to the Christian tradition since its beginning. Jesus’s birth is the coming of light into the darkness. Jesus is the light guiding the wise men, representing the nations—and he is the light of the world.
Like much of the language in the Bible, the imagery of light is both personal and political. The contrasts between darkness and light can be associated with other central contrasts: bondage and liberation, exile and return, injustice and justice, violence and peace, falsehood and truth, death and life. It is important to see that these contrasts all have a personal meaning as well as a political meaning. So it is with the stories of Jesus’s birth. They address our personal yearning and the politics of his world and ours. To see it only as personal is to miss half of the meaning in this parable.
The spiritual author, Joyce Rupp, talks about the feast of the Epiphany as an opportunity to celebrate and recognize again the manifestation of God to all peoples of the Earth. God present in human form; an ordinary child being led by the events and circumstances that surrounded Him.
It is also possible to think of the Epiphany as the feast day for all who have set out on that search to ‘see’ for themselves the Messiah, the Christ, the Holy One of God. To follow that inner stirring, the ‘calling’ spoken deep within our hearts, to set out into new and unknown places, following that bright shining inner ‘Star’ that is guiding us with hope and expectancy.
How has your path been marked with light this Christmas Season?
Homily – Solemnity of Christmas 2020
Many do wonder when we will get back to normal. And Matthew Fox poses the question: Do we really want to? The crisis we experience can be a time for change—a time to change negative things of the past.
And at this special time of year, Pope Francis’ words ring out:
“A faith that does not put itself in crisis, is a faith in crises.
A faith that does not grow, is a faith that must grow.
A faith that does not question the church, is a faith that we must question.
A faith that does not animate the church, is a faith that must be re-animated.
A faith that does not upset the church, is indeed, a faith that must be upset.”
In comes Jesus: the physical and spiritual expression of the Law and the Prophets. Jesus contains the Spirit’s passion for an authentic life. He is the promise and hope for a very different kind of world from the world of domination and empire that has existed here from the beginning of humankind. Jesus is what can be seen of God in human life, the infant who matures and reveals God’s dream for this world.
As we meet regularly for shared celebration of our God, we come face-to-face with Jesus, this holy character who occupies a core place in our lives of faith. When we don’t meet regularly to pray and listen and share, the stakes grow high that our guiding compass may disappear from our imagination and so from our lives. We take a chance that we may fall into despair amid the hope-less condition of our common life that is defined by a narrative of death and destruction, of our own selfish ego.
The work of faith is to keep our lives focused on this Holy Child, the most dependable One in our story. It is this One who brings the new life that keeps the future open, who refuses the shut-down of despair, who overrides our temptation to defeat. This is the One who makes a way out of what appears to be no way. When this One occupies our imagination, we are empowered to boldness, risk, and freedom, and are kept profoundly removed from all despair.
I leave you with the poetic words of Maya Angelo, who shares a profound perspective on the meaningful presence of Jesus in this very human situation:
It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
And on this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus the Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud: Peace.
We look at our world and speak the word aloud: Peace.
We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.
You are welcome now to share your thoughts this Christmas morning!
Many do wonder when we will get back to normal. And Matthew Fox poses the question: Do we really want to? The crisis we experience can be a time for change—a time to change negative things of the past.
And at this special time of year, Pope Francis’ words ring out:
“A faith that does not put itself in crisis, is a faith in crises.
A faith that does not grow, is a faith that must grow.
A faith that does not question the church, is a faith that we must question.
A faith that does not animate the church, is a faith that must be re-animated.
A faith that does not upset the church, is indeed, a faith that must be upset.”
In comes Jesus: the physical and spiritual expression of the Law and the Prophets. Jesus contains the Spirit’s passion for an authentic life. He is the promise and hope for a very different kind of world from the world of domination and empire that has existed here from the beginning of humankind. Jesus is what can be seen of God in human life, the infant who matures and reveals God’s dream for this world.
As we meet regularly for shared celebration of our God, we come face-to-face with Jesus, this holy character who occupies a core place in our lives of faith. When we don’t meet regularly to pray and listen and share, the stakes grow high that our guiding compass may disappear from our imagination and so from our lives. We take a chance that we may fall into despair amid the hope-less condition of our common life that is defined by a narrative of death and destruction, of our own selfish ego.
The work of faith is to keep our lives focused on this Holy Child, the most dependable One in our story. It is this One who brings the new life that keeps the future open, who refuses the shut-down of despair, who overrides our temptation to defeat. This is the One who makes a way out of what appears to be no way. When this One occupies our imagination, we are empowered to boldness, risk, and freedom, and are kept profoundly removed from all despair.
I leave you with the poetic words of Maya Angelo, who shares a profound perspective on the meaningful presence of Jesus in this very human situation:
It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
And on this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus the Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud: Peace.
We look at our world and speak the word aloud: Peace.
We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.
You are welcome now to share your thoughts this Christmas morning!
Homily – 2nd Sunday of Advent
December 6th, 2020
Jerusalem was now free of captivity, yet had very little with which to rebuild their lives. God summons the prophets among them to speak, to be heralds of the good news that Our Creator God’s strong arm will come to the aid of a broken people. The prophet is instructed to speak tenderly to Jerusalem, to speak to their hearts.
The people of Jerusalem had faith in the words and assurances of the prophets among them, and began to build up their city infrastructure in order to deliver themselves out of oppression. They were making new roads for the coming of God in their midst, and were delivered out of captivity and persecution by their faith.
Out of the impossible, God finds ways to work by inspiring a brokenhearted people. These people had hearts that filled with hope, unencumbered by the past and living in the passing of time and the fragility of being alive. These dramatic transformations of heart occur with every heart that lets itself be held in God’s comforting hand.
As we find in all four gospels, the authors’ intentions were to make a connection between the old covenant and the new covenant. To build a case for the books of the Hebrew scriptures as foreshadowing the Christian scriptures. And so Mark interweaves the words of the prophets Malachi and Isaiah, reinterpreting them to announce the presence of the one who will herald the arrival of Jesus.
John the Baptist was a prophet and knew his role as an agent of God’s good news. He was the one who was to prepare all the people by calling them to repentance and washing them in the Jordan River. Thus, he prepared the way for Jesus to live among them.
God is doing something new with the coming of Jesus—a new creation that begins again in our own day—a new covenant.
Yet, there is another prophetic voice, harder for some to hear: a voice of peace and promise. This voice often gets set aside with all the other diversions of life. When we answer a call to action, we sometimes get frustrated with the slowness and difficulty of change. In this struggle, we can lose our peace. Patience with ourselves is an inner energy that God gives us.
We are obligated to clear the path for others to experience hope, knocking down the barriers between us. Our God who brings about new beginnings, relies on our response for this to happen. Let’s let go of all that stands in the way of our openness to God’s coming. Let’s deconstruct what is not useful, what is counterproductive, what is not of God.
Faith and hope were the key to survival for the prophets and Israelites, so may they be for us.
What is God speaking to your heart in the hollowed-out spaces of these Advent days?
December 6th, 2020
Jerusalem was now free of captivity, yet had very little with which to rebuild their lives. God summons the prophets among them to speak, to be heralds of the good news that Our Creator God’s strong arm will come to the aid of a broken people. The prophet is instructed to speak tenderly to Jerusalem, to speak to their hearts.
The people of Jerusalem had faith in the words and assurances of the prophets among them, and began to build up their city infrastructure in order to deliver themselves out of oppression. They were making new roads for the coming of God in their midst, and were delivered out of captivity and persecution by their faith.
Out of the impossible, God finds ways to work by inspiring a brokenhearted people. These people had hearts that filled with hope, unencumbered by the past and living in the passing of time and the fragility of being alive. These dramatic transformations of heart occur with every heart that lets itself be held in God’s comforting hand.
As we find in all four gospels, the authors’ intentions were to make a connection between the old covenant and the new covenant. To build a case for the books of the Hebrew scriptures as foreshadowing the Christian scriptures. And so Mark interweaves the words of the prophets Malachi and Isaiah, reinterpreting them to announce the presence of the one who will herald the arrival of Jesus.
John the Baptist was a prophet and knew his role as an agent of God’s good news. He was the one who was to prepare all the people by calling them to repentance and washing them in the Jordan River. Thus, he prepared the way for Jesus to live among them.
God is doing something new with the coming of Jesus—a new creation that begins again in our own day—a new covenant.
Yet, there is another prophetic voice, harder for some to hear: a voice of peace and promise. This voice often gets set aside with all the other diversions of life. When we answer a call to action, we sometimes get frustrated with the slowness and difficulty of change. In this struggle, we can lose our peace. Patience with ourselves is an inner energy that God gives us.
We are obligated to clear the path for others to experience hope, knocking down the barriers between us. Our God who brings about new beginnings, relies on our response for this to happen. Let’s let go of all that stands in the way of our openness to God’s coming. Let’s deconstruct what is not useful, what is counterproductive, what is not of God.
Faith and hope were the key to survival for the prophets and Israelites, so may they be for us.
What is God speaking to your heart in the hollowed-out spaces of these Advent days?
Homily – First Sunday of Advent 2020
November 29, 2020
This is the season of waiting—this Advent 2020.
We wait to see our parents, our grandparents, other family members who have moved away, our friends that live across town. We wait to hear the doctor’s report on our loved one with covid, we wait to hear good news from just about anyone right now. This pandemic has caused a certain amount of chaos in our lives—and there are many who are experiencing it much more severely than you or me.
The days are getting shorter, the darkness is closing in on us. More and more people are without jobs, a greater number of families are standing in food lines, the number of foreclosures is climbing, there is a growing concern for those with grave illnesses. It seems that a darkness of spirit is marching down our streets. Will this darkness find a home with us? Can we gather enough strength to wait for a new and brighter day?
Isaiah wants to blame God for our straying. Mark tells us to stay alert lest we miss the show. The psalmist and Paul tend to be the only ones that actually give us hope! Paul declares that we have a spiritual maturity grounded in Jesus’ teachings. His words build up our confidence that maybe we’re not so bad after all. The psalmist rejoices because it is God who will rescue us and bring us out of our doldrums on the wings of hope for a better tomorrow.
How long do we wait before we become convinced that all we need is to present our needs and open our hearts to God? When will we let the Holy One into our minds and hearts so that we stop feeling so alone? After all is said and done, we were made for each other. We have been given a covenantal promise from Jesus himself that we will see this through together.
Our world faces enormous challenges. Yet, these are the times we were made for. The stuff we are made from is of lasting worth. How long do we wait before we realize that Christ is in our midst right here, right now? Let’s build on this faith together.
After we’ve become experts in waiting, perhaps we can branch out and anticipate what can be realized with pledging our own goodness in paving the way to a new life of welcome, a new vision of tomorrow.
Let’s transform this waiting into an Advent filled with time for holy anticipation.
What gifts will you share in this time of watching and waiting?
November 29, 2020
This is the season of waiting—this Advent 2020.
We wait to see our parents, our grandparents, other family members who have moved away, our friends that live across town. We wait to hear the doctor’s report on our loved one with covid, we wait to hear good news from just about anyone right now. This pandemic has caused a certain amount of chaos in our lives—and there are many who are experiencing it much more severely than you or me.
The days are getting shorter, the darkness is closing in on us. More and more people are without jobs, a greater number of families are standing in food lines, the number of foreclosures is climbing, there is a growing concern for those with grave illnesses. It seems that a darkness of spirit is marching down our streets. Will this darkness find a home with us? Can we gather enough strength to wait for a new and brighter day?
Isaiah wants to blame God for our straying. Mark tells us to stay alert lest we miss the show. The psalmist and Paul tend to be the only ones that actually give us hope! Paul declares that we have a spiritual maturity grounded in Jesus’ teachings. His words build up our confidence that maybe we’re not so bad after all. The psalmist rejoices because it is God who will rescue us and bring us out of our doldrums on the wings of hope for a better tomorrow.
How long do we wait before we become convinced that all we need is to present our needs and open our hearts to God? When will we let the Holy One into our minds and hearts so that we stop feeling so alone? After all is said and done, we were made for each other. We have been given a covenantal promise from Jesus himself that we will see this through together.
Our world faces enormous challenges. Yet, these are the times we were made for. The stuff we are made from is of lasting worth. How long do we wait before we realize that Christ is in our midst right here, right now? Let’s build on this faith together.
After we’ve become experts in waiting, perhaps we can branch out and anticipate what can be realized with pledging our own goodness in paving the way to a new life of welcome, a new vision of tomorrow.
Let’s transform this waiting into an Advent filled with time for holy anticipation.
What gifts will you share in this time of watching and waiting?
Homily – In Thanksgiving for the Kinship of Jesus 2020
November 22, 2020
When one’s life is a constant struggle, to believe in a powerful king who could, with a stroke of a pen or a wave of the hand, make everything go well for those oppressed, fuels hope and can give them a reason to keep plodding on. Many faithful people today find themselves in this same frame of mind. It is not surprising then, that Christians would think of Jesus as such a king, or of God in royal terms.
The traditional Catholic expression for this liturgical day is found in honoring the Kingship of Jesus the Christ. It comes at this point in our liturgical year because Matthew’s previous gospel readings up till now are preparing us for the end times. The traditional church would have us believe that by honoring Jesus as King of the Universe, we come face to face with our final judgment—Did we love enough to enter the pearly gates? A question enough to cause a strange foreboding for many of us.
Hierarchical ruling structures rest on fantasies of superiority. Rather than empowering people, being a “king” means overpowering others. Kings took immense pleasure in inspiring fear. Even today, our traditional RCC officially calls this celebrated feast “The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.” Such a daunting and disturbing declarative for those who have ridden themselves of hierarchal thought patterns and designations!
We humans often construct iconic visions of what is beyond our reach and understanding. So it is in Jesus’ time as they expected a messiah to come with royal power and might to bring the oppressive rulers to their knees. Yet that was not how Jesus entered the world at all. Nor is it how he lived his life. Nor is it how he died. Nor is it how we follow His Way, his path of Love.
Jesus exhorted his followers to look anew at the laws of God, to find the true spirit of the law and live accordingly. Only this way would ensure a true relationship with God.
Today’s feast has a double edge to it – Jesus knew that the royal messianic expectations that prevailed during his lifetime were predominantly political. In the gospel, we see Jesus on trial before Pilate, who was the extension of the imperial arm in Palestine. Yet Jesus reveals himself in a most anti-imperial way.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus models for us a different way of leading. Jesus declared to his disciples that no one has power over his life; he himself lays it down freely. When Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, he toppled these human elusions. “The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.” His humility in fact underscored the real source of his power: the ability to speak true words that required no enforcement to have effect. Jesus spoke of his mission not in terms of a conquering king, but as one whose purpose is to testify to the truth.
Jesus is revealed as the faithful witness to all that God has done and will continue to do. His “kindom” enfolds us in truth and life, in holiness and grace, in justice and love and peace. His vision need not look any further than today. The glory he speaks of is revealed in each and every living creature, as we are all a part of creation that is gathered into the embrace of God in true and lasting kinship—a true companionship of empowerment.
In this faith community, we honor and are truly appreciative of our relationship with Jesus, but we express it much differently as we celebrate this day. We don’t display grand and opulent heavenly pictures of royal thrones or extravagant robes, miters and crowns. We don’t embrace a hierarchal behavior that promotes fear, or nod to institutions that do. Rather, we give full recognition to the relationship—or KINship—we have with Jesus on our road of living and loving as he did. We believe in our Kinship with Jesus, not the Kingdom of Jesus. That is why our readings today center on Thanksgiving!
The Community of St. Bridget knows full well that we have much to be thankful for. Our hearts burst with love and wonder each and every time we come together in prayer and in our learning and searching for the truth of our lives.
If the only prayer you ever pray is “thank you,” that will be enough, said the German theologian and mystic, Meister Eckhart. When your heart swells up with love and praise, it is difficult to keep it to yourself. For those who are searching for the Holy One, it is thankful hearts that pave the road.
What can you share as an expression of your gratitude on this road we travel together?
November 22, 2020
When one’s life is a constant struggle, to believe in a powerful king who could, with a stroke of a pen or a wave of the hand, make everything go well for those oppressed, fuels hope and can give them a reason to keep plodding on. Many faithful people today find themselves in this same frame of mind. It is not surprising then, that Christians would think of Jesus as such a king, or of God in royal terms.
The traditional Catholic expression for this liturgical day is found in honoring the Kingship of Jesus the Christ. It comes at this point in our liturgical year because Matthew’s previous gospel readings up till now are preparing us for the end times. The traditional church would have us believe that by honoring Jesus as King of the Universe, we come face to face with our final judgment—Did we love enough to enter the pearly gates? A question enough to cause a strange foreboding for many of us.
Hierarchical ruling structures rest on fantasies of superiority. Rather than empowering people, being a “king” means overpowering others. Kings took immense pleasure in inspiring fear. Even today, our traditional RCC officially calls this celebrated feast “The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.” Such a daunting and disturbing declarative for those who have ridden themselves of hierarchal thought patterns and designations!
We humans often construct iconic visions of what is beyond our reach and understanding. So it is in Jesus’ time as they expected a messiah to come with royal power and might to bring the oppressive rulers to their knees. Yet that was not how Jesus entered the world at all. Nor is it how he lived his life. Nor is it how he died. Nor is it how we follow His Way, his path of Love.
Jesus exhorted his followers to look anew at the laws of God, to find the true spirit of the law and live accordingly. Only this way would ensure a true relationship with God.
Today’s feast has a double edge to it – Jesus knew that the royal messianic expectations that prevailed during his lifetime were predominantly political. In the gospel, we see Jesus on trial before Pilate, who was the extension of the imperial arm in Palestine. Yet Jesus reveals himself in a most anti-imperial way.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus models for us a different way of leading. Jesus declared to his disciples that no one has power over his life; he himself lays it down freely. When Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, he toppled these human elusions. “The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.” His humility in fact underscored the real source of his power: the ability to speak true words that required no enforcement to have effect. Jesus spoke of his mission not in terms of a conquering king, but as one whose purpose is to testify to the truth.
Jesus is revealed as the faithful witness to all that God has done and will continue to do. His “kindom” enfolds us in truth and life, in holiness and grace, in justice and love and peace. His vision need not look any further than today. The glory he speaks of is revealed in each and every living creature, as we are all a part of creation that is gathered into the embrace of God in true and lasting kinship—a true companionship of empowerment.
In this faith community, we honor and are truly appreciative of our relationship with Jesus, but we express it much differently as we celebrate this day. We don’t display grand and opulent heavenly pictures of royal thrones or extravagant robes, miters and crowns. We don’t embrace a hierarchal behavior that promotes fear, or nod to institutions that do. Rather, we give full recognition to the relationship—or KINship—we have with Jesus on our road of living and loving as he did. We believe in our Kinship with Jesus, not the Kingdom of Jesus. That is why our readings today center on Thanksgiving!
The Community of St. Bridget knows full well that we have much to be thankful for. Our hearts burst with love and wonder each and every time we come together in prayer and in our learning and searching for the truth of our lives.
If the only prayer you ever pray is “thank you,” that will be enough, said the German theologian and mystic, Meister Eckhart. When your heart swells up with love and praise, it is difficult to keep it to yourself. For those who are searching for the Holy One, it is thankful hearts that pave the road.
What can you share as an expression of your gratitude on this road we travel together?
Homily – Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 15, 2020
Today’s readings reflect the suffering side of our faith – a faith that claims that God can bring life out of death. Today the challenge of acceptance and endurance is placed before us. Because…
Every so often, the world falls apart.
The early Christians didn’t see the end of the world they expected, but they were undergoing crises of world disorder.
In Judaism, it was Jesus’s radical preaching to the outcast and describing his followers’ mission in the world.
For Romans, it was the destruction of Jerusalem and the burning of the temple.
For us, it may be the life we have chosen that seems desecrated and useless, devoid of God and our previous sense of holiness. The day we lose our job, the day a loved one dies, they day we are sent out to fight a war.
As we see the gross misdeeds of our country’s highest officials with the approval of many religious people, we wonder.
We continue to live with the threat of atomic warfare. People of color and women progress toward attaining their inherent social equality, and those who must make room for them can feel threatened.
Some take their anxieties out on new immigrants by reenacting the prejudice and persecution their own ancestors faced centuries ago.
The technological age is turning the globe into a neighborhood and the internet exposes secrets once hidden to all but those closest to us. Everything we thought we understood is changing faster than we can comprehend—very similar to what Jesus described in today’s gospel.
At the end of the liturgical year our readings call us to consider our mortality and the fragility of everything we create and might be tempted to rely on.
We can’t stop the changes and we shouldn’t allow false security blankets to deceive us into ignoring the crises of our time. These are the times we can be easily misled by someone who claims that what they offer is what we are looking for, and we stray away from our committed loyalties to God and our loved ones.
And Jesus says “Do not follow them.” Because, as our first reading suggests, if we endure and are patient there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays. That Day that is coming will balance the scales of justice. That Day will set things in order so that life can prosper. Yet, our experience tells us that all this will require some re-ordering!
These scripture readings today direct us in how to respond to crises. Do not follow after anyone else—all attention should stay on Jesus. It is Jesus who is himself the indestructible temple who will give the wisdom we need for speech and actions in critical moments.
A disciple who can rely on the Spirit of Jesus even in moments of profound distress will be able to share God’s love with someone who might have otherwise been lost. The gospel tells us that we can accept today’s crises as God-given occasions of grace and opportunities to give witness.
Paul tells us the values of Christian commitment are not taught only by word of mouth, but also by the public witness of believers. Christians must assume their fair share of responsibility in this world. We need to derive whatever good we can from life’s inevitable sufferings. We need to live in patient endurance of difficulties. Work diligently and conscientiously. Be faithful to one’s Christian commitment.
The point of all this is that the signs of doom or destruction we read about today and see all around us are demonstrations of upheaval. They include political unrest and violence, as well as disturbances in the natural world. Since both human society and the natural world evolve and pass through periods of change, both will experience transformation. And we can enable this by living transformed lives NOW.
Because, every so often, the world falls apart. We need both realism and idealism if we are to triumph.
Is perseverance the key as today’s gospel suggests? What does one DO or SEE to persevere?
November 15, 2020
Today’s readings reflect the suffering side of our faith – a faith that claims that God can bring life out of death. Today the challenge of acceptance and endurance is placed before us. Because…
Every so often, the world falls apart.
The early Christians didn’t see the end of the world they expected, but they were undergoing crises of world disorder.
In Judaism, it was Jesus’s radical preaching to the outcast and describing his followers’ mission in the world.
For Romans, it was the destruction of Jerusalem and the burning of the temple.
For us, it may be the life we have chosen that seems desecrated and useless, devoid of God and our previous sense of holiness. The day we lose our job, the day a loved one dies, they day we are sent out to fight a war.
As we see the gross misdeeds of our country’s highest officials with the approval of many religious people, we wonder.
We continue to live with the threat of atomic warfare. People of color and women progress toward attaining their inherent social equality, and those who must make room for them can feel threatened.
Some take their anxieties out on new immigrants by reenacting the prejudice and persecution their own ancestors faced centuries ago.
The technological age is turning the globe into a neighborhood and the internet exposes secrets once hidden to all but those closest to us. Everything we thought we understood is changing faster than we can comprehend—very similar to what Jesus described in today’s gospel.
At the end of the liturgical year our readings call us to consider our mortality and the fragility of everything we create and might be tempted to rely on.
We can’t stop the changes and we shouldn’t allow false security blankets to deceive us into ignoring the crises of our time. These are the times we can be easily misled by someone who claims that what they offer is what we are looking for, and we stray away from our committed loyalties to God and our loved ones.
And Jesus says “Do not follow them.” Because, as our first reading suggests, if we endure and are patient there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays. That Day that is coming will balance the scales of justice. That Day will set things in order so that life can prosper. Yet, our experience tells us that all this will require some re-ordering!
These scripture readings today direct us in how to respond to crises. Do not follow after anyone else—all attention should stay on Jesus. It is Jesus who is himself the indestructible temple who will give the wisdom we need for speech and actions in critical moments.
A disciple who can rely on the Spirit of Jesus even in moments of profound distress will be able to share God’s love with someone who might have otherwise been lost. The gospel tells us that we can accept today’s crises as God-given occasions of grace and opportunities to give witness.
Paul tells us the values of Christian commitment are not taught only by word of mouth, but also by the public witness of believers. Christians must assume their fair share of responsibility in this world. We need to derive whatever good we can from life’s inevitable sufferings. We need to live in patient endurance of difficulties. Work diligently and conscientiously. Be faithful to one’s Christian commitment.
The point of all this is that the signs of doom or destruction we read about today and see all around us are demonstrations of upheaval. They include political unrest and violence, as well as disturbances in the natural world. Since both human society and the natural world evolve and pass through periods of change, both will experience transformation. And we can enable this by living transformed lives NOW.
Because, every so often, the world falls apart. We need both realism and idealism if we are to triumph.
Is perseverance the key as today’s gospel suggests? What does one DO or SEE to persevere?
Homily – 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 8, 2020
There are varying commentaries on the gospel parable this week—all different in perspective. Some believe that giving each worker a different amount of money was not fair and did not treat each one with equal status. Therefore, the parable centered around economic inequality. Others believe that the workers were really slaves, and that the “testing” of slaves with large responsibilities was something that commonly happened in the Roman Empire. If we go with that interpretation, the third “slave” who buried the money was the most prudent in the face of the demanding landowner, as many slaves understood how dangerous it could be in trying to please a slave master. Still, there are others who believe that this parable can be interpreted as protecting life and all the goods thereof.
But I will give you a different interpretation. I choose this path, laid out by scripture scholar, Dianne Bergant, because it makes the most sense in relation to the other parables we have recently read.
Before I do, however, we need to keep in mind the concept of “talent.” In the gospel, one talent was a lot of money—in the area of about $1,000 in our currency. In our understanding, a talent is a gift that is recognized in each individual that is unique and must be developed for the common good. Stay vigilant, as both these meanings come into play with our readings today.
As we wind down on Ordinary Time and anticipate Advent, the scripture readings continue the theme of preparedness.
The landowner in today’s gospel story was sensitive to his workers varying abilities, and he distributed the financial responsibility accordingly. It is the behavior of the third worker that throws light on the meaning of preparedness.
When one realizes that they are a steward of the goods of another, they are responsible for maximizing the potential of those goods. The time workers had to wait for the landowner’s return was a period of opportunity, of active engagement, of creative growth—a time to figure out how one utilizes that talent when waiting for the landowner to return.
We have all been entrusted with talents, talents that really belong to God, as it is the Creator that gave them to us. How we develop those talents is up to us. They are entrusted to us much like the landowner’s money was entrusted to the workers. This parable exhorts people to use and build on the money, talents, and faith given to them.
In last Sunday’s parable, we saw that the delay of the bridal party required the attendants to be vigilant. This Sunday’s readings encourage us to live industriously!
In our first reading from Proverbs, the Wisdom figure—the valiant woman—is an example of industriousness. She had many interests and responsibilities, and faithfully pursued each of them. This all developed out of her reverence for God, who governs her life. This reverence enriches her, unlike the overcoming fear that seemed to immobilize the third worker in today’s parable.
If we are to be faithful to God, we must be willing to take risks. Because to refuse to risk is to refuse to trust. To refuse to risk means you are ensuring yourself that you won’t fail. Will we stand before God and claim we have done nothing because we were afraid we might fail? We may never know how successful we might be if we refuse to risk. If we don’t faithfully engage our talents given to us, or explore the potential that may come from those talents, then how can we blame God for the suffering we may then experience?
In contrast, the Proverb reading praises the woman who reciprocated when she was entrusted with God’s own hopes and love. She not only creatively fulfilled her duties to her household and was a heartmate to her husband, she publicly shared her goods with the poor and needy.
Time is fleeting. This parable reminds us to use and build on what has been given to us.
Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians reminds us that if we don’t recognize what is happening, it will be like walking in the dark. Like a thief in the night, the darkness will surround us unexpectedly—much like the fear that surrounded the third worker in our parable today. We are called to be vigilant so that we won’t be caught in the dark!
Light-darkness, day-night dichotomies describes both the situation within which the Thessalonians find themselves, and the vigilance this situation demands of them. Unlike the thief in the night, however, Paul names them as children of light and of the day. As such, they must not be found sleeping. Instead, they must be alert, always on the watch, so that when the time comes, they are not found unprepared.
Please share your thoughts on these readings.
What personal gift or talent are you called to share as you vigilantly prepare for Advent?
November 8, 2020
There are varying commentaries on the gospel parable this week—all different in perspective. Some believe that giving each worker a different amount of money was not fair and did not treat each one with equal status. Therefore, the parable centered around economic inequality. Others believe that the workers were really slaves, and that the “testing” of slaves with large responsibilities was something that commonly happened in the Roman Empire. If we go with that interpretation, the third “slave” who buried the money was the most prudent in the face of the demanding landowner, as many slaves understood how dangerous it could be in trying to please a slave master. Still, there are others who believe that this parable can be interpreted as protecting life and all the goods thereof.
But I will give you a different interpretation. I choose this path, laid out by scripture scholar, Dianne Bergant, because it makes the most sense in relation to the other parables we have recently read.
Before I do, however, we need to keep in mind the concept of “talent.” In the gospel, one talent was a lot of money—in the area of about $1,000 in our currency. In our understanding, a talent is a gift that is recognized in each individual that is unique and must be developed for the common good. Stay vigilant, as both these meanings come into play with our readings today.
As we wind down on Ordinary Time and anticipate Advent, the scripture readings continue the theme of preparedness.
The landowner in today’s gospel story was sensitive to his workers varying abilities, and he distributed the financial responsibility accordingly. It is the behavior of the third worker that throws light on the meaning of preparedness.
When one realizes that they are a steward of the goods of another, they are responsible for maximizing the potential of those goods. The time workers had to wait for the landowner’s return was a period of opportunity, of active engagement, of creative growth—a time to figure out how one utilizes that talent when waiting for the landowner to return.
We have all been entrusted with talents, talents that really belong to God, as it is the Creator that gave them to us. How we develop those talents is up to us. They are entrusted to us much like the landowner’s money was entrusted to the workers. This parable exhorts people to use and build on the money, talents, and faith given to them.
In last Sunday’s parable, we saw that the delay of the bridal party required the attendants to be vigilant. This Sunday’s readings encourage us to live industriously!
In our first reading from Proverbs, the Wisdom figure—the valiant woman—is an example of industriousness. She had many interests and responsibilities, and faithfully pursued each of them. This all developed out of her reverence for God, who governs her life. This reverence enriches her, unlike the overcoming fear that seemed to immobilize the third worker in today’s parable.
If we are to be faithful to God, we must be willing to take risks. Because to refuse to risk is to refuse to trust. To refuse to risk means you are ensuring yourself that you won’t fail. Will we stand before God and claim we have done nothing because we were afraid we might fail? We may never know how successful we might be if we refuse to risk. If we don’t faithfully engage our talents given to us, or explore the potential that may come from those talents, then how can we blame God for the suffering we may then experience?
In contrast, the Proverb reading praises the woman who reciprocated when she was entrusted with God’s own hopes and love. She not only creatively fulfilled her duties to her household and was a heartmate to her husband, she publicly shared her goods with the poor and needy.
Time is fleeting. This parable reminds us to use and build on what has been given to us.
Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians reminds us that if we don’t recognize what is happening, it will be like walking in the dark. Like a thief in the night, the darkness will surround us unexpectedly—much like the fear that surrounded the third worker in our parable today. We are called to be vigilant so that we won’t be caught in the dark!
Light-darkness, day-night dichotomies describes both the situation within which the Thessalonians find themselves, and the vigilance this situation demands of them. Unlike the thief in the night, however, Paul names them as children of light and of the day. As such, they must not be found sleeping. Instead, they must be alert, always on the watch, so that when the time comes, they are not found unprepared.
Please share your thoughts on these readings.
What personal gift or talent are you called to share as you vigilantly prepare for Advent?
Homily – Solemnity of All Saints 2020
November 1, 2020
There's a story of a good man who dies and goes to heaven, and who is welcomed at the pearly gates, which are thrown open for him to enter. He goes through them in a daze of bliss, because it is everything he has been taught, golden streets, milk and alabaster and honey and golden harps. He wanders the streets lost in happiness, until after a while he realizes that he is all alone; he hasn't seen anybody at all. He walks and walks, and he sees nobody.
So he goes back to the gates, and he asks, "Peter?"
"Yes, my son?"
"This really is heaven?"
"Oh, yes, my son. Don't you like it?"
"Oh, it's just wonderful! But where is everybody? Where are the prophets? Where is the Holy Family? Where are the saints?"
Peter looks at him kindly. "Oh, them? They're all down in hell, ministering to the damned. If you'd like to join them, I'll show you the way."
(“What Saints Do In Heaven” by Madeleine L’Engle from A Stone for a Pillow)
We have all grown up with stories of the saints, with stories depicting heaven as described in this story. But as we grow in years, many of us have discarded these renditions of the saintly and heavenly. This path to awakening differs for each of us. Yet, you have to admit this story ends with a dramatic change of thought for most of us: ministering to the damned as a heavenly reality.
Jesus speaks to us in the Scriptures calling us to build the Kindom of God in the here and now. We are called to love and live in peace and justice by promoting it through our living witness to the Gospel. Perhaps building our “heaven” on earth is something to consider, as we are all called to be saints!
This past month we celebrated the feast days of some pretty amazing women saints—both unique in their own ways.
In the Story of a Soul, St. Therese of Lisieux declares:
"My mission - to make God loved - will begin after my death," she said. “When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens. I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.”
And St. Teresa of Avila makes the proclamation that:
“Christ has no body now, but yours. No hands, no feet on earth, but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion into the world.
Yours are the feet with which Christ walks to do good.
Yours are the hands with which Christ blesses the world.”
Both of these saints provide us a path to authentic living and loving: To make God loved in the world, to become the Christ for all.
One need not be dead to be a saint, nor to inspire good works by others who recognize a life-giving spirit among them. We all know of “saintly” people who walk this path of sanctity in our lifetime.
On All Saint’s Day, in addition to reflecting on the lives of saints, we are called to be saints. We are also inspired to elect leaders who strive to be saints by living out their faith righteously, in a moral manner.
Who are the saints of our time? As described in the story, can they be identified with those who minister to the damned?
November 1, 2020
There's a story of a good man who dies and goes to heaven, and who is welcomed at the pearly gates, which are thrown open for him to enter. He goes through them in a daze of bliss, because it is everything he has been taught, golden streets, milk and alabaster and honey and golden harps. He wanders the streets lost in happiness, until after a while he realizes that he is all alone; he hasn't seen anybody at all. He walks and walks, and he sees nobody.
So he goes back to the gates, and he asks, "Peter?"
"Yes, my son?"
"This really is heaven?"
"Oh, yes, my son. Don't you like it?"
"Oh, it's just wonderful! But where is everybody? Where are the prophets? Where is the Holy Family? Where are the saints?"
Peter looks at him kindly. "Oh, them? They're all down in hell, ministering to the damned. If you'd like to join them, I'll show you the way."
(“What Saints Do In Heaven” by Madeleine L’Engle from A Stone for a Pillow)
We have all grown up with stories of the saints, with stories depicting heaven as described in this story. But as we grow in years, many of us have discarded these renditions of the saintly and heavenly. This path to awakening differs for each of us. Yet, you have to admit this story ends with a dramatic change of thought for most of us: ministering to the damned as a heavenly reality.
Jesus speaks to us in the Scriptures calling us to build the Kindom of God in the here and now. We are called to love and live in peace and justice by promoting it through our living witness to the Gospel. Perhaps building our “heaven” on earth is something to consider, as we are all called to be saints!
This past month we celebrated the feast days of some pretty amazing women saints—both unique in their own ways.
In the Story of a Soul, St. Therese of Lisieux declares:
"My mission - to make God loved - will begin after my death," she said. “When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens. I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.”
And St. Teresa of Avila makes the proclamation that:
“Christ has no body now, but yours. No hands, no feet on earth, but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion into the world.
Yours are the feet with which Christ walks to do good.
Yours are the hands with which Christ blesses the world.”
Both of these saints provide us a path to authentic living and loving: To make God loved in the world, to become the Christ for all.
One need not be dead to be a saint, nor to inspire good works by others who recognize a life-giving spirit among them. We all know of “saintly” people who walk this path of sanctity in our lifetime.
On All Saint’s Day, in addition to reflecting on the lives of saints, we are called to be saints. We are also inspired to elect leaders who strive to be saints by living out their faith righteously, in a moral manner.
Who are the saints of our time? As described in the story, can they be identified with those who minister to the damned?
Homily – 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
October 25, 2020
I love Ordinary Time!
With 52 weeks in the calendar year, the Christian churches mark 34 of them that are spent in pondering the teachings and ministry of Jesus—we name this “Ordinary Time”. The other “seasons” of the liturgical calendar, Advent/Christmas, Lent, and Eastertide, are spent in honoring the events in the life of Jesus, and deepening our understanding of their significance in our faith traditions.
We can compare this seasonal movement with our own lives. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, callings to ordained and vowed life, anniversaries, retirements, deaths, honorary celebrations—are all significant life events for the majority of us. And they all conjure deep significant and emotional responses within our hearts. However, these occasional events are not where we live on a daily basis. It is within ordinary time that we make important decisions, struggle with the boundaries of civil discourse, try to uphold our responsibilities in society and church, allow our gifts and talents to make a difference in our world, endure illness, and deal with the joys and surprises, as well as the seeming unfairness and sorrow that life brings our way.
So, too, the scripture selections assigned to the greater number of our Sunday readings are the “Jesus messages” that help us continue living the Christian life. They make up the lion’s share of our daily sustenance.
Today, Jesus reminds us of the two most important essentials of his ministry: Love God above all, and your neighbor as yourself. This is the center and source of what it means to love. When all else seems to fail us, we know that if we believe in God’s Love, we can reach out in love for others.
As scripture commentator Barbara Reid writes: Before one is able to demonstrate love of God and love of neighbor, God has taken the initiative in loving. When one has become open to God’s free, unmerited, unbounded love, and has let the love seep deeply into one’s being, one then has the capacity to give love in return.
“To love your neighbor as yourself” has taken off to dimensions never before imagined. The Spirit of our Living God moves mightily in raising a consciousness that enables us to lovingly embrace the broad dimensions of our universe and our interconnectedness with all of creation. This knowledge has increased our capacity to love and care for this enlightened, creative Energy, as each segment of it becomes our neighbor. Our interest in and love for the ever-evolving cosmos allows the Hand of God to image itself in new and exciting ways. Our love for God’s creation requires that we be responsible for the welfare of these neighbors.
As God’s Energy becomes the Divine Verb, so must we become in our actions and love for all. We will always find ways to love when we yearn to see as God does. When we let the power of God’s love activate our hearts, we become that love for others and the whole of our universe.
There are so many great gems in the scriptures assigned to us in Ordinary Time, and today’s is by far, the greatest of all!
How will this Gospel inform your actions and decisions in choosing our country’s leaders?
October 25, 2020
I love Ordinary Time!
With 52 weeks in the calendar year, the Christian churches mark 34 of them that are spent in pondering the teachings and ministry of Jesus—we name this “Ordinary Time”. The other “seasons” of the liturgical calendar, Advent/Christmas, Lent, and Eastertide, are spent in honoring the events in the life of Jesus, and deepening our understanding of their significance in our faith traditions.
We can compare this seasonal movement with our own lives. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, callings to ordained and vowed life, anniversaries, retirements, deaths, honorary celebrations—are all significant life events for the majority of us. And they all conjure deep significant and emotional responses within our hearts. However, these occasional events are not where we live on a daily basis. It is within ordinary time that we make important decisions, struggle with the boundaries of civil discourse, try to uphold our responsibilities in society and church, allow our gifts and talents to make a difference in our world, endure illness, and deal with the joys and surprises, as well as the seeming unfairness and sorrow that life brings our way.
So, too, the scripture selections assigned to the greater number of our Sunday readings are the “Jesus messages” that help us continue living the Christian life. They make up the lion’s share of our daily sustenance.
Today, Jesus reminds us of the two most important essentials of his ministry: Love God above all, and your neighbor as yourself. This is the center and source of what it means to love. When all else seems to fail us, we know that if we believe in God’s Love, we can reach out in love for others.
As scripture commentator Barbara Reid writes: Before one is able to demonstrate love of God and love of neighbor, God has taken the initiative in loving. When one has become open to God’s free, unmerited, unbounded love, and has let the love seep deeply into one’s being, one then has the capacity to give love in return.
“To love your neighbor as yourself” has taken off to dimensions never before imagined. The Spirit of our Living God moves mightily in raising a consciousness that enables us to lovingly embrace the broad dimensions of our universe and our interconnectedness with all of creation. This knowledge has increased our capacity to love and care for this enlightened, creative Energy, as each segment of it becomes our neighbor. Our interest in and love for the ever-evolving cosmos allows the Hand of God to image itself in new and exciting ways. Our love for God’s creation requires that we be responsible for the welfare of these neighbors.
As God’s Energy becomes the Divine Verb, so must we become in our actions and love for all. We will always find ways to love when we yearn to see as God does. When we let the power of God’s love activate our hearts, we become that love for others and the whole of our universe.
There are so many great gems in the scriptures assigned to us in Ordinary Time, and today’s is by far, the greatest of all!
How will this Gospel inform your actions and decisions in choosing our country’s leaders?
Homily – 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
October 18th, 2020
In the first reading, Isaiah has God anointing a Persian king to do what is right by the Israelites. Of course, we were always taught that God could do anything, but, really, do you think the Jews enjoyed seeing a foreigner direct the Jews’ return to Jerusalem-- and on top of it, building a new temple? All this was done through a pagan who cared nothing for the God of Israel. We see that even in those days, the relationship between church and state was difficult.
Now we have today’s Gospel from Matthew about the image on a coin-- which has been used by politicians and religious leaders alike to justify a separation of church and state. (It so happens that every twelve years our liturgical and civic calendars coincide to give us these readings in the weeks running up to a presidential election.)
This story comes in the context of the ongoing battle between the leading Jewish leaders of the day and Jesus of Nazareth. Its social context comes at a time in history when:
* Rural land was being taken over by big city and rich landowners, which caused small farm owners to lose their land;
* The crisis of debt and dispossession grew deeper with mounting debt, payable to both Roman officials and the priestly aristocracy;
* Farm laborers were being forced onto the unemployment line; and
* A new Roman taxation system was taking every last cent.
This was a potentially explosive atmosphere! Taxes are never popular, but to make subjugated people pay taxes to a foreign overlord, the taxes become especially hateful.
The Pharisee tried to trick Jesus by asking the question, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the Roman emperor, or not?” While the purpose of the encounter is the entrapment of Jesus, the underlying issue is the possibility of being faithful both to God and to a secular state. Yet, Jesus being Jesus, already figured their ill intentions, and asked them to show the coin that is used to pay the tax. Even asking this—and the Pharisee obliging—proved that he not only had a coin bearing the emperor’s image, but the inscription on it proclaimed the emperor to be king and God! His possession of the coin broke two commandments: don’t honor false idols and don’t blaspheme. Don’t think the poor Jewish laborers who were gathered around didn’t figure out what was going on—especially when they had no choice but to toe the line!
Jesus, however, let the Pharisee off easy, exonerating him from possible political or religious reproach by merely saying: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but give to God what is God’s.” This response suggests that one can indeed be loyal both to a religious tradition and to a secular power.
God works through all people to accomplish good in the world. Jesus challenged them to think about images, whose image they bore and in whose image they had been created. The reading from Isaiah and the Gospel both encourage us to consider the complex relationships between God and Caesar, church and state, the reign of God and civil society.
Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians underscores their active faith that is expressed in their love for one another. Like King Cyrus was chosen in our Isaiah reading, Paul knew how each of these members had been chosen, and witnessed the effects of God’s love in their lives. Although the Thessalonians converted through Paul’s preaching and the examples of missionaries, it was God’s power that grounded them. They didn’t belong to Paul, they belonged to God.
As Isaiah reminds us: “I am your God, there is no other!”
What does “Give to God what belongs to God” mean to you?
If Jesus brought his message to the Public Square, how can we follow him and not do the same?
October 18th, 2020
In the first reading, Isaiah has God anointing a Persian king to do what is right by the Israelites. Of course, we were always taught that God could do anything, but, really, do you think the Jews enjoyed seeing a foreigner direct the Jews’ return to Jerusalem-- and on top of it, building a new temple? All this was done through a pagan who cared nothing for the God of Israel. We see that even in those days, the relationship between church and state was difficult.
Now we have today’s Gospel from Matthew about the image on a coin-- which has been used by politicians and religious leaders alike to justify a separation of church and state. (It so happens that every twelve years our liturgical and civic calendars coincide to give us these readings in the weeks running up to a presidential election.)
This story comes in the context of the ongoing battle between the leading Jewish leaders of the day and Jesus of Nazareth. Its social context comes at a time in history when:
* Rural land was being taken over by big city and rich landowners, which caused small farm owners to lose their land;
* The crisis of debt and dispossession grew deeper with mounting debt, payable to both Roman officials and the priestly aristocracy;
* Farm laborers were being forced onto the unemployment line; and
* A new Roman taxation system was taking every last cent.
This was a potentially explosive atmosphere! Taxes are never popular, but to make subjugated people pay taxes to a foreign overlord, the taxes become especially hateful.
The Pharisee tried to trick Jesus by asking the question, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the Roman emperor, or not?” While the purpose of the encounter is the entrapment of Jesus, the underlying issue is the possibility of being faithful both to God and to a secular state. Yet, Jesus being Jesus, already figured their ill intentions, and asked them to show the coin that is used to pay the tax. Even asking this—and the Pharisee obliging—proved that he not only had a coin bearing the emperor’s image, but the inscription on it proclaimed the emperor to be king and God! His possession of the coin broke two commandments: don’t honor false idols and don’t blaspheme. Don’t think the poor Jewish laborers who were gathered around didn’t figure out what was going on—especially when they had no choice but to toe the line!
Jesus, however, let the Pharisee off easy, exonerating him from possible political or religious reproach by merely saying: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but give to God what is God’s.” This response suggests that one can indeed be loyal both to a religious tradition and to a secular power.
God works through all people to accomplish good in the world. Jesus challenged them to think about images, whose image they bore and in whose image they had been created. The reading from Isaiah and the Gospel both encourage us to consider the complex relationships between God and Caesar, church and state, the reign of God and civil society.
Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians underscores their active faith that is expressed in their love for one another. Like King Cyrus was chosen in our Isaiah reading, Paul knew how each of these members had been chosen, and witnessed the effects of God’s love in their lives. Although the Thessalonians converted through Paul’s preaching and the examples of missionaries, it was God’s power that grounded them. They didn’t belong to Paul, they belonged to God.
As Isaiah reminds us: “I am your God, there is no other!”
What does “Give to God what belongs to God” mean to you?
If Jesus brought his message to the Public Square, how can we follow him and not do the same?
Homily – Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
October 11th, 2020
This is the third Sunday in succession that the gospel presents Jesus in confrontation with the leaders of the people. Again, Jesus uses parables that describe the unfaithfulness of those who purport to have a special relationship with God.
In the Isaiah reading, the “mountain” represents heaven where, if we live a life that cooperates with goodness and mercy, we meet the Most High face to face after our life on earth. The banquet represents all the good and glorious things we will experience when we meet God. We can be assured of this because the Holy One has said so.
In today’s parable, Matthew begins with the image from Isaiah, depicting God g who longs to share a banquet of love for his son, Jesus. Through further allegory, Matthew expands this image by continuing to address and criticize the Jewish leaders. Those invited first to the banquet (Israelites and Jewish leaders), kill the prophetic messenger and God destroys the murderers. Among those found on the crossroads and invited second, there is someone who refuses to prepare properly for the banquet and is thrown out.
Putting this drama aside, the actual message of today’s readings can be conveyed quite simply:
We are created social beings. We are born to lovingly relate and support one another on our earthly journey. If we refuse to do so, discord will ensue. If we refuse to do the things necessary to ensure the peaceful order of creation, we will be the ones who distance ourselves from God’s banquet of love.
We are the Creator’s guests who must get ready to enjoy the feast of God’s Eternal Presence. Rejecting this magnanimous offer, violence results from disdaining the common good.
The invitation to the wedding banquet was an offer to all. This parable is Jesus’ depiction of God’s tireless attempts to give us all that we are willing to accept: rich nourishment and an end to sorrow, shame and death—and death does not refer merely to our final demise, but includes anything that diminishes life. God offers us a choice.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are exhorted to follow the Spirit’s inspiration and direction. Paul is convinced that his commitment to ministry was from God, and so is confident that he will be provided whatever he needs to fulfill his responsibilities, including support from the faithful disciples who embrace God’s way.
Our psalm today underscores God’s desire that we receive the blessings that have been prepared for us. It is the Good Shepherd who supplies whatever we need in whatever circumstance. Our human limitations will always be supplemented by the grace and power of God.
Those who ignore God’s invitation and do not allow themselves to be clothed in the garment of Jesus’ ways of love, forgiveness, inclusivity, and nonviolent action for justice, choose for themselves a place at the table of violence and destruction.
Even though the invitation to the banquet was given freely, there are still standards for its enjoyment. Fulfillment is open to all but guaranteed to none.
Where in your life have you experienced God’s loving providence?
How have women voices opened the door to understanding anew the message of Jesus?
October 11th, 2020
This is the third Sunday in succession that the gospel presents Jesus in confrontation with the leaders of the people. Again, Jesus uses parables that describe the unfaithfulness of those who purport to have a special relationship with God.
In the Isaiah reading, the “mountain” represents heaven where, if we live a life that cooperates with goodness and mercy, we meet the Most High face to face after our life on earth. The banquet represents all the good and glorious things we will experience when we meet God. We can be assured of this because the Holy One has said so.
In today’s parable, Matthew begins with the image from Isaiah, depicting God g who longs to share a banquet of love for his son, Jesus. Through further allegory, Matthew expands this image by continuing to address and criticize the Jewish leaders. Those invited first to the banquet (Israelites and Jewish leaders), kill the prophetic messenger and God destroys the murderers. Among those found on the crossroads and invited second, there is someone who refuses to prepare properly for the banquet and is thrown out.
Putting this drama aside, the actual message of today’s readings can be conveyed quite simply:
We are created social beings. We are born to lovingly relate and support one another on our earthly journey. If we refuse to do so, discord will ensue. If we refuse to do the things necessary to ensure the peaceful order of creation, we will be the ones who distance ourselves from God’s banquet of love.
We are the Creator’s guests who must get ready to enjoy the feast of God’s Eternal Presence. Rejecting this magnanimous offer, violence results from disdaining the common good.
The invitation to the wedding banquet was an offer to all. This parable is Jesus’ depiction of God’s tireless attempts to give us all that we are willing to accept: rich nourishment and an end to sorrow, shame and death—and death does not refer merely to our final demise, but includes anything that diminishes life. God offers us a choice.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are exhorted to follow the Spirit’s inspiration and direction. Paul is convinced that his commitment to ministry was from God, and so is confident that he will be provided whatever he needs to fulfill his responsibilities, including support from the faithful disciples who embrace God’s way.
Our psalm today underscores God’s desire that we receive the blessings that have been prepared for us. It is the Good Shepherd who supplies whatever we need in whatever circumstance. Our human limitations will always be supplemented by the grace and power of God.
Those who ignore God’s invitation and do not allow themselves to be clothed in the garment of Jesus’ ways of love, forgiveness, inclusivity, and nonviolent action for justice, choose for themselves a place at the table of violence and destruction.
Even though the invitation to the banquet was given freely, there are still standards for its enjoyment. Fulfillment is open to all but guaranteed to none.
Where in your life have you experienced God’s loving providence?
How have women voices opened the door to understanding anew the message of Jesus?
Homily – 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
(Isaiah 5:1-7; Psalm 80; Matthew 21:33-43; Philippians 4:6-9)
October 4th, 2020
Our scripture readings put another spin on the vineyard theme, and Paul reminds us that we must live according to what is true and honest if we want God’s peace to dwell among us. I offer a concise study of these readings so as to paint a clear picture of what we are being asked of as Christians.
Briefly, the landowner gives the tenant leaders control over the vineyard. When the landowner sends the servants, the tenant leaders reject and kill them. When the landowner sends his son, the tenant leaders kill him, too.
Yet, in today’s Gospel selection, the following characters in this parable are identified as God being the landowner, the vineyard representing the nation of Israel, the tenant leaders being the chief priests and Pharisees, the servants are the prophets, and Jesus is the landowner’s son.
Now, the parable reads: God gives the chief priests and Pharisees control over Israel. When God sends the prophets, the chief priests and Pharisees reject and kill them. When God sends Jesus, the chief priests and Pharisees kill him, too.
Our first reading from Isaiah provides clear allusions to this familiar parable. The difference between the two are found in their endings. In Isaiah, God destroys the vineyard (Israel). In Matthew, the vineyard (Israel) is saved, and it is entrusted to new tenant leaders. By Matthew’s time, Jesus’ disciples, predominantly Jewish Christians, understood themselves as the “new tenants.”
Make no mistake about it, when the chief priests and the Pharisees heard these parables, they realized that Jesus was speaking about them. And although they sought to arrest him, they feared the crowds who regarded Jesus as a prophet.
The gospel story ends with Jesus reminding everyone that the stone the builder’s rejected is the cornerstone of our faith—Jesus, himself.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are instructed to present our needs to God who will guard over our hearts and minds. Peace will only come when we live according to what we have heard Jesus and his disciples say and do.
We have come to a time when we must consider the differences among those who present themselves as leaders. Are they known for promoting the fruitful gifts and talents of all? Is there a present need to replace our leaders with those more intent on upholding the teachings and virtues of Jesus? In our psalmist’s words: What stones must we roll away to produce a bountiful harvest?
(Isaiah 5:1-7; Psalm 80; Matthew 21:33-43; Philippians 4:6-9)
October 4th, 2020
Our scripture readings put another spin on the vineyard theme, and Paul reminds us that we must live according to what is true and honest if we want God’s peace to dwell among us. I offer a concise study of these readings so as to paint a clear picture of what we are being asked of as Christians.
Briefly, the landowner gives the tenant leaders control over the vineyard. When the landowner sends the servants, the tenant leaders reject and kill them. When the landowner sends his son, the tenant leaders kill him, too.
Yet, in today’s Gospel selection, the following characters in this parable are identified as God being the landowner, the vineyard representing the nation of Israel, the tenant leaders being the chief priests and Pharisees, the servants are the prophets, and Jesus is the landowner’s son.
Now, the parable reads: God gives the chief priests and Pharisees control over Israel. When God sends the prophets, the chief priests and Pharisees reject and kill them. When God sends Jesus, the chief priests and Pharisees kill him, too.
Our first reading from Isaiah provides clear allusions to this familiar parable. The difference between the two are found in their endings. In Isaiah, God destroys the vineyard (Israel). In Matthew, the vineyard (Israel) is saved, and it is entrusted to new tenant leaders. By Matthew’s time, Jesus’ disciples, predominantly Jewish Christians, understood themselves as the “new tenants.”
Make no mistake about it, when the chief priests and the Pharisees heard these parables, they realized that Jesus was speaking about them. And although they sought to arrest him, they feared the crowds who regarded Jesus as a prophet.
The gospel story ends with Jesus reminding everyone that the stone the builder’s rejected is the cornerstone of our faith—Jesus, himself.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are instructed to present our needs to God who will guard over our hearts and minds. Peace will only come when we live according to what we have heard Jesus and his disciples say and do.
We have come to a time when we must consider the differences among those who present themselves as leaders. Are they known for promoting the fruitful gifts and talents of all? Is there a present need to replace our leaders with those more intent on upholding the teachings and virtues of Jesus? In our psalmist’s words: What stones must we roll away to produce a bountiful harvest?
Homily – 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
September 27, 2020
In our gospel today we have the parable of the two sons who were asked by their father to work in the vineyard. One said he didn’t want to, but then rethought his response and went. The other said he would go, but never showed up.
Words matter, but actions matter more. The first son said no, but then saw the error of his ways and went to work as the father requested. The other son just didn’t bother.
How many times have we, without reflection, said one thing and then thought better of it and did the right thing after all? In the gospel, Jesus speaks of the tax collectors and prostitutes, who, after hearing His Word, changed their patterns of behavior and followed His Way.
In his article, The Corruption of the Word, Massimo Faggioli states that the inner unity between deeds and words is not confined to the Word of God. Our relationship with God and our common humanity assumes a shared understanding of what words mean to ensure truthful communication. The difference between a social and anti-social use of the word is the difference between the concept of truth, which is forging a public covenant with the Divine and other human beings, and the idea of a perverted, secret knowledge available only to the initiated, which undermines the possibility of a full understanding in both religious and civic society. The word has a performative quality. And that includes the lie—found in the secularized rituals of our political systems and other ideological subcultures, as well as in church environments.
We have ample evidence of the damage done by organized, systematic lying in our politics. And, in the religious sphere, leaders who should be the ones leading others into God’s kindom are not, while those who are thought least able to do so are repenting and believing. Yet, we know that in God’s time, there is still opportunity to turn around and make our deeds match our words. And that is the challenge before us.
We often see the discrepancies between saying and doing in someone else’s behavior. Not so much in our individual lives—as it is harder to see the lack of a match between our own words and deeds.
Where do you find hope for the truthful word that will turn our world around?
September 27, 2020
In our gospel today we have the parable of the two sons who were asked by their father to work in the vineyard. One said he didn’t want to, but then rethought his response and went. The other said he would go, but never showed up.
Words matter, but actions matter more. The first son said no, but then saw the error of his ways and went to work as the father requested. The other son just didn’t bother.
How many times have we, without reflection, said one thing and then thought better of it and did the right thing after all? In the gospel, Jesus speaks of the tax collectors and prostitutes, who, after hearing His Word, changed their patterns of behavior and followed His Way.
In his article, The Corruption of the Word, Massimo Faggioli states that the inner unity between deeds and words is not confined to the Word of God. Our relationship with God and our common humanity assumes a shared understanding of what words mean to ensure truthful communication. The difference between a social and anti-social use of the word is the difference between the concept of truth, which is forging a public covenant with the Divine and other human beings, and the idea of a perverted, secret knowledge available only to the initiated, which undermines the possibility of a full understanding in both religious and civic society. The word has a performative quality. And that includes the lie—found in the secularized rituals of our political systems and other ideological subcultures, as well as in church environments.
We have ample evidence of the damage done by organized, systematic lying in our politics. And, in the religious sphere, leaders who should be the ones leading others into God’s kindom are not, while those who are thought least able to do so are repenting and believing. Yet, we know that in God’s time, there is still opportunity to turn around and make our deeds match our words. And that is the challenge before us.
We often see the discrepancies between saying and doing in someone else’s behavior. Not so much in our individual lives—as it is harder to see the lack of a match between our own words and deeds.
Where do you find hope for the truthful word that will turn our world around?
Homily – 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
September 20, 2020
We are told through the scripture readings today that God’s thoughts are different from our own, and God’s ways are different than anything we could ever imagine. Yet trying to interpret this message in our world today can be quite complex, as God’s goodness never quite follows our prototype of human behavior.
In Matthew’s parable, the workers hired by the landowner to work in the vineyards received equal pay regardless of how many hours they worked. This daily wage was the manifestation of God’s love—a love that knows no bounds, that is not determined by how many hours one works. Certainly, it is a generous God that does this. The landowner’s gesture was justice based on each person’s right to a dignified life. Without this approach, good, loving intentions ring hollow.
In attempt to expand on this theme, I offer this story:
One day, Pope John XXIII was walking with his aides through the Vatican. He asked one of the workers whom he happened to pass in the corridor how things were going.
“Badly,” replied the worker. He told the pope how much he earned and how many mouths he needed to feed. The pope immediately instructed his aides to raise the salaries in the Vatican. Later, when told that the new expenses could be met only by cutting down on charitable donations, he remained unperturbed: “Then we will have to cut them … for justice comes before charity!”
The pope’s words were prophetic, especially when considering the fact that charity is widely used by corporations and politicians to conceal iniquities. The time has come for decisive implementation of justice as the basis for charity to thrive.
Paul reminds the Philippians that Christ is alive and well through each of us. Embracing the virtues of justice and charity must continue for the well-being of others.
Why are there degrees of entitlement among people, when in the eternal vineyard, all receive the full reward?
September 20, 2020
We are told through the scripture readings today that God’s thoughts are different from our own, and God’s ways are different than anything we could ever imagine. Yet trying to interpret this message in our world today can be quite complex, as God’s goodness never quite follows our prototype of human behavior.
In Matthew’s parable, the workers hired by the landowner to work in the vineyards received equal pay regardless of how many hours they worked. This daily wage was the manifestation of God’s love—a love that knows no bounds, that is not determined by how many hours one works. Certainly, it is a generous God that does this. The landowner’s gesture was justice based on each person’s right to a dignified life. Without this approach, good, loving intentions ring hollow.
In attempt to expand on this theme, I offer this story:
One day, Pope John XXIII was walking with his aides through the Vatican. He asked one of the workers whom he happened to pass in the corridor how things were going.
“Badly,” replied the worker. He told the pope how much he earned and how many mouths he needed to feed. The pope immediately instructed his aides to raise the salaries in the Vatican. Later, when told that the new expenses could be met only by cutting down on charitable donations, he remained unperturbed: “Then we will have to cut them … for justice comes before charity!”
The pope’s words were prophetic, especially when considering the fact that charity is widely used by corporations and politicians to conceal iniquities. The time has come for decisive implementation of justice as the basis for charity to thrive.
Paul reminds the Philippians that Christ is alive and well through each of us. Embracing the virtues of justice and charity must continue for the well-being of others.
Why are there degrees of entitlement among people, when in the eternal vineyard, all receive the full reward?
Homily – 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 13, 2020
There are so many commentaries on and interpretations of this particular gospel story. The general take is that we are exhorted to forgive people who wrong us as many times that are needed. Seventy times seven is an expression that is interpreted as meaning to “forgive perfectly for all time.” (7 being the “perfect” number)
Well, I would like to delve into this idea by opening a different door into what it can mean to people hearing or reading this passage in today’s global reality.
First, we begin with scripture commentator, Jaime L. Waters, who gives us the background on today’s gospel that reflects the social reality of Matthew’s time in which slavery and debt bondage were accepted practices. Matthew’s story takes for granted the practice of keeping and acquiring new slaves to increase one’s wealth, as he describes: “…the debtor had no way of paying, so the ruler ordered this official to be sold, along with family and property, in payment of the debt.” The ripple effect of this biblical text actually influenced European slave owners, who justified their actions based on beliefs in white supremacy and divine right. Sound familiar?
Jesus concludes by proclaiming that God will torture humans if they do not offer forgiveness to one another, when he says: “…the ruler handed the official over to be tortured until the debt had been paid in full. My God in heaven will treat you exactly the same way unless you truly forgive your sisters and brothers from your hearts.”
WOW! This is just beyond the beyond! How does this connect with the “kind and merciful God” described by the psalmist? Seems to me that Pope Francis’ statement about “God always forgives, we forgive sometimes, but nature never forgives” is worth exploring.
With permission to extrapolate ideas from a published article by the Utahn therapist Anastasia Pollock, I share some viewpoints she offers that may help us see things more clearly.
Religious leaders, spiritual gurus, and even some mental health professionals emphasize the importance of forgiveness as part of finding true happiness and freedom. And forgiveness can be beneficial in many different circumstances, such as if a loved one says something uncharacteristically harsh in the heat of an argument, and you would like to keep that person in your life, it may be beneficial to understand that we all sometimes say things we don’t mean when we are upset and to forgive him or her in order to move forward in the relationship.
However, in today’s world, more than ever before, there are people who are victims of terrible traumas at the hands of other people. Some of the perpetrators are relatives and some are not. Regardless, the degree of trauma each person carries is significant and has a major impact on their health and wellbeing. Many are able to work through their traumas, but many get caught up on one point: They believe they are supposed to forgive the perpetrator but can’t seem to get there. They don’t want to imply what happened to them was in any way OK. They don’t want to excuse the perpetrator’s behavior. They just feel the perpetrator is not deserving of forgiveness. And, to try to talk a person out of the way they feel just compounds their trauma.
In the spirit of respect due to each person, what we call “forgiveness” in biblical terms, for persons who have been traumatized it would be better recognized as an “unburdening,” a letting-go process. It is important to allow the natural process of working through trauma to happen and to remove any barriers that may get in the way. This includes the belief we aren’t supposed to feel “negative” emotions or that we have to forgive. Once that expectation is removed, the natural process moves along. Even if someone doesn’t get to a place of forgiveness, he or she can still move on, unburden themselves, and thrive.
Why is this type of explanation necessary today? Because we are living in extraordinarily traumatic times. Between the COVID pandemic, racial riots, caged children, a plummeting economy, unemployment, evictions, lack of adequate healthcare, unprecedented political malfeasance, voter suppression, etc., many are bereft of any human decency whatsoever. And during these difficult times domestic abuse, suicide, and street violence soar to unfathomable heights.
These days we live in call for the best and brightest of scientists, healthcare professionals, civil leaders with integrity, and faith-filled religious leaders providing pastoral guidance. We who call ourselves decent, civilized and educated need to ask forgiveness from all those who suffer these dehumanizing results of social sin—seventy times seven! Maybe they will offer us kindness and mercy one day…
Do you ask for forgiveness from others?
September 13, 2020
There are so many commentaries on and interpretations of this particular gospel story. The general take is that we are exhorted to forgive people who wrong us as many times that are needed. Seventy times seven is an expression that is interpreted as meaning to “forgive perfectly for all time.” (7 being the “perfect” number)
Well, I would like to delve into this idea by opening a different door into what it can mean to people hearing or reading this passage in today’s global reality.
First, we begin with scripture commentator, Jaime L. Waters, who gives us the background on today’s gospel that reflects the social reality of Matthew’s time in which slavery and debt bondage were accepted practices. Matthew’s story takes for granted the practice of keeping and acquiring new slaves to increase one’s wealth, as he describes: “…the debtor had no way of paying, so the ruler ordered this official to be sold, along with family and property, in payment of the debt.” The ripple effect of this biblical text actually influenced European slave owners, who justified their actions based on beliefs in white supremacy and divine right. Sound familiar?
Jesus concludes by proclaiming that God will torture humans if they do not offer forgiveness to one another, when he says: “…the ruler handed the official over to be tortured until the debt had been paid in full. My God in heaven will treat you exactly the same way unless you truly forgive your sisters and brothers from your hearts.”
WOW! This is just beyond the beyond! How does this connect with the “kind and merciful God” described by the psalmist? Seems to me that Pope Francis’ statement about “God always forgives, we forgive sometimes, but nature never forgives” is worth exploring.
With permission to extrapolate ideas from a published article by the Utahn therapist Anastasia Pollock, I share some viewpoints she offers that may help us see things more clearly.
Religious leaders, spiritual gurus, and even some mental health professionals emphasize the importance of forgiveness as part of finding true happiness and freedom. And forgiveness can be beneficial in many different circumstances, such as if a loved one says something uncharacteristically harsh in the heat of an argument, and you would like to keep that person in your life, it may be beneficial to understand that we all sometimes say things we don’t mean when we are upset and to forgive him or her in order to move forward in the relationship.
However, in today’s world, more than ever before, there are people who are victims of terrible traumas at the hands of other people. Some of the perpetrators are relatives and some are not. Regardless, the degree of trauma each person carries is significant and has a major impact on their health and wellbeing. Many are able to work through their traumas, but many get caught up on one point: They believe they are supposed to forgive the perpetrator but can’t seem to get there. They don’t want to imply what happened to them was in any way OK. They don’t want to excuse the perpetrator’s behavior. They just feel the perpetrator is not deserving of forgiveness. And, to try to talk a person out of the way they feel just compounds their trauma.
In the spirit of respect due to each person, what we call “forgiveness” in biblical terms, for persons who have been traumatized it would be better recognized as an “unburdening,” a letting-go process. It is important to allow the natural process of working through trauma to happen and to remove any barriers that may get in the way. This includes the belief we aren’t supposed to feel “negative” emotions or that we have to forgive. Once that expectation is removed, the natural process moves along. Even if someone doesn’t get to a place of forgiveness, he or she can still move on, unburden themselves, and thrive.
Why is this type of explanation necessary today? Because we are living in extraordinarily traumatic times. Between the COVID pandemic, racial riots, caged children, a plummeting economy, unemployment, evictions, lack of adequate healthcare, unprecedented political malfeasance, voter suppression, etc., many are bereft of any human decency whatsoever. And during these difficult times domestic abuse, suicide, and street violence soar to unfathomable heights.
These days we live in call for the best and brightest of scientists, healthcare professionals, civil leaders with integrity, and faith-filled religious leaders providing pastoral guidance. We who call ourselves decent, civilized and educated need to ask forgiveness from all those who suffer these dehumanizing results of social sin—seventy times seven! Maybe they will offer us kindness and mercy one day…
Do you ask for forgiveness from others?
Homily – 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 6, 2020
Pope Francis has declared the month of September through October 4th to be a Spirit-filled Season of Creation celebration—an ecumenical movement that includes thousands of Christians around the world. October 4th is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and the natural environment, and St. Francis is the chosen namesake of our pope.
We have been invited to study, reflect, pray and act in response to Pope Francis’s emphasis throughout his encyclical, “Laudato Si”, regarding the earth’s cry for healing and the cry of the poor among us. This call to action has its roots in our scripture selections today.
In the first reading, Ezekiel was tasked with saving the people from themselves. God instructs him to warn them of their errors and try to bring them back into the fold. Ezekiel embraced the responsibility of spreading God’s merciful love to all. A love that is selfless in action and modeled on God’s love shown to the whole of creation is known as agape love.
Our Gospel passage also mirrors this same theme. If you love your sister and brother, you are responsible to help them find their way to rightful living. Jesus has full faith in his disciples to declare goodness and reject evil. He believes that the disciples will be selfless in providing this loving guidance to his followers. In fact, Jesus even pledges his unfailing presence when they gather together.
Paul’s message to the Romans reminds us all to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Agape love, selfless action modeled on God’s love for all creation, provides the foundation we need to celebrate this Season of Creation. If we can’t form right relationships with one another, we will never be able to form right relationships with our universe. When we come to realize that many of our unreconciled relationships with people do cause secondary injury to our planet, we can see more clearly that all creation has been fashioned out of the same Source of Love.
We have all hurt someone in our lifetimes, and we have all experienced being hurt by another human being. And we know that unless there is some sort of relational repair, the hurt will continue. The same is true with our created universe. If we, as human beings, have caused destruction to nature, we need to change our selfish habits and repair the damage.
The words of Daniel Horan in NCR’s “Faith Seeking Understanding” column takes this another step further: “While planting trees and reevaluating our carbon footprints are worthwhile efforts, there is a need to focus our attention and energies in the coming weeks to thinking about and working on behalf of dismantling environmental racism in our nation and world. In doing so, we might come one step closer to embracing a true ‘integral ecology’” that helps ensure the interrelated challenges we are experiencing—like the toxic water in Flint MI, the disproportionate amount of poor people of color dying from COVID, and the continuing deaths of black lives by the police—will never happen again.
If we in fact owe one another love, then we owe one another justice, which includes mending or rebuilding the damages done, individually and collectively as part of the earth community. Because everyone and everything in this universe is intimately connected, we are called to make reparation on every level of existence.
The psalmist today reminds us not to harden our hearts and be separated from Love. Don’t be like those who hear the Voice of Mercy yet discard it, thinking they know a better way. There is no better way than embracing Love. Our prophetic calling is to denounce what is wrong and sinful in our world, and recreate a world of selfless giving that embraces the God of Love. If we don’t, we remain complicit in the destruction of human life and all of creation.
O that today we would harken to the Beloved’s voice!
How can we overcome the challenges of answering this call?
September 6, 2020
Pope Francis has declared the month of September through October 4th to be a Spirit-filled Season of Creation celebration—an ecumenical movement that includes thousands of Christians around the world. October 4th is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and the natural environment, and St. Francis is the chosen namesake of our pope.
We have been invited to study, reflect, pray and act in response to Pope Francis’s emphasis throughout his encyclical, “Laudato Si”, regarding the earth’s cry for healing and the cry of the poor among us. This call to action has its roots in our scripture selections today.
In the first reading, Ezekiel was tasked with saving the people from themselves. God instructs him to warn them of their errors and try to bring them back into the fold. Ezekiel embraced the responsibility of spreading God’s merciful love to all. A love that is selfless in action and modeled on God’s love shown to the whole of creation is known as agape love.
Our Gospel passage also mirrors this same theme. If you love your sister and brother, you are responsible to help them find their way to rightful living. Jesus has full faith in his disciples to declare goodness and reject evil. He believes that the disciples will be selfless in providing this loving guidance to his followers. In fact, Jesus even pledges his unfailing presence when they gather together.
Paul’s message to the Romans reminds us all to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Agape love, selfless action modeled on God’s love for all creation, provides the foundation we need to celebrate this Season of Creation. If we can’t form right relationships with one another, we will never be able to form right relationships with our universe. When we come to realize that many of our unreconciled relationships with people do cause secondary injury to our planet, we can see more clearly that all creation has been fashioned out of the same Source of Love.
We have all hurt someone in our lifetimes, and we have all experienced being hurt by another human being. And we know that unless there is some sort of relational repair, the hurt will continue. The same is true with our created universe. If we, as human beings, have caused destruction to nature, we need to change our selfish habits and repair the damage.
The words of Daniel Horan in NCR’s “Faith Seeking Understanding” column takes this another step further: “While planting trees and reevaluating our carbon footprints are worthwhile efforts, there is a need to focus our attention and energies in the coming weeks to thinking about and working on behalf of dismantling environmental racism in our nation and world. In doing so, we might come one step closer to embracing a true ‘integral ecology’” that helps ensure the interrelated challenges we are experiencing—like the toxic water in Flint MI, the disproportionate amount of poor people of color dying from COVID, and the continuing deaths of black lives by the police—will never happen again.
If we in fact owe one another love, then we owe one another justice, which includes mending or rebuilding the damages done, individually and collectively as part of the earth community. Because everyone and everything in this universe is intimately connected, we are called to make reparation on every level of existence.
The psalmist today reminds us not to harden our hearts and be separated from Love. Don’t be like those who hear the Voice of Mercy yet discard it, thinking they know a better way. There is no better way than embracing Love. Our prophetic calling is to denounce what is wrong and sinful in our world, and recreate a world of selfless giving that embraces the God of Love. If we don’t, we remain complicit in the destruction of human life and all of creation.
O that today we would harken to the Beloved’s voice!
How can we overcome the challenges of answering this call?
Homily – 22 Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 30, 2020
While the psalmist experiences dry and lifeless places, refreshment is sought through the waters of life found in God alone. This provides a good backdrop for the scripture readings today.
Did the prophet Jeremiah really mind the idea of being a spokesperson for God? Or was it really that he minded others making fun of him and objecting to the Divine message he was sharing? Yet, God’s word was so ingrained in his heart, it felt like his chest would burn up if he didn’t deliver those words to the people.
In our Gospel today Jesus warns the disciples not to compromise the core of who they are before God, and exhorts them to take on the challenges of speaking truth and justice in the society of their time.
It appears that these two readings have a lot in common…
Jeremiah finally realizes what is being asked of him when experiencing significant backlash from the community’s negative reaction to his heralding of God’s message. Yet, he knows he must carry on in the face of this adversity, in the midst of this hostility.
Jesus, knowing the political and religious leaders of the time were growing increasingly hostile to his teachings and growing popularity, informs his disciples that he would end up suffering and dying. And like Jeremiah, Jesus knows that regardless of who his enemies are, he will carry on in the face of adversity, in the midst of hostility. Despite Peter’s objection, Jesus continues to tell the disciples that if they choose to follow in His Way of justice and truth, they, too, must choose what they are willing to lay down their life for as they go forth to proclaim his message.
Paul spreads a broad umbrella over this sober reality by telling the Romans to transform their lives before the forces of evil overcome them. He implores them to live the life God has chosen for them, one of justice and love.
In all of this, a certain vulnerability seems to be part of the experience. If we stick our necks out to further justice in our society, we are like living targets for ridicule and hate. Yet, if we believe that the Spirit of Truth and Justice is with us, our faith allows us to become vulnerable to the transformative Spirit that will provide us the knowledge and strength we need to confront the injustices of our day. Like Jeremiah, Jesus, Paul, and the disciples, we must carry on in the face of adversity, in the midst of hostility.
To underscore the words of Sr. Carol Dempsey in the NCR, this all takes a renewal of mind. In our 21st century context, we no longer have the option to think the way of the dominant culture. We must be willing to act prophetically by replacing our comfortable lifestyles and privileges and embrace Jesus’ message and work, standing in unity with those on the margins of society.
We have a choice: Will we, like Peter, fail to understand God’s plan, or will we become good leaders by putting the needs of others ahead of our own?
Valerie Bridgeman, in the “Living the Word” series in Sojourner’s magazine, shares that “The only way to participate in God’s project is by overcoming evil with the good we do. We must be willing to lose ourselves in God’s vision and be willing to lose our lives for the sake of it. These words are radical and, frankly, scary. Discipleship is costly.” And we have seen very clearly, that the marginalized among us know this truth to their core. Their determination to stand firm against injustices overcomes the fear for their own lives—in order to save the generations to come.
Clearly, now is the time. To answer the psalmist’s plea, we are being summoned to find ways of bringing the refreshing waters of life to those who are living in dry and lifeless places—to be the face of God in their time of need, and for all times to come.
What is the current risk in answering this call?
Do we risk this alone, or is it a call for all of us to work together?
August 30, 2020
While the psalmist experiences dry and lifeless places, refreshment is sought through the waters of life found in God alone. This provides a good backdrop for the scripture readings today.
Did the prophet Jeremiah really mind the idea of being a spokesperson for God? Or was it really that he minded others making fun of him and objecting to the Divine message he was sharing? Yet, God’s word was so ingrained in his heart, it felt like his chest would burn up if he didn’t deliver those words to the people.
In our Gospel today Jesus warns the disciples not to compromise the core of who they are before God, and exhorts them to take on the challenges of speaking truth and justice in the society of their time.
It appears that these two readings have a lot in common…
Jeremiah finally realizes what is being asked of him when experiencing significant backlash from the community’s negative reaction to his heralding of God’s message. Yet, he knows he must carry on in the face of this adversity, in the midst of this hostility.
Jesus, knowing the political and religious leaders of the time were growing increasingly hostile to his teachings and growing popularity, informs his disciples that he would end up suffering and dying. And like Jeremiah, Jesus knows that regardless of who his enemies are, he will carry on in the face of adversity, in the midst of hostility. Despite Peter’s objection, Jesus continues to tell the disciples that if they choose to follow in His Way of justice and truth, they, too, must choose what they are willing to lay down their life for as they go forth to proclaim his message.
Paul spreads a broad umbrella over this sober reality by telling the Romans to transform their lives before the forces of evil overcome them. He implores them to live the life God has chosen for them, one of justice and love.
In all of this, a certain vulnerability seems to be part of the experience. If we stick our necks out to further justice in our society, we are like living targets for ridicule and hate. Yet, if we believe that the Spirit of Truth and Justice is with us, our faith allows us to become vulnerable to the transformative Spirit that will provide us the knowledge and strength we need to confront the injustices of our day. Like Jeremiah, Jesus, Paul, and the disciples, we must carry on in the face of adversity, in the midst of hostility.
To underscore the words of Sr. Carol Dempsey in the NCR, this all takes a renewal of mind. In our 21st century context, we no longer have the option to think the way of the dominant culture. We must be willing to act prophetically by replacing our comfortable lifestyles and privileges and embrace Jesus’ message and work, standing in unity with those on the margins of society.
We have a choice: Will we, like Peter, fail to understand God’s plan, or will we become good leaders by putting the needs of others ahead of our own?
Valerie Bridgeman, in the “Living the Word” series in Sojourner’s magazine, shares that “The only way to participate in God’s project is by overcoming evil with the good we do. We must be willing to lose ourselves in God’s vision and be willing to lose our lives for the sake of it. These words are radical and, frankly, scary. Discipleship is costly.” And we have seen very clearly, that the marginalized among us know this truth to their core. Their determination to stand firm against injustices overcomes the fear for their own lives—in order to save the generations to come.
Clearly, now is the time. To answer the psalmist’s plea, we are being summoned to find ways of bringing the refreshing waters of life to those who are living in dry and lifeless places—to be the face of God in their time of need, and for all times to come.
What is the current risk in answering this call?
Do we risk this alone, or is it a call for all of us to work together?
Homily – Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 23, 2020
How does our perception of Christian history shape our understanding of it?
Much of it is predicated on how the Bible is interpreted. And because there are so very many translations of the Bible, it’s hard to figure which is closer to the original story. Going back to the languages spoken at the time may give us a hint as to what some of the expressions in today’s Gospel originally meant.
Concerning the moment when Jesus changed Simon’s name to Peter:
In classical Greek “petros” generally meant "pebble," while “petra” meant "boulder" or "cliff". In Aramaic both would be “kepa.”
The present Biblical “Peter” is translated as "Petrus."
Simon, a Jewish fisherman, was called to be a disciple of Jesus at the beginning of Jesus' ministry. He received from Jesus the name “Kepa” in Aramaic, “Petros” in classical Greek, and “Cephas” in Latin.
If we understand Peter's name as “Petros” meaning "pebble", it can be argued that the "rock" in question cannot have been Peter, but something else, either Jesus himself, or the faith in Jesus that Peter had just professed.
Concerning the moment when Jesus gave Peter the keys to his church:
The Latin word in the Gospel is “ecclesia” and is translated from the Latin as “church.” Yet, within the Biblical context, “ecclesia” actually refers to the assembly of the people of God, not the building within which they gather.
If you were a Christian during the first 250 years after Christ walked the earth, you would never have seen a church building. The rock upon which Jesus would build his faith community referred to Peter’s faith. Accompanied by the Spirit of Jesus, it is this strong faith that formed the foundation of those who followed The Way of Jesus.
And what does “binding and loosing” mean?
“Binding and loosing” was originally a Jewish phrase mentioned in the New Testament, as well as in the Jewish daily rules of faith. In usage, “to bind and to loose” simply means to forbid by an indisputable authority and to permit by an indisputable authority.
God shall bind and loose what Peter binds and looses. This statement gives a different kind of authority to Peter. He is given the authority to enforce laws and to exempt from their obligations. He interprets the Law, determining when it should be binding and when it should not.
Our first reading from Isaiah speaks of Eliakim, of sound mind and character receiving a new authoritative position to allow for the order and stability that the kindom of Judah must have needed. Eliakim was needed to ensure that the kingdom would survive. And Jesus, who names Peter the new leader of the faith community in Matthew’s Gospel, provides a foundation story about post-Easter authority for those who followed The Way with Peter’s commission to leadership. From the Old to the New, the Providence of God has held us together.
At the beginning of this liturgy, I stated that our scripture readings speak of God’s Providential Love for us, and Jesus and Peter’s deepening understanding of who they are called to be.
No matter how many times Peter may falter, Jesus continues to call him “Peter,” enabling him to become the person he is meant to be. We can say with confidence that God works through those who are weak so there will be no question about the source of any success they may experience. And on the flip side, God also prevents us from using our own weakness as an excuse for not committing ourselves to the service of God and others. Peter failed, yet repented and continued to strive to be the person Jesus chose to lead his people.
So, too, with Jesus. As Peter named Jesus the “Messiah” and partnered with him in his messianic mission, his faithfulness enabled Jesus to embrace all that being “anointed” entailed. And Jesus’ identification with the believing community spirited a rock-solid faith that brought forth that quality in them. We, too, are anointed!
What can the average Christian learn from this story?
August 23, 2020
How does our perception of Christian history shape our understanding of it?
Much of it is predicated on how the Bible is interpreted. And because there are so very many translations of the Bible, it’s hard to figure which is closer to the original story. Going back to the languages spoken at the time may give us a hint as to what some of the expressions in today’s Gospel originally meant.
Concerning the moment when Jesus changed Simon’s name to Peter:
In classical Greek “petros” generally meant "pebble," while “petra” meant "boulder" or "cliff". In Aramaic both would be “kepa.”
The present Biblical “Peter” is translated as "Petrus."
Simon, a Jewish fisherman, was called to be a disciple of Jesus at the beginning of Jesus' ministry. He received from Jesus the name “Kepa” in Aramaic, “Petros” in classical Greek, and “Cephas” in Latin.
If we understand Peter's name as “Petros” meaning "pebble", it can be argued that the "rock" in question cannot have been Peter, but something else, either Jesus himself, or the faith in Jesus that Peter had just professed.
Concerning the moment when Jesus gave Peter the keys to his church:
The Latin word in the Gospel is “ecclesia” and is translated from the Latin as “church.” Yet, within the Biblical context, “ecclesia” actually refers to the assembly of the people of God, not the building within which they gather.
If you were a Christian during the first 250 years after Christ walked the earth, you would never have seen a church building. The rock upon which Jesus would build his faith community referred to Peter’s faith. Accompanied by the Spirit of Jesus, it is this strong faith that formed the foundation of those who followed The Way of Jesus.
And what does “binding and loosing” mean?
“Binding and loosing” was originally a Jewish phrase mentioned in the New Testament, as well as in the Jewish daily rules of faith. In usage, “to bind and to loose” simply means to forbid by an indisputable authority and to permit by an indisputable authority.
God shall bind and loose what Peter binds and looses. This statement gives a different kind of authority to Peter. He is given the authority to enforce laws and to exempt from their obligations. He interprets the Law, determining when it should be binding and when it should not.
Our first reading from Isaiah speaks of Eliakim, of sound mind and character receiving a new authoritative position to allow for the order and stability that the kindom of Judah must have needed. Eliakim was needed to ensure that the kingdom would survive. And Jesus, who names Peter the new leader of the faith community in Matthew’s Gospel, provides a foundation story about post-Easter authority for those who followed The Way with Peter’s commission to leadership. From the Old to the New, the Providence of God has held us together.
At the beginning of this liturgy, I stated that our scripture readings speak of God’s Providential Love for us, and Jesus and Peter’s deepening understanding of who they are called to be.
No matter how many times Peter may falter, Jesus continues to call him “Peter,” enabling him to become the person he is meant to be. We can say with confidence that God works through those who are weak so there will be no question about the source of any success they may experience. And on the flip side, God also prevents us from using our own weakness as an excuse for not committing ourselves to the service of God and others. Peter failed, yet repented and continued to strive to be the person Jesus chose to lead his people.
So, too, with Jesus. As Peter named Jesus the “Messiah” and partnered with him in his messianic mission, his faithfulness enabled Jesus to embrace all that being “anointed” entailed. And Jesus’ identification with the believing community spirited a rock-solid faith that brought forth that quality in them. We, too, are anointed!
What can the average Christian learn from this story?
Homily – A Woman’s Revolution
August 16, 2020
Faithful to the theme of this liturgy, A Woman’s Revolution in Ordinary Time,
Doris Donnelly presents the revolutionary aspect of Mary’s Magnificat in cultural, political and economic terms. These aspects carry with them an ongoing movement of a socially radical departure from the status quo, wherein the lowly are raised up, political structures crumble, and the distribution of goods favor those in need, and sends those with abundance away.
The connection between the wonderfully radical proclamation of Mary in our First Reading and Responsorial, with the woman seeking a cure for her daughter in today’s Gospel, comes with the realization that the Gospel story is an example of how Mary’s words become flesh.
It was after the execution of John the Baptist, when Jesus was leaving the land of Israel and wandered into pagan territory to escape the threat of Herod’s pursuit, and lie low for a time. He crossed territorial and cultural boundaries, as well as putting himself in danger of a public social exchange with pagans—especially pagan women. And yet, he ventured there and was recognized by a Canaanite mother seeking healing for her daughter.
She and her people were considered the arch enemy with whom Israel had struggled for possession of the land. She disregards the appropriate social decorum by speaking to Jesus, in as much as he disregarded the territorial boundaries by being there.
Jesus makes it clear that his mission did not include the Gentiles, as ethnic purity would prohibit it. The Canaanites were even called “dogs” by the Jews of that time. No, Jesus’ mission was only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. His chauvinistic attitude shown quite clearly when he insulted and shunned her.
Yet this woman, as a dedicated steward, continues to plead for the healing of her daughter. Nothing would stop her supplications. A mother’s enduring love for her child drives her to seek help without being deterred. She turns Jesus’ words around and challenges him by saying that even dogs get the scraps from the table. She heard he had the power to heal, and sought it for her daughter. The woman stood on solid ground in her own territory as she pushed him to admit her right to demand his help. And Jesus could not resist; the faith of the mother ultimately ushered in the healing of her daughter.
Jesus lost this battle, to be sure! Not only does this mother depose him from his high and mighty throne, not only did she crumble the political correctness of the time, her hunger for her daughter’s cure was satisfied.
Yet, the encounter with this strong and determined woman forced Jesus to move beyond the limited confines of his own cultural experience. Her faith and tenacity allowed Jesus to realize his mission was much too narrow; he needed to go forth and include all people.
Yes, Jesus evolved. We all evolve—either into or out of something. As Jesus experienced an awakening in this Gospel story, our Second Reading today marks a change in faith perspective for all of us. An expanded understanding of fresh and insightful interpretations of Scripture gives rise to fresh and insightful interpretations of dogma. Our raised consciousness of the Spirit’s presence in our lives spurs us on to transformation. This is exactly what Jesus was about when he interpreted Scripture anew to the Jews in the Temple.
Through the spiritual acuity of Joan Chittister, we can welcome Mary’s Assumption with a deepening sense of clarity that continues to enlighten. Chittister takes the kernel of truth in this Feast and broadens it by embracing the hope and joy that lies ahead of us. Lifting us beyond the petty and transient to the eternal and unalloyed. As the psalmist says, we are lifted from the pit and the path of life is revealed. Mary was lifted from the clenches of oppression into the realm of freedom.
When we become aware that open minds and faithful hearts are capable of enveloping lofty ideas, ideas that are not constricted within small imaginations or structures, we are able to open ourselves to the energy emanating from Spirit Sophia. Our future then unfolds beyond our wildest dreams. Focusing on that future while accompanied by that Spirit, fashions the fullness of our being, radiating unbounded joy!
The church’s liturgical calendar puts us in Ordinary Time. May it be that this extraordinary feminine revolution be realized in All Time!
What truths has the Spirit revealed to you on your life’s pathway?
August 16, 2020
Faithful to the theme of this liturgy, A Woman’s Revolution in Ordinary Time,
Doris Donnelly presents the revolutionary aspect of Mary’s Magnificat in cultural, political and economic terms. These aspects carry with them an ongoing movement of a socially radical departure from the status quo, wherein the lowly are raised up, political structures crumble, and the distribution of goods favor those in need, and sends those with abundance away.
The connection between the wonderfully radical proclamation of Mary in our First Reading and Responsorial, with the woman seeking a cure for her daughter in today’s Gospel, comes with the realization that the Gospel story is an example of how Mary’s words become flesh.
It was after the execution of John the Baptist, when Jesus was leaving the land of Israel and wandered into pagan territory to escape the threat of Herod’s pursuit, and lie low for a time. He crossed territorial and cultural boundaries, as well as putting himself in danger of a public social exchange with pagans—especially pagan women. And yet, he ventured there and was recognized by a Canaanite mother seeking healing for her daughter.
She and her people were considered the arch enemy with whom Israel had struggled for possession of the land. She disregards the appropriate social decorum by speaking to Jesus, in as much as he disregarded the territorial boundaries by being there.
Jesus makes it clear that his mission did not include the Gentiles, as ethnic purity would prohibit it. The Canaanites were even called “dogs” by the Jews of that time. No, Jesus’ mission was only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. His chauvinistic attitude shown quite clearly when he insulted and shunned her.
Yet this woman, as a dedicated steward, continues to plead for the healing of her daughter. Nothing would stop her supplications. A mother’s enduring love for her child drives her to seek help without being deterred. She turns Jesus’ words around and challenges him by saying that even dogs get the scraps from the table. She heard he had the power to heal, and sought it for her daughter. The woman stood on solid ground in her own territory as she pushed him to admit her right to demand his help. And Jesus could not resist; the faith of the mother ultimately ushered in the healing of her daughter.
Jesus lost this battle, to be sure! Not only does this mother depose him from his high and mighty throne, not only did she crumble the political correctness of the time, her hunger for her daughter’s cure was satisfied.
Yet, the encounter with this strong and determined woman forced Jesus to move beyond the limited confines of his own cultural experience. Her faith and tenacity allowed Jesus to realize his mission was much too narrow; he needed to go forth and include all people.
Yes, Jesus evolved. We all evolve—either into or out of something. As Jesus experienced an awakening in this Gospel story, our Second Reading today marks a change in faith perspective for all of us. An expanded understanding of fresh and insightful interpretations of Scripture gives rise to fresh and insightful interpretations of dogma. Our raised consciousness of the Spirit’s presence in our lives spurs us on to transformation. This is exactly what Jesus was about when he interpreted Scripture anew to the Jews in the Temple.
Through the spiritual acuity of Joan Chittister, we can welcome Mary’s Assumption with a deepening sense of clarity that continues to enlighten. Chittister takes the kernel of truth in this Feast and broadens it by embracing the hope and joy that lies ahead of us. Lifting us beyond the petty and transient to the eternal and unalloyed. As the psalmist says, we are lifted from the pit and the path of life is revealed. Mary was lifted from the clenches of oppression into the realm of freedom.
When we become aware that open minds and faithful hearts are capable of enveloping lofty ideas, ideas that are not constricted within small imaginations or structures, we are able to open ourselves to the energy emanating from Spirit Sophia. Our future then unfolds beyond our wildest dreams. Focusing on that future while accompanied by that Spirit, fashions the fullness of our being, radiating unbounded joy!
The church’s liturgical calendar puts us in Ordinary Time. May it be that this extraordinary feminine revolution be realized in All Time!
What truths has the Spirit revealed to you on your life’s pathway?
Homily/Reflection – Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
August 9th, 2020
One day a hunter went out with a friend to hunt ducks, bringing his retriever along as helper and companion. The men crouched near a marsh bordering a lake. When some ducks took flight, the hunter shot and brought two ducks down over the lake. The retriever took off, walking easily on the top of the water, to bring in the ducks. The hunter waited for his friend to remark on the dog’s unusual ability. Finally, shaking his head in amazement, the friend said, “Well, I’ve never seen anything like it… a dog who can’t swim!”
We, too, often miss the spectacular, the wonderful from God, because we expect only the ordinary. The most wonderful is that we have an Everyday God who wants to be recognized in our lives, wants to act through us, and wants to reach out with our hands and hearts to those in need. This is both wonderful and ordinary.
With some gentle urging, Elijah heard the whisper of God. It didn’t come with fierceness; it came with peaceful calm. God wants to wrap around you like that gentle breeze, becoming part of who you are and how you are and what you know. Imagine a small breath or whisper of air wrapping your body, cooling and refreshing and gently comforting you. Could you see that as a sign of a God who wishes to be part of you? Breathing in the healing presence of a God who longs to be with us, part of us, recognized as always present, needing no sacrifices or bargains, wanting simply to be recognized as part of our lives is the ordinariness of God’s Self. Elijah was headed back to his cave when the question came again: “Elijah, what are you doing here?” In other words, “What are you thinking, Elijah???”
When we can experience God acting from within us in all of the circumstances of our lives, we need no longer be afraid. The hard things may not go away, but as the disciples experienced, the sea does grow calm. We are better able to understand that whatever happens, God is somehow in this and that all will be well, all manner of things will be well, as Julian of Norwich says. Sometimes truth will feel impossible, like walking on water, a metaphor for doing the impossible; but we can work towards trusting.
The retriever was doing all the great things that retrievers can do. Do we know what our limits are? Have we explored what can be possible if we brought our Divine helper and companion along with us?
August 9th, 2020
One day a hunter went out with a friend to hunt ducks, bringing his retriever along as helper and companion. The men crouched near a marsh bordering a lake. When some ducks took flight, the hunter shot and brought two ducks down over the lake. The retriever took off, walking easily on the top of the water, to bring in the ducks. The hunter waited for his friend to remark on the dog’s unusual ability. Finally, shaking his head in amazement, the friend said, “Well, I’ve never seen anything like it… a dog who can’t swim!”
We, too, often miss the spectacular, the wonderful from God, because we expect only the ordinary. The most wonderful is that we have an Everyday God who wants to be recognized in our lives, wants to act through us, and wants to reach out with our hands and hearts to those in need. This is both wonderful and ordinary.
With some gentle urging, Elijah heard the whisper of God. It didn’t come with fierceness; it came with peaceful calm. God wants to wrap around you like that gentle breeze, becoming part of who you are and how you are and what you know. Imagine a small breath or whisper of air wrapping your body, cooling and refreshing and gently comforting you. Could you see that as a sign of a God who wishes to be part of you? Breathing in the healing presence of a God who longs to be with us, part of us, recognized as always present, needing no sacrifices or bargains, wanting simply to be recognized as part of our lives is the ordinariness of God’s Self. Elijah was headed back to his cave when the question came again: “Elijah, what are you doing here?” In other words, “What are you thinking, Elijah???”
When we can experience God acting from within us in all of the circumstances of our lives, we need no longer be afraid. The hard things may not go away, but as the disciples experienced, the sea does grow calm. We are better able to understand that whatever happens, God is somehow in this and that all will be well, all manner of things will be well, as Julian of Norwich says. Sometimes truth will feel impossible, like walking on water, a metaphor for doing the impossible; but we can work towards trusting.
The retriever was doing all the great things that retrievers can do. Do we know what our limits are? Have we explored what can be possible if we brought our Divine helper and companion along with us?
Homily/Reflection – Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
August 2, 2020
I want to share with you a short story that absolutely takes my breath away:
There was a blind girl who hated herself purely for the fact she was blind. The only person she didn’t hate was her loving boyfriend, as he was always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry him.
One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her – now she could see everything, including her boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her, “Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?” The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was blind too, and refused to marry him. Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying: “Just take care of my eyes, dear.”
If you, like me, are totally overwhelmed with the sacrifice this man made for his Beloved, just think how much Jesus gave to all of us, and allow your hearts to be overwhelmed with the generosity of a Love that will never fail…
When Jesus heard that his cousin, John the Baptist, was put to death, he sought a place to be alone with his grief. But people followed him seeking remedies for their own distress. They were calling him beyond his own grief, and he responded with heartfelt compassion. Besides offering his healing touch to those in need, Jesus was also mindful of their hunger. And by his attending to their need, they became a bread-sharing community where their hunger was satisfied.
We may find ourselves with a desire to respond to the circumstances in which we live. We may feel called to take on whatever is required to make our world a better place. And if we listen and follow that yearning to the point of actually doing and being for those in need, we will be offering, as Jesus offered the wanting crowd, our best efforts for the good of others.
When help is freely given it often results in circumstances changing for the better. But some people who are beneficiaries of our loving overtures, such as the blind girl, forget the past struggles they endured and refuse to remember the way things were before. As a result, they are not able to appreciate it was because of those very struggles that they were supported and provided the sustenance that helped them become who they are today.
The boyfriend gave his eyesight to satisfy the desire of his Beloved. Jesus ignored his need for solitary grieving in order to help others with their spiritual and physical issues. So, too, we are called as disciples to be generous in our love toward others, as occurred in Jesus feeding the crowd, but also in our caring for Mother Earth and all her creatures.
The soul of our planet is crying out in efforts to sing the Song of Life. As the boyfriend who gave up his sight and requested that his Beloved care for his eyes, are we not asked the same as human beings divinely entrusted with the care for one another and all of creation?
Please share your thoughts…
August 2, 2020
I want to share with you a short story that absolutely takes my breath away:
There was a blind girl who hated herself purely for the fact she was blind. The only person she didn’t hate was her loving boyfriend, as he was always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry him.
One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her – now she could see everything, including her boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her, “Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?” The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was blind too, and refused to marry him. Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying: “Just take care of my eyes, dear.”
If you, like me, are totally overwhelmed with the sacrifice this man made for his Beloved, just think how much Jesus gave to all of us, and allow your hearts to be overwhelmed with the generosity of a Love that will never fail…
When Jesus heard that his cousin, John the Baptist, was put to death, he sought a place to be alone with his grief. But people followed him seeking remedies for their own distress. They were calling him beyond his own grief, and he responded with heartfelt compassion. Besides offering his healing touch to those in need, Jesus was also mindful of their hunger. And by his attending to their need, they became a bread-sharing community where their hunger was satisfied.
We may find ourselves with a desire to respond to the circumstances in which we live. We may feel called to take on whatever is required to make our world a better place. And if we listen and follow that yearning to the point of actually doing and being for those in need, we will be offering, as Jesus offered the wanting crowd, our best efforts for the good of others.
When help is freely given it often results in circumstances changing for the better. But some people who are beneficiaries of our loving overtures, such as the blind girl, forget the past struggles they endured and refuse to remember the way things were before. As a result, they are not able to appreciate it was because of those very struggles that they were supported and provided the sustenance that helped them become who they are today.
The boyfriend gave his eyesight to satisfy the desire of his Beloved. Jesus ignored his need for solitary grieving in order to help others with their spiritual and physical issues. So, too, we are called as disciples to be generous in our love toward others, as occurred in Jesus feeding the crowd, but also in our caring for Mother Earth and all her creatures.
The soul of our planet is crying out in efforts to sing the Song of Life. As the boyfriend who gave up his sight and requested that his Beloved care for his eyes, are we not asked the same as human beings divinely entrusted with the care for one another and all of creation?
Please share your thoughts…
Homily/Reflection – Feast of St. Mary of Magdala 2020
July 26, 2020
There are people that can ‘sense’ the world seen and unseen in ways that many of us do not. We can list saints of all shapes and varieties, and name some of our dearest friends and relatives, poets, artists, writers, musicians, nature and animal lovers—they all may well fall into this realm of seeing beyond what others see. And each time this occurs, they are all sacred moments.
As expressed in our chosen readings today, you probably have “sensed” that Mary of Magdala was a woman of tremendous sensuality. Unfortunately, due to her ability to deeply experience the world and her God through this gift, many people of her time and throughout history were uncomfortable with this woman’s sensual depth and dismissed her gift, relegating her a harlot in the annuls of history. It wasn’t until very recently that Mary was released from this ill-conceived moniker, and is now rightly honored as the Apostle to the Apostles, being the first to share the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection.
And that is what we celebrate today. St. Mary of Magdala, the woman who could see and sense the divinity and humanity of Jesus in a way no one else could imagine.
We are a ritual people. We have rituals in our daily living, in our annual celebrations of birthdays and anniversaries, graduations, receiving awards, and even our rituals for deaths and burials. Our Catholic tradition acknowledges sacred moments in life that need to be celebrated. Theological leaders in church history have named seven of these moments whereby we experience the hand of God in very special ways. These moments are called sacraments—seven out of the many profound moments through which we can encounter God.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church sites sacraments as perceptible signs accessible to our human nature. To understand what that means requires us to embrace holy ritual that is based on and requires our human sensing. Physical sensual presence—touching, seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling—is the means through which we experience the Holy One. Mary of Magdala knew and experienced Jesus through her gift of sensing.
The most sensitive of all human senses is touching, and touching is required for sensing deeply. We limit our human way of experiencing and coming to encounter our Creator and our universe if we can’t use all of our senses.
In these days of physical isolation because of the pandemic, we are faced with unprecedent ways of providing the sacramental experience. Some faith communities are providing livestreamed liturgies with no assembly gathered, some are providing real time experiences with Zoom technology without the physical presence, and others are now permitting limited in-person assemblies that must wear face masks and maintain social distancing, picking up their communion wafer as they leave.
If we believe and embrace that sacraments are encounters with the Holy One, how do you think Mary of Magdala would deal with this “new age” of sacramental technology with limited sensual experience? Do you think it would limit her encounter with God? Does it limit yours? I am opening this up as an exploration of beliefs going forward. Your ideas will enrich us all.
July 26, 2020
There are people that can ‘sense’ the world seen and unseen in ways that many of us do not. We can list saints of all shapes and varieties, and name some of our dearest friends and relatives, poets, artists, writers, musicians, nature and animal lovers—they all may well fall into this realm of seeing beyond what others see. And each time this occurs, they are all sacred moments.
As expressed in our chosen readings today, you probably have “sensed” that Mary of Magdala was a woman of tremendous sensuality. Unfortunately, due to her ability to deeply experience the world and her God through this gift, many people of her time and throughout history were uncomfortable with this woman’s sensual depth and dismissed her gift, relegating her a harlot in the annuls of history. It wasn’t until very recently that Mary was released from this ill-conceived moniker, and is now rightly honored as the Apostle to the Apostles, being the first to share the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection.
And that is what we celebrate today. St. Mary of Magdala, the woman who could see and sense the divinity and humanity of Jesus in a way no one else could imagine.
We are a ritual people. We have rituals in our daily living, in our annual celebrations of birthdays and anniversaries, graduations, receiving awards, and even our rituals for deaths and burials. Our Catholic tradition acknowledges sacred moments in life that need to be celebrated. Theological leaders in church history have named seven of these moments whereby we experience the hand of God in very special ways. These moments are called sacraments—seven out of the many profound moments through which we can encounter God.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church sites sacraments as perceptible signs accessible to our human nature. To understand what that means requires us to embrace holy ritual that is based on and requires our human sensing. Physical sensual presence—touching, seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling—is the means through which we experience the Holy One. Mary of Magdala knew and experienced Jesus through her gift of sensing.
The most sensitive of all human senses is touching, and touching is required for sensing deeply. We limit our human way of experiencing and coming to encounter our Creator and our universe if we can’t use all of our senses.
In these days of physical isolation because of the pandemic, we are faced with unprecedent ways of providing the sacramental experience. Some faith communities are providing livestreamed liturgies with no assembly gathered, some are providing real time experiences with Zoom technology without the physical presence, and others are now permitting limited in-person assemblies that must wear face masks and maintain social distancing, picking up their communion wafer as they leave.
If we believe and embrace that sacraments are encounters with the Holy One, how do you think Mary of Magdala would deal with this “new age” of sacramental technology with limited sensual experience? Do you think it would limit her encounter with God? Does it limit yours? I am opening this up as an exploration of beliefs going forward. Your ideas will enrich us all.
Homily/Reflection - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
July 19, 2020
I have great faith in listening to the workings of the Holy Spirit. Often referred to as Spirit Sophia in feminist theology.
My homily reflection and the music for this liturgy were written and chosen earlier this past week, with no knowledge of the impending departures of John Lewis and C. T. Vivian. As I meditated on these choices, I wondered if I would get it right—if the path I chose to take would help or hinder the main message of our scripture readings. And yet a voice inside of me persisted, and I believe now, with the recent news of these great men dying, I am very glad I kept the message that will be shared today.
John Lewis was outspoken in his belief in nonviolent demonstration and action when witnessing to the truth of America’s original sin of racism. Yet, much like what happened to Jesus, others responded to his message with violence. The more nonviolent demonstrating occurred, the violence escalated from the opposition forces. And, like Jesus, John Lewis was quick to forgive.
May we learn from the lives of these men who are the icons of the civil rights movement in our country. They will guide us as we emulate their spirit and courage to do what is right in order to build up the Beloved community, the kinship of Jesus, the kindom of God!
And, as I was unaware of it before, I can now say that our opening song this morning is in honor of their transitioning to new life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH4OVm8nzXk
Communion Meditation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujTCNLWUQhM
Closing Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaO_Afa9hDo
When I was reflecting on the readings today and came across the parable of the wheat and weeds, I immediately thought of the weedy grass growing in my yard. My husband and I live in a semi-rural area on about one and a half acres that borders a small inland lake. The grass that grows is considered “country grass,” as it consists of a variety of grasses and weeds—all kept neatly mowed, yet very diverse in their appearance.
In today’s gospel parable, when the workers complained that the wheat was being overtaken by the weeds, the farmer immediately identified the weeds as something sown by the enemy. And yet he told the workers to let them grow together until the harvest, then the weeds would be taken care of at that time.
What does all this mean to us? Keeping in mind that there are many commentaries available on this subject, I offer the question: Could it be that the weeds are those people who try to cause trouble and defame us? The weeds are those people who are threatened by our very existence and attempt to get rid of us?
And what about the wheat, the unadorned grain that grows to nourish others? Could the wheat signify those who strive to live and thrive on the Word of God? The wheat continues to find a way to grow and mature despite the weeds that try to overpower it.
So what does let the weeds grow together with the wheat until the harvest mean? Could it be that this is the workplace environment of those who follow the way of Jesus?
It is not for the faint of heart. Trying to combat those who would do us harm requires keeping ourselves focused on living and thriving on God’s Word, no matter the obstacles we encounter. Look at what Jesus endured in his lifetime while spreading the true message of God’s love and justice for all. People were threatened by his message, by the growing numbers of his followers, and devised ways to remove him permanently.
I know I can identify with this theme over the course of my lifetime, as I am certain many of you can. It’s not easy being green!—as Kermit the Frog says. Yet we can find consolation and be reassured that Jesus gives us the power to overcome the enemy and assures that nothing will harm us.
But where does that leave us with actually dealing with the enemy? What would Jesus do? When we look at his life and ministry, we find that he rooted out evil by extending boundless forgiveness and inviting all to his inclusive Table.
None of us are perfect. All of us have shadows in our lives. Only by admitting this to ourselves are we able to identify with another’s imperfections and offer the compassion necessary to look upon our enemies with love. For there, but for the grace of God, go I.
Yes, the weeds in our lawn grow right along with the varieties of grass. And as I look out at these warring forces within nature, I become aware that it is my job to live with the reality of both. I will depend upon the Spirit to sort out the good from the evil.
Our lives will continue to attract those who want to harm and discredit us. So goes the path of the apostle as we are sent out to spread the Good News and renewed hope of God’s love for all.
What struggles do you experience in spreading God’s love?
July 19, 2020
I have great faith in listening to the workings of the Holy Spirit. Often referred to as Spirit Sophia in feminist theology.
My homily reflection and the music for this liturgy were written and chosen earlier this past week, with no knowledge of the impending departures of John Lewis and C. T. Vivian. As I meditated on these choices, I wondered if I would get it right—if the path I chose to take would help or hinder the main message of our scripture readings. And yet a voice inside of me persisted, and I believe now, with the recent news of these great men dying, I am very glad I kept the message that will be shared today.
John Lewis was outspoken in his belief in nonviolent demonstration and action when witnessing to the truth of America’s original sin of racism. Yet, much like what happened to Jesus, others responded to his message with violence. The more nonviolent demonstrating occurred, the violence escalated from the opposition forces. And, like Jesus, John Lewis was quick to forgive.
May we learn from the lives of these men who are the icons of the civil rights movement in our country. They will guide us as we emulate their spirit and courage to do what is right in order to build up the Beloved community, the kinship of Jesus, the kindom of God!
And, as I was unaware of it before, I can now say that our opening song this morning is in honor of their transitioning to new life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH4OVm8nzXk
Communion Meditation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujTCNLWUQhM
Closing Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaO_Afa9hDo
When I was reflecting on the readings today and came across the parable of the wheat and weeds, I immediately thought of the weedy grass growing in my yard. My husband and I live in a semi-rural area on about one and a half acres that borders a small inland lake. The grass that grows is considered “country grass,” as it consists of a variety of grasses and weeds—all kept neatly mowed, yet very diverse in their appearance.
In today’s gospel parable, when the workers complained that the wheat was being overtaken by the weeds, the farmer immediately identified the weeds as something sown by the enemy. And yet he told the workers to let them grow together until the harvest, then the weeds would be taken care of at that time.
What does all this mean to us? Keeping in mind that there are many commentaries available on this subject, I offer the question: Could it be that the weeds are those people who try to cause trouble and defame us? The weeds are those people who are threatened by our very existence and attempt to get rid of us?
And what about the wheat, the unadorned grain that grows to nourish others? Could the wheat signify those who strive to live and thrive on the Word of God? The wheat continues to find a way to grow and mature despite the weeds that try to overpower it.
So what does let the weeds grow together with the wheat until the harvest mean? Could it be that this is the workplace environment of those who follow the way of Jesus?
It is not for the faint of heart. Trying to combat those who would do us harm requires keeping ourselves focused on living and thriving on God’s Word, no matter the obstacles we encounter. Look at what Jesus endured in his lifetime while spreading the true message of God’s love and justice for all. People were threatened by his message, by the growing numbers of his followers, and devised ways to remove him permanently.
I know I can identify with this theme over the course of my lifetime, as I am certain many of you can. It’s not easy being green!—as Kermit the Frog says. Yet we can find consolation and be reassured that Jesus gives us the power to overcome the enemy and assures that nothing will harm us.
But where does that leave us with actually dealing with the enemy? What would Jesus do? When we look at his life and ministry, we find that he rooted out evil by extending boundless forgiveness and inviting all to his inclusive Table.
None of us are perfect. All of us have shadows in our lives. Only by admitting this to ourselves are we able to identify with another’s imperfections and offer the compassion necessary to look upon our enemies with love. For there, but for the grace of God, go I.
Yes, the weeds in our lawn grow right along with the varieties of grass. And as I look out at these warring forces within nature, I become aware that it is my job to live with the reality of both. I will depend upon the Spirit to sort out the good from the evil.
Our lives will continue to attract those who want to harm and discredit us. So goes the path of the apostle as we are sent out to spread the Good News and renewed hope of God’s love for all.
What struggles do you experience in spreading God’s love?
Homily/Reflection – Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
July 12, 2020
In our first reading, Isaiah tells us that God’s grace is at work in our world. The Word that goes forth from the mouth of God will return to God, achieving the ends for which it was sent. Easy enough for Isaiah to say this, but why not explain what happens between leaving God’s mouth and returning to God? What’s the process?
Maybe Paul has the answer…
In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he speaks of “groaning in one great act of giving birth,” using the image of a woman giving birth to capture collective suffering, which is commonly understood as a process that ultimately brings joy. If we are currently laboring through injustice, however, we have a hard time focusing only on a future joy. Yet we continue our struggle together to deliver the society we want to see. God calls us to work passionately to recognize the glory to be revealed in us, when all humans are finally treated with dignity and respect. But, how long, O God, will we suffer in this sorry state? In the words of scripture commentator, Jaime Waters, “Not to belabor the birth imagery, but right now not enough of us are groaning in labor pains. We are long overdue to deliver a just society for all: It is time to induce!”
Perhaps Matthew can tie all this together…
In our Gospel today, Jesus presents us with the parable of the sower and the seed. Jesus tells us not to worry about what seems to be wasted, but to concentrate on the seed in good ground. If we focus on the sower, we see the boundless generosity of God, who offers the Word, in the person of Jesus, to all. If we focus on the seed, we understand the power of the seed to bear fruit. Yet, it requires much patience on our part, as even the seeds planted on good ground are planted deep and their progress is so slow that it’s almost imperceptible. If we focus on the harvest, the large return is the prophetic fulfillment of our expectations. If the different types of soil are the focus, we are urged to do everything possible to root out obstacles and cultivate the soil—our very heart-- allowing us to be receptive to God’s Word.
We have a human responsibility to nourish our spirit so that we might respond to the gift God has given us through the Word, the teachings of Jesus. We are called to work on rooting out whatever might stand in the way of allowing this gift to unfold. We need to be deliberate in preparing soil that is receptive, enabling us to continue the work of the Divine Sower.
You have heard the expression: Humans plan and God laughs. In other words, our ideas about how things should go are not necessarily the same as God’s ideas. Not all of our projects will come to fruition as we hope. But we never know when an unexpected seed will fall near and produce something very good!
If we choose to concentrate on everything that goes wrong, represented by the seeds thrown on rocky, thorny ground, we’ll surely miss the good that is being harvested all around us. It is in the harvest that we realize all creation is moaning and ultimately moving toward transformation in God.
And that is the process—painfully slow at times, but faithfully steady!
What brings you hope in the midst of your labor?
July 12, 2020
In our first reading, Isaiah tells us that God’s grace is at work in our world. The Word that goes forth from the mouth of God will return to God, achieving the ends for which it was sent. Easy enough for Isaiah to say this, but why not explain what happens between leaving God’s mouth and returning to God? What’s the process?
Maybe Paul has the answer…
In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he speaks of “groaning in one great act of giving birth,” using the image of a woman giving birth to capture collective suffering, which is commonly understood as a process that ultimately brings joy. If we are currently laboring through injustice, however, we have a hard time focusing only on a future joy. Yet we continue our struggle together to deliver the society we want to see. God calls us to work passionately to recognize the glory to be revealed in us, when all humans are finally treated with dignity and respect. But, how long, O God, will we suffer in this sorry state? In the words of scripture commentator, Jaime Waters, “Not to belabor the birth imagery, but right now not enough of us are groaning in labor pains. We are long overdue to deliver a just society for all: It is time to induce!”
Perhaps Matthew can tie all this together…
In our Gospel today, Jesus presents us with the parable of the sower and the seed. Jesus tells us not to worry about what seems to be wasted, but to concentrate on the seed in good ground. If we focus on the sower, we see the boundless generosity of God, who offers the Word, in the person of Jesus, to all. If we focus on the seed, we understand the power of the seed to bear fruit. Yet, it requires much patience on our part, as even the seeds planted on good ground are planted deep and their progress is so slow that it’s almost imperceptible. If we focus on the harvest, the large return is the prophetic fulfillment of our expectations. If the different types of soil are the focus, we are urged to do everything possible to root out obstacles and cultivate the soil—our very heart-- allowing us to be receptive to God’s Word.
We have a human responsibility to nourish our spirit so that we might respond to the gift God has given us through the Word, the teachings of Jesus. We are called to work on rooting out whatever might stand in the way of allowing this gift to unfold. We need to be deliberate in preparing soil that is receptive, enabling us to continue the work of the Divine Sower.
You have heard the expression: Humans plan and God laughs. In other words, our ideas about how things should go are not necessarily the same as God’s ideas. Not all of our projects will come to fruition as we hope. But we never know when an unexpected seed will fall near and produce something very good!
If we choose to concentrate on everything that goes wrong, represented by the seeds thrown on rocky, thorny ground, we’ll surely miss the good that is being harvested all around us. It is in the harvest that we realize all creation is moaning and ultimately moving toward transformation in God.
And that is the process—painfully slow at times, but faithfully steady!
What brings you hope in the midst of your labor?
Homily/Reflection
July 5, 2020
The United States of America celebrated Independence Day yesterday. Those who served in the military are honored this day because they put their life on the line so that no other country would have rule over or threaten the freedom we have here. This is and always will be a big day in America.
I remember growing up listening to speakers at parades and discussions at dinner tables about the freedom that Americans enjoy. I remember listening to grandparents speak of other countries who lacked the freedom this country affords. Immigrants came seeking that freedom to live in a society where all could succeed and be happy.
Yet, as a young child, I witnessed many a relative that did not have the means to live in safe housing, did not have the job that could support a family, did not have the respect of their parish priest because they didn’t put enough in the collection basket.
Even at that young age, I couldn’t figure out what was so free about being stuck—stuck in a certain neighborhood, stuck being the kid who brought their lunch to school wrapped in newspaper; stuck with other people’s judgments on families who didn’t have the financial means to support the church.
They say that we white people really don’t know what it’s like to be black in America. And I believe that is true. But in order for me to begin my journey to understand this great divide between the races, I needed to go back in my life and identify times I felt stuck, times I felt like I just wasn’t as “free” as others were. If I could just start somewhere, I thought it would be with myself.
Until we examine our own histories, and realize that not all Americans felt the freedom the books said we had; until we realize that black people were not given the freedom that even the poorest of white people enjoyed; until we care enough to observe and befriend people of color and really listen to their life struggles, none of us can comprehend what freedom actually stands for here, or anywhere else.
I was very fortunate. Besides growing up in a poorer section of town, I grew up in East Cleveland. It was at the time black people were moving into the city. It was the time my father and I attended a parish meeting about this very subject. The young associate pastor stood in front of a packed gymnasium and encouraged those gathered to spread the word that our property values would be plummeting if we didn’t pool our money to buy up the houses that were for sale. It was our duty as faithful Catholics to do everything we could to keep the church financially solvent.
My father stood up among the crowd and told them all that this idea was not Christian. He reprimanded the young priest for being so blind as to not see or believe that the dignity of people came before the worth of a building. He told them all that no matter the color of one’s skin, we are all God’s children, and God’s love was bestowed equally upon everyone. He told the young priest he had a lot to learn.
Yes, I was very fortunate that I was present when all this took place. When we left the gymnasium, the nun at the door pulled me aside and told me that no matter what happens, I should always be proud of my Dad and she would pray that I developed the courage to follow in his footsteps.
The sad part of this story is that East Cleveland experienced white flight in a very dramatic way. Decades later, it still tries to lift its head above government take overs, fraud, and drug trafficking. And that grand big church that people said would never fold, is now a forgotten statistic. The white people didn’t stay, they fled. They failed to live in and among the people of God.
Is it really independence that we celebrate, or is this day actually an invitation to live interdependently with others?
For the freedom of the one is the freedom of the all, and the pain of the one is the pain of the all. The breath of the one is the breath of the all, and the breath of the all is the breath of God. (Melanie Bacon)
I dare say, we, as a country and as Catholic Christians, have a long road ahead of us in grasping the true meaning of freedom, and the intersectionality of our existence among all God’s creatures. The burden is heavy, and the yoke must be shared.
May God bless us in our struggles as we strive to be the America we have yet to become!
Please share your thoughts…
July 5, 2020
The United States of America celebrated Independence Day yesterday. Those who served in the military are honored this day because they put their life on the line so that no other country would have rule over or threaten the freedom we have here. This is and always will be a big day in America.
I remember growing up listening to speakers at parades and discussions at dinner tables about the freedom that Americans enjoy. I remember listening to grandparents speak of other countries who lacked the freedom this country affords. Immigrants came seeking that freedom to live in a society where all could succeed and be happy.
Yet, as a young child, I witnessed many a relative that did not have the means to live in safe housing, did not have the job that could support a family, did not have the respect of their parish priest because they didn’t put enough in the collection basket.
Even at that young age, I couldn’t figure out what was so free about being stuck—stuck in a certain neighborhood, stuck being the kid who brought their lunch to school wrapped in newspaper; stuck with other people’s judgments on families who didn’t have the financial means to support the church.
They say that we white people really don’t know what it’s like to be black in America. And I believe that is true. But in order for me to begin my journey to understand this great divide between the races, I needed to go back in my life and identify times I felt stuck, times I felt like I just wasn’t as “free” as others were. If I could just start somewhere, I thought it would be with myself.
Until we examine our own histories, and realize that not all Americans felt the freedom the books said we had; until we realize that black people were not given the freedom that even the poorest of white people enjoyed; until we care enough to observe and befriend people of color and really listen to their life struggles, none of us can comprehend what freedom actually stands for here, or anywhere else.
I was very fortunate. Besides growing up in a poorer section of town, I grew up in East Cleveland. It was at the time black people were moving into the city. It was the time my father and I attended a parish meeting about this very subject. The young associate pastor stood in front of a packed gymnasium and encouraged those gathered to spread the word that our property values would be plummeting if we didn’t pool our money to buy up the houses that were for sale. It was our duty as faithful Catholics to do everything we could to keep the church financially solvent.
My father stood up among the crowd and told them all that this idea was not Christian. He reprimanded the young priest for being so blind as to not see or believe that the dignity of people came before the worth of a building. He told them all that no matter the color of one’s skin, we are all God’s children, and God’s love was bestowed equally upon everyone. He told the young priest he had a lot to learn.
Yes, I was very fortunate that I was present when all this took place. When we left the gymnasium, the nun at the door pulled me aside and told me that no matter what happens, I should always be proud of my Dad and she would pray that I developed the courage to follow in his footsteps.
The sad part of this story is that East Cleveland experienced white flight in a very dramatic way. Decades later, it still tries to lift its head above government take overs, fraud, and drug trafficking. And that grand big church that people said would never fold, is now a forgotten statistic. The white people didn’t stay, they fled. They failed to live in and among the people of God.
Is it really independence that we celebrate, or is this day actually an invitation to live interdependently with others?
For the freedom of the one is the freedom of the all, and the pain of the one is the pain of the all. The breath of the one is the breath of the all, and the breath of the all is the breath of God. (Melanie Bacon)
I dare say, we, as a country and as Catholic Christians, have a long road ahead of us in grasping the true meaning of freedom, and the intersectionality of our existence among all God’s creatures. The burden is heavy, and the yoke must be shared.
May God bless us in our struggles as we strive to be the America we have yet to become!
Please share your thoughts…
Homily/Reflection – 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2020
June 28th , 2020
While I was meditating on the scripture readings for today, I thought of many threads that could be woven into a homily. We are all familiar with them:
Hospitality comes to mind from our first reading on the prophet Elisha’s encounter with a hospitable woman. Tenacity is a trait that she displayed in her desire for a child. Self-sacrifice comes to the fore in our second reading and gospel. Worthiness could fit in with Jesus’ words about overshadowing our prophetic calling by placing more importance on our family members than on spreading his message. All of these topics are contained in umpteen volumes of text, and all are necessary qualities for discipleship.
As I reflected further, I realized that the day I spent in this exercise may well be over—with no homily being written. Does that mean I wasted the day, or that I didn’t accomplish anything of worth? Not necessarily. The time and intention invested certainly required that I place faith in the Spirit’s promptings, and my focus was on all of you, as I attempted to find the words to inspire or guide you on your journey as Jesus’ disciples. For it is the intention and process that determines the worth.
Each day we live is an opportunity to actively engage with God and the community in which we find ourselves. Are we ready for this? Are we listening to what is being asked of us?
Jesus commissioned a community to go out and engage the world, spreading his message of love and justice. He didn’t commission one individual. The fact that we may come from a family community, a faith community, a work community, or a community of friends, only increases our ability to express the love needed for our mission. From the strength and vibrancy of these connections, we are better able to give of ourselves to the world. These sources of love uniquely fuel our mission of love. Is our commitment to spread the Word equal to the task before us?
We will find that answer as we listen, experience and respond to the Spirit’s movement within. We will continue to discover the scope of that answer as we engage with the world, no matter if that world is as local as our household community, or as universal as far away nations and galaxies. No matter how dramatic or simple this calling appears, we are all commissioned to be Bearers of the Light. The depth of our commitment will determine not only the quality of our Light, but the breadth of our Love.
Who are some of the people in your life who have been Bearers of Light for you?
June 28th , 2020
While I was meditating on the scripture readings for today, I thought of many threads that could be woven into a homily. We are all familiar with them:
Hospitality comes to mind from our first reading on the prophet Elisha’s encounter with a hospitable woman. Tenacity is a trait that she displayed in her desire for a child. Self-sacrifice comes to the fore in our second reading and gospel. Worthiness could fit in with Jesus’ words about overshadowing our prophetic calling by placing more importance on our family members than on spreading his message. All of these topics are contained in umpteen volumes of text, and all are necessary qualities for discipleship.
As I reflected further, I realized that the day I spent in this exercise may well be over—with no homily being written. Does that mean I wasted the day, or that I didn’t accomplish anything of worth? Not necessarily. The time and intention invested certainly required that I place faith in the Spirit’s promptings, and my focus was on all of you, as I attempted to find the words to inspire or guide you on your journey as Jesus’ disciples. For it is the intention and process that determines the worth.
Each day we live is an opportunity to actively engage with God and the community in which we find ourselves. Are we ready for this? Are we listening to what is being asked of us?
Jesus commissioned a community to go out and engage the world, spreading his message of love and justice. He didn’t commission one individual. The fact that we may come from a family community, a faith community, a work community, or a community of friends, only increases our ability to express the love needed for our mission. From the strength and vibrancy of these connections, we are better able to give of ourselves to the world. These sources of love uniquely fuel our mission of love. Is our commitment to spread the Word equal to the task before us?
We will find that answer as we listen, experience and respond to the Spirit’s movement within. We will continue to discover the scope of that answer as we engage with the world, no matter if that world is as local as our household community, or as universal as far away nations and galaxies. No matter how dramatic or simple this calling appears, we are all commissioned to be Bearers of the Light. The depth of our commitment will determine not only the quality of our Light, but the breadth of our Love.
Who are some of the people in your life who have been Bearers of Light for you?
Homily/Reflection – Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
June 21, 2020
Now that the formal feast days are out of the way for a while, we enter into ordinary time once again. But the days we are living in seem far from ordinary. I believe living through a killer pandemic, in the midst of an autocratic government, and protesting the evil of racism and unjust killings of our black brothers and sisters to be quite out of the ordinary. And yet our history as the People of God unveils all sorts of oppression and disruption. Indeed, we have walked this path before, many times over!
We do well to be mindful that God journeys with us as he did with Jeremiah.
The popular hymn, You Are Mine, by David Haas, sends this message loud and clear: I will lift you from all your fear… know I am here….I am your hope… in the shadows of the night, I am your light, your strength, your healer… I give sight to the blind, the lame will run free, my Word will lead you to freedom, and bring you peace this world cannot give. I will embrace all your pain.
Nothing is concealed or hidden from God. As we live through our problems and challenges, and find the strength of soul to speak truth to power, we will not be destroyed. Our integrity will sustain us. For our souls resurrect in dark times. Our spirits rise up with conviction as we grow in strength and purpose, and clearly focus our vision.
Of course, there is a cost for living and doing what is right. This is often referred to as the consequence of truthful living. My grandmother’s simple expression for this reality was born by experience. She said: “No good deed goes unpunished!” That certainly sent fear running through my young veins! I figured, your damned if you do, and your damned if you don’t—we’re all in trouble!
True as this may seem, there are other, more positive characteristics of truthful living: not being willing to compromise our integrity, forgiving others so that we, too, can be forgiven, appreciating and finding pleasure in the beauty of nature and the arts, gifting others with our love, realizing our innate holiness of being, boldly standing up for our sisters and brothers who suffer oppression caused by systemic poverty, racism and sexism. Accepting that we have been in some ways complicit in the moral downward spiral all around us, we are called to reform our church and society’s pattern of inequality and injustice.
If we can be truthful to ourselves, accepting our failings as well as our successes as part and parcel of what it means to be human, we will unleash the power within us that Paul describes in his second letter to the Corinthians:
“And God said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’”
Being aware and owning our own shortcomings and shortsightedness, is the beginning of our rise to holy living.
What do you find extraordinary in this Ordinary Time?
June 21, 2020
Now that the formal feast days are out of the way for a while, we enter into ordinary time once again. But the days we are living in seem far from ordinary. I believe living through a killer pandemic, in the midst of an autocratic government, and protesting the evil of racism and unjust killings of our black brothers and sisters to be quite out of the ordinary. And yet our history as the People of God unveils all sorts of oppression and disruption. Indeed, we have walked this path before, many times over!
We do well to be mindful that God journeys with us as he did with Jeremiah.
The popular hymn, You Are Mine, by David Haas, sends this message loud and clear: I will lift you from all your fear… know I am here….I am your hope… in the shadows of the night, I am your light, your strength, your healer… I give sight to the blind, the lame will run free, my Word will lead you to freedom, and bring you peace this world cannot give. I will embrace all your pain.
Nothing is concealed or hidden from God. As we live through our problems and challenges, and find the strength of soul to speak truth to power, we will not be destroyed. Our integrity will sustain us. For our souls resurrect in dark times. Our spirits rise up with conviction as we grow in strength and purpose, and clearly focus our vision.
Of course, there is a cost for living and doing what is right. This is often referred to as the consequence of truthful living. My grandmother’s simple expression for this reality was born by experience. She said: “No good deed goes unpunished!” That certainly sent fear running through my young veins! I figured, your damned if you do, and your damned if you don’t—we’re all in trouble!
True as this may seem, there are other, more positive characteristics of truthful living: not being willing to compromise our integrity, forgiving others so that we, too, can be forgiven, appreciating and finding pleasure in the beauty of nature and the arts, gifting others with our love, realizing our innate holiness of being, boldly standing up for our sisters and brothers who suffer oppression caused by systemic poverty, racism and sexism. Accepting that we have been in some ways complicit in the moral downward spiral all around us, we are called to reform our church and society’s pattern of inequality and injustice.
If we can be truthful to ourselves, accepting our failings as well as our successes as part and parcel of what it means to be human, we will unleash the power within us that Paul describes in his second letter to the Corinthians:
“And God said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’”
Being aware and owning our own shortcomings and shortsightedness, is the beginning of our rise to holy living.
What do you find extraordinary in this Ordinary Time?
Homily/Reflection Corpus Christi 2020
June 14, 2020
Last week when we celebrated Trinity Sunday, I expressed the idea that God’s loving relationship with us is the mother’s milk for all that exists.
This week, as we celebrate the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, I encourage you to consider that God wants to nourish us as intimately as a mother nourishes her unborn child.
And nourish us, Jesus does, by offering the chance for us to participate wholly and totally in sharing his body and blood with one another. By offering his life with us in this way, he is expressing the totality of his life given for us. As a mother sheds blood and puts her child to her breast to feed the life born from her body, so Jesus sheds blood and nourishes us by laying down his very life for the life of the world. Like a mother, his words, his actions, his heart, his body is given for all to grow and become who we are called to be.
We are reminded of what this communion means by recalling the words of St. Augustine: “Receive what you are and be what you receive.”
We become what we eat and drink. Are we aware of what this implies? Partaking in the body and blood of Jesus by breaking bread and drinking of the cup together, we are called to be Christ for our world. We are to live as he did. We are to set captives free, tend to the poor, cure the sick, feed the hungry, bury the dead, forgive those who have harmed us, be a light for the world-- offering hope, love and belief that God is with us and relates to us in very intimate ways. There is no more visually authentic comparison of this reality than a mother offering her body and blood to nourish her child. And through partaking of Jesus’ action and blessing, we, in turn, are called to nourish one another.
Our calling to nourish and bring light to the world cannot happen without intimately involving ourselves in the process. With the challenges we face as individuals, as communities, as a country, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reminds us that “The arc of the universe bends toward justice.” And while this is so very true, it totally depends upon our active participation in bringing this justice home.
What new life is being birthed in our world today? How are we called to nourish this life?
June 14, 2020
Last week when we celebrated Trinity Sunday, I expressed the idea that God’s loving relationship with us is the mother’s milk for all that exists.
This week, as we celebrate the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, I encourage you to consider that God wants to nourish us as intimately as a mother nourishes her unborn child.
And nourish us, Jesus does, by offering the chance for us to participate wholly and totally in sharing his body and blood with one another. By offering his life with us in this way, he is expressing the totality of his life given for us. As a mother sheds blood and puts her child to her breast to feed the life born from her body, so Jesus sheds blood and nourishes us by laying down his very life for the life of the world. Like a mother, his words, his actions, his heart, his body is given for all to grow and become who we are called to be.
We are reminded of what this communion means by recalling the words of St. Augustine: “Receive what you are and be what you receive.”
We become what we eat and drink. Are we aware of what this implies? Partaking in the body and blood of Jesus by breaking bread and drinking of the cup together, we are called to be Christ for our world. We are to live as he did. We are to set captives free, tend to the poor, cure the sick, feed the hungry, bury the dead, forgive those who have harmed us, be a light for the world-- offering hope, love and belief that God is with us and relates to us in very intimate ways. There is no more visually authentic comparison of this reality than a mother offering her body and blood to nourish her child. And through partaking of Jesus’ action and blessing, we, in turn, are called to nourish one another.
Our calling to nourish and bring light to the world cannot happen without intimately involving ourselves in the process. With the challenges we face as individuals, as communities, as a country, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reminds us that “The arc of the universe bends toward justice.” And while this is so very true, it totally depends upon our active participation in bringing this justice home.
What new life is being birthed in our world today? How are we called to nourish this life?
Homily/Reflection – Trinity Sunday
June 7th, 2020
Core to our faith tradition, and our growing awareness of the abundant ways God interacts with creation, we recognize that in all ways God is relational. No one aspect of creation can thrive without a respectful, life-giving and loving relationship with the created all. For God’s love is the mother’s milk for all that exists.
This is really the basis for the Trinitarian concept--the interplay between the Source of Love, humankind through the person of Jesus, and the ever-present Spirit. We are invited into this holy interaction with Love itself that in turn, generates and multiplies the Love freely given. This Love overflows as grace on the universe. In this context, grace continues the flow of the Trinitarian relationship through and beyond all time.
The Creator fully incarnates a holy bond with humankind through Jesus. This Son of Man’s higher conscious awareness of God demonstrates this love for others through his ministry and teaching. He believes in and declares that through the power of the Spirit, his followers will perform acts of love and forgiveness that are far greater than he was able to achieve. As he faces his departure from earth, he holds claim to the Spirit who will replace his physical presence with the eternal grace of spiritual presence—a sharing in the presence of the Christ, the Anointed One, who has always been and will continue to be present from the beginning of creation for all time. Clearly, all of creation is anointed in this sacred act of becoming!
Notice that all the descriptions of God contain verbs. There is no static God. Even being present to God through meditation is movement—resting, embracing, pondering…. And verbs are relational. Because God continually creates through us, Jesus continues to act through us, and the Spirit continues to flow and fill us with light we, too, must let that Love in action overflow on our world. To remain complacent has no place in this dynamic movement of Love. For the inaction of the privileged remains the single greatest barrier to ensuring a dignity of life for those who suffer the injustices of society.
How, then, do we grow in our understanding of the present dilemma of violence and hate demonstrated on our streets and in our cities? Enter the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, whose main purpose was to forego violence and increase love.
Martin Luther King, Jr., through his clear-sighted words, has captured this concept when he stated:
“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
When we are able to focus on love, a very clear choice becomes apparent: We denounce the violence toward humankind and all of creation by allowing the Fire of Love to ignite within us and sustain us through our acts and attitude, or, we forego that love and continue to perpetuate the violence that spirals downward toward our demise. An example of denouncing violence can be found in people who are leading peaceful demonstrations against racism throughout the world.
We do know that the forms of violence apparent in the world today are way too numerous to name. But as human beings made in the image and likeness of God and gifted with the varied forms of God’s creation, we know that whatever diminishes that likeness, whatever word, action or intent that seeks to deface the inherent worth of a human being or splendor of the universe, is a form of violence against our Creator, our brother Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. If we break the loving relationship through which God is present to us, we will experience a failure to thrive. Only Love can withstand this destruction. We are the heirs of Love. The call to Love is a call to stop the violence. In the words of Rev. Otis Moss III: Where are you? What will you do—not someday, but now?
As Jesus’ disciples, how are we called to be that light that pierces the darkness? How can we ignite the power of Love to dispel the violence?
June 7th, 2020
Core to our faith tradition, and our growing awareness of the abundant ways God interacts with creation, we recognize that in all ways God is relational. No one aspect of creation can thrive without a respectful, life-giving and loving relationship with the created all. For God’s love is the mother’s milk for all that exists.
This is really the basis for the Trinitarian concept--the interplay between the Source of Love, humankind through the person of Jesus, and the ever-present Spirit. We are invited into this holy interaction with Love itself that in turn, generates and multiplies the Love freely given. This Love overflows as grace on the universe. In this context, grace continues the flow of the Trinitarian relationship through and beyond all time.
The Creator fully incarnates a holy bond with humankind through Jesus. This Son of Man’s higher conscious awareness of God demonstrates this love for others through his ministry and teaching. He believes in and declares that through the power of the Spirit, his followers will perform acts of love and forgiveness that are far greater than he was able to achieve. As he faces his departure from earth, he holds claim to the Spirit who will replace his physical presence with the eternal grace of spiritual presence—a sharing in the presence of the Christ, the Anointed One, who has always been and will continue to be present from the beginning of creation for all time. Clearly, all of creation is anointed in this sacred act of becoming!
Notice that all the descriptions of God contain verbs. There is no static God. Even being present to God through meditation is movement—resting, embracing, pondering…. And verbs are relational. Because God continually creates through us, Jesus continues to act through us, and the Spirit continues to flow and fill us with light we, too, must let that Love in action overflow on our world. To remain complacent has no place in this dynamic movement of Love. For the inaction of the privileged remains the single greatest barrier to ensuring a dignity of life for those who suffer the injustices of society.
How, then, do we grow in our understanding of the present dilemma of violence and hate demonstrated on our streets and in our cities? Enter the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, whose main purpose was to forego violence and increase love.
Martin Luther King, Jr., through his clear-sighted words, has captured this concept when he stated:
“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
When we are able to focus on love, a very clear choice becomes apparent: We denounce the violence toward humankind and all of creation by allowing the Fire of Love to ignite within us and sustain us through our acts and attitude, or, we forego that love and continue to perpetuate the violence that spirals downward toward our demise. An example of denouncing violence can be found in people who are leading peaceful demonstrations against racism throughout the world.
We do know that the forms of violence apparent in the world today are way too numerous to name. But as human beings made in the image and likeness of God and gifted with the varied forms of God’s creation, we know that whatever diminishes that likeness, whatever word, action or intent that seeks to deface the inherent worth of a human being or splendor of the universe, is a form of violence against our Creator, our brother Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. If we break the loving relationship through which God is present to us, we will experience a failure to thrive. Only Love can withstand this destruction. We are the heirs of Love. The call to Love is a call to stop the violence. In the words of Rev. Otis Moss III: Where are you? What will you do—not someday, but now?
As Jesus’ disciples, how are we called to be that light that pierces the darkness? How can we ignite the power of Love to dispel the violence?
Homily/Reflection – Pentecost 2020
Situating the Pentecost event in current geography, we do well to consider that Pentecost was witnessed by the ancestors of people in several nations with which the US has had tension or open conflict in the past decade.
The map of nations in Acts 2 as compared to a current world map, uncovers the locations “beyond Judea” (and Judea itself) that are today’s Israel and Palestine. Mesopotamia is Iraq. In “Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene,” militant groups that are offshoots of ones the US has battled, continue to operate. “Parthians, Medes, and Elamites” would now be Iranians.
(Sojourners, Living the Word, May 2020)
The tongues of fire present in the Pentecost story are symbolic of the many languages the apostles needed to speak in order to spread the gospel message—enabling them to be understood by a variety of communities.
Leaving the symbolism of tongues of fire and languages aside, as contemporary witnesses to the Gospel, we have been sent out to enable our sisters and brothers across the globe to embrace the Way of Jesus by exploring a variety of avenues to witness, preach and live together as a world community. Some of those avenues include political dialogue, outreach, and being open to living alongside people of different colors, of different cultures, of different economic realities and of different faith traditions. Yet we find ourselves very inadequate in these areas. There is something that is key to freeing us to be the disciples we are called to become.
In John’s Gospel today, we are asked to forgive others. We are asked to release another person’s transgression against us, thus freeing ourselves from its binding clutches. Through the Holy Spirit we have been given the power to offer forgiveness. With that power comes new opportunities to live the life we were born to live—to love others as we are loved by our Creator. If we aren’t willing to forgive, we keep ourselves from living and loving with compassionate hearts.
Indeed, the only language we need to ensure that others understand our Gospel message is the language of Love.
What are some of the ways we might follow to make the Gospel understood and inspirational in our diverse 21st century world?
Situating the Pentecost event in current geography, we do well to consider that Pentecost was witnessed by the ancestors of people in several nations with which the US has had tension or open conflict in the past decade.
The map of nations in Acts 2 as compared to a current world map, uncovers the locations “beyond Judea” (and Judea itself) that are today’s Israel and Palestine. Mesopotamia is Iraq. In “Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene,” militant groups that are offshoots of ones the US has battled, continue to operate. “Parthians, Medes, and Elamites” would now be Iranians.
(Sojourners, Living the Word, May 2020)
The tongues of fire present in the Pentecost story are symbolic of the many languages the apostles needed to speak in order to spread the gospel message—enabling them to be understood by a variety of communities.
Leaving the symbolism of tongues of fire and languages aside, as contemporary witnesses to the Gospel, we have been sent out to enable our sisters and brothers across the globe to embrace the Way of Jesus by exploring a variety of avenues to witness, preach and live together as a world community. Some of those avenues include political dialogue, outreach, and being open to living alongside people of different colors, of different cultures, of different economic realities and of different faith traditions. Yet we find ourselves very inadequate in these areas. There is something that is key to freeing us to be the disciples we are called to become.
In John’s Gospel today, we are asked to forgive others. We are asked to release another person’s transgression against us, thus freeing ourselves from its binding clutches. Through the Holy Spirit we have been given the power to offer forgiveness. With that power comes new opportunities to live the life we were born to live—to love others as we are loved by our Creator. If we aren’t willing to forgive, we keep ourselves from living and loving with compassionate hearts.
Indeed, the only language we need to ensure that others understand our Gospel message is the language of Love.
What are some of the ways we might follow to make the Gospel understood and inspirational in our diverse 21st century world?
Homily/Reflection – Feast of the Ascension
May 24, 2020
There is a palpable uncertainty that the disciples of Jesus faced during the post-resurrection period. They were given assurances by Jesus that although he would leave them physically, he would provide his Spirit to dwell with them forever, to give them the strength they needed to further his mission on Earth. But that assurance just didn’t seem enough to quell their anxiety.
Interesting enough, in Chapter 27 of Matthew’s Gospel, he included the Galilean women who followed and ministered in the name of Jesus, and depicted the women as apostles who are commissioned. Yet in Chapter 28, he excludes them from the commission to preach to all the nations. We notice that the tensions regarding women’s witness are surfacing already…
Another anxiety was the idea that the apostles’ mission was now meant to include all nations, not just the house of Israel. Among the many issues, yet one of the first questions, concerned how law-observant Jewish Christians would be able to eat with Gentiles.
This scripture scenario presented to us today—examples of the real-life tension and turmoil in post resurrection times—is not unlike the uncertainty that surrounds us during this pandemic and the post-pandemic times that lie ahead.
Sr. Frances Hays in the Global Sisters Report reminds us:
We are in this together. It will end. In one sense, maybe we are still in Easter Saturday mode, waiting for the new day to dawn when we can again go out, unite with our loved ones and live as before. But it will not be as before. Everything may come back to normal — but it will be a different normal.
Henri Nouwen once wrote that “Being neither an optimist or a pessimist, Jesus speaks about hope that is not based on chances that things will get better or worse. His hope is built upon the promise that whatever happens, God will stay with us at all times, in all places.”
For the most part, we are no longer sitting with the ones we love, or shopping, or dining out. But we are gathering for Eucharist in a way that is available to us—in the best way we know how. Our Eucharistic experience today reminds us that the presence of Jesus is truly our lasting hope. He is present in our gathering, in the breaking of the bread, in the Spirit emanating from our prayer and song.
Our opening song today provides us all the invitation we need: “Let us start the ascension, let’s begin the climb… Nothing can hold us back!”
Throughout this pandemic experience, thousands have died and thousands of thousands have been changed in so many ways. How have you changed? In what way has this experience helped you to grow?
May 24, 2020
There is a palpable uncertainty that the disciples of Jesus faced during the post-resurrection period. They were given assurances by Jesus that although he would leave them physically, he would provide his Spirit to dwell with them forever, to give them the strength they needed to further his mission on Earth. But that assurance just didn’t seem enough to quell their anxiety.
Interesting enough, in Chapter 27 of Matthew’s Gospel, he included the Galilean women who followed and ministered in the name of Jesus, and depicted the women as apostles who are commissioned. Yet in Chapter 28, he excludes them from the commission to preach to all the nations. We notice that the tensions regarding women’s witness are surfacing already…
Another anxiety was the idea that the apostles’ mission was now meant to include all nations, not just the house of Israel. Among the many issues, yet one of the first questions, concerned how law-observant Jewish Christians would be able to eat with Gentiles.
This scripture scenario presented to us today—examples of the real-life tension and turmoil in post resurrection times—is not unlike the uncertainty that surrounds us during this pandemic and the post-pandemic times that lie ahead.
Sr. Frances Hays in the Global Sisters Report reminds us:
We are in this together. It will end. In one sense, maybe we are still in Easter Saturday mode, waiting for the new day to dawn when we can again go out, unite with our loved ones and live as before. But it will not be as before. Everything may come back to normal — but it will be a different normal.
Henri Nouwen once wrote that “Being neither an optimist or a pessimist, Jesus speaks about hope that is not based on chances that things will get better or worse. His hope is built upon the promise that whatever happens, God will stay with us at all times, in all places.”
For the most part, we are no longer sitting with the ones we love, or shopping, or dining out. But we are gathering for Eucharist in a way that is available to us—in the best way we know how. Our Eucharistic experience today reminds us that the presence of Jesus is truly our lasting hope. He is present in our gathering, in the breaking of the bread, in the Spirit emanating from our prayer and song.
Our opening song today provides us all the invitation we need: “Let us start the ascension, let’s begin the climb… Nothing can hold us back!”
Throughout this pandemic experience, thousands have died and thousands of thousands have been changed in so many ways. How have you changed? In what way has this experience helped you to grow?
Homily/Reflection Sixth Sunday in Easter
May 17th, 2020
Sometimes we complicate things. Sometimes we over-think our situation, we try to psycho-analyze ourselves or others. Sometimes we make life far more complex than it really is.
Far too often it is heard how concerned parents and grandparents are about their children or grandchildren who don’t have “the faith.” Their feeling of sadness and frustration is palpable—they hold it so close within… Some even think they are to blame, thinking they missed teaching or showing by example what faith is, what it looks like—even what faith demands. Others blame the toxic environment, the world itself, that interferes with nurturing such a faith—that even if they were showing the signs and practices of faith, the world’s narcissistic ways overshadow all their efforts. Most end the lament with “I must pray harder!” Yet, all that is expected of anyone is that we love.
In John’s Gospel today, we are asked to follow the commandment of love for God and for one another. If we believe this, if we have faith in this, if we live our lives according to the law of love, our demeanor and our actions will reveal the Spirit within and working through each and everyone. Realizing that God’s time is not necessarily human time, we are challenged to sow the seeds of love believing that the seeds will eventually grow and mature into a life of love. The Spirit of Jesus, dwelling within each person, does the rest.
Will our children and grandchildren, our friends, our students, our co-workers and neighbors come to believe? Only if we continue to live our lives in love, extending that love to all of them. The power to enkindle love in another is ours. Because it is that love experience that ignites the Spirit within our hearts. Once that Spirit is released, the face of the Earth will be renewed!
To base our faith on anything more or less than the Commandment of Love, is to sidetrack and complicate everything!
How are you being asked to love?
May 17th, 2020
Sometimes we complicate things. Sometimes we over-think our situation, we try to psycho-analyze ourselves or others. Sometimes we make life far more complex than it really is.
Far too often it is heard how concerned parents and grandparents are about their children or grandchildren who don’t have “the faith.” Their feeling of sadness and frustration is palpable—they hold it so close within… Some even think they are to blame, thinking they missed teaching or showing by example what faith is, what it looks like—even what faith demands. Others blame the toxic environment, the world itself, that interferes with nurturing such a faith—that even if they were showing the signs and practices of faith, the world’s narcissistic ways overshadow all their efforts. Most end the lament with “I must pray harder!” Yet, all that is expected of anyone is that we love.
In John’s Gospel today, we are asked to follow the commandment of love for God and for one another. If we believe this, if we have faith in this, if we live our lives according to the law of love, our demeanor and our actions will reveal the Spirit within and working through each and everyone. Realizing that God’s time is not necessarily human time, we are challenged to sow the seeds of love believing that the seeds will eventually grow and mature into a life of love. The Spirit of Jesus, dwelling within each person, does the rest.
Will our children and grandchildren, our friends, our students, our co-workers and neighbors come to believe? Only if we continue to live our lives in love, extending that love to all of them. The power to enkindle love in another is ours. Because it is that love experience that ignites the Spirit within our hearts. Once that Spirit is released, the face of the Earth will be renewed!
To base our faith on anything more or less than the Commandment of Love, is to sidetrack and complicate everything!
How are you being asked to love?
Homily/Reflection Fifth Sunday of Easter
May 10th, 2020
On this Mother’s Day, we take time to thank all women who have been in relationship with a child, adolescent, young adult, or person in need of gentle care; who took the time to nurture and mentor us so that we could grow to be all we were meant to be; that their love for you and me created an atmosphere of love so that we could blossom.
Keeping in mind that we all were born of a mother, whether that was our birth mother or the mother who loved us into becoming the person we are today, I offer you this reflection by John O’Donohue (adapted):
Mother,
Your voice learning to soothe your child was the first home-sound we heard before we could see.
Your eyes gazing on us was the first mirror where we glimpsed what to be seen could mean.
Mother,
Your nearness tilled the air, an umbilical garden for all the seeds of thought that stirred in our hearts.
You nurtured and fostered the space between us to root all our quietly gathering intensity that could grow nowhere else.
Mother,
Formed from the depths beneath your heart, you know us from the inside out. No deeds or seas or others could ever erase that.
****************************************************************************************
In John’s Gospel today, Jesus tells us that he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He also tells us that if we have faith and do the works he does, we will do even greater works besides. Today, let us consider the mothers of the world, who continue to do greater works than Jesus could ever have humanly imagined!
I include a YouTube performance called, Prayer of the Mothers by Yael Deckelbaum.
The song is sung in languages of the Middle East with subtitles. There is a chant at the end sung in English. I provide the words in English for you to reflect on the message of mothers from Israel and Palestine:
Prayer of the Mothers – Yael Deckelbaum
A whisper of ocean wind
is blowing from far away
and laundry is flapping
to the shadow of the wall
Between the sky and the land
there are people who want to live in peace
Don’t give up, keep dreaming
of peace and prosperity
When will the walls of fear melt?
When will I return from exile?
And my gates will open
to what is truly good
Come on Sleep! Come on Sleep!
We will slaughter a pigeon for you
Fly pigeon, don’t believe
We will laugh with the child
so that he may sleep
Another sunrise
and morning is here
A mother sends
along with a prayer
her child to school
to the sound of war
The walls of fear will someday melt
and I will return from exile
My gates shall open
to what is truly good
Chant: from the north to the south
from the west to the east
hear the prayer of the mothers
bring them peace - bring them peace.
Light is rising from the east
to the prayer of the mothers for peace
May 10th, 2020
On this Mother’s Day, we take time to thank all women who have been in relationship with a child, adolescent, young adult, or person in need of gentle care; who took the time to nurture and mentor us so that we could grow to be all we were meant to be; that their love for you and me created an atmosphere of love so that we could blossom.
Keeping in mind that we all were born of a mother, whether that was our birth mother or the mother who loved us into becoming the person we are today, I offer you this reflection by John O’Donohue (adapted):
Mother,
Your voice learning to soothe your child was the first home-sound we heard before we could see.
Your eyes gazing on us was the first mirror where we glimpsed what to be seen could mean.
Mother,
Your nearness tilled the air, an umbilical garden for all the seeds of thought that stirred in our hearts.
You nurtured and fostered the space between us to root all our quietly gathering intensity that could grow nowhere else.
Mother,
Formed from the depths beneath your heart, you know us from the inside out. No deeds or seas or others could ever erase that.
****************************************************************************************
In John’s Gospel today, Jesus tells us that he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He also tells us that if we have faith and do the works he does, we will do even greater works besides. Today, let us consider the mothers of the world, who continue to do greater works than Jesus could ever have humanly imagined!
I include a YouTube performance called, Prayer of the Mothers by Yael Deckelbaum.
The song is sung in languages of the Middle East with subtitles. There is a chant at the end sung in English. I provide the words in English for you to reflect on the message of mothers from Israel and Palestine:
Prayer of the Mothers – Yael Deckelbaum
A whisper of ocean wind
is blowing from far away
and laundry is flapping
to the shadow of the wall
Between the sky and the land
there are people who want to live in peace
Don’t give up, keep dreaming
of peace and prosperity
When will the walls of fear melt?
When will I return from exile?
And my gates will open
to what is truly good
Come on Sleep! Come on Sleep!
We will slaughter a pigeon for you
Fly pigeon, don’t believe
We will laugh with the child
so that he may sleep
Another sunrise
and morning is here
A mother sends
along with a prayer
her child to school
to the sound of war
The walls of fear will someday melt
and I will return from exile
My gates shall open
to what is truly good
Chant: from the north to the south
from the west to the east
hear the prayer of the mothers
bring them peace - bring them peace.
Light is rising from the east
to the prayer of the mothers for peace
Fourth Sunday of Easter
May 3, 2020
Traditionally, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is referred to as “Good Shepherd Sunday” after the gospel story and psalm assigned as our scripture readings. Jesus is described as the gate keeper for the sheep. He alone will keep them safe; with him, they will find rich pasture for nourishment and good living. And of course, we are cast as the “sheep” in this story.
A widely held (false) understanding of sheep is that the animal is dumb and stupid. Without a good shepherd, they would wander off and probably starve to death. Yet, truth be told, sheep are meek animals. They are usually very quiet and gentle, holding themselves aloof from the world. In a herd, all the sheep tend to listen to their leaders and show esteem to them. Because of their obedient character, sheep are among the most popular of animals beloved by humankind. If we were only that docile! It appears that John’s Gospel may have used this analogy to explain Jesus more than we humans.
This past week we honored St. Catherine of Sienna. As stated, she was named a Doctor of the Church, duly honored for “making a significant contribution to theology or doctrine through her research, study, or writing.”
Yet Catherine’s life was far richer than that description. She was a woman who lived in the culture of her time. She was expected to marry or become a cloistered nun. She rejected both. Instead, she chose to become a member of the Third Order of Saint Dominic— an order of people living a Christian life by embracing Dominican spirituality in the secular world. They took no vows and lived in their own homes. All the traditional demands for the seclusion of married women and the total separation of women and men seemed to be totally ignored by Catherine and her tight-knit group of friends. Loyal to the Dominican motto “veritas”—meaning “truth,” Catherine’s primary goal was to reform the church.
Catherine lived in the 14th century during the Black Plague that killed almost two thirds of the population of Europe. Whole convents and monasteries were wiped out, dioceses destroyed and few members left in churches. The Church itself was plagued with unsuitable ministers who, according to Catherine, were destroying the Church with their corruption. She began a letter writing campaign that influenced the return of Pope Gregory XI from Avignon to Rome after berating him for not choosing the right cardinals, and expressed her shock that Gregory did not condemn the bloody massacre at Cesena. Catherine also directed her wrath on Pope Urban VI, Gregory's successor, an evil reformer who indiscriminately went into rages of temper. Catherine inspired, taught and corrected popes and princes, and called thousands to conversion.
Not an educated woman by any standard, Catherine’s writings reveal her belief that “the home of self-knowledge was opened for us at Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit took up residence among us.” Her whole life she rushed ahead to defend God’s honor, as she believed she was being led to do. Church and society never stopped her restless pursuit of truth, and it was this pursuit that qualified her as a Doctor of the Church.
I present to you, Catherine of Siena, a true Good Shepherd, not only to the people of the 14th century, but a Shepherd for us today. There are many similarities between her time and ours. I dare say, not much different in church or society!
On this day, the Church also celebrates vocations and prays for more of them. As in Catherine’s day, we need look no further than the dedicated reformers among us. Like Catherine, we must be the bridge between humanity and divinity. St. Catherine of Siena, pray with us as we answer our call to be Christ for our times!
May 3, 2020
Traditionally, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is referred to as “Good Shepherd Sunday” after the gospel story and psalm assigned as our scripture readings. Jesus is described as the gate keeper for the sheep. He alone will keep them safe; with him, they will find rich pasture for nourishment and good living. And of course, we are cast as the “sheep” in this story.
A widely held (false) understanding of sheep is that the animal is dumb and stupid. Without a good shepherd, they would wander off and probably starve to death. Yet, truth be told, sheep are meek animals. They are usually very quiet and gentle, holding themselves aloof from the world. In a herd, all the sheep tend to listen to their leaders and show esteem to them. Because of their obedient character, sheep are among the most popular of animals beloved by humankind. If we were only that docile! It appears that John’s Gospel may have used this analogy to explain Jesus more than we humans.
This past week we honored St. Catherine of Sienna. As stated, she was named a Doctor of the Church, duly honored for “making a significant contribution to theology or doctrine through her research, study, or writing.”
Yet Catherine’s life was far richer than that description. She was a woman who lived in the culture of her time. She was expected to marry or become a cloistered nun. She rejected both. Instead, she chose to become a member of the Third Order of Saint Dominic— an order of people living a Christian life by embracing Dominican spirituality in the secular world. They took no vows and lived in their own homes. All the traditional demands for the seclusion of married women and the total separation of women and men seemed to be totally ignored by Catherine and her tight-knit group of friends. Loyal to the Dominican motto “veritas”—meaning “truth,” Catherine’s primary goal was to reform the church.
Catherine lived in the 14th century during the Black Plague that killed almost two thirds of the population of Europe. Whole convents and monasteries were wiped out, dioceses destroyed and few members left in churches. The Church itself was plagued with unsuitable ministers who, according to Catherine, were destroying the Church with their corruption. She began a letter writing campaign that influenced the return of Pope Gregory XI from Avignon to Rome after berating him for not choosing the right cardinals, and expressed her shock that Gregory did not condemn the bloody massacre at Cesena. Catherine also directed her wrath on Pope Urban VI, Gregory's successor, an evil reformer who indiscriminately went into rages of temper. Catherine inspired, taught and corrected popes and princes, and called thousands to conversion.
Not an educated woman by any standard, Catherine’s writings reveal her belief that “the home of self-knowledge was opened for us at Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit took up residence among us.” Her whole life she rushed ahead to defend God’s honor, as she believed she was being led to do. Church and society never stopped her restless pursuit of truth, and it was this pursuit that qualified her as a Doctor of the Church.
I present to you, Catherine of Siena, a true Good Shepherd, not only to the people of the 14th century, but a Shepherd for us today. There are many similarities between her time and ours. I dare say, not much different in church or society!
On this day, the Church also celebrates vocations and prays for more of them. As in Catherine’s day, we need look no further than the dedicated reformers among us. Like Catherine, we must be the bridge between humanity and divinity. St. Catherine of Siena, pray with us as we answer our call to be Christ for our times!
As we follow The Way of Jesus, who do we recognize as the Good Shepherd in our lives?
Who among us can guide us and lead us through thick and thin, through joy and sorrow, through the hills and valleys of life?
Who among us can guide us and lead us through thick and thin, through joy and sorrow, through the hills and valleys of life?
Third Sunday in Easter
April 26, 2020
The French mathematician, Blaise Pascal once said:
"There are two kinds of people one can call reasonable: those who serve with all their heart because they know God, and those who seek with all their heart because they do not know God."
As Luke tells the story, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus knew what had happened to Jesus of Nazareth and were reviewing the recent events with one another. They expressed their hope that Jesus was the Messiah, but were puzzled because the events of Jesus’ last days did not fit their profile of a Messiah. Jesus died by crucifixion, somehow left the tomb he was buried in, and they were left in the dark as to the meaning of it all.
How often are we left in the dark about what is happening in our lives, in our world? Most people find themselves asking “Why? What’s the meaning in all this?”
While the two disciples were in the dark about the meaning of Jesus life and death, we, too, find ourselves in the dark about the full meaning of this pandemic and how it appears to be making long lasting changes in our lives.
Yet, it is in darkness that the seeds of resurrection sprout up. In the darkness of physical distancing and isolation so many of us are experiencing with this coronavirus, we notice clearer air, clearer water, more varieties of squirrels and birds showing up in our neighborhoods. People are reaching out to others to make sure they are safe and well-fed. Creative ideas are being implemented to support laid off workers and local businesses as they struggle to make ends meet. First responders are being honored for servicing their communities, regardless of the risk they take in contracting the virus themselves. Artists and musicians are producing new expressions of our reality. Certainly, the lyrics to a recent song written by Jon Bon Jovi about this pandemic makes it very clear: “When you can’t do what you do, do what you can!”
In the Emmaus story, the more these disciples conversed about the Jesus happenings, the more Jesus was able to add insight to their recollections. Gradually, the light pierced the darkness of their minds. Partaking in their ritual of breaking bread provided a new window for recognizing the true presence of God in their lives.
We, too, seek to know the face of God in our lives. When we can’t do what we normally do, we seek to find new ways of relating to one another. By identifying what is available to us, we are able to repurpose our energies while forming new patterns of living. Although death and sickness are upon us, the light continues to shine brighter, dispelling the darkness. Breaking bread together takes on a whole new meaning. We break bread and share it with those in need. The face of God is coming into clearer focus now—we are able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary! New growth is occurring in the darkness through the seeds of resurrection we are planting. May it always be so!
How are we doing on this road we are travelling? Do we “know” God, or are we “seeking” God? Is it “reasonably” possible we can do both?
April 26, 2020
The French mathematician, Blaise Pascal once said:
"There are two kinds of people one can call reasonable: those who serve with all their heart because they know God, and those who seek with all their heart because they do not know God."
As Luke tells the story, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus knew what had happened to Jesus of Nazareth and were reviewing the recent events with one another. They expressed their hope that Jesus was the Messiah, but were puzzled because the events of Jesus’ last days did not fit their profile of a Messiah. Jesus died by crucifixion, somehow left the tomb he was buried in, and they were left in the dark as to the meaning of it all.
How often are we left in the dark about what is happening in our lives, in our world? Most people find themselves asking “Why? What’s the meaning in all this?”
While the two disciples were in the dark about the meaning of Jesus life and death, we, too, find ourselves in the dark about the full meaning of this pandemic and how it appears to be making long lasting changes in our lives.
Yet, it is in darkness that the seeds of resurrection sprout up. In the darkness of physical distancing and isolation so many of us are experiencing with this coronavirus, we notice clearer air, clearer water, more varieties of squirrels and birds showing up in our neighborhoods. People are reaching out to others to make sure they are safe and well-fed. Creative ideas are being implemented to support laid off workers and local businesses as they struggle to make ends meet. First responders are being honored for servicing their communities, regardless of the risk they take in contracting the virus themselves. Artists and musicians are producing new expressions of our reality. Certainly, the lyrics to a recent song written by Jon Bon Jovi about this pandemic makes it very clear: “When you can’t do what you do, do what you can!”
In the Emmaus story, the more these disciples conversed about the Jesus happenings, the more Jesus was able to add insight to their recollections. Gradually, the light pierced the darkness of their minds. Partaking in their ritual of breaking bread provided a new window for recognizing the true presence of God in their lives.
We, too, seek to know the face of God in our lives. When we can’t do what we normally do, we seek to find new ways of relating to one another. By identifying what is available to us, we are able to repurpose our energies while forming new patterns of living. Although death and sickness are upon us, the light continues to shine brighter, dispelling the darkness. Breaking bread together takes on a whole new meaning. We break bread and share it with those in need. The face of God is coming into clearer focus now—we are able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary! New growth is occurring in the darkness through the seeds of resurrection we are planting. May it always be so!
How are we doing on this road we are travelling? Do we “know” God, or are we “seeking” God? Is it “reasonably” possible we can do both?
Second Sunday of Easter
April 19, 2020
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 118
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20: 19-31
There was a posting on a bulletin board that read:
This life is a test-- it is only a test.
Had it been an actual life, you would have received
Further instruction on where to go and what to do!
The Good News—the Gospel—for us today is that our life is real, and those further instructions are stated loudly and clearly!
In the Gospel of John, the risen Christ’s greeting of peace actually reinfused the breath of life into the constricted lungs of the disciples who were cowered behind lock doors. This breath of peace offered by Christ released them from the fear that choked their ability to breathe together and to live fully for his mission.
Like the disciples, we, too, can be found behind our locked doors, hiding from a virus that literally takes our living breath away. Yet our faith is secure in knowing that Christ’s Presence will allow us to breathe freely as our fear gives way to resurrected joy!
Although we were not eyewitnesses to the actual events, we are the ones called through the teaching of others to witness to the power of Christ’s resurrection in our day. Yet, we know that there is no such thing as a secondhand faith. The testimony of other believers may lead one to Jesus, but that doesn’t substitute for the tangible experience—the actual feeling that he is with us, and that each person longs to feel him in a very real way.
So it was with Thomas.
Thomas asked for more, he was honest enough to say, “I don’t get it. Until I feel it, I can’t pretend.” He had the integrity to actually say “I’m not there yet.” He wanted more faith than he had. And because he asked, he received.
Jesus’ greeting of peace when he appeared to the disciples in the upper room communicated a quality of presence that went far beyond the physical. To those who were open to it, his presence was a force that drew them into a new realm of living: an ability to see the wounds of this world differently, wounds that Christ was able to heal with his peaceful presence and spirit which enabled the disciples to let their fear give way to joy.
Now we know where to go and what to do!
The very nature of Christ’s peace is social—it impels us to offer it to others by offering forgiveness and love to all.
The Christian community is invited to touch the wounds of Jesus as we touch the wounds of our world. The tangible proof of the resurrection is shown in the way Christians reach out to others in loving care and support.
We live in unsettling times. Our physical distancing can be mitigated, however, by a spiritual closeness. It is our fervent prayer that will provide a connection with others, becoming a community of faith during this time of crisis.
In the midst of today’s challenges, where can we find Christ’s peace?
How has that peace infused you with new breath?
April 19, 2020
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 118
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20: 19-31
There was a posting on a bulletin board that read:
This life is a test-- it is only a test.
Had it been an actual life, you would have received
Further instruction on where to go and what to do!
The Good News—the Gospel—for us today is that our life is real, and those further instructions are stated loudly and clearly!
In the Gospel of John, the risen Christ’s greeting of peace actually reinfused the breath of life into the constricted lungs of the disciples who were cowered behind lock doors. This breath of peace offered by Christ released them from the fear that choked their ability to breathe together and to live fully for his mission.
Like the disciples, we, too, can be found behind our locked doors, hiding from a virus that literally takes our living breath away. Yet our faith is secure in knowing that Christ’s Presence will allow us to breathe freely as our fear gives way to resurrected joy!
Although we were not eyewitnesses to the actual events, we are the ones called through the teaching of others to witness to the power of Christ’s resurrection in our day. Yet, we know that there is no such thing as a secondhand faith. The testimony of other believers may lead one to Jesus, but that doesn’t substitute for the tangible experience—the actual feeling that he is with us, and that each person longs to feel him in a very real way.
So it was with Thomas.
Thomas asked for more, he was honest enough to say, “I don’t get it. Until I feel it, I can’t pretend.” He had the integrity to actually say “I’m not there yet.” He wanted more faith than he had. And because he asked, he received.
Jesus’ greeting of peace when he appeared to the disciples in the upper room communicated a quality of presence that went far beyond the physical. To those who were open to it, his presence was a force that drew them into a new realm of living: an ability to see the wounds of this world differently, wounds that Christ was able to heal with his peaceful presence and spirit which enabled the disciples to let their fear give way to joy.
Now we know where to go and what to do!
The very nature of Christ’s peace is social—it impels us to offer it to others by offering forgiveness and love to all.
The Christian community is invited to touch the wounds of Jesus as we touch the wounds of our world. The tangible proof of the resurrection is shown in the way Christians reach out to others in loving care and support.
We live in unsettling times. Our physical distancing can be mitigated, however, by a spiritual closeness. It is our fervent prayer that will provide a connection with others, becoming a community of faith during this time of crisis.
In the midst of today’s challenges, where can we find Christ’s peace?
How has that peace infused you with new breath?
Homily/Reflection – Easter Sunday
April 12th, 2020
We are here today, celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus, the triumph of the cross, with a renewed commitment to take on the risks Jesus asks of us in order to love as he did.
It is hard to ignore the strong anti-imperial theology in the Gospels. This becomes very clear as we read about them in the events of Holy Week. The imperial procession vs. the peasant procession on Palm Sunday, the Roman soldiers arresting Jesus due to a fear that he was starting a movement that would threaten the Roman rule of law, and the crucifixion of Jesus in efforts of the empire to thwart that movement and maintain control over the Jewish people.
Amy Jill-Levine, an author, professor, and biblical scholar writes:
“Every time we read the Passion narratives, we become musicians ourselves, for we will always hear the text in a new key. Each time we read the text, we bring our own new selves to it—experiences, emotions, expectations.”
This year, especially, I have heard this message with a profound recognition of the imperial empire, then and now. Through my reading, prayer, meditation, and listening, I see clearly the glaring fact that following Jesus means nothing more or less than a call for and effort to achieve justice in our world. The reality I need to embrace without hesitation is that it is our government that continues to be the dominant imperial power in the world. And if I want to risk loving as Jesus loves, I need to put myself on the front lines in confronting this behemoth of unbridled power.
We are all experiencing the affects of the coronavirus pandemic, with the necessary restrictions of physical distancing and protective covering that are vital if we venture beyond the confines of our homes. Some of us will succumb to the virus ourselves, perhaps being hospitalized or even succumbing to the disease. Many of us have already suffered from the economic downturn as businesses not considered “essential” to society have closed, workers have been furloughed and lower paid employees have lost their jobs permanently. Stock markets have plummeted, causing many to reprioritize their spending due to the new reality that they are much poorer than they imagine.
Yet rules are in place as we speak that will financially secure those in the top fifteen percent of our country. One needs to look no further than to the disproportionate number of people of color who have been infected and died from the coronavirus in our country to see the blatant inequality this country has created with its short-sightedness and exclusionary policies. Truth be told, it is the cries of the poor among us that plead to rise up!
The poet laureate Maya Angelou reminds us:
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Yet no journey is meant to be taken alone. Together we will rise!
Certainly, death is not the end of the story. There will always be resurrection!
There is a new melody we must learn from our journey with Jesus this past week. And there is comfort in knowing that the Good News continues not just when people proclaim it, but when they enact it. Sr. Monica Joan in “Call the Midwife” TV series declares: “The hands of the Almighty are so often to be found at the ends of our own arms.” That’s where we come in.
Our path involves dying to an old way of being and being reborn into a new way of being. Good Friday and Easter are about this path, the path of dying and rising, of being born again.
What risks are you willing to take in order to love as Jesus did?
April 12th, 2020
We are here today, celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus, the triumph of the cross, with a renewed commitment to take on the risks Jesus asks of us in order to love as he did.
It is hard to ignore the strong anti-imperial theology in the Gospels. This becomes very clear as we read about them in the events of Holy Week. The imperial procession vs. the peasant procession on Palm Sunday, the Roman soldiers arresting Jesus due to a fear that he was starting a movement that would threaten the Roman rule of law, and the crucifixion of Jesus in efforts of the empire to thwart that movement and maintain control over the Jewish people.
Amy Jill-Levine, an author, professor, and biblical scholar writes:
“Every time we read the Passion narratives, we become musicians ourselves, for we will always hear the text in a new key. Each time we read the text, we bring our own new selves to it—experiences, emotions, expectations.”
This year, especially, I have heard this message with a profound recognition of the imperial empire, then and now. Through my reading, prayer, meditation, and listening, I see clearly the glaring fact that following Jesus means nothing more or less than a call for and effort to achieve justice in our world. The reality I need to embrace without hesitation is that it is our government that continues to be the dominant imperial power in the world. And if I want to risk loving as Jesus loves, I need to put myself on the front lines in confronting this behemoth of unbridled power.
We are all experiencing the affects of the coronavirus pandemic, with the necessary restrictions of physical distancing and protective covering that are vital if we venture beyond the confines of our homes. Some of us will succumb to the virus ourselves, perhaps being hospitalized or even succumbing to the disease. Many of us have already suffered from the economic downturn as businesses not considered “essential” to society have closed, workers have been furloughed and lower paid employees have lost their jobs permanently. Stock markets have plummeted, causing many to reprioritize their spending due to the new reality that they are much poorer than they imagine.
Yet rules are in place as we speak that will financially secure those in the top fifteen percent of our country. One needs to look no further than to the disproportionate number of people of color who have been infected and died from the coronavirus in our country to see the blatant inequality this country has created with its short-sightedness and exclusionary policies. Truth be told, it is the cries of the poor among us that plead to rise up!
The poet laureate Maya Angelou reminds us:
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Yet no journey is meant to be taken alone. Together we will rise!
Certainly, death is not the end of the story. There will always be resurrection!
There is a new melody we must learn from our journey with Jesus this past week. And there is comfort in knowing that the Good News continues not just when people proclaim it, but when they enact it. Sr. Monica Joan in “Call the Midwife” TV series declares: “The hands of the Almighty are so often to be found at the ends of our own arms.” That’s where we come in.
Our path involves dying to an old way of being and being reborn into a new way of being. Good Friday and Easter are about this path, the path of dying and rising, of being born again.
What risks are you willing to take in order to love as Jesus did?
Holy Thursday
April 9th, 2020
I mentioned at the beginning of this liturgy, that in the tradition of the institutional church, Holy Thursday is considered as the establishment of the Eucharist where the formation of cultic male clergy with their ritual powers have been derived. Yet, truth be told, there is no scriptural basis for their current position that what we know now as male hierarchal “ordination” was practiced in the early Christian communities.
Jesus, although publicly recognized as a teacher and preacher in his lifetime, did not “ordain” anyone and did not establish a church in the sense that we know it today. In the early church, leaders in the community were “ordered” – were publicly affirmed in a particular ministry of service. Any scripture passages that have been lifted out of context in order to prove otherwise, is disingenuous. Before any book of the Bible was approved for inclusion in the formal scriptural Canon, it was revised many times by editors that changed original texts and included their additions, reflecting the cultural and religious practices of the time.
Today I serve as a leader of prayer for this faith community. I also embrace my call to reform the Catholic Church in its understanding and function of interpreting and embracing the kinship of Jesus.
Our liturgical prayers invite us to break bread together—in memory of Jesus’ ultimate call to lay down his life for others, and to serve our brothers and sisters in their need.
As a community of faith, we are all called to deepen our spiritual lives, our love for community, and embrace our personal and communal responsibilities.
As a community of faith, we must embrace the moral leadership we are given, and continue to bond together for strength in combatting the encroaching tides of disease and negative discourse of our time.
If we hold onto the belief that the Spirit of God is always with us, we will find strength in Her abiding presence, never to be exhausted nor conquered!
Thank you for allowing me to serve you. Please share with others your own call to prayer and action in furthering the Kin-dom of Jesus.
April 9th, 2020
I mentioned at the beginning of this liturgy, that in the tradition of the institutional church, Holy Thursday is considered as the establishment of the Eucharist where the formation of cultic male clergy with their ritual powers have been derived. Yet, truth be told, there is no scriptural basis for their current position that what we know now as male hierarchal “ordination” was practiced in the early Christian communities.
Jesus, although publicly recognized as a teacher and preacher in his lifetime, did not “ordain” anyone and did not establish a church in the sense that we know it today. In the early church, leaders in the community were “ordered” – were publicly affirmed in a particular ministry of service. Any scripture passages that have been lifted out of context in order to prove otherwise, is disingenuous. Before any book of the Bible was approved for inclusion in the formal scriptural Canon, it was revised many times by editors that changed original texts and included their additions, reflecting the cultural and religious practices of the time.
Today I serve as a leader of prayer for this faith community. I also embrace my call to reform the Catholic Church in its understanding and function of interpreting and embracing the kinship of Jesus.
Our liturgical prayers invite us to break bread together—in memory of Jesus’ ultimate call to lay down his life for others, and to serve our brothers and sisters in their need.
As a community of faith, we are all called to deepen our spiritual lives, our love for community, and embrace our personal and communal responsibilities.
As a community of faith, we must embrace the moral leadership we are given, and continue to bond together for strength in combatting the encroaching tides of disease and negative discourse of our time.
If we hold onto the belief that the Spirit of God is always with us, we will find strength in Her abiding presence, never to be exhausted nor conquered!
Thank you for allowing me to serve you. Please share with others your own call to prayer and action in furthering the Kin-dom of Jesus.
Palm Sunday
4/5/2020
In the book, The Last Week, by Marcus Borg and John D. Crossan, they recall that two processions entered Jerusalem on a spring day in the year 30. One was a peasant procession, the other an imperial procession.
From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down the Mount of Olives, cheered by his followers. Jesus was from the peasant village of Nazareth, his message was about the Kin-dom of God, and his followers came from the peasant class.
On the opposite side of the city, from the west, Pontius Pilate entered Jerusalem with his imperial cavalry and soldiers. This emperor was not only the emperor of Rome, but was also considered the Son of God, as among Pilate’s forerunners was Augustus, whose father was the god Apollo.
Jesus’ procession proclaimed the Kin-dom of God, deliberately countering what was happening on the other side of the city. Pilate proclaimed the power of empire, embodying not only a rival social order, but also a rival theology.
Jesus lived and taught forgiveness as a means of breaking the cycle of violence. His active ministry of healing, reconciling, and loving others attracted many followers, but also threatened the Roman authorities. In the end, his ministry brought on personal suffering and ultimately cost him his life. If we are to follow the Way of Jesus, accepting that we, too, will suffer for our beliefs, we, too, must begin by forgiving and seeking reconciliation with others.
The apostles followed Jesus until fear overcame them. The women stayed with Jesus through his death and resurrection. It is through their actions that they preached most profoundly.
I remember when attending Catholic grade school, all the students were required to memorize many prayers. Among them were the Act of Contrition, the Act of Faith, the Act of Hope, and the Act of Love. What stands out as significant about these prayers is that their titles begin with the word “act.” It is in acting that we show our belief, hope, love and reconciliation with others.
We will be known as the followers of Jesus only by our faithful, hopeful and loving actions. This applies to our personal lives as well as to government actions across the globe.
Borg and Crossan highlight the two processions entering Jerusalem on that day—the peasant procession and the imperial procession. The peasant class sought to be saved from an oppressive government and religious authorities by following the Way of Jesus. The dominating, ruling class sought to control the peasants and make them support the lavish lifestyle of the imperial empire.
Which procession are we in? Which procession do we want to be in? Who will be our companions on this active journey that Jesus invites us to take?
4/5/2020
In the book, The Last Week, by Marcus Borg and John D. Crossan, they recall that two processions entered Jerusalem on a spring day in the year 30. One was a peasant procession, the other an imperial procession.
From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down the Mount of Olives, cheered by his followers. Jesus was from the peasant village of Nazareth, his message was about the Kin-dom of God, and his followers came from the peasant class.
On the opposite side of the city, from the west, Pontius Pilate entered Jerusalem with his imperial cavalry and soldiers. This emperor was not only the emperor of Rome, but was also considered the Son of God, as among Pilate’s forerunners was Augustus, whose father was the god Apollo.
Jesus’ procession proclaimed the Kin-dom of God, deliberately countering what was happening on the other side of the city. Pilate proclaimed the power of empire, embodying not only a rival social order, but also a rival theology.
Jesus lived and taught forgiveness as a means of breaking the cycle of violence. His active ministry of healing, reconciling, and loving others attracted many followers, but also threatened the Roman authorities. In the end, his ministry brought on personal suffering and ultimately cost him his life. If we are to follow the Way of Jesus, accepting that we, too, will suffer for our beliefs, we, too, must begin by forgiving and seeking reconciliation with others.
The apostles followed Jesus until fear overcame them. The women stayed with Jesus through his death and resurrection. It is through their actions that they preached most profoundly.
I remember when attending Catholic grade school, all the students were required to memorize many prayers. Among them were the Act of Contrition, the Act of Faith, the Act of Hope, and the Act of Love. What stands out as significant about these prayers is that their titles begin with the word “act.” It is in acting that we show our belief, hope, love and reconciliation with others.
We will be known as the followers of Jesus only by our faithful, hopeful and loving actions. This applies to our personal lives as well as to government actions across the globe.
Borg and Crossan highlight the two processions entering Jerusalem on that day—the peasant procession and the imperial procession. The peasant class sought to be saved from an oppressive government and religious authorities by following the Way of Jesus. The dominating, ruling class sought to control the peasants and make them support the lavish lifestyle of the imperial empire.
Which procession are we in? Which procession do we want to be in? Who will be our companions on this active journey that Jesus invites us to take?
Homily/Reflection - Third Sunday of Lent
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Exodus 17:3-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:2-5
John 4:5-42
As the Israelites were brought out of Egypt and seemed to languish in the desert, they questioned Moses on why he brought them there as they feared their families would die of thirst. They questioned whether or not God was really watching out for them.
The story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well also speaks of thirst. But Jesus spoke of thirsting for living water, a source that would provide
eternal life.
Today we face a global pandemic with the coronavirus. Countries and cities are shutting down physical communication among people to help stem the spread of the virus. As the numbers continue to rise, it appears this virus will continue to peak until more measures are put in place for testing, treatment, and self-isolation.
Where do we find God in all of this? Where is the source of this ‘living water’ Jesus talks about?
When situations and people appear hopeless, there is always a window of opportunity that opens up for those who wish to see.
I offer the following poem, written by Lynn Ungar, for your reflection in these trying times:
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath--
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love--
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
(Lynn Ungar: Poetry and Other Writings, 3/11/20, lynnungar.com)
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Exodus 17:3-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:2-5
John 4:5-42
As the Israelites were brought out of Egypt and seemed to languish in the desert, they questioned Moses on why he brought them there as they feared their families would die of thirst. They questioned whether or not God was really watching out for them.
The story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well also speaks of thirst. But Jesus spoke of thirsting for living water, a source that would provide
eternal life.
Today we face a global pandemic with the coronavirus. Countries and cities are shutting down physical communication among people to help stem the spread of the virus. As the numbers continue to rise, it appears this virus will continue to peak until more measures are put in place for testing, treatment, and self-isolation.
Where do we find God in all of this? Where is the source of this ‘living water’ Jesus talks about?
When situations and people appear hopeless, there is always a window of opportunity that opens up for those who wish to see.
I offer the following poem, written by Lynn Ungar, for your reflection in these trying times:
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath--
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love--
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
(Lynn Ungar: Poetry and Other Writings, 3/11/20, lynnungar.com)
Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2020
Saturday, February 15, 2020
Sirach 15:15-20
Psalm 119
1 Corinthians 2:6-10
Matthew 5:17-37
There is a great little story that took place in 1914. It was a short excerpt from a young, Catholic woman’s life in those times. She was 18 years old and found herself the envy of every girl in town as she went on an exciting car ride with four boys as they visited a soda shop and rode around town. That feeling lasted until they arrived at her house and found her father standing like a magistrate on the front porch.
In those days, the rules of the house were followed very closely. However, the father never dreamed he’d find his daughter riding around town with four Protestant boys for the whole city to see. He just hadn’t a rule for what he witnessed.
Times do change, that is one reality that is a constant in this world.
And so, in contemplating our readings today, I ask you to keep that in mind.
We know Moses came down off the mountain with the Ten Commandments. These were the laws Jesus was taught to follow as he grew up. They were given to the Jewish people to keep them on track as they continued to journey toward the Promised Land. They reaffirmed that Yahweh would accompany them always.
As a backdrop, in Paul’s letter to the Hebrews it is stated that if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no reason to have a second one. But even Paul didn’t understand the full meaning of his message. What he was referring to was Jesus’ vision of following the Spirit of the Law, which the leaders of his community had lost. Would Paul have ever dreamed of what law might effectively guide a woman to ordination, persons in same-sex relationships, a marriage bond broken due to domestic violence, new remedies for infertile couples, cyber space issues? Yes, times were different then. A divorced woman in Jesus’ time was subject to abandonment and starvation. Jesus knew this was not just and upheld the marriage bond for a very real purpose in that era.
Jesus of Nazareth grew in wisdom. He proposed a new law, a new covenant, a new way of living, as he interjected the Spirit of God in the old ways of understanding the purpose and nature of the law. He studied and prayed and came to believe that his way actually fulfilled the Spirit of the original law given so long ago. He came to believe that his sense of justice must surpass all the religious leaders and scholars’ interpretations. He came to believe that to be compassionate and just toward one another was essential for being able to stand before a just God.
Although the law on breaking vows is often linked to the marriage bond, most important is vowing to act with justice. Many important religious figures have touted that charity is above all things. Yet in reality, we know that charity cannot be authentic without the carrying out of justice. Just laws ensure the charity we are called to embrace.
Like Jesus, we are called to uphold the purpose and value of the law. Like Jesus, we will discover that there are some laws that have outlived their purpose. In changing times, we find ourselves in need of appropriating a new purpose and value to the laws that guide us forward.
How can we do that today? What does it look like? How do we experience this Spirit of change?
Saturday, February 15, 2020
Sirach 15:15-20
Psalm 119
1 Corinthians 2:6-10
Matthew 5:17-37
There is a great little story that took place in 1914. It was a short excerpt from a young, Catholic woman’s life in those times. She was 18 years old and found herself the envy of every girl in town as she went on an exciting car ride with four boys as they visited a soda shop and rode around town. That feeling lasted until they arrived at her house and found her father standing like a magistrate on the front porch.
In those days, the rules of the house were followed very closely. However, the father never dreamed he’d find his daughter riding around town with four Protestant boys for the whole city to see. He just hadn’t a rule for what he witnessed.
Times do change, that is one reality that is a constant in this world.
And so, in contemplating our readings today, I ask you to keep that in mind.
We know Moses came down off the mountain with the Ten Commandments. These were the laws Jesus was taught to follow as he grew up. They were given to the Jewish people to keep them on track as they continued to journey toward the Promised Land. They reaffirmed that Yahweh would accompany them always.
As a backdrop, in Paul’s letter to the Hebrews it is stated that if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no reason to have a second one. But even Paul didn’t understand the full meaning of his message. What he was referring to was Jesus’ vision of following the Spirit of the Law, which the leaders of his community had lost. Would Paul have ever dreamed of what law might effectively guide a woman to ordination, persons in same-sex relationships, a marriage bond broken due to domestic violence, new remedies for infertile couples, cyber space issues? Yes, times were different then. A divorced woman in Jesus’ time was subject to abandonment and starvation. Jesus knew this was not just and upheld the marriage bond for a very real purpose in that era.
Jesus of Nazareth grew in wisdom. He proposed a new law, a new covenant, a new way of living, as he interjected the Spirit of God in the old ways of understanding the purpose and nature of the law. He studied and prayed and came to believe that his way actually fulfilled the Spirit of the original law given so long ago. He came to believe that his sense of justice must surpass all the religious leaders and scholars’ interpretations. He came to believe that to be compassionate and just toward one another was essential for being able to stand before a just God.
Although the law on breaking vows is often linked to the marriage bond, most important is vowing to act with justice. Many important religious figures have touted that charity is above all things. Yet in reality, we know that charity cannot be authentic without the carrying out of justice. Just laws ensure the charity we are called to embrace.
Like Jesus, we are called to uphold the purpose and value of the law. Like Jesus, we will discover that there are some laws that have outlived their purpose. In changing times, we find ourselves in need of appropriating a new purpose and value to the laws that guide us forward.
How can we do that today? What does it look like? How do we experience this Spirit of change?
Homily – Presentation of Jesus and Feast of St. Bridget 2020
Where do we find the presence of God?
Growing up, I was taught by priests and nuns that God could be found in Church. If I really wanted to pray, I would make a little visit to church—God’s house, because in that structure God was “more present” than anywhere else.
The Jews believed the same thing. When they went to the Temple, they would be closest to Yahweh-- they would feel the presence of the Holy One because that’s where God dwelled.
In our Gospel today, Mary and Joseph who were dutifully presenting their first-born son to the Temple, were greeted by Simeon, the one who watched and waited for the Messiah, and Anna, who dedicated her life to prayer and fasting that enabled her to identify the Messiah. After all the honors given to the infant that day, Mary and Joseph returned home where Jesus grew strong and developed wisdom.
Yet it takes a village to raise a child, and that village is multi-generational. It is often the support given both up and down through the ages by holy men and women that benefits a child’s character and vision. At one point in time, St. Bridget of Kildare, living in the 5th century, is quoted as saying, “Sweet Mary, rest, and I meanwhile, will watch and tend the Child.” The visionary that she was, Bridget believed that no matter the generation to which we are born in this world, our loving influence is not confined by human time.
It is clear from our scripture writers that they view the child Jesus as entering the Temple as a messenger of God’s promises, as fulfilling the hope of delivering Jerusalem from oppression. Jesus would eventually open wide the doors to eat and drink of God’s Law in the manner first intended when God gave them to Moses on the mountain. This holy child was marked to be the one devoted to upholding the original spirit of that Law; the Law that in its essence states we are to love God and love one another. If we follow Jesus’ lead, we will open wide closed doors for others to find God’s presence, because that holy presence will be found in each of us.
How do we identify the presence of God today?
Where do we find the presence of God?
Growing up, I was taught by priests and nuns that God could be found in Church. If I really wanted to pray, I would make a little visit to church—God’s house, because in that structure God was “more present” than anywhere else.
The Jews believed the same thing. When they went to the Temple, they would be closest to Yahweh-- they would feel the presence of the Holy One because that’s where God dwelled.
In our Gospel today, Mary and Joseph who were dutifully presenting their first-born son to the Temple, were greeted by Simeon, the one who watched and waited for the Messiah, and Anna, who dedicated her life to prayer and fasting that enabled her to identify the Messiah. After all the honors given to the infant that day, Mary and Joseph returned home where Jesus grew strong and developed wisdom.
Yet it takes a village to raise a child, and that village is multi-generational. It is often the support given both up and down through the ages by holy men and women that benefits a child’s character and vision. At one point in time, St. Bridget of Kildare, living in the 5th century, is quoted as saying, “Sweet Mary, rest, and I meanwhile, will watch and tend the Child.” The visionary that she was, Bridget believed that no matter the generation to which we are born in this world, our loving influence is not confined by human time.
It is clear from our scripture writers that they view the child Jesus as entering the Temple as a messenger of God’s promises, as fulfilling the hope of delivering Jerusalem from oppression. Jesus would eventually open wide the doors to eat and drink of God’s Law in the manner first intended when God gave them to Moses on the mountain. This holy child was marked to be the one devoted to upholding the original spirit of that Law; the Law that in its essence states we are to love God and love one another. If we follow Jesus’ lead, we will open wide closed doors for others to find God’s presence, because that holy presence will be found in each of us.
How do we identify the presence of God today?
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Saturday, January 18, 2020, 5 pm
Isaiah 49: 3, 5-6
Psalm 40
1 Corinthians 1: 1-3
John 1: 29-34
The winter solstice was noted almost a month ago, and daylight is growing longer as the calendar marches on. Light has pierced the darkness and has more staying power now.
I know in my own life that when a dark spirit that surrounds a certain area in my life opens wide to let the light in, what a difference it makes! A sign that I have changed for the better is when I am able to respond differently—more positively-- when confronted with difficult situations. And every so often, I even pat myself on the back when I know I’ve changed. My mind and spirit are more whole. It is truly a holy feeling! But there’s no doubt about it—the process can be a bit scary because we all tend to hold our darkness close, like a child’s warm blanket.
One of the first lessons infant children must learn is how to console themselves. Doctors and parents know that learning this is developmentally essential for the child to reach adulthood. This often is demonstrated in their feeling safe snuggled in a blanket, or sucking their finger or pacifier, the end of a blanket or favorite stuffed toy. Often crying, knowing someone will be there to hold and offer comfort, while a voice mimicking a repetition of sounds heard in utero, works to satisfy them.
As the child grows older and lives into adulthood, that need for consolation never goes away. While some methods used for this purpose are lifegiving habits, some can be relatively harmless, yet others are very destructive. We know this because we all have things we cling to when we need to be consoled. Yet our opioid crisis, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, eating habits, violent acting out, and pornography are signs that too many of us have found harmful remedies while seeking that safe place of comfort. Not only can these practices be destructive, they can also become addictive.
Each time a baby is born, new hope springs eternal. Out of the darkness of the womb, comes the light of new life with all possibilities before us. We all go through a process, both physically and spiritually, wherein we are reborn. We learn to stand up and look toward the light of new horizons. May we remember to console one another in those times!
For the next six weeks, before the Lenten Season begins, it is a time of regular living. We are invited to reflect on what we took away from the “winter holy days” that can be applied to the living patterns of our lives-- thoughts that will provide us with more staying power. What have you experienced these last couple months that has made your spirit feel brighter? What have you seen? What have you heard? What do you know? Please share.
Saturday, January 18, 2020, 5 pm
Isaiah 49: 3, 5-6
Psalm 40
1 Corinthians 1: 1-3
John 1: 29-34
The winter solstice was noted almost a month ago, and daylight is growing longer as the calendar marches on. Light has pierced the darkness and has more staying power now.
I know in my own life that when a dark spirit that surrounds a certain area in my life opens wide to let the light in, what a difference it makes! A sign that I have changed for the better is when I am able to respond differently—more positively-- when confronted with difficult situations. And every so often, I even pat myself on the back when I know I’ve changed. My mind and spirit are more whole. It is truly a holy feeling! But there’s no doubt about it—the process can be a bit scary because we all tend to hold our darkness close, like a child’s warm blanket.
One of the first lessons infant children must learn is how to console themselves. Doctors and parents know that learning this is developmentally essential for the child to reach adulthood. This often is demonstrated in their feeling safe snuggled in a blanket, or sucking their finger or pacifier, the end of a blanket or favorite stuffed toy. Often crying, knowing someone will be there to hold and offer comfort, while a voice mimicking a repetition of sounds heard in utero, works to satisfy them.
As the child grows older and lives into adulthood, that need for consolation never goes away. While some methods used for this purpose are lifegiving habits, some can be relatively harmless, yet others are very destructive. We know this because we all have things we cling to when we need to be consoled. Yet our opioid crisis, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, eating habits, violent acting out, and pornography are signs that too many of us have found harmful remedies while seeking that safe place of comfort. Not only can these practices be destructive, they can also become addictive.
Each time a baby is born, new hope springs eternal. Out of the darkness of the womb, comes the light of new life with all possibilities before us. We all go through a process, both physically and spiritually, wherein we are reborn. We learn to stand up and look toward the light of new horizons. May we remember to console one another in those times!
For the next six weeks, before the Lenten Season begins, it is a time of regular living. We are invited to reflect on what we took away from the “winter holy days” that can be applied to the living patterns of our lives-- thoughts that will provide us with more staying power. What have you experienced these last couple months that has made your spirit feel brighter? What have you seen? What have you heard? What do you know? Please share.
Feast of the Epiphany
Saturday, January 4, 2020
Isaiah 60: 1-6
Psalm 72
Ephesians 3: 2-3, 5-6
Matthew 2: 1-12
We are approaching the end of our Christmas season. How appropriate that our readings today emphasize God’s Light that will illumine our pathway forward in this new year! Because we seem to be living in dark times, we all know how desperately we need this Light!
To embrace the significance of life imagery in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, is our main pathway in understanding the image of light in the context of the world in which birth stories originated.
When the universe was born, Genesis documents that on the first day of creation, God said, “Let there be Light!” And at that moment, light overcame the darkness. This light was born before the sun, the moon, and the stars. For this Light was the very first light that existed—the Light of God’s presence!
And that Presence was seen again during the exodus out of Egypt that was driven by a pillar of fire by night, to give the chosen people the Light to guide them.
In today’s reading from Isaiah, the prophet speaks of the darkness overcoming the earth and its peoples. Just as the darkness deepened toward the winter’s solstice, a great light appeared in the middle of deep darkness. God’s light and glory appeared over the people and nations were attracted to that light. This symbolism of light and darkness continues as the coming of light is associated with the coming of a long-awaited king who would bring to the world justice and peace.
In the Christian scriptures, Mary’s birthing of Jesus began in the darkness of her womb. When the baby was born, his life was understood as the revelation of God who said, “Let there be light!” We have been celebrating the birth of Jesus on Dec. 25th following the winter solstice every year since Pope Julius declared it would be an annual feast in the year 350 CE. The symbolism and actual experience of darkness birthing light is quite significant!
As stated in the book, The First Christmas, by Borg and Crossan, the guiding star in Matthew’s gospel portrays Jesus’ birth as the coming of the Light that draws the wise men of the Gentiles to its radiance.
The image of light and darkness is both personal and political. As we know, there are different renditions of Jesus’ birth story. And those different stories address our personal yearnings and the politics of his world and ours.
Given that the word “epiphany” means “manifestation,” we are reminded that God’s light and glory shines upon all people, all of creation, for all times. The early Christian communities had difficulties in welcoming Gentiles regardless of the fact that the Light had been made manifest to them. We know in our world today that facing our prejudices and working to dismantle them is a most difficult task. As Christians, we are called to acknowledge and be attentive to how God’s Light is manifested in our midst, in the midst of the personal and political journeys of our times.
May our prayer be that the Holy One shine upon us now, that we may see the Light, among us, within us, and all around us!
How can we be the Light that shines on people of different races, of different countries, different socioeconomic strata, that embraces women, those whose marital status is irregular, those of a different sexual orientation, those who are addicted, those who suffer untold pain in their lives?
Saturday, January 4, 2020
Isaiah 60: 1-6
Psalm 72
Ephesians 3: 2-3, 5-6
Matthew 2: 1-12
We are approaching the end of our Christmas season. How appropriate that our readings today emphasize God’s Light that will illumine our pathway forward in this new year! Because we seem to be living in dark times, we all know how desperately we need this Light!
To embrace the significance of life imagery in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, is our main pathway in understanding the image of light in the context of the world in which birth stories originated.
When the universe was born, Genesis documents that on the first day of creation, God said, “Let there be Light!” And at that moment, light overcame the darkness. This light was born before the sun, the moon, and the stars. For this Light was the very first light that existed—the Light of God’s presence!
And that Presence was seen again during the exodus out of Egypt that was driven by a pillar of fire by night, to give the chosen people the Light to guide them.
In today’s reading from Isaiah, the prophet speaks of the darkness overcoming the earth and its peoples. Just as the darkness deepened toward the winter’s solstice, a great light appeared in the middle of deep darkness. God’s light and glory appeared over the people and nations were attracted to that light. This symbolism of light and darkness continues as the coming of light is associated with the coming of a long-awaited king who would bring to the world justice and peace.
In the Christian scriptures, Mary’s birthing of Jesus began in the darkness of her womb. When the baby was born, his life was understood as the revelation of God who said, “Let there be light!” We have been celebrating the birth of Jesus on Dec. 25th following the winter solstice every year since Pope Julius declared it would be an annual feast in the year 350 CE. The symbolism and actual experience of darkness birthing light is quite significant!
As stated in the book, The First Christmas, by Borg and Crossan, the guiding star in Matthew’s gospel portrays Jesus’ birth as the coming of the Light that draws the wise men of the Gentiles to its radiance.
The image of light and darkness is both personal and political. As we know, there are different renditions of Jesus’ birth story. And those different stories address our personal yearnings and the politics of his world and ours.
Given that the word “epiphany” means “manifestation,” we are reminded that God’s light and glory shines upon all people, all of creation, for all times. The early Christian communities had difficulties in welcoming Gentiles regardless of the fact that the Light had been made manifest to them. We know in our world today that facing our prejudices and working to dismantle them is a most difficult task. As Christians, we are called to acknowledge and be attentive to how God’s Light is manifested in our midst, in the midst of the personal and political journeys of our times.
May our prayer be that the Holy One shine upon us now, that we may see the Light, among us, within us, and all around us!
How can we be the Light that shines on people of different races, of different countries, different socioeconomic strata, that embraces women, those whose marital status is irregular, those of a different sexual orientation, those who are addicted, those who suffer untold pain in their lives?
Feast of the Holy Family
Saturday, December 28, 2019 - 5 pm.
Colossians 3: 12-21
Psalm 128
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
The Law of Caring - Joan Chittister
The readings chosen for today’s liturgy encompass the virtues of what it means to be—to live—as a holy family.
In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, we are encouraged to live together in harmony, by relating with one another with compassion, kindness, and patience. To relate to one another with peace in our hearts and be grateful for this virtue that embodies the ministry of Jesus—indeed, peace on earth is the very goal of Jesus’ life. Love one another as you are loved by God. This surely will keep families bonded together.
In our Gospel reading from Matthew, a story is told about how Divine Providence guided Joseph to protect his family from danger. The storyteller tells this with the image of an angel – God’s messenger—that raises Joseph’s consciousness on the danger his family is in, and directs him where to go to escape that danger, and when to return when the danger is gone. Many families are gifted with this natural instinct: to sense a danger and to protect their loved ones.
In the family, we also discover that while children are taught and molded by parents, it is the children themselves that teach the adults what it means to be a real parent. In our Continuing Testament reading, Sr. Joan Chittister’s message is clear: No matter the hopes parents have for their children, the children do not belong to them. They will eventually become who they are meant to be, rather than what the parents would have them be. For it is love found in the family that nurtures each person’s freedom-- no matter if it is child or spouse-- to become ever more deeply their authentic selves.
Today, we celebrate this faith community—this Family of God, as mutuality, respect and service are bound together by the same virtues that bind the natural family together.
We do become aware that the natural, generative, family bonds are absent in faith communities, and great diversity and significant differences are found there. Yet what binds such communities together is the Word of Christ that finds a place in the heart of believers. This is our source. This is the force behind how we worship and how we reach out to others. In the Family of God, we take on the most basic family characteristic—we put on love.
It is true that all people need to discern the specific role they will play in life—in this Family of God. And when we find that place, we will be at home.
How do we invite people into our Family of Faith, as they journey to find the home they are searching for?
Saturday, December 28, 2019 - 5 pm.
Colossians 3: 12-21
Psalm 128
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
The Law of Caring - Joan Chittister
The readings chosen for today’s liturgy encompass the virtues of what it means to be—to live—as a holy family.
In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, we are encouraged to live together in harmony, by relating with one another with compassion, kindness, and patience. To relate to one another with peace in our hearts and be grateful for this virtue that embodies the ministry of Jesus—indeed, peace on earth is the very goal of Jesus’ life. Love one another as you are loved by God. This surely will keep families bonded together.
In our Gospel reading from Matthew, a story is told about how Divine Providence guided Joseph to protect his family from danger. The storyteller tells this with the image of an angel – God’s messenger—that raises Joseph’s consciousness on the danger his family is in, and directs him where to go to escape that danger, and when to return when the danger is gone. Many families are gifted with this natural instinct: to sense a danger and to protect their loved ones.
In the family, we also discover that while children are taught and molded by parents, it is the children themselves that teach the adults what it means to be a real parent. In our Continuing Testament reading, Sr. Joan Chittister’s message is clear: No matter the hopes parents have for their children, the children do not belong to them. They will eventually become who they are meant to be, rather than what the parents would have them be. For it is love found in the family that nurtures each person’s freedom-- no matter if it is child or spouse-- to become ever more deeply their authentic selves.
Today, we celebrate this faith community—this Family of God, as mutuality, respect and service are bound together by the same virtues that bind the natural family together.
We do become aware that the natural, generative, family bonds are absent in faith communities, and great diversity and significant differences are found there. Yet what binds such communities together is the Word of Christ that finds a place in the heart of believers. This is our source. This is the force behind how we worship and how we reach out to others. In the Family of God, we take on the most basic family characteristic—we put on love.
It is true that all people need to discern the specific role they will play in life—in this Family of God. And when we find that place, we will be at home.
How do we invite people into our Family of Faith, as they journey to find the home they are searching for?
Third Sunday in Advent
Saturday, December 14, 2019
The four weeks of Advent begin our liturgical year, and all the readings chosen for this season are documented through the male perspective—as are all the books of the Bible.
As I reviewed numerous commentaries on the readings chosen for this Third Sunday in Advent, I got very bored with the same translations, the same perspectives, the same conclusions that I’ve heard over and over and over again throughout the centuries.
It amazes me that during this whole time of Advent, the scripture readings written and chosen by men speak of conflicts and the oppression of people, of what we need to think and say, about how to prepare for Jesus’ coming, yet never once reflected on the female figure that brought this all on—that made it possible for Jesus to be born at all—save the incongruous feast of the Immaculate Conception that is inserted in the Advent Season to assure us that Mary had to be “purified” by an ill-conceived church dogma that states she was actually born without sin. No male who inseminated her had to be purified—only Mary. Oh yes, that’s right! No male did inseminate her according to that doctrine—the female “Spirit” did!
Truth be told, the season of Advent is not primarily about the coming of Jesus, our vision for a more peaceful world—whether in terms of the end times and Second Coming, or in the liturgical readings that primarily recall Israel’s faith and hope in God, the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, and directives from Paul on how we should believe and behave. The perspective of men continues as the readings conclude with the Gospel that describes the conditions of the pregnancy, Joseph’s response, the angel’s directive, and the purpose of the birth.
Truth be told, Advent is primarily about the Mother of Jesus. Her name is Miriam—Mary, in our translated context. This is her season to shine! The words from our psalm today are HER words! Her Magnificat! Her realization that she is pregnant with new life and, because of this, her whole world will change—indeed, the whole world has changed because of her pregnancy and the birthing her son, Jesus of Nazareth. And because Mary was willing to carry this child for nine months in her womb, the whole world did change. Her son transformed the way we see the hand of God in our lives, the way we understand the true Spirit of the Law, the way we are called to live in love with one another to bring about the true kinship of God.
In the words of scripture commentator Kenyatta Gilbert, “..news of Jesus’ coming provides reassurance because a coming Jesus brings reversals of circumstance.” And because of the willingness of Mary, circumstances did indeed reverse, and continue to change in our world today.
There was a young woman, married and pregnant for the first time, who shared with me that her mother was not giving her the attention during her pregnancy that she expected-- at least the degree of attention she believed she needed from her mother. This young woman felt isolated because her mother was not being solicitous or visiting her much at all. This new mother felt cut off and isolated and in reality, was lamenting her perceived separation and lack of support from her own mother. Because of this, she felt robbed of the opportunity to share the emotions and physical changes in her body, or the dreams for her unborn child that she was experiencing, with her mother. She had hoped to get some consolation and support and was more than a little unnerved because she didn’t.
Now can you imagine that Mary, the soon-to-be mother of Jesus, who was pregnant, unmarried, and experienced all kinds of emotional and physical changes, can relate to this young woman today, after all these years? Of course she can! Women continue to get pregnant, hormones continue to wreak havoc, and dreams continue to occur. And all these experiences, are intended to be shared with a trusted someone. The reality is that women need other women!
Using male vocabulary, we are led to the “end game” with the readings that are chosen for this Season. I caution everyone to rethink this approach to Advent. The word means “coming.” And, as we know, the world is constantly coming at us before our very eyes. We are called to “become” over and over again. Meditating on a woman’s pregnancy can be transformative for all people as we embrace this call to bring forth new life over and over and over again.
The time is now for women to recount their experiences of relating to their Creator Spirit, and the exclusive privilege they have in bearing new human life in the intimacy of their own hearts and bodies. Each child born has the potential to bring hope of new life and a refreshing perspective to our world. Each maternal gesture of love embodies the Divine Feminine for humankind. We can prepare for this new life, or just ignore its impact. But life goes on whether we are ready or not.
I believe Mary had much more to say. Women need to be her voice today.
Your thoughts:
What words can we use to describe the primary role Mary played in the Advent “coming” of her son, Jesus?
Saturday, December 14, 2019
The four weeks of Advent begin our liturgical year, and all the readings chosen for this season are documented through the male perspective—as are all the books of the Bible.
As I reviewed numerous commentaries on the readings chosen for this Third Sunday in Advent, I got very bored with the same translations, the same perspectives, the same conclusions that I’ve heard over and over and over again throughout the centuries.
It amazes me that during this whole time of Advent, the scripture readings written and chosen by men speak of conflicts and the oppression of people, of what we need to think and say, about how to prepare for Jesus’ coming, yet never once reflected on the female figure that brought this all on—that made it possible for Jesus to be born at all—save the incongruous feast of the Immaculate Conception that is inserted in the Advent Season to assure us that Mary had to be “purified” by an ill-conceived church dogma that states she was actually born without sin. No male who inseminated her had to be purified—only Mary. Oh yes, that’s right! No male did inseminate her according to that doctrine—the female “Spirit” did!
Truth be told, the season of Advent is not primarily about the coming of Jesus, our vision for a more peaceful world—whether in terms of the end times and Second Coming, or in the liturgical readings that primarily recall Israel’s faith and hope in God, the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, and directives from Paul on how we should believe and behave. The perspective of men continues as the readings conclude with the Gospel that describes the conditions of the pregnancy, Joseph’s response, the angel’s directive, and the purpose of the birth.
Truth be told, Advent is primarily about the Mother of Jesus. Her name is Miriam—Mary, in our translated context. This is her season to shine! The words from our psalm today are HER words! Her Magnificat! Her realization that she is pregnant with new life and, because of this, her whole world will change—indeed, the whole world has changed because of her pregnancy and the birthing her son, Jesus of Nazareth. And because Mary was willing to carry this child for nine months in her womb, the whole world did change. Her son transformed the way we see the hand of God in our lives, the way we understand the true Spirit of the Law, the way we are called to live in love with one another to bring about the true kinship of God.
In the words of scripture commentator Kenyatta Gilbert, “..news of Jesus’ coming provides reassurance because a coming Jesus brings reversals of circumstance.” And because of the willingness of Mary, circumstances did indeed reverse, and continue to change in our world today.
There was a young woman, married and pregnant for the first time, who shared with me that her mother was not giving her the attention during her pregnancy that she expected-- at least the degree of attention she believed she needed from her mother. This young woman felt isolated because her mother was not being solicitous or visiting her much at all. This new mother felt cut off and isolated and in reality, was lamenting her perceived separation and lack of support from her own mother. Because of this, she felt robbed of the opportunity to share the emotions and physical changes in her body, or the dreams for her unborn child that she was experiencing, with her mother. She had hoped to get some consolation and support and was more than a little unnerved because she didn’t.
Now can you imagine that Mary, the soon-to-be mother of Jesus, who was pregnant, unmarried, and experienced all kinds of emotional and physical changes, can relate to this young woman today, after all these years? Of course she can! Women continue to get pregnant, hormones continue to wreak havoc, and dreams continue to occur. And all these experiences, are intended to be shared with a trusted someone. The reality is that women need other women!
Using male vocabulary, we are led to the “end game” with the readings that are chosen for this Season. I caution everyone to rethink this approach to Advent. The word means “coming.” And, as we know, the world is constantly coming at us before our very eyes. We are called to “become” over and over again. Meditating on a woman’s pregnancy can be transformative for all people as we embrace this call to bring forth new life over and over and over again.
The time is now for women to recount their experiences of relating to their Creator Spirit, and the exclusive privilege they have in bearing new human life in the intimacy of their own hearts and bodies. Each child born has the potential to bring hope of new life and a refreshing perspective to our world. Each maternal gesture of love embodies the Divine Feminine for humankind. We can prepare for this new life, or just ignore its impact. But life goes on whether we are ready or not.
I believe Mary had much more to say. Women need to be her voice today.
Your thoughts:
What words can we use to describe the primary role Mary played in the Advent “coming” of her son, Jesus?
Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Saturday, September 28, 2019, 5PM
Amos 6: 1, 4-7
Psalm 146
1 Timothy 6: 11-16
Luke 16: 19-31
According to our calendars, five days ago our world experienced the Autumn Equinox— I have tapped into the words of Lindsay McLauglin from the Rolling Ridge Study Retreat Community in Harpers Ferry, WV, to describe this period of Equinox, a time when the sun appears to stand still. It is a time of balance amid change, a threshold time between what was and what will be.
Each time one season flows into another is an opportunity to shift focus, to move with the Earth, to change perspective and see what happens.
After the Equinox, the nights grow longer, twilight and darkness linger, and our inclination is to turn inward, toward the inner world of imagination and dream.
The riotous, passionate, often chaotic summer simmers down to a cooler more mysterious season, which is also a time of harvest and reaping what has been sown in the illumined spring and wild summer.
Tracing the cycles of death and life have appeared in various stories within the wisdom teachings of faith traditions all over the globe down through time, and their words echo in our hearts:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the Earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit…”
We are in a time of transition in our church and in our world. Not only are the seasons changing, witnessing the life cycle of all that lives and dies, but our governments, both civil and religious, are in the midst of tremendous change in their vision and in their policies—seismic shifts that require us to dig deep into our inner world of faith-filled imagination. Each time one season flows into another is an opportunity to shift focus, to move with the Earth, to change perspective and see what happens.
Referencing our gospel story of the Rich Man’s plea for mercy, and Sarah and Abraham’s reply that Moses and the prophets have already told him how he should live, we, too, have been given everything we need from history to form new ways of living. We know the consequences of the repeated choices of ugliness and cruelty chosen by civil and religious leaders that have caused untold suffering for innocent victims. We also know through our historical and sacred writings about what we need to do for the common good. And not to follow through with what we know isolates us from the rest of the world, a world that could have benefited from our knowledge, bringing new meaning and new life for the people and creatures around us.
Our Gospel today illustrates a very harsh judgment leveled upon a rich man for having no regard for Lazarus in desperate need of help. The one who lived in privilege ends up in torment, and the one who was destitute is embraced in comfort. You could say that Luke’s message highlights the gravity of the rich man’s rejection of his responsibility to provide for the common good by handing out such severe punishment.
Yet by delving into our imaginations, daring to be prophetic, perhaps changing our perspective by no longer picturing God as the Judge who sorts people into a Heaven or a Hell-- How might we form a bigger vision of God who offers a place for all and turns no one away?
What might be the bigger vision for our civil and religious leaders who seem intent on satisfying their own vision of the world, intent on keeping others out of the picture?
In tune with the Autumn Equinox, how can we provide a balance in the midst of change—a threshold time between what was and what can be?
Saturday, September 28, 2019, 5PM
Amos 6: 1, 4-7
Psalm 146
1 Timothy 6: 11-16
Luke 16: 19-31
According to our calendars, five days ago our world experienced the Autumn Equinox— I have tapped into the words of Lindsay McLauglin from the Rolling Ridge Study Retreat Community in Harpers Ferry, WV, to describe this period of Equinox, a time when the sun appears to stand still. It is a time of balance amid change, a threshold time between what was and what will be.
Each time one season flows into another is an opportunity to shift focus, to move with the Earth, to change perspective and see what happens.
After the Equinox, the nights grow longer, twilight and darkness linger, and our inclination is to turn inward, toward the inner world of imagination and dream.
The riotous, passionate, often chaotic summer simmers down to a cooler more mysterious season, which is also a time of harvest and reaping what has been sown in the illumined spring and wild summer.
Tracing the cycles of death and life have appeared in various stories within the wisdom teachings of faith traditions all over the globe down through time, and their words echo in our hearts:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the Earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit…”
We are in a time of transition in our church and in our world. Not only are the seasons changing, witnessing the life cycle of all that lives and dies, but our governments, both civil and religious, are in the midst of tremendous change in their vision and in their policies—seismic shifts that require us to dig deep into our inner world of faith-filled imagination. Each time one season flows into another is an opportunity to shift focus, to move with the Earth, to change perspective and see what happens.
Referencing our gospel story of the Rich Man’s plea for mercy, and Sarah and Abraham’s reply that Moses and the prophets have already told him how he should live, we, too, have been given everything we need from history to form new ways of living. We know the consequences of the repeated choices of ugliness and cruelty chosen by civil and religious leaders that have caused untold suffering for innocent victims. We also know through our historical and sacred writings about what we need to do for the common good. And not to follow through with what we know isolates us from the rest of the world, a world that could have benefited from our knowledge, bringing new meaning and new life for the people and creatures around us.
Our Gospel today illustrates a very harsh judgment leveled upon a rich man for having no regard for Lazarus in desperate need of help. The one who lived in privilege ends up in torment, and the one who was destitute is embraced in comfort. You could say that Luke’s message highlights the gravity of the rich man’s rejection of his responsibility to provide for the common good by handing out such severe punishment.
Yet by delving into our imaginations, daring to be prophetic, perhaps changing our perspective by no longer picturing God as the Judge who sorts people into a Heaven or a Hell-- How might we form a bigger vision of God who offers a place for all and turns no one away?
What might be the bigger vision for our civil and religious leaders who seem intent on satisfying their own vision of the world, intent on keeping others out of the picture?
In tune with the Autumn Equinox, how can we provide a balance in the midst of change—a threshold time between what was and what can be?
Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time - August 17th, 18th 2019
First Reading: Jeremiah 38: 4-6, 8-10
Psalm: 40
Second Reading: Hebrews 12: 1-4
Gospel: Luke 12: 49-53
Our readings today mirror the message from last week on discipleship, only with concrete examples of what that message might include. If you recall, the primary message last week was that discipleship can be a hard road to travel, but we don’t go it alone—there are people and signs from God that help us and support us along the way. And this is the hope to which we cling.
This week we hear of Jeremiah’s plight, of how he has been scorned by those who fear his message will garner too much support, and so to curtail that message, his enemies throw him into a pit. Yet a perfect stranger, who himself is on the margins of society, sees the injustice of it all and bails him out.
And Jesus, wrought with the idea that the rulers of his time are closing in on him feels the need to make his message clearer to his disciples and heightens its urgency. “I will come to light a fire on the earth” means that judgment will be made on those who continue the course of ill will and evil. And that judgment will be so severe it will burn out the evil. With the words “There is a baptism I must still receive,” Jesus captures the same theology that our own baptismal rite today embraces: being willing to lay down your life for others-- even if it means you will die doing it!
Jesus knew by his life and ministry, by his actions and words, that he was inciting the government, agitating those in power. His message was so strong and demanding it caused division among families and communities. He knew if he continued to speak truth to power, it would cost him his life. As we read in today’s gospel, Jesus knew his baptism was not truly fulfilled until he died for what he believed.
Jesus stepped to the margins of his faith tradition in proclaiming the truth of God’s promises. We do well to remind ourselves that history reveals the only time real change occurs is when courageous people step out of what confines them and speak the truth.
“Speaking truth to power” is not all about demonstrating and causing a ruckus, although in some circles that is exactly their interpretation of the phrase. Rather, “speaking truth to power” means living and loving in the tradition of Jesus of Nazareth. That, in and of itself, is subversive enough!
We know that in the institutional church today there are many laws and precepts, many teachings, doctrines, and bosses. They all exist to preserve the power of the institution. Yet the very power that is missing and is so essential in this scenario, is the power of Jesus’ words and actions. Sadly, our church has used its power to exclude, oppress and diminish the People of God. And women of faith are not buying it!
So, in light of our recent ordination of a priest in the Roman Catholic Women Priest movement, and as this faith community supports the ordination and ministry of women priests, let me make a very fitting analogy to this week’s scripture message.
I often say that this road of women’s ordination and ministry is not for the faint of heart. And I mean it!
What price do we pay?
We are automatically excommunicated; we are dismissed as females who have lost their way and are being disobedient, confusing the People of God and leading them astray. We are even the subject of novels portraying us as poor, targeted victims of underground conspiracies.
We are often times considered suspect by our families and friends who regard the institutional church as the end all and be all of truth. At the same time those very people are suffering from poor vision. They are not seeing the real problem. They don’t want to see. They want things to remain the same because they are happy where they’re at, and, if not happy, they decide they will be faithful to the church as is, missing the truth that THEY are the church! If they occasionally feel oppressed, well, they’ll just offer it up. Their faith is in a human institution and not in the message of Jesus.
In the meantime, people with different sexual orientations, young people who are disillusioned by the institution, people who are living in problematic and illicit marriages, people who are poor and destitute, people who are hurting and overwhelmed by grief, people of various races and creeds-- all have experiences of being oppressed and shunned by church and society, and they are searching for a spiritual home.
Not only do women priests and deacons welcome these disenfranchised individuals into their faith communities, we stand as advocates for all women who have been deeply affected by centuries of oppression, be it physical or spiritual.
Ordained women want to spread the hope that is needed in our societies and churches today. We want to live and minister to those to and with whom Jesus lived and ministered-- those on the margins of society. As ordained ministers standing alongside all of you here today, we are considered marginal because we disagree with the powers that be and embrace a fuller vision of what it means to be Christian in our world. The truth of the matter is that it’s very difficult to live with ourselves when we disregard our deepest convictions and ignore the promptings of the Spirit we experience within. Yet as difficult as this life of faith may be, we know that such a life is the only way we choose to live.
By following Jesus’ example of inclusion and equality, women are finding their voices and speaking and ministering from their heart. We seek ordination in the Roman Catholic tradition because we know we are called to reform this tradition. While we may never see institutional reform take place in our lifetimes, we know that spiritual reform and the vision of God’s kindom that we carry will have impacted many lives. We will be persecuted. We will die without fanfare, in isolation. Yet we will have provided a prophetic way of life for future generations to follow. Much like the Jesus story!
And that is the point of our readings today. Leading the life of a Christian is not easy. It will cause division, it will become fiery, it is not for the faint of heart!
Along with the hope offered last week, Paul’s letter to the Hebrews tells us today that we have “clouds of witnesses” that are here to support us-- and these witnesses can be found dead or alive.
Who will we include in our cloud of witnesses to support us as we continue to live and move and work and play in this vast universe that our Creator as provided us? Those we name are the ones that will make sure we are faithful to our baptismal promises! It is through them that God draws us out of the pit; it is through them that God comes to our aid.
The ordination is our newest example of a woman speaking truth to power. Please pray for her that she maintains her resolve in this sacred and prophetic calling. Include her in the cloud of witnesses that you can depend upon.
If you feel so inclined, I invite you to share thoughts you may have on our readings today.
First Reading: Jeremiah 38: 4-6, 8-10
Psalm: 40
Second Reading: Hebrews 12: 1-4
Gospel: Luke 12: 49-53
Our readings today mirror the message from last week on discipleship, only with concrete examples of what that message might include. If you recall, the primary message last week was that discipleship can be a hard road to travel, but we don’t go it alone—there are people and signs from God that help us and support us along the way. And this is the hope to which we cling.
This week we hear of Jeremiah’s plight, of how he has been scorned by those who fear his message will garner too much support, and so to curtail that message, his enemies throw him into a pit. Yet a perfect stranger, who himself is on the margins of society, sees the injustice of it all and bails him out.
And Jesus, wrought with the idea that the rulers of his time are closing in on him feels the need to make his message clearer to his disciples and heightens its urgency. “I will come to light a fire on the earth” means that judgment will be made on those who continue the course of ill will and evil. And that judgment will be so severe it will burn out the evil. With the words “There is a baptism I must still receive,” Jesus captures the same theology that our own baptismal rite today embraces: being willing to lay down your life for others-- even if it means you will die doing it!
Jesus knew by his life and ministry, by his actions and words, that he was inciting the government, agitating those in power. His message was so strong and demanding it caused division among families and communities. He knew if he continued to speak truth to power, it would cost him his life. As we read in today’s gospel, Jesus knew his baptism was not truly fulfilled until he died for what he believed.
Jesus stepped to the margins of his faith tradition in proclaiming the truth of God’s promises. We do well to remind ourselves that history reveals the only time real change occurs is when courageous people step out of what confines them and speak the truth.
“Speaking truth to power” is not all about demonstrating and causing a ruckus, although in some circles that is exactly their interpretation of the phrase. Rather, “speaking truth to power” means living and loving in the tradition of Jesus of Nazareth. That, in and of itself, is subversive enough!
We know that in the institutional church today there are many laws and precepts, many teachings, doctrines, and bosses. They all exist to preserve the power of the institution. Yet the very power that is missing and is so essential in this scenario, is the power of Jesus’ words and actions. Sadly, our church has used its power to exclude, oppress and diminish the People of God. And women of faith are not buying it!
So, in light of our recent ordination of a priest in the Roman Catholic Women Priest movement, and as this faith community supports the ordination and ministry of women priests, let me make a very fitting analogy to this week’s scripture message.
I often say that this road of women’s ordination and ministry is not for the faint of heart. And I mean it!
What price do we pay?
We are automatically excommunicated; we are dismissed as females who have lost their way and are being disobedient, confusing the People of God and leading them astray. We are even the subject of novels portraying us as poor, targeted victims of underground conspiracies.
We are often times considered suspect by our families and friends who regard the institutional church as the end all and be all of truth. At the same time those very people are suffering from poor vision. They are not seeing the real problem. They don’t want to see. They want things to remain the same because they are happy where they’re at, and, if not happy, they decide they will be faithful to the church as is, missing the truth that THEY are the church! If they occasionally feel oppressed, well, they’ll just offer it up. Their faith is in a human institution and not in the message of Jesus.
In the meantime, people with different sexual orientations, young people who are disillusioned by the institution, people who are living in problematic and illicit marriages, people who are poor and destitute, people who are hurting and overwhelmed by grief, people of various races and creeds-- all have experiences of being oppressed and shunned by church and society, and they are searching for a spiritual home.
Not only do women priests and deacons welcome these disenfranchised individuals into their faith communities, we stand as advocates for all women who have been deeply affected by centuries of oppression, be it physical or spiritual.
Ordained women want to spread the hope that is needed in our societies and churches today. We want to live and minister to those to and with whom Jesus lived and ministered-- those on the margins of society. As ordained ministers standing alongside all of you here today, we are considered marginal because we disagree with the powers that be and embrace a fuller vision of what it means to be Christian in our world. The truth of the matter is that it’s very difficult to live with ourselves when we disregard our deepest convictions and ignore the promptings of the Spirit we experience within. Yet as difficult as this life of faith may be, we know that such a life is the only way we choose to live.
By following Jesus’ example of inclusion and equality, women are finding their voices and speaking and ministering from their heart. We seek ordination in the Roman Catholic tradition because we know we are called to reform this tradition. While we may never see institutional reform take place in our lifetimes, we know that spiritual reform and the vision of God’s kindom that we carry will have impacted many lives. We will be persecuted. We will die without fanfare, in isolation. Yet we will have provided a prophetic way of life for future generations to follow. Much like the Jesus story!
And that is the point of our readings today. Leading the life of a Christian is not easy. It will cause division, it will become fiery, it is not for the faint of heart!
Along with the hope offered last week, Paul’s letter to the Hebrews tells us today that we have “clouds of witnesses” that are here to support us-- and these witnesses can be found dead or alive.
Who will we include in our cloud of witnesses to support us as we continue to live and move and work and play in this vast universe that our Creator as provided us? Those we name are the ones that will make sure we are faithful to our baptismal promises! It is through them that God draws us out of the pit; it is through them that God comes to our aid.
The ordination is our newest example of a woman speaking truth to power. Please pray for her that she maintains her resolve in this sacred and prophetic calling. Include her in the cloud of witnesses that you can depend upon.
If you feel so inclined, I invite you to share thoughts you may have on our readings today.
Homily – Easter Vigil 2019
First Reading: Genesis 1:1-2:2
Second Reading: Exodus 14:15-15:1
Third Reading: Isaiah 55:1-11
Fourth Reading: Ezekiel 36:16-28
Fifth Reading: Romans 6:3-11
Gospel: Luke 24:1-12
It is probably safe to say that all of us are familiar with the transformation that takes place before a butterfly spreads its wings. It’s within the chrysalis, or cocoon, that the “transformation” happens. From the outside it looks like the caterpillar is resting, but inside big things are happening – remarkable transformation called metamorphosis is going on as the caterpillar is changing its shape and form. It is amazing to patiently watch the transfiguration from caterpillar to butterfly! Many a person has marveled at this site!
As a mother, I, too, have witnessed the remarkable transformation that took place in my children as they grew and matured. It was within my “womb” that the rudimentary stages of transformation happened, the stage that made them viable human creations. From the outside of my body it looked like my belly was swelling, but inside big things were happening as this new life continuously changed its shape and form.
The obvious difference between the transformation of the caterpillar into butterfly, and my children gestating within my body, is starkly different.
Once the butterfly escapes its confines, it reaches its maturity. Now the butterfly is able to live a life that it was intended to live. For the plant world, butterflies pollinate or carry pollen from plant to plant, helping fruits, vegetables, and flowers to produce new seeds. From the animal point of view, butterflies are near the bottom of the food chain and provide food (especially in their caterpillar stage) for birds, mammals, and other insects. In addition, for us, each butterfly provides a unique beauty that lifts our spirits and allows us to marvel at our Creator’s magnificence. And once its relatively short life is spent, it becomes fertilization by mixing with the nutrients of other forms of creation. Eventually it becomes new life for another species within the creative force of our universe. A true transfiguration to be sure!
Within the human transformation process, once a child is born, it is quite evident that they still need loving care and nurturing to continue the maturation process of becoming a fully-grown member of the human race. An infant has a long way to go before human maturity happens, both physically and spiritually. I have found myself chuckling at people who believe once a developing child reaches the stage of human viability, they are considered fully formed. Only a mother has the intimately unique advantage of knowing how untrue that statement is!
The human being is a complex, multifaceted creature, to say the least. For all the potential a human has, the person must wait many years in search of their full capacity. Not only does our journey entail continued physical development, but also spiritual development. And our enlightened understanding of being a fully developed human being embraces both.
Each of us, made in the image and likeness of our Creator, experiences numerous opportunities for continued growth and development within our lifetime—we are never actually finished learning or being. We are made with the capacity to continuously gain insight and understanding, both of the physical and spiritual world.
This idea and thought is concretely manifested here at the Community of St. Bridget. An example of this is that the traditional Catholic “penitential rite” that is normally found at the beginning of liturgical worship has been renamed our “transformation rite.” For we have realized and put into prayer form the main purpose of liturgical prayer as providing an opportunity for each individual to experience an inner transformation as they participate in the Eucharistic liturgy. We believe that we do not go away from this communal experience without having been changed in some way. And so we pray at the beginning of the service for the grace to let go of all the obstacles we encounter that would prevent us from accepting that change.
Tonight, we recall and celebrate the process of human transformation as actualized in the life, ministry, death and transfiguration of Jesus of Nazareth.
In the words of scripture scholar, George Smiga, our services on Holy Thursday and Good Friday were not merely about action, as much as they were about continuation. We continue to seek and find our true worth in the midst of all the injustice and torment our world puts at our feet. We continue to study and pray over Jesus’ example of dying for what he believed in, for the reformation and renewal of God’s original design for all creation. And we continue to witness that this Spirit of Jesus has broadened our limited perspective on who we are called to be. He continues to rise in the minds and hearts of those who choose to answer the call to love and serve one another, no matter the consequences. Jesus said, “You will do far more than I have done.” Our work continues as we challenge ourselves by reflecting on the question:
How does the effects of Jesus’ dying and rising continue to shape our lives?
May this Easter be a celebration of all things new for you and those you love!
First Reading: Genesis 1:1-2:2
Second Reading: Exodus 14:15-15:1
Third Reading: Isaiah 55:1-11
Fourth Reading: Ezekiel 36:16-28
Fifth Reading: Romans 6:3-11
Gospel: Luke 24:1-12
It is probably safe to say that all of us are familiar with the transformation that takes place before a butterfly spreads its wings. It’s within the chrysalis, or cocoon, that the “transformation” happens. From the outside it looks like the caterpillar is resting, but inside big things are happening – remarkable transformation called metamorphosis is going on as the caterpillar is changing its shape and form. It is amazing to patiently watch the transfiguration from caterpillar to butterfly! Many a person has marveled at this site!
As a mother, I, too, have witnessed the remarkable transformation that took place in my children as they grew and matured. It was within my “womb” that the rudimentary stages of transformation happened, the stage that made them viable human creations. From the outside of my body it looked like my belly was swelling, but inside big things were happening as this new life continuously changed its shape and form.
The obvious difference between the transformation of the caterpillar into butterfly, and my children gestating within my body, is starkly different.
Once the butterfly escapes its confines, it reaches its maturity. Now the butterfly is able to live a life that it was intended to live. For the plant world, butterflies pollinate or carry pollen from plant to plant, helping fruits, vegetables, and flowers to produce new seeds. From the animal point of view, butterflies are near the bottom of the food chain and provide food (especially in their caterpillar stage) for birds, mammals, and other insects. In addition, for us, each butterfly provides a unique beauty that lifts our spirits and allows us to marvel at our Creator’s magnificence. And once its relatively short life is spent, it becomes fertilization by mixing with the nutrients of other forms of creation. Eventually it becomes new life for another species within the creative force of our universe. A true transfiguration to be sure!
Within the human transformation process, once a child is born, it is quite evident that they still need loving care and nurturing to continue the maturation process of becoming a fully-grown member of the human race. An infant has a long way to go before human maturity happens, both physically and spiritually. I have found myself chuckling at people who believe once a developing child reaches the stage of human viability, they are considered fully formed. Only a mother has the intimately unique advantage of knowing how untrue that statement is!
The human being is a complex, multifaceted creature, to say the least. For all the potential a human has, the person must wait many years in search of their full capacity. Not only does our journey entail continued physical development, but also spiritual development. And our enlightened understanding of being a fully developed human being embraces both.
Each of us, made in the image and likeness of our Creator, experiences numerous opportunities for continued growth and development within our lifetime—we are never actually finished learning or being. We are made with the capacity to continuously gain insight and understanding, both of the physical and spiritual world.
This idea and thought is concretely manifested here at the Community of St. Bridget. An example of this is that the traditional Catholic “penitential rite” that is normally found at the beginning of liturgical worship has been renamed our “transformation rite.” For we have realized and put into prayer form the main purpose of liturgical prayer as providing an opportunity for each individual to experience an inner transformation as they participate in the Eucharistic liturgy. We believe that we do not go away from this communal experience without having been changed in some way. And so we pray at the beginning of the service for the grace to let go of all the obstacles we encounter that would prevent us from accepting that change.
Tonight, we recall and celebrate the process of human transformation as actualized in the life, ministry, death and transfiguration of Jesus of Nazareth.
In the words of scripture scholar, George Smiga, our services on Holy Thursday and Good Friday were not merely about action, as much as they were about continuation. We continue to seek and find our true worth in the midst of all the injustice and torment our world puts at our feet. We continue to study and pray over Jesus’ example of dying for what he believed in, for the reformation and renewal of God’s original design for all creation. And we continue to witness that this Spirit of Jesus has broadened our limited perspective on who we are called to be. He continues to rise in the minds and hearts of those who choose to answer the call to love and serve one another, no matter the consequences. Jesus said, “You will do far more than I have done.” Our work continues as we challenge ourselves by reflecting on the question:
How does the effects of Jesus’ dying and rising continue to shape our lives?
May this Easter be a celebration of all things new for you and those you love!
Homily for the Second Sunday in Advent/Immaculate Conception
December 8th, 2018
First Reading: Baruch 5:1-9
Psalm Response: Psalm 126
Second Reading: Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11
Gospel: Luke 3:1-6
There is much written and proclaimed about the season of Advent. We often are directed to reflect on spiritually birthing anew Jesus for our time, and on his eternal companionship. And this, of course, is all good.
However, by directing our minds to Jesus during this time, we totally miss the point that the Advent Season is really about Mary, the Mother of Jesus. It is about her pregnancy and carrying and waiting for her child to be born. It is about her body cradling and protecting the baby that is growing and maturing in her womb. It is about waiting for the birth of this child under very rough circumstances. It’s about her willingness to do this. And we wait with her, anticipating this new life for ourselves, as well as its impact on our world.
So, today, within this Advent Season, the Roman Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
And so, I ask, quite sincerely and honestly: Why is it that the men of the church come up with celebrations for Mary, the Mother of Jesus, without consulting women?
By asking this question, I mean no disrespect to Mary, nor any disrespect to women. After all, why would I? How this feast day got included in the liturgical calendar had nothing to do with Mary OR women. It had—and has-- everything to do with the mindset of church MEN.
The Feast of the Immaculate Conception centers on the belief that Jesus’ mother, Mary, was conceived without sin—which at the time of the promulgation of this church teaching in Dec. of 1854 by Pope Pius IX, meant that Mary did not inherit any sinful residue that all of us other unfortunates supposedly did via the teaching that sin entered the world through the actions of a woman, Eve.
As the story goes, because Eve was curious and ate of the fruit of the forbidden tree that God made off limits to her and Adam, sin entered the world—up till then there was no recorded sin in this Garden of Eden-- and this act of Eve’s caused all children born from then on to be born in sin—kind of a hereditary disease of sort. Thus, the church’s teaching on “original sin.” This bizarre idea was an answer to why, thousands of years later, people made poor choices and acted badly – they sinned.
How come no one even imagined that sin could have entered the world through the Creator’s fashioning of human beings who were given a free choice—to choose what they wanted to do or think or believe; thus, not always making good choices, not always making choices that reflected the goodness of their Creator? In fact, some of their choices were and continue to be downright evil.
Now, let’s think this through:
#1: The story of Adam and Eve is a myth. A myth in the sense that it is a story that tells a certain truth, although the story line isn’t necessarily true. So over thousands of years, there were faith filled men who decided they should write down how and why they came to believe the things they hold as true. The stories were created by the imagination of those writers to explain how it could have happened…. Again, no idea that all human beings had a choice; rather, believing in the mindset that it was a woman’s fault.
#2: The church has always thought of sexual intercourse as a necessity to populate the earth, and never revered it as being a holy action. The men perceived through instinct, observation and personal experience, that when they were in the throes of sexual activity, they did not have complete control of their minds and actions. Things naturally just proceeded and intercourse occurred. In ancient times, not having complete control of your mind and actions was not considered good for anyone, and certainly not holy. In fact, experiencing sexual climax was considered an insane moment!
And, if Christianity was to proclaim that the Son of God was to be born, the person that would carry this child in her womb must be without blemish of any sin—after all, it was thought absolutely impossible that this God-baby could ever rest and grow within a sinful environment, especially, a woman’s womb!
#3: Now if you are following all of this, you also know that since women bleed every month, and the Hebrew understanding of this was that they are unclean during this time, it was tantamount to teach that this woman, Mary, be remembered as a spotless virgin, because the God-baby could never be born in an unclean vessel.
And, if that’s the case, then did Mary bleed every month, as most women of childbearing age do, or was that taken away from her?
If she didn’t bleed every month, how could she have physically given birth to Jesus without any blood appearing—because, as you know, birthing a child is very bloody. And if she did bleed every month, and then all of a sudden stopped so that the Son of God would develop in her womb, now, that would have been very miraculous and go against every facet of how the Creator fashioned the woman’s body to nurture her developing baby. Nutrients come through the blood flowing freely through her body. That’s just a fact. That’s the way we were created. And God said, this is very good.
Wow! What a messy situation we have on our hands!
According to the Hebrew understanding-- and of course this, too, was held by the Hebrew MEN-- the word “blood” in Hebrew means a life source, that’s why you will often hear me proclaim, the “Cup of Life” when I hand you the cup at communion time. Yet when a WOMAN bleeds, it means not only is she not a life source, but that she must be considered “unclean.”
Could it possibly be that the authors of such teachings needed to keep women in their place, and maintain control over the common people by convincing them that they were not conceived from an “original blessing,” but from an “original sin?”
Could it possibly be that they felt the need to keep control using male domination and dictate what holiness really meant?
Could it possibly be that they did not, and still do not, believe that women are fully human and equal with men, and therefore, the need to be directed and guided by men in their sexual lives and religious practices?
Could it possibly be that they believe that a man loses his senses and control in the throes of sexual passion due to the “wiles of women?” That doesn’t really answer it for those men who suffer from pedophilia, psychosexual disfunctions, or find themselves homosexually oriented now, does it?
And poor Mary of Nazareth, who the churchmen tell us had to give up her God- given capacity to copulate and bear a child as her Creator had fashioned for her!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What we want to remember and anticipate during this holy season of Advent my friends, is not the claim that Mary was a virgin and God plopped a bloodless embryo in her body; but rather the wonderful, creative event when the young Mary of Nazareth became pregnant, nourishing her unborn child with the nutrients of her body, and birthed a baby, her son, Jesus. And we, as a faith community, can do that for one another: we are pregnant with new life and energy, we nourish one another by our companionship and community worship, giving of our very selves, for the continued life of the world.
The Word of God in the wilderness is being spoken today to and through women as it was then in the beginning, with the “assumed” barren Elizabeth, and the young, betrothed Mary.
Like them, let us not be afraid to dream dreams and engage visions that are the foundation for our prophetic voices to proclaim the loving tenderness of our God who continually comes to be with us. Emmanuel.
December 8th, 2018
First Reading: Baruch 5:1-9
Psalm Response: Psalm 126
Second Reading: Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11
Gospel: Luke 3:1-6
There is much written and proclaimed about the season of Advent. We often are directed to reflect on spiritually birthing anew Jesus for our time, and on his eternal companionship. And this, of course, is all good.
However, by directing our minds to Jesus during this time, we totally miss the point that the Advent Season is really about Mary, the Mother of Jesus. It is about her pregnancy and carrying and waiting for her child to be born. It is about her body cradling and protecting the baby that is growing and maturing in her womb. It is about waiting for the birth of this child under very rough circumstances. It’s about her willingness to do this. And we wait with her, anticipating this new life for ourselves, as well as its impact on our world.
So, today, within this Advent Season, the Roman Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
And so, I ask, quite sincerely and honestly: Why is it that the men of the church come up with celebrations for Mary, the Mother of Jesus, without consulting women?
By asking this question, I mean no disrespect to Mary, nor any disrespect to women. After all, why would I? How this feast day got included in the liturgical calendar had nothing to do with Mary OR women. It had—and has-- everything to do with the mindset of church MEN.
The Feast of the Immaculate Conception centers on the belief that Jesus’ mother, Mary, was conceived without sin—which at the time of the promulgation of this church teaching in Dec. of 1854 by Pope Pius IX, meant that Mary did not inherit any sinful residue that all of us other unfortunates supposedly did via the teaching that sin entered the world through the actions of a woman, Eve.
As the story goes, because Eve was curious and ate of the fruit of the forbidden tree that God made off limits to her and Adam, sin entered the world—up till then there was no recorded sin in this Garden of Eden-- and this act of Eve’s caused all children born from then on to be born in sin—kind of a hereditary disease of sort. Thus, the church’s teaching on “original sin.” This bizarre idea was an answer to why, thousands of years later, people made poor choices and acted badly – they sinned.
How come no one even imagined that sin could have entered the world through the Creator’s fashioning of human beings who were given a free choice—to choose what they wanted to do or think or believe; thus, not always making good choices, not always making choices that reflected the goodness of their Creator? In fact, some of their choices were and continue to be downright evil.
Now, let’s think this through:
#1: The story of Adam and Eve is a myth. A myth in the sense that it is a story that tells a certain truth, although the story line isn’t necessarily true. So over thousands of years, there were faith filled men who decided they should write down how and why they came to believe the things they hold as true. The stories were created by the imagination of those writers to explain how it could have happened…. Again, no idea that all human beings had a choice; rather, believing in the mindset that it was a woman’s fault.
#2: The church has always thought of sexual intercourse as a necessity to populate the earth, and never revered it as being a holy action. The men perceived through instinct, observation and personal experience, that when they were in the throes of sexual activity, they did not have complete control of their minds and actions. Things naturally just proceeded and intercourse occurred. In ancient times, not having complete control of your mind and actions was not considered good for anyone, and certainly not holy. In fact, experiencing sexual climax was considered an insane moment!
And, if Christianity was to proclaim that the Son of God was to be born, the person that would carry this child in her womb must be without blemish of any sin—after all, it was thought absolutely impossible that this God-baby could ever rest and grow within a sinful environment, especially, a woman’s womb!
#3: Now if you are following all of this, you also know that since women bleed every month, and the Hebrew understanding of this was that they are unclean during this time, it was tantamount to teach that this woman, Mary, be remembered as a spotless virgin, because the God-baby could never be born in an unclean vessel.
And, if that’s the case, then did Mary bleed every month, as most women of childbearing age do, or was that taken away from her?
If she didn’t bleed every month, how could she have physically given birth to Jesus without any blood appearing—because, as you know, birthing a child is very bloody. And if she did bleed every month, and then all of a sudden stopped so that the Son of God would develop in her womb, now, that would have been very miraculous and go against every facet of how the Creator fashioned the woman’s body to nurture her developing baby. Nutrients come through the blood flowing freely through her body. That’s just a fact. That’s the way we were created. And God said, this is very good.
Wow! What a messy situation we have on our hands!
According to the Hebrew understanding-- and of course this, too, was held by the Hebrew MEN-- the word “blood” in Hebrew means a life source, that’s why you will often hear me proclaim, the “Cup of Life” when I hand you the cup at communion time. Yet when a WOMAN bleeds, it means not only is she not a life source, but that she must be considered “unclean.”
Could it possibly be that the authors of such teachings needed to keep women in their place, and maintain control over the common people by convincing them that they were not conceived from an “original blessing,” but from an “original sin?”
Could it possibly be that they felt the need to keep control using male domination and dictate what holiness really meant?
Could it possibly be that they did not, and still do not, believe that women are fully human and equal with men, and therefore, the need to be directed and guided by men in their sexual lives and religious practices?
Could it possibly be that they believe that a man loses his senses and control in the throes of sexual passion due to the “wiles of women?” That doesn’t really answer it for those men who suffer from pedophilia, psychosexual disfunctions, or find themselves homosexually oriented now, does it?
And poor Mary of Nazareth, who the churchmen tell us had to give up her God- given capacity to copulate and bear a child as her Creator had fashioned for her!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What we want to remember and anticipate during this holy season of Advent my friends, is not the claim that Mary was a virgin and God plopped a bloodless embryo in her body; but rather the wonderful, creative event when the young Mary of Nazareth became pregnant, nourishing her unborn child with the nutrients of her body, and birthed a baby, her son, Jesus. And we, as a faith community, can do that for one another: we are pregnant with new life and energy, we nourish one another by our companionship and community worship, giving of our very selves, for the continued life of the world.
The Word of God in the wilderness is being spoken today to and through women as it was then in the beginning, with the “assumed” barren Elizabeth, and the young, betrothed Mary.
Like them, let us not be afraid to dream dreams and engage visions that are the foundation for our prophetic voices to proclaim the loving tenderness of our God who continually comes to be with us. Emmanuel.
From left to right:
Toni-Kay Attanasio, Susan Guzik, Mary Eileen Collingwood, Geraldine Lococo, Kathleen O’Connell Sauline
June 30 2018 ORDINATION HOMILY
Bishop Mary Eileen Collingwood, ARCWP, ordained four women in Brecksville, Ohio. Susan Guzik, was ordained a priest and Toni-Kay Attanasio, Geraldine Lococo and Kathleen O’Connor Sauline were ordained deacons.
Mary Eileen delivered the following homily:
We gather today to celebrate with great joy the ordination of Susan Marie Guzik as priest, and Toni-Kay Attanasio, Geraldine Lococo, and Kathleen O’Connell Sauline as deacons with the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests.
As most of us know so well, very joyful and grace-filled experiences often happen at the same time others are found suffering in the worst way.
This very day protesters are gathering across our nation demonstrating against a zero-tolerance policy on immigration. The many people struggling to come into this country have been victims within their nation of origin, and find after coming here, their struggle continues with the past and present policies we have here, in this nation, on immigration.
The separated families’ situation goes on indefinitely. Many parents are already deported and their children remain in limbo in migrant detention facilities. Family shelters for those families who can now remain together are quickly running out of room.
This is not a public relations problem. This is a human moral tragedy. The sorrowful images that are flashed across our television screens portray an inhumanity that is spreading like wild fire across our nation. This crisis of immense proportion is far from over.
To be clear, this is a moral opportunity. This is the moment in time to which we have been called to be here for our vulnerable children and brothers and sisters in peril. There is great urgency swelling up in the hearts of those who care to re-unite children with their families. And the question of the day is:When will it happen?
Matthew’s Gospel comes to the rescue today, on this very day of joyful celebration and righteous protest.
The setting of Jesus’ teaching is so serene—a mountain set apart, a teacher directing his message to his closest disciples, simple statements coupled with glorious rewards. What some have come to know as Christian law, the Beatitudes actually originated in the ancient Jewish Wisdom teachings. The reading draws a connection between a particular manner of behavior and the consequences that flow from such behavior.
It is important to note that the behavior or values Jesus advocates is frequently the opposite of those espoused by society at large. And indeed, these teachings offer us an opportunity to seek the wisdom that we so desperately need in our times. To be certain, each and every one of them invite us to turn our standards and our way of life upside down and inside out. In this way, we come to understand the challenges set before us. We need to change the narrative. These beatitudes, these blessings, call for profound inner transformation.
The disciples of Jesus are not merely his followers; they also continue the work he began. Work to secure justice for the oppressed, giving food to the hungry, giving sight to the blind, protecting strangers, sustaining the fatherless and the widowed. Our ordinands today, as disciples of Jesus, are committed to work to sustain the good that is in the world and to transform whatever needs transformation.
My friends, these women of faith are living examples of the Beatitudes in our time.
Susan Guzik, our octogenarian, who, contrary to what some may believe, is not being rewarded with a life time achievement award today, but rather with the recognition and confirmation that her entire life has been grounded in the vastness of her priestly life and witness among us. She remains an avid reader with a desire to learn and to serve. Sue is always seeking right relations with God, self, others, and all creation. She seeks it actively, hungering and thirsting for justice. Through her many active years in Stephen Ministry responding to the needs of people, she has nurtured right relationships in her family, her parish and surrounding communities for many decades.
Toni-Kay Attanasio, our California school psychologist, is a mighty force for the good. She has taken on the toughest kids in the toughest area of the city. Many have come to know that those efforts, grounded in her contemplative nature, reflect a deep commitment to individuals with special needs and their families. She is a beacon in the dark, a guiding post for those who need direction, a fierce advocate for those in need. And along with all of that-- and perhaps more importantly-- she is a spiritual seeker, believer, and prophet for our time. Toni-Kay has traveled the rough roads of persecution and accepts it as part and parcel to following Jesus’ life and ministry of equality and justice.
Gerry Lococo, a leader of prayer and spiritual force for the Sunday’s Bread Community in Pittsburgh, is a calming presence and listening spirit among us.
When you spend any time with Gerry at all, you know you have encountered God face to face. Contrary to Jewish thought that believed human beings could not see God and still live, anyone who is in Gerry’s presence walks away knowing that they are not only alive, but spiritually energized! She stands in a holy place and receives many blessings. In turn, so goes those who meet, pray and live with Gerry. Be it in a show of solidarity in ecumenical gatherings, or a clear voice for justice, Gerry shines her light for all to see and witness.
Kathleen Sauline can walk into a room and immediately gauge the level of joy or discord present. She has been blessed with an inner sense of knowing where she needs to be in service to others. Kathleen has a clear vision of the necessary components that build authentic relationships. She has worked with teachers, guiding them through restorative practices that build right relationships with their students. The faith community that nurtured her through the years of raising her family has encouraged her and has fostered within her an enlightened sense of church. Kathleen offers others mercy and forgiveness in generous portions. She has learned the meaning of mercy as a foundational component of Christian ministry.
Blessed are we who gather here today to witness the ordination of these formidable women of faith. Our church will be blessed beyond our imaginations by their lifegiving prophetic witness.
We celebrate this sacrament of Holy Orders this afternoon knowing that the blessings of the Holy One are upon us, for we have been anointed and share in Jesus’s life and ministry as priest, prophet and royal witness to truth, equality and justice in our church and our world.
Our prayer is that our institutional church will soon awaken to realize these pearls of great worth are ordained women who are keeping the vision of justice and equality in an inclusive church alive and well. Yet the same question comes to the surface once again: When will it happen?
The narrative does change, my friends, when we encounter individuals who have a vision and follow Our Creator’s Living Spirit among us. We come together today with full understanding of the challenges we face as a nation and as a church. We believe that transformation is possible on any level of society, if we see with eyes of faith and work with hearts that move mountains. We celebrate that very faith in these women’s hearts today. May it always be so!
Bishop Mary Eileen Collingwood, ARCWP, ordained four women in Brecksville, Ohio. Susan Guzik, was ordained a priest and Toni-Kay Attanasio, Geraldine Lococo and Kathleen O’Connor Sauline were ordained deacons.
Mary Eileen delivered the following homily:
We gather today to celebrate with great joy the ordination of Susan Marie Guzik as priest, and Toni-Kay Attanasio, Geraldine Lococo, and Kathleen O’Connell Sauline as deacons with the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests.
As most of us know so well, very joyful and grace-filled experiences often happen at the same time others are found suffering in the worst way.
This very day protesters are gathering across our nation demonstrating against a zero-tolerance policy on immigration. The many people struggling to come into this country have been victims within their nation of origin, and find after coming here, their struggle continues with the past and present policies we have here, in this nation, on immigration.
The separated families’ situation goes on indefinitely. Many parents are already deported and their children remain in limbo in migrant detention facilities. Family shelters for those families who can now remain together are quickly running out of room.
This is not a public relations problem. This is a human moral tragedy. The sorrowful images that are flashed across our television screens portray an inhumanity that is spreading like wild fire across our nation. This crisis of immense proportion is far from over.
To be clear, this is a moral opportunity. This is the moment in time to which we have been called to be here for our vulnerable children and brothers and sisters in peril. There is great urgency swelling up in the hearts of those who care to re-unite children with their families. And the question of the day is:When will it happen?
Matthew’s Gospel comes to the rescue today, on this very day of joyful celebration and righteous protest.
The setting of Jesus’ teaching is so serene—a mountain set apart, a teacher directing his message to his closest disciples, simple statements coupled with glorious rewards. What some have come to know as Christian law, the Beatitudes actually originated in the ancient Jewish Wisdom teachings. The reading draws a connection between a particular manner of behavior and the consequences that flow from such behavior.
It is important to note that the behavior or values Jesus advocates is frequently the opposite of those espoused by society at large. And indeed, these teachings offer us an opportunity to seek the wisdom that we so desperately need in our times. To be certain, each and every one of them invite us to turn our standards and our way of life upside down and inside out. In this way, we come to understand the challenges set before us. We need to change the narrative. These beatitudes, these blessings, call for profound inner transformation.
The disciples of Jesus are not merely his followers; they also continue the work he began. Work to secure justice for the oppressed, giving food to the hungry, giving sight to the blind, protecting strangers, sustaining the fatherless and the widowed. Our ordinands today, as disciples of Jesus, are committed to work to sustain the good that is in the world and to transform whatever needs transformation.
My friends, these women of faith are living examples of the Beatitudes in our time.
Susan Guzik, our octogenarian, who, contrary to what some may believe, is not being rewarded with a life time achievement award today, but rather with the recognition and confirmation that her entire life has been grounded in the vastness of her priestly life and witness among us. She remains an avid reader with a desire to learn and to serve. Sue is always seeking right relations with God, self, others, and all creation. She seeks it actively, hungering and thirsting for justice. Through her many active years in Stephen Ministry responding to the needs of people, she has nurtured right relationships in her family, her parish and surrounding communities for many decades.
Toni-Kay Attanasio, our California school psychologist, is a mighty force for the good. She has taken on the toughest kids in the toughest area of the city. Many have come to know that those efforts, grounded in her contemplative nature, reflect a deep commitment to individuals with special needs and their families. She is a beacon in the dark, a guiding post for those who need direction, a fierce advocate for those in need. And along with all of that-- and perhaps more importantly-- she is a spiritual seeker, believer, and prophet for our time. Toni-Kay has traveled the rough roads of persecution and accepts it as part and parcel to following Jesus’ life and ministry of equality and justice.
Gerry Lococo, a leader of prayer and spiritual force for the Sunday’s Bread Community in Pittsburgh, is a calming presence and listening spirit among us.
When you spend any time with Gerry at all, you know you have encountered God face to face. Contrary to Jewish thought that believed human beings could not see God and still live, anyone who is in Gerry’s presence walks away knowing that they are not only alive, but spiritually energized! She stands in a holy place and receives many blessings. In turn, so goes those who meet, pray and live with Gerry. Be it in a show of solidarity in ecumenical gatherings, or a clear voice for justice, Gerry shines her light for all to see and witness.
Kathleen Sauline can walk into a room and immediately gauge the level of joy or discord present. She has been blessed with an inner sense of knowing where she needs to be in service to others. Kathleen has a clear vision of the necessary components that build authentic relationships. She has worked with teachers, guiding them through restorative practices that build right relationships with their students. The faith community that nurtured her through the years of raising her family has encouraged her and has fostered within her an enlightened sense of church. Kathleen offers others mercy and forgiveness in generous portions. She has learned the meaning of mercy as a foundational component of Christian ministry.
Blessed are we who gather here today to witness the ordination of these formidable women of faith. Our church will be blessed beyond our imaginations by their lifegiving prophetic witness.
We celebrate this sacrament of Holy Orders this afternoon knowing that the blessings of the Holy One are upon us, for we have been anointed and share in Jesus’s life and ministry as priest, prophet and royal witness to truth, equality and justice in our church and our world.
Our prayer is that our institutional church will soon awaken to realize these pearls of great worth are ordained women who are keeping the vision of justice and equality in an inclusive church alive and well. Yet the same question comes to the surface once again: When will it happen?
The narrative does change, my friends, when we encounter individuals who have a vision and follow Our Creator’s Living Spirit among us. We come together today with full understanding of the challenges we face as a nation and as a church. We believe that transformation is possible on any level of society, if we see with eyes of faith and work with hearts that move mountains. We celebrate that very faith in these women’s hearts today. May it always be so!
Homily for Easter Vigil 2018
Yesterday marked the second anniversary of my father’s death. The thought that struck me most as I began meditating on his life, was that he refused to be blind!
My dad had macular degeneration—the dry variety. The variety that can’t be slowed down with medication or shots. His was the type that would continue to rob him of his central sight. As he grew older, his condition grew worse. Although he did maintain some peripheral vision, so as not to run into walls, his central sight became very diminished. The condition worsened to the point that even if I put my head right up to his nose, he couldn’t make out who I was unless he heard my voice.
One afternoon when I came to visit him, he was fully dressed, sitting upright in his lounge chair. The shades in the room were pulled down, there were no lights on, save the blue light of the television. He had in his hand a very powerful magnifying glass. It was perched up close to his left eye and his head was a little cocked as he adjusted his body to focus on the television screen. I asked him what he was seeing, and he lowered the magnifying glass and tilted his head in my direction. “Well, I am so very grateful to God,” he said. “I actually have a small pinhole of vision in my left eye, right in the center, where this tiny stream of light comes through the blackness around it and I can actually see something when everything is lined up just right.”
His discovery that day made him very happy! He decided then and there that he would continue to see after all. He would not let this disease rob him of his sight! Indeed, the encroaching darkness would not overcome the light!
How apropos, that thoughts about my Dad, and the high holy days of Christianity, would come together so well! Although I am not surprised, because Dad was very supportive of my call to priesthood. Why would his support wane now, when I was trying to write a homily for Easter? He has come through once again!
I begin with noting that in 1978, scripture scholar, Walter Brueggemann, wrote the book, The Prophetic Imagination, whereby he creatively explored the Spirit’s message of being a prophetic witness that can take the form of various scripture characters. This work gave impetus for homilists to begin their scripture reflection in a significantly more creative mode. In other words, the homilist takes on a prophetic posture that is invoked through a faith-filled imagination. The story I share with you tonight was first told by biblical scholar and Episcopal bishop, John Shelby Spong, and I capture its highlights for you now. And, as we all know, a story can be captivating, and sometimes, even true.
After Jesus was taken away to be tortured and crucified, Simon fled, along with all the other guys. He was afraid of what the Romans would do to him and was horrified at the length they went to stop Jesus from gaining influence over the Jewish community. He just had to escape and hide away. The brutal torture and crucifixion rattled him to the core. After a while, he realized he had to get back to a normal life, so he began his slow journey back to Galilee. He recalled many episodes in the life of the deceased Jesus, isolating them for a moment so that he could relive them in his mind. Simon would lift each remembered event out of his stream of consciousness, turn it from side to side, seeking new angles so that he could understand that particular moment in some new way or find in it some new dimension. Grief work is always painful, because each moment, after examination and a time of reliving, falls back ultimately into the blackness of an unrelieved sense of loss. Jesus was dead. He had been killed, the dream, whatever it was that had been connected to the life of Jesus, could be no more. For days, weeks, even months, this thought occupied Simon.
Simon was also aware that there was about Jesus’ life a sense of power that caused hints of miracle and even magic to enter not only his life, but into other people’s talk about him. The life of Jesus seemed to call people into wholeness and wellness. Jesus was a man who had a mission. Somehow all these things were associated with the meaning of his life.
Simon did not engage in this grief alone. There is every reason to believe that James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were friends of Simon’s before Jesus came into their lives, were with Simon during his time of grief. They all shared the fisherman’s trade. They all worked around the Sea of Galilee. And Andrew, who suffered the fate of being identified only as “the brother of Simon” was certainly included in this band of grievers. Together they processed their experiences and wondered what it all meant. Together they felt the void of darkness. The clouds did not lift with the passing of time. The intensity of one person’s presence in another person’ life is equaled only by the intensity of absence when that person is gone.
Economic necessity and psychological health both demanded that they return to their means of securing a livelihood. Fishing was all they really knew, so they returned to their trade. Together on the Sea of Galilee, there was much time to talk. These waters were filled with memories about Jesus. Nothing they did allowed them to escape his presence in their memories. For them, Jesus was still everywhere they looked.
Every Jewish meal, even bread and fish eaten by the sea in the early hours of the day, was a liturgical event. In the Jewish tradition, the meal symbolized the end time feast that occurred on the day of the great banquet that would inaugurate the kingdom of God. The meal began with the ceremonial blessing over the bread. The bread would be lifted up in prayer: “Blessed are you, Lord God, King of the universe, who causes grain to come forth from the earth to nourish our bodies.”
Surely every time they blessed the bread to begin their early morning meal, their minds recalled another meal held in Jerusalem in an upper room on a strange and fateful night. Fear, anxiety, and melancholy abounded that night. It was so dramatic, Jesus took bread, broke it, and identified it with his broken body. It made no sense, but it seemed to say that disaster loomed ahead. These fishermen, who had been deeply touched by Jesus of Nazareth, now thought of as “the crucified one,” began each morning meal by taking bread, blessing it, breaking it, and remembering.
Each day conflicting thoughts played their point and counterpoint in the minds of these disciples, especially in the mind of Simon. On one side, there was the experience that they had had with Jesus that called them out of the old and into a new understanding of God. On the other side, Jesus was dead, and this new understanding had not prevailed. It was the old and not the new that had proven victorious. It was always the high priest that was thought of as God’s anointed one, reinforced by quoted texts of sacred scripture.
Conflicting thoughts about Jesus continued to preoccupy Simon’s mind. How could the messiah be killed? No one had ever heard of a dead messiah, an executed messiah, a messiah hung upon a tree! But yet, how could God say no to a message of love and forgiveness and still be God? How could God deny one who had reached across every human divide to enhance all those who God had created? How could one be so completely an agent of life and not at the same time be an agent of God? How could one give his life away so totally and still be thought guilty of a capital crime? It did not add up to Simon. So Simon wrestled with all of this day after day, and week after week.
In the Jewish liturgical year there was a great festival that rivaled and even surpassed Passover in popularity, it was called the Feast of the Tabernacles, or Booths. It was a festival of celebration for which many people journeyed to Jerusalem to take part. It was about celebrating the harvest. About the freedom they had known in the wilderness wanderings when they lived in temporary shelters or booths, when even the sacred scrolls of God’s presence were carried in a mobile tabernacle.
Like all Jewish festivals, the sacred readings were focused on yearning for a messiah, for God’s kingdom, and for God’s reign. It focused on the symbols of light and water, as Israel was to be a light to the nations of the world, and out of Jerusalem would flow fountains of living water, which was a symbol for the Spirit that was to rule the world when God’s kingdom came.
As the time for the festival neared, its content quite naturally entered Simon’s mind, and he began to associate it with his constant attempt to make sense out of Jesus’ death. Familiar phrases from Psalm 118 came to his mind: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord... The Lord has indeed chastised me, yet has not delivered me to death… Open the gates of justice; I will enter them and give thanks to the Lord… This gate is the Lord’s, the just shall enter it… The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. By the Lord has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes…Let us be glad and rejoice in it.”
Simon concluded that enough time had passed since the execution of Jesus to make a safe return as just one more face in a host of pilgrims for this Feast of the Tabernacles. He discussed his thoughts and the sacred scripture passages with his band of fishermen. His mind continued to be unsettled. Images kept fighting one another: Who would ever regard a simple fisherman as a source of theological wisdom? That was the task of the high priest or scribes. They had rendered their judgment of Jesus of Nazareth. Yet, proper or not, the truth that was taking hold of Simon could not be denied. Every day these possibilities dawned anew in his mind. Somehow, he knew himself to be grasped by a love that would not let him go.
One night, the fishermen had a very large catch. As they prepared for the early morning feast and blessing on the beach, images flowed together in Simon’s mind: the psalm of Tabernacles, “I shall not die but live.” The words of Zechariah, “They looked on him whom they pierced,” and that awful night when Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them, and called that bread his body. As was custom, Simon put these images into the ceremonial blessing, and he broke bread.
Suddenly, it all came together for Simon. The crucifixion was not punitive, it was intentional. The cross was Jesus’ ultimate parable, acted out on the stage of history to open the eyes of those whose eyes could be opened in no other way to the meaning of Jesus as the sign of God’s love. God’s love was unconditional, a love not earned by the rigorous keeping of the law. God’s love was beyond the boundaries of righteousness, a love that demanded nothing in return. Jesus’ death was the final episode in the story of his life. It is in giving life away that we find life, it is in giving love away that we find love, it is in embracing the outcast that we find ourselves embraced as outcasts.
The words of Jesus to Simon came to his mind: “Simon, if you love me you will feed my sheep.” This was the meaning that Simon seemed to hear again and again as he tried to make sense out of his experience in Galilee; that is, the risen Christ will be known when his disciples can love as Jesus loved, and when they can love the ones whom Jesus loved, namely, the least of God’s people.
God in fact had come to dwell in Jesus. Jesus, now seen to be the essence of God, had come to dwell in the least of these brothers and sisters. It was, in the words of later Christian theology, a new incarnation. God in Christ, Christ in the least of these. Yes, Simon saw Jesus alive in the heart of God!
God had claimed the life of Jesus and that this life, now part of God, was available to them forever, as God. Simon also knew that they now had to be agents of this life, giving it away.
And that, my friends, was the dawn of Easter in human history-- the moment Simon felt resurrected! Simon got everything lined up in his heart. The clouds of his grief, confusion, and depression vanished from his mind, and in that moment, he knew that Jesus was part of the very essence of God, and at that moment Simon saw Jesus alive. Was what Simon saw real? Can it be real if it is not objective? There will always be those whose eyes are not opened… those who will never see what Simon saw. But we know that objectivity is a category that measures events inside time and space. Simon saw Jesus from the realm of God, and that realm is not within history, it is not bounded by time or space.
My father struggled to find the light, to line things up just right, to do all he could do to figure out a way that darkness would not overcome him. Simon did the same. Both came away basking in the newness of life, where the transformative light of God’s presence remains always.
Is this Simon story true? Is it possible that it could have happened as just told? Brueggemann would tell us to use our faithful imaginations and dare to change places with a scripture character. Just maybe the face of God will be revealed in surprising ways!
Yesterday marked the second anniversary of my father’s death. The thought that struck me most as I began meditating on his life, was that he refused to be blind!
My dad had macular degeneration—the dry variety. The variety that can’t be slowed down with medication or shots. His was the type that would continue to rob him of his central sight. As he grew older, his condition grew worse. Although he did maintain some peripheral vision, so as not to run into walls, his central sight became very diminished. The condition worsened to the point that even if I put my head right up to his nose, he couldn’t make out who I was unless he heard my voice.
One afternoon when I came to visit him, he was fully dressed, sitting upright in his lounge chair. The shades in the room were pulled down, there were no lights on, save the blue light of the television. He had in his hand a very powerful magnifying glass. It was perched up close to his left eye and his head was a little cocked as he adjusted his body to focus on the television screen. I asked him what he was seeing, and he lowered the magnifying glass and tilted his head in my direction. “Well, I am so very grateful to God,” he said. “I actually have a small pinhole of vision in my left eye, right in the center, where this tiny stream of light comes through the blackness around it and I can actually see something when everything is lined up just right.”
His discovery that day made him very happy! He decided then and there that he would continue to see after all. He would not let this disease rob him of his sight! Indeed, the encroaching darkness would not overcome the light!
How apropos, that thoughts about my Dad, and the high holy days of Christianity, would come together so well! Although I am not surprised, because Dad was very supportive of my call to priesthood. Why would his support wane now, when I was trying to write a homily for Easter? He has come through once again!
I begin with noting that in 1978, scripture scholar, Walter Brueggemann, wrote the book, The Prophetic Imagination, whereby he creatively explored the Spirit’s message of being a prophetic witness that can take the form of various scripture characters. This work gave impetus for homilists to begin their scripture reflection in a significantly more creative mode. In other words, the homilist takes on a prophetic posture that is invoked through a faith-filled imagination. The story I share with you tonight was first told by biblical scholar and Episcopal bishop, John Shelby Spong, and I capture its highlights for you now. And, as we all know, a story can be captivating, and sometimes, even true.
After Jesus was taken away to be tortured and crucified, Simon fled, along with all the other guys. He was afraid of what the Romans would do to him and was horrified at the length they went to stop Jesus from gaining influence over the Jewish community. He just had to escape and hide away. The brutal torture and crucifixion rattled him to the core. After a while, he realized he had to get back to a normal life, so he began his slow journey back to Galilee. He recalled many episodes in the life of the deceased Jesus, isolating them for a moment so that he could relive them in his mind. Simon would lift each remembered event out of his stream of consciousness, turn it from side to side, seeking new angles so that he could understand that particular moment in some new way or find in it some new dimension. Grief work is always painful, because each moment, after examination and a time of reliving, falls back ultimately into the blackness of an unrelieved sense of loss. Jesus was dead. He had been killed, the dream, whatever it was that had been connected to the life of Jesus, could be no more. For days, weeks, even months, this thought occupied Simon.
Simon was also aware that there was about Jesus’ life a sense of power that caused hints of miracle and even magic to enter not only his life, but into other people’s talk about him. The life of Jesus seemed to call people into wholeness and wellness. Jesus was a man who had a mission. Somehow all these things were associated with the meaning of his life.
Simon did not engage in this grief alone. There is every reason to believe that James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were friends of Simon’s before Jesus came into their lives, were with Simon during his time of grief. They all shared the fisherman’s trade. They all worked around the Sea of Galilee. And Andrew, who suffered the fate of being identified only as “the brother of Simon” was certainly included in this band of grievers. Together they processed their experiences and wondered what it all meant. Together they felt the void of darkness. The clouds did not lift with the passing of time. The intensity of one person’s presence in another person’ life is equaled only by the intensity of absence when that person is gone.
Economic necessity and psychological health both demanded that they return to their means of securing a livelihood. Fishing was all they really knew, so they returned to their trade. Together on the Sea of Galilee, there was much time to talk. These waters were filled with memories about Jesus. Nothing they did allowed them to escape his presence in their memories. For them, Jesus was still everywhere they looked.
Every Jewish meal, even bread and fish eaten by the sea in the early hours of the day, was a liturgical event. In the Jewish tradition, the meal symbolized the end time feast that occurred on the day of the great banquet that would inaugurate the kingdom of God. The meal began with the ceremonial blessing over the bread. The bread would be lifted up in prayer: “Blessed are you, Lord God, King of the universe, who causes grain to come forth from the earth to nourish our bodies.”
Surely every time they blessed the bread to begin their early morning meal, their minds recalled another meal held in Jerusalem in an upper room on a strange and fateful night. Fear, anxiety, and melancholy abounded that night. It was so dramatic, Jesus took bread, broke it, and identified it with his broken body. It made no sense, but it seemed to say that disaster loomed ahead. These fishermen, who had been deeply touched by Jesus of Nazareth, now thought of as “the crucified one,” began each morning meal by taking bread, blessing it, breaking it, and remembering.
Each day conflicting thoughts played their point and counterpoint in the minds of these disciples, especially in the mind of Simon. On one side, there was the experience that they had had with Jesus that called them out of the old and into a new understanding of God. On the other side, Jesus was dead, and this new understanding had not prevailed. It was the old and not the new that had proven victorious. It was always the high priest that was thought of as God’s anointed one, reinforced by quoted texts of sacred scripture.
Conflicting thoughts about Jesus continued to preoccupy Simon’s mind. How could the messiah be killed? No one had ever heard of a dead messiah, an executed messiah, a messiah hung upon a tree! But yet, how could God say no to a message of love and forgiveness and still be God? How could God deny one who had reached across every human divide to enhance all those who God had created? How could one be so completely an agent of life and not at the same time be an agent of God? How could one give his life away so totally and still be thought guilty of a capital crime? It did not add up to Simon. So Simon wrestled with all of this day after day, and week after week.
In the Jewish liturgical year there was a great festival that rivaled and even surpassed Passover in popularity, it was called the Feast of the Tabernacles, or Booths. It was a festival of celebration for which many people journeyed to Jerusalem to take part. It was about celebrating the harvest. About the freedom they had known in the wilderness wanderings when they lived in temporary shelters or booths, when even the sacred scrolls of God’s presence were carried in a mobile tabernacle.
Like all Jewish festivals, the sacred readings were focused on yearning for a messiah, for God’s kingdom, and for God’s reign. It focused on the symbols of light and water, as Israel was to be a light to the nations of the world, and out of Jerusalem would flow fountains of living water, which was a symbol for the Spirit that was to rule the world when God’s kingdom came.
As the time for the festival neared, its content quite naturally entered Simon’s mind, and he began to associate it with his constant attempt to make sense out of Jesus’ death. Familiar phrases from Psalm 118 came to his mind: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord... The Lord has indeed chastised me, yet has not delivered me to death… Open the gates of justice; I will enter them and give thanks to the Lord… This gate is the Lord’s, the just shall enter it… The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. By the Lord has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes…Let us be glad and rejoice in it.”
Simon concluded that enough time had passed since the execution of Jesus to make a safe return as just one more face in a host of pilgrims for this Feast of the Tabernacles. He discussed his thoughts and the sacred scripture passages with his band of fishermen. His mind continued to be unsettled. Images kept fighting one another: Who would ever regard a simple fisherman as a source of theological wisdom? That was the task of the high priest or scribes. They had rendered their judgment of Jesus of Nazareth. Yet, proper or not, the truth that was taking hold of Simon could not be denied. Every day these possibilities dawned anew in his mind. Somehow, he knew himself to be grasped by a love that would not let him go.
One night, the fishermen had a very large catch. As they prepared for the early morning feast and blessing on the beach, images flowed together in Simon’s mind: the psalm of Tabernacles, “I shall not die but live.” The words of Zechariah, “They looked on him whom they pierced,” and that awful night when Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them, and called that bread his body. As was custom, Simon put these images into the ceremonial blessing, and he broke bread.
Suddenly, it all came together for Simon. The crucifixion was not punitive, it was intentional. The cross was Jesus’ ultimate parable, acted out on the stage of history to open the eyes of those whose eyes could be opened in no other way to the meaning of Jesus as the sign of God’s love. God’s love was unconditional, a love not earned by the rigorous keeping of the law. God’s love was beyond the boundaries of righteousness, a love that demanded nothing in return. Jesus’ death was the final episode in the story of his life. It is in giving life away that we find life, it is in giving love away that we find love, it is in embracing the outcast that we find ourselves embraced as outcasts.
The words of Jesus to Simon came to his mind: “Simon, if you love me you will feed my sheep.” This was the meaning that Simon seemed to hear again and again as he tried to make sense out of his experience in Galilee; that is, the risen Christ will be known when his disciples can love as Jesus loved, and when they can love the ones whom Jesus loved, namely, the least of God’s people.
God in fact had come to dwell in Jesus. Jesus, now seen to be the essence of God, had come to dwell in the least of these brothers and sisters. It was, in the words of later Christian theology, a new incarnation. God in Christ, Christ in the least of these. Yes, Simon saw Jesus alive in the heart of God!
God had claimed the life of Jesus and that this life, now part of God, was available to them forever, as God. Simon also knew that they now had to be agents of this life, giving it away.
And that, my friends, was the dawn of Easter in human history-- the moment Simon felt resurrected! Simon got everything lined up in his heart. The clouds of his grief, confusion, and depression vanished from his mind, and in that moment, he knew that Jesus was part of the very essence of God, and at that moment Simon saw Jesus alive. Was what Simon saw real? Can it be real if it is not objective? There will always be those whose eyes are not opened… those who will never see what Simon saw. But we know that objectivity is a category that measures events inside time and space. Simon saw Jesus from the realm of God, and that realm is not within history, it is not bounded by time or space.
My father struggled to find the light, to line things up just right, to do all he could do to figure out a way that darkness would not overcome him. Simon did the same. Both came away basking in the newness of life, where the transformative light of God’s presence remains always.
Is this Simon story true? Is it possible that it could have happened as just told? Brueggemann would tell us to use our faithful imaginations and dare to change places with a scripture character. Just maybe the face of God will be revealed in surprising ways!
Homily: Christmas Day 2017
First Reading: Isaiah 52:7-10
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 98:1-6
Second Reading: Hebrews 1:1-6
Gospel: John 1:1-18
Our Advent journey this year was centered around “Imaging God Together.” No one can really accomplish this alone. It takes a community supporting and encouraging one another in prayer and action to truly image what our Christian vocation is all about. And as we continue on this path of discovery, we experience the Creative Spirit working in the darkness of night, the earth, and the womb.
As the hymn says: The shepherds kept their watching o’er silent stars by night, and behold, throughout the heavens there shown a holy light. (Traditional)
And we know that seeds are planted in the darkness of earth’s soil, and behold, the flowers bloom toward the light.
The child is formed in the darkness of the mother’s womb, and behold, is born into the light of day.
And today, the day we have anticipated these last four weeks, we gather together to behold, the rebirth of Christ in our lives. We celebrate becoming once again, the people who honor Emmanuel, God-with-us.
We honor Mary, the Mother of Jesus, who carried him in her womb and birthed him. She was literally, the bearer of Christ.
And we have this manger, a symbol of the first manger that the Babe was placed in after birth—another bearer of Christ.
And we have been told, and have come to know through faith, that every time we break bread together and receive from this Table, we become what we experience, the Body of Christ, and are bearers of Christ for our world.
In essence, we are asked this Christmas Day to make a dwelling place within ourselves and within our world for the Christ.
We are celebrating hope born again:
A ray of hope, flickers in the sky
A shiny star lights up way up high.
All across the land, dawns a brand-new morn
This comes to pass, when a child is born. (music/Ciro Dammicco, lyrics/Fred Jay)
Ah, but this Christmas Child is born, and appears as a troublesome child.
As troublesome as the Word that stirred the deep waters to let God’s voice be heard.
This Christmas Child is a spirited child, who seems to question the law and flouts the face of every pious convention, who laughs and plays the fool.
This Christmas Child is a generous child, excessively extravagant, who spends his life of hope to recreate and bless.
This Christmas Child is a dangerous child, who becomes the prophet, whose vision takes a thorny path, whose cross may be our own.
This Christmas Child is a radiant child, whose peace the angels sing, whose star no darkness overcomes, and illuminates everything with his very life. (adapted/lyric by Shirley Erena Murray)
Providentially, Pope Francis recently shared a similar message with the Roman Curia:
“Christmas reminds us that a faith that does not put itself in crisis, is a faith in crises.
A faith that does not grow, is a faith that must grow.
A faith that does not question the church, is a faith that we must question.
A faith that does not animate the church, is a faith that must be re-animated.
A faith that does not upset the church, is indeed, a faith that must be upset.”
Sounds very much like what the Christmas Child is all about, doesn’t it?
We are called to be the earthen vessels that allow this Holy Child to live once again.
Behold a treasure, not made of gold, in earthen vessels wealth untold. One Treasure only, Jesus the Christ, in earthen vessels. (adapted/St. Louis Jesuits)
May we all be blest this Christmas as we become once again, the earthen vessels that carry the presence and message of Jesus born anew this very day!
Merry Christmas!
First Reading: Isaiah 52:7-10
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 98:1-6
Second Reading: Hebrews 1:1-6
Gospel: John 1:1-18
Our Advent journey this year was centered around “Imaging God Together.” No one can really accomplish this alone. It takes a community supporting and encouraging one another in prayer and action to truly image what our Christian vocation is all about. And as we continue on this path of discovery, we experience the Creative Spirit working in the darkness of night, the earth, and the womb.
As the hymn says: The shepherds kept their watching o’er silent stars by night, and behold, throughout the heavens there shown a holy light. (Traditional)
And we know that seeds are planted in the darkness of earth’s soil, and behold, the flowers bloom toward the light.
The child is formed in the darkness of the mother’s womb, and behold, is born into the light of day.
And today, the day we have anticipated these last four weeks, we gather together to behold, the rebirth of Christ in our lives. We celebrate becoming once again, the people who honor Emmanuel, God-with-us.
We honor Mary, the Mother of Jesus, who carried him in her womb and birthed him. She was literally, the bearer of Christ.
And we have this manger, a symbol of the first manger that the Babe was placed in after birth—another bearer of Christ.
And we have been told, and have come to know through faith, that every time we break bread together and receive from this Table, we become what we experience, the Body of Christ, and are bearers of Christ for our world.
In essence, we are asked this Christmas Day to make a dwelling place within ourselves and within our world for the Christ.
We are celebrating hope born again:
A ray of hope, flickers in the sky
A shiny star lights up way up high.
All across the land, dawns a brand-new morn
This comes to pass, when a child is born. (music/Ciro Dammicco, lyrics/Fred Jay)
Ah, but this Christmas Child is born, and appears as a troublesome child.
As troublesome as the Word that stirred the deep waters to let God’s voice be heard.
This Christmas Child is a spirited child, who seems to question the law and flouts the face of every pious convention, who laughs and plays the fool.
This Christmas Child is a generous child, excessively extravagant, who spends his life of hope to recreate and bless.
This Christmas Child is a dangerous child, who becomes the prophet, whose vision takes a thorny path, whose cross may be our own.
This Christmas Child is a radiant child, whose peace the angels sing, whose star no darkness overcomes, and illuminates everything with his very life. (adapted/lyric by Shirley Erena Murray)
Providentially, Pope Francis recently shared a similar message with the Roman Curia:
“Christmas reminds us that a faith that does not put itself in crisis, is a faith in crises.
A faith that does not grow, is a faith that must grow.
A faith that does not question the church, is a faith that we must question.
A faith that does not animate the church, is a faith that must be re-animated.
A faith that does not upset the church, is indeed, a faith that must be upset.”
Sounds very much like what the Christmas Child is all about, doesn’t it?
We are called to be the earthen vessels that allow this Holy Child to live once again.
Behold a treasure, not made of gold, in earthen vessels wealth untold. One Treasure only, Jesus the Christ, in earthen vessels. (adapted/St. Louis Jesuits)
May we all be blest this Christmas as we become once again, the earthen vessels that carry the presence and message of Jesus born anew this very day!
Merry Christmas!
Homily for the Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
9/17/17
First Reading: Sirach 27:30--28:7
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12
Second Reading: Romans 14:7-9
Gospel: Matthew 18:21-35
Last week, we spoke of how to go about forgiving others. This week we discuss how many times one forgives, and who deserves forgiveness. This week is also what some have dubbed “Forgiveness Sunday.”
I am willing to believe that all of us here today have come to realize how difficult and even how risky it is to offer forgiveness. After all, we may be taken advantage of again by new offenses from the other person, or, our attempts at reconciliation may well be refused. Or we may say honestly to ourselves: “How can I forgive if I am unable to forget the sting and pain of the wounds caused by this person’s wrongdoing?”
How often have we thought or questioned:
What just happened here? Doesn’t that person know how hurtful their words were? Doesn’t that person know by stealing from me they put my family’s welfare in jeopardy? Don’t our lawmakers know how damaging that new social policy is to the least among us? Or, that engaging in war will cost the very future and lives of innocent people and countries?
Yes, many of us “hang on” to the transgressions of others, and by so doing, we hang onto that wrongdoing that has ruptured our lives in some way. But by doing so, by not letting go, we pay a great price.
Scripture commentator, Sr. Mary McGlone, recalls the wisdom of one of her sisters, in these words: “…some people go through life pressing their bruises. Such folks are loathe to let an injury heal or go away; they seem to find comfort or moral security in the status of being the injured party.”
Yet, in the Beatitudes, Jesus tells us:
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”
When Jesus asked God as he was hanging on the cross to “Forgive them, they do not know what they are doing,” he chose to embrace the life cycle of death to new life. By Jesus forgiving his oppressors, he let go of their death defying hatred toward him, which allowed new life to blossom on both sides.
Indeed, forgiveness is a matter of life or death, of peace or bitterness. Not to forgive, is like not breathing; it is that unnatural and inhuman.
It is not natural for a person to hang on to some grievance against another, because it robs that person of the goodness within their very selves. We all have been created as “perfectly imperfect” human beings, but we also must remember that Jesus said to us very clearly, “You will do greater things than I.” And this means, in spite of our shortcomings, that we have been created with goodness and greatness in our hearts, and if we are to live our lives according to our nature, we must be faithful to that to which we are called.
Forgiveness towards others enables us to be in control of ourselves—to live again not bound by anger or mistrust, just as the inability to forgive causes us to be controlled by our anger and mistrust—and, in many instances, for several years-- and for some, even a lifetime. And yet, when we have been wronged by someone, most of us need time to heal. When we finally realize we need to extend forgiveness to others, we will also understand forgiveness as the true gift it is: as Christian virtue, as the way of Jesus, as growing beyond death to new life.
A person who forgives, will be forgiven. That’s what the gospel story tells us today. If you don’t forgive your transgressor, then when you do something wrong, you won’t find too many anxious to forgive you. It’s a two-way street, my friends! Forgiving someone and being forgiven, is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, the Yin and the Yang of our lives.
Peter thought he was probably being very magnanimous when he suggests that forgiving someone seven times would be sufficient.
And why would Peter even think that way? Because in the Jewish tradition, Rabbinic teaching included a practice that a person must forgive one another three times, and no more. This so-called rule, in their minds, was substantiated in the book of Amos, where we are told that God directed the Israelites to forgive various nations who were hostile aggressors a maximum of three times. So of course, Peter thought himself very generous increasing the amount to seven!
Yet, Jesus’ answer was that his followers were to forgive seventy times seven times. In other words, Jesus was teaching them that there really is no limit to how many times we must forgive another person’s offenses. And this also applies to our very selves.
Some of the hardest, most difficult situations I have encountered, are individuals who cannot forgive themselves a wrongdoing for which they were responsible.
Yet to place ourselves outside this conversation today, is to place ourselves not only outside the community we live in, but to scorn the fact that we are made no differently than anyone else. What Jesus says to everyone else, he is also saying to us, as individuals. We need to recognize that we, too, will fail, and we, too, will hurt others by our thoughts and actions. And we, too, need to reconcile the pain our actions have brought to others, within our own person, as well as within the community we live. If God, who can read our hearts, can show us compassion, then who are we to withhold it from ourselves? Ah, yes! Blessed are those who show mercy, for mercy shall be theirs! We are called to realize that showing compassion to our very selves is part of the equation.
As we celebrate this liturgy today-- this “Forgiveness Sunday” -- we acknowledge that we can’t always determine what harm will come our way, but we can decide how we will interpret it, whether we will let love transform it as Jesus has modeled for us, or we let bitterness take hold, stifling our spiritual growth and opportunity for love.
As Sr. Mary McGlone concludes in her commentary, “Ultimately, forgiving what we and others have done is a small price to pay for the privilege of living in a world where the compassion of God appears not just seven times, but seventy-seven times, over and again, now and forever!”
9/17/17
First Reading: Sirach 27:30--28:7
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12
Second Reading: Romans 14:7-9
Gospel: Matthew 18:21-35
Last week, we spoke of how to go about forgiving others. This week we discuss how many times one forgives, and who deserves forgiveness. This week is also what some have dubbed “Forgiveness Sunday.”
I am willing to believe that all of us here today have come to realize how difficult and even how risky it is to offer forgiveness. After all, we may be taken advantage of again by new offenses from the other person, or, our attempts at reconciliation may well be refused. Or we may say honestly to ourselves: “How can I forgive if I am unable to forget the sting and pain of the wounds caused by this person’s wrongdoing?”
How often have we thought or questioned:
What just happened here? Doesn’t that person know how hurtful their words were? Doesn’t that person know by stealing from me they put my family’s welfare in jeopardy? Don’t our lawmakers know how damaging that new social policy is to the least among us? Or, that engaging in war will cost the very future and lives of innocent people and countries?
Yes, many of us “hang on” to the transgressions of others, and by so doing, we hang onto that wrongdoing that has ruptured our lives in some way. But by doing so, by not letting go, we pay a great price.
Scripture commentator, Sr. Mary McGlone, recalls the wisdom of one of her sisters, in these words: “…some people go through life pressing their bruises. Such folks are loathe to let an injury heal or go away; they seem to find comfort or moral security in the status of being the injured party.”
Yet, in the Beatitudes, Jesus tells us:
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”
When Jesus asked God as he was hanging on the cross to “Forgive them, they do not know what they are doing,” he chose to embrace the life cycle of death to new life. By Jesus forgiving his oppressors, he let go of their death defying hatred toward him, which allowed new life to blossom on both sides.
Indeed, forgiveness is a matter of life or death, of peace or bitterness. Not to forgive, is like not breathing; it is that unnatural and inhuman.
It is not natural for a person to hang on to some grievance against another, because it robs that person of the goodness within their very selves. We all have been created as “perfectly imperfect” human beings, but we also must remember that Jesus said to us very clearly, “You will do greater things than I.” And this means, in spite of our shortcomings, that we have been created with goodness and greatness in our hearts, and if we are to live our lives according to our nature, we must be faithful to that to which we are called.
Forgiveness towards others enables us to be in control of ourselves—to live again not bound by anger or mistrust, just as the inability to forgive causes us to be controlled by our anger and mistrust—and, in many instances, for several years-- and for some, even a lifetime. And yet, when we have been wronged by someone, most of us need time to heal. When we finally realize we need to extend forgiveness to others, we will also understand forgiveness as the true gift it is: as Christian virtue, as the way of Jesus, as growing beyond death to new life.
A person who forgives, will be forgiven. That’s what the gospel story tells us today. If you don’t forgive your transgressor, then when you do something wrong, you won’t find too many anxious to forgive you. It’s a two-way street, my friends! Forgiving someone and being forgiven, is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, the Yin and the Yang of our lives.
Peter thought he was probably being very magnanimous when he suggests that forgiving someone seven times would be sufficient.
And why would Peter even think that way? Because in the Jewish tradition, Rabbinic teaching included a practice that a person must forgive one another three times, and no more. This so-called rule, in their minds, was substantiated in the book of Amos, where we are told that God directed the Israelites to forgive various nations who were hostile aggressors a maximum of three times. So of course, Peter thought himself very generous increasing the amount to seven!
Yet, Jesus’ answer was that his followers were to forgive seventy times seven times. In other words, Jesus was teaching them that there really is no limit to how many times we must forgive another person’s offenses. And this also applies to our very selves.
Some of the hardest, most difficult situations I have encountered, are individuals who cannot forgive themselves a wrongdoing for which they were responsible.
Yet to place ourselves outside this conversation today, is to place ourselves not only outside the community we live in, but to scorn the fact that we are made no differently than anyone else. What Jesus says to everyone else, he is also saying to us, as individuals. We need to recognize that we, too, will fail, and we, too, will hurt others by our thoughts and actions. And we, too, need to reconcile the pain our actions have brought to others, within our own person, as well as within the community we live. If God, who can read our hearts, can show us compassion, then who are we to withhold it from ourselves? Ah, yes! Blessed are those who show mercy, for mercy shall be theirs! We are called to realize that showing compassion to our very selves is part of the equation.
As we celebrate this liturgy today-- this “Forgiveness Sunday” -- we acknowledge that we can’t always determine what harm will come our way, but we can decide how we will interpret it, whether we will let love transform it as Jesus has modeled for us, or we let bitterness take hold, stifling our spiritual growth and opportunity for love.
As Sr. Mary McGlone concludes in her commentary, “Ultimately, forgiving what we and others have done is a small price to pay for the privilege of living in a world where the compassion of God appears not just seven times, but seventy-seven times, over and again, now and forever!”
Homily for the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time
8/26/17
First Reading: Isaiah 22:19-23
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 138:1-3, 6, 8
Second Reading: Romans 11:33-36
Gospel: Matthew 16:13-20
The US Congress passed the 19th Amendment to the Constitution which granted women full and equal voting rights on this very day in 1920.
As a result of its passage, today we celebrate “Women’s Equality Day.”
It took women 113 years of struggle, putting their lives on the line, to get this amendment passed.
Yet their fight is not over. There are limits being placed on women everywhere where changes needed in childcare policies, reproductive rights, education and employment, and vocational opportunities remain.
It is clear in our day and age, that women still have a long way to go in securing their equality among men.
What does this have to do with our Gospel story today?
First off, it’s always good to realize what is happening on the ground. It’s important to gather information in order to be properly informed. It’s important to know about what Jesus actually taught. You know, in the beginning times when things started to really happen.
We know that Jesus spoke in Aramaic and Hebrew. We know that the original Gospel stories were written in Aramaic and Hebrew. We know that the first translation of these stories were in Greek. And, as with all translations, what is meant in one language, is not always translated properly to another. Instead of being objectively translated, these stories were most often interpreted by editors who inserted their understanding of who Jesus was, and what Jesus said, along with what the faith community at the time believed. Remember, the understanding of faith was an evolving matter (and is so, even today). Each age had differing thoughts and insights. As time continued on, we find that the whole body of work was translated again from the Greek into Latin. Another era, another opportunity for interpretation of the text, another mindset for understanding what they believed. And so, it continued. Many different translations, many centuries of interpreters that distanced the original language from the current thought.
So, let’s clarify some terms.
In Greek, “Peter” is “Petros” and “rock” is “petra.”
Peter’s Aramaic name was “Kephas” that is also the Aramaic word for “rock.”
Whatever else it is, “rock” is a word of tremendous praise, and by no means strange or unusual to Jewish thought. No Jew who knew the Old Testament could ever use the word without their thoughts turning to God, who alone was the true rock of their defense and salvation. Remember. Abraham was the rock (petra) on which the nation and purpose of God were founded.
The word “church” in Greek is “ekklesia,” which we most often experience in New Testament translations. However, the word that Jesus almost certainly used was the Aramaic “quahal” which is the word the Old Testament used for the congregation of Israel, or, more precisely, the gathering of the People of God.
When Peter responded to Jesus that he was the Messiah, the Firstborn of the Living God, Jesus affirmed Peter’s faith by calling Peter the “beginning of a new Israel,” the new people of God, the new group of religious peers, equally associated with one another, who believed in what Jesus taught.
Peter was the first person to publicly proclaim his faith in Jesus. And it certainly was not a coincidence that the authors of this story have Jesus asking his question of Peter in a place that housed the legends of the gods of Greece, the temples of the ancient Syrian worship, and the great Caesarea Philippi temple built to the godhead of Caesar that projected the might and divinity of Rome. This location was where all gathered to remember the old ingrained ideas and practices, and the looming arm of Roman rule. But it also contained the source of new life, the source of the River Jordan where Jesus was baptized and began his public ministry.
It is noteworthy that it was not a church in the human sense that began with Peter. What began with Peter was the fellowship of all believers in Jesus—who were equally associated with one another. This new phase, new journey of faith, was not identified with any church and not limited to any church, but embraced all who believed in Jesus’ teachings and ministry. On bedrock like this, Jesus said, I will build my community!
God is the rock, Jesus is the first cornerstone, the force holding everyone together. All the other believing disciples added their pebbles of faith upon his, Peter being the first to come forward.
And so, this applies to all Christians-- they are the living stones built into the fabric of the faith community. The faith community didn’t depend on Peter, as it depended on Jesus and God. This new phase of community began with Peter’s declaration of faith. And because Peter declared his faith, Jesus ensured him that nothing will stand in his way, not even the jaws of death, for God will be their stronghold against everything.
Jesus also gave to Peter a special responsibility of opening the door to the kinship of all believers. And so, on Pentecost, Peter did just that. The story goes that over 3,000 people were welcomed into the fold. He also opened the door to the Gentile world through welcoming the Gentile centurion, Cornelius, who through Peter’s witness, was ratified by the Council of Jerusalem. And by Peter’s example, we, too, are charged with opening the door of the Kin-dom of God’s world to others so that they, too, become part of this equal fellowship of believers.
Jesus gave Peter the power to bind and to loose. What does that mean? To loose and to bind were very common Jewish phrases. They were used especially by the teachers and Rabbi’s when making decisions. To bind something was to declare it forbidden; to loose was to declare it allowed. For the Jews, these were regular phrases for making decision in regard to the law. But Jesus did not follow some of those laws. He said they did not reflect the Spirit of the Living God in and among the people. So what Jesus is saying to Peter is: you will be the first guide of this infant faith community. And in the early chapters of the Book of Acts, we see that in Jerusalem that is precisely what Peter did. The privilege of the keys meant that much like the illusion of Eliakim in our Old Testament reading today, Peter would be the steward of this community, opening the door for all to enter into the Kin-dom of God’s presence.
So, to paraphrase this Gospel passage, we can say:
Peter, your name means rock, and your destiny is to be a rock. You are the first person to recognize me for who I am, and therefore, you are the first stone in the structure of the community of those who are mine. Against that relationship the embattled powers of evil will not prevail nor hold me captive. And in the days to come, you must be the steward who will unlock the doors of the Kin-dom so that Jew and Gentile are welcomed in; and you will guide and direct the work of this infant and growing faith community.
Peter had made the great discovery; and Peter was given the great privilege and the great responsibility. It is a discovery which everyone of us must make for ourselves, and, when we have made it, the same privilege and the same responsibility are laid upon us.
And here is where we get to the part about what Women’s Equality Day has to do with this Gospel.
We cannot let false interpretations and imperfect declarations affect the truth of Jesus’ message.
In the Roman Catholic Women Priest movement, we put our lives on the line in renewing the basic message of Jesus that ‘all are equal in the eyes of God.’ The hierarchical structures, oppressive patriarchal language, institutional bureaucracy, and misogyny have no place in the group of believers who declare their faith in Jesus, and associate with one another with equal respect inspired by a common vision.
We stand on the shoulders of women who gave their all in pursuing the truth of who they were and how they should be treated. And I stand before you as a prophetic witness in our Church today, proclaiming that Women’s Equality Everyday must set up tent and dwell in the midst of the People of God as we continue the journey proclaiming the truth of Jesus’ message that all are equal in the eyes of God, and all are given the privilege of proclaiming that truth and being Christ for one another. We all act equally in persona Christi.
Always remember that Christianity never consists in knowing about Jesus; it always consists in knowing Jesus. Jesus demands a personal decision. He did not ask only Peter, he asks every person: “YOU—what do YOU think of me?” It is our individual answer that will determine our journey forward.
8/26/17
First Reading: Isaiah 22:19-23
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 138:1-3, 6, 8
Second Reading: Romans 11:33-36
Gospel: Matthew 16:13-20
The US Congress passed the 19th Amendment to the Constitution which granted women full and equal voting rights on this very day in 1920.
As a result of its passage, today we celebrate “Women’s Equality Day.”
It took women 113 years of struggle, putting their lives on the line, to get this amendment passed.
Yet their fight is not over. There are limits being placed on women everywhere where changes needed in childcare policies, reproductive rights, education and employment, and vocational opportunities remain.
It is clear in our day and age, that women still have a long way to go in securing their equality among men.
What does this have to do with our Gospel story today?
First off, it’s always good to realize what is happening on the ground. It’s important to gather information in order to be properly informed. It’s important to know about what Jesus actually taught. You know, in the beginning times when things started to really happen.
We know that Jesus spoke in Aramaic and Hebrew. We know that the original Gospel stories were written in Aramaic and Hebrew. We know that the first translation of these stories were in Greek. And, as with all translations, what is meant in one language, is not always translated properly to another. Instead of being objectively translated, these stories were most often interpreted by editors who inserted their understanding of who Jesus was, and what Jesus said, along with what the faith community at the time believed. Remember, the understanding of faith was an evolving matter (and is so, even today). Each age had differing thoughts and insights. As time continued on, we find that the whole body of work was translated again from the Greek into Latin. Another era, another opportunity for interpretation of the text, another mindset for understanding what they believed. And so, it continued. Many different translations, many centuries of interpreters that distanced the original language from the current thought.
So, let’s clarify some terms.
In Greek, “Peter” is “Petros” and “rock” is “petra.”
Peter’s Aramaic name was “Kephas” that is also the Aramaic word for “rock.”
Whatever else it is, “rock” is a word of tremendous praise, and by no means strange or unusual to Jewish thought. No Jew who knew the Old Testament could ever use the word without their thoughts turning to God, who alone was the true rock of their defense and salvation. Remember. Abraham was the rock (petra) on which the nation and purpose of God were founded.
The word “church” in Greek is “ekklesia,” which we most often experience in New Testament translations. However, the word that Jesus almost certainly used was the Aramaic “quahal” which is the word the Old Testament used for the congregation of Israel, or, more precisely, the gathering of the People of God.
When Peter responded to Jesus that he was the Messiah, the Firstborn of the Living God, Jesus affirmed Peter’s faith by calling Peter the “beginning of a new Israel,” the new people of God, the new group of religious peers, equally associated with one another, who believed in what Jesus taught.
Peter was the first person to publicly proclaim his faith in Jesus. And it certainly was not a coincidence that the authors of this story have Jesus asking his question of Peter in a place that housed the legends of the gods of Greece, the temples of the ancient Syrian worship, and the great Caesarea Philippi temple built to the godhead of Caesar that projected the might and divinity of Rome. This location was where all gathered to remember the old ingrained ideas and practices, and the looming arm of Roman rule. But it also contained the source of new life, the source of the River Jordan where Jesus was baptized and began his public ministry.
It is noteworthy that it was not a church in the human sense that began with Peter. What began with Peter was the fellowship of all believers in Jesus—who were equally associated with one another. This new phase, new journey of faith, was not identified with any church and not limited to any church, but embraced all who believed in Jesus’ teachings and ministry. On bedrock like this, Jesus said, I will build my community!
God is the rock, Jesus is the first cornerstone, the force holding everyone together. All the other believing disciples added their pebbles of faith upon his, Peter being the first to come forward.
And so, this applies to all Christians-- they are the living stones built into the fabric of the faith community. The faith community didn’t depend on Peter, as it depended on Jesus and God. This new phase of community began with Peter’s declaration of faith. And because Peter declared his faith, Jesus ensured him that nothing will stand in his way, not even the jaws of death, for God will be their stronghold against everything.
Jesus also gave to Peter a special responsibility of opening the door to the kinship of all believers. And so, on Pentecost, Peter did just that. The story goes that over 3,000 people were welcomed into the fold. He also opened the door to the Gentile world through welcoming the Gentile centurion, Cornelius, who through Peter’s witness, was ratified by the Council of Jerusalem. And by Peter’s example, we, too, are charged with opening the door of the Kin-dom of God’s world to others so that they, too, become part of this equal fellowship of believers.
Jesus gave Peter the power to bind and to loose. What does that mean? To loose and to bind were very common Jewish phrases. They were used especially by the teachers and Rabbi’s when making decisions. To bind something was to declare it forbidden; to loose was to declare it allowed. For the Jews, these were regular phrases for making decision in regard to the law. But Jesus did not follow some of those laws. He said they did not reflect the Spirit of the Living God in and among the people. So what Jesus is saying to Peter is: you will be the first guide of this infant faith community. And in the early chapters of the Book of Acts, we see that in Jerusalem that is precisely what Peter did. The privilege of the keys meant that much like the illusion of Eliakim in our Old Testament reading today, Peter would be the steward of this community, opening the door for all to enter into the Kin-dom of God’s presence.
So, to paraphrase this Gospel passage, we can say:
Peter, your name means rock, and your destiny is to be a rock. You are the first person to recognize me for who I am, and therefore, you are the first stone in the structure of the community of those who are mine. Against that relationship the embattled powers of evil will not prevail nor hold me captive. And in the days to come, you must be the steward who will unlock the doors of the Kin-dom so that Jew and Gentile are welcomed in; and you will guide and direct the work of this infant and growing faith community.
Peter had made the great discovery; and Peter was given the great privilege and the great responsibility. It is a discovery which everyone of us must make for ourselves, and, when we have made it, the same privilege and the same responsibility are laid upon us.
And here is where we get to the part about what Women’s Equality Day has to do with this Gospel.
We cannot let false interpretations and imperfect declarations affect the truth of Jesus’ message.
In the Roman Catholic Women Priest movement, we put our lives on the line in renewing the basic message of Jesus that ‘all are equal in the eyes of God.’ The hierarchical structures, oppressive patriarchal language, institutional bureaucracy, and misogyny have no place in the group of believers who declare their faith in Jesus, and associate with one another with equal respect inspired by a common vision.
We stand on the shoulders of women who gave their all in pursuing the truth of who they were and how they should be treated. And I stand before you as a prophetic witness in our Church today, proclaiming that Women’s Equality Everyday must set up tent and dwell in the midst of the People of God as we continue the journey proclaiming the truth of Jesus’ message that all are equal in the eyes of God, and all are given the privilege of proclaiming that truth and being Christ for one another. We all act equally in persona Christi.
Always remember that Christianity never consists in knowing about Jesus; it always consists in knowing Jesus. Jesus demands a personal decision. He did not ask only Peter, he asks every person: “YOU—what do YOU think of me?” It is our individual answer that will determine our journey forward.
Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, 2017
5/15/17
First Reading: Acts 6:1-7
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 18-19
Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:4-9
Gospel: John 14:1-12
5/15/17
First Reading: Acts 6:1-7
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 18-19
Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:4-9
Gospel: John 14:1-12
There were two warring tribes in the Andes, one that lived in the lowlands and the other high in the mountains. The mountain people invaded the lowlanders one day, and as part of their plundering of the people, they kidnapped a baby of one of the lowlander families and took the infant with them back up into the mountains.
The lowlanders didn’t know how to climb the mountain. They didn’t know any of the trails that the mountain people used, and they didn’t know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the steep terrain.
Even so, they sent out their best party of fighting men to climb the mountain and bring the baby home.
The men tried first one method of climbing and then another. They tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however, they had climbed only a couple of hundred feet.
Feeling hopeless and helpless, the lowlander men decided that the cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below.
As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby’s mother walking toward them. They realized that she was coming down the mountain that they hadn’t figured out how to climb.
And then they saw that she had the baby strapped to her back. How could that be?
One man greeted her and said, “We couldn’t climb this mountain. How did you do this when we, the strongest and most able men in the village, couldn’t do it?”
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “It wasn’t your baby.”
---“Moving Mountains” by Jim Stovall
Tomorrow we celebrate Mother’s Day. Now, according to liturgical guidelines, we aren’t supposed to let that day overshadow the liturgical focus of the “paschal mystery” (sic) we celebrate this evening. And I assure you it won’t. And it won’t because we know that it is through a mother that we are even able to celebrate here at this holy Table.
It was Miriam, daughter of Anna, who gave of her body and blood in forming Jesus in her womb and delivering him to new life, who declared, “This is my body. This is my blood.” She was the first priest to confect the Eucharist, because it was her baby! And it is truly just that women resume their rightful place at this Table today.
No, Miriam didn’t overshadow the proper liturgical focus, because mothers always put their children first. It was the new life that was the focus, not the work of the mother. And, like the passion and death her son Jesus endured to break open new hope of life for our world, his mother assumed the pain and suffering of birthing and nurturing him to allow his life to blossom. Every time a woman celebrates Eucharist, it is always about new life. So it was then, and so it is today.
God sent a divine gift to us, Jesus of Nazareth, through the fearless and unselfish love of his mother. Jesus’ life and ministry, his words that were spoken in opposition to the religious and political leaders of his time, have changed the course of history for those who have eyes to see and a heart to believe.
“We know now,” writes Sr. Joan Chittister, “that the God of Creation has shared power with us and remains with us to help us see life through. Our role is to do our part, to do our best, to trust the path. Our part is to become everything we are meant to be and so to make the world a better place because we have been here.” Through Jesus we are able to shed the shackles of false promises and burdensome rules, restoring our hope and freeing us to experience a God of love and compassion.
Is the world a better place because Jesus lived? Those of faith would answer yes. But what about our lives? Are we becoming everything we are meant to be? Will the world be a better place because we have been here? God certainly has shared power with us through Jesus and remains with us to help us through our lives. But we must do our part and trust the path we are on. It all depends on us. And it all begins with mothers.
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to God except through me.” --John 14:6
It was Miriam, daughter of Anna, who gave of her body and blood in forming Jesus in her womb and delivering him to new life, who declared, “This is my body. This is my blood.” She was the first priest to confect the Eucharist, because it was her baby! And it is truly just that women resume their rightful place at this Table today.
No, Miriam didn’t overshadow the proper liturgical focus, because mothers always put their children first. It was the new life that was the focus, not the work of the mother. And, like the passion and death her son Jesus endured to break open new hope of life for our world, his mother assumed the pain and suffering of birthing and nurturing him to allow his life to blossom. Every time a woman celebrates Eucharist, it is always about new life. So it was then, and so it is today.
God sent a divine gift to us, Jesus of Nazareth, through the fearless and unselfish love of his mother. Jesus’ life and ministry, his words that were spoken in opposition to the religious and political leaders of his time, have changed the course of history for those who have eyes to see and a heart to believe.
“We know now,” writes Sr. Joan Chittister, “that the God of Creation has shared power with us and remains with us to help us see life through. Our role is to do our part, to do our best, to trust the path. Our part is to become everything we are meant to be and so to make the world a better place because we have been here.” Through Jesus we are able to shed the shackles of false promises and burdensome rules, restoring our hope and freeing us to experience a God of love and compassion.
Is the world a better place because Jesus lived? Those of faith would answer yes. But what about our lives? Are we becoming everything we are meant to be? Will the world be a better place because we have been here? God certainly has shared power with us through Jesus and remains with us to help us through our lives. But we must do our part and trust the path we are on. It all depends on us. And it all begins with mothers.
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to God except through me.” --John 14:6
Homily for Easter Vigil
4/16/17
In the 1998 movie, You’ve Got Mail, Tom Hanks plays an ambitious book store owner who opens one of his stores in a New York City neighborhood. Meanwhile, Meg Ryan plays the local children’s bookshop owner who goes out of business because of the big box competition that lured her sales across the street. At one point in the film, Hanks’ interest in this woman moves him to pay her a visit. He finds Ryan in her apartment nursing a bad cold. Charming his way in with a bouquet of daisies, they begin a conversation that develops into an interesting exchange with Hanks claiming, “It wasn’t personal.” Ryan retorts with, “What does that mean anyway? …whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.”
Our Lenten journey as members of the Community of St. Bridget started out with a personal plan. It was suggested that we read the weekly reflections in Sr. Joan Chittister’s booklet, The Prophet in You, that follow the Gospel readings from the first week of Lent through the Resurrection on Easter, seven weeks total. During that journey of reflection, Sr. Joan challenged us to meditate on how we can grow, heal others by our physical and spiritual touch, find a venue that would fruitfully direct our passion, discover a new vision, love deeply to the point of tears, improve the life of others so that Jesus’ face becomes clearer, and find a way to live faithfully in a hostile world. Yes, this was our personal beginning… It left some of us feeling like the reflections before us were more like the big box behemoth in the movie that moved in across the street, and they were sucking the life out of the little we thought we had. Yep! This assignment was a lot of work.
Leaving that aside, tonight I want to share with you a very intimate thread that weaves through the history of Christianity. Columnist Sr. Joan Roccasalvo, C.S.J. piqued my memory with her writing on this theme.
In the Old Testament are poor people of every sort: the vulnerable, the marginalized, and socio-economically depressed, those of lowly status without earthly power, a group of people referred to in Hebrew as the anawim. This expression is used frequently in the Bible, especially in the Psalms, and is the basis for Jesus’ belief that the poor are those blessed among us. The anawim are a people who lovingly surrender to Holy Mystery, remaining faithful and waiting for the Holy One to fill their emptiness.
Mary of Nazareth belonged to the anawim. Her life of fidelity and free acceptance in allowing the Spirit to work in her came to voice in the Magnificat, where she acknowledged that the Almighty had done great things for her in her lowliness. Mary is the star among the anawim about whom Jesus later speaks in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the poor.” In a letter to the Philippians, Jesus is said to have “emptied himself,” freely choosing to give up wealth of any kind, and become poor in many earthly ways, even to the point of feeling spiritually abandoned. Jesus and his Mother embraced their station in life knowing the embrace of the Divine in their doing so.
Our Old Testament readings tonight are messages that look toward the future, much like the anawim looked ahead and believed they would be eventually and eternally satisfied.
As we reflect on the readings offered at this Easter Vigil, religious writer Rita Ferrone sheds light that provides some clarity. Our faith is in the creation story, showing the power of the Holy One to give life and to create a new world, always poised to act again in our liturgy.
In our Exodus reading, the events at the Red Sea underscore the Christian conviction that true freedom comes by passing through the water.
Isaiah offers us a compelling invitation to come to the water and partake of a feast. These passages sing to us of the loving and generous promises of the Sacred Presence that holds us together. They awaken hope and expectation not only for the sacred moments we celebrate, but for the life into which these moments welcome us.
The passage from the Book of Baruch uses the title “Divine Wisdom” as a figure of Christ, who we now believe is among us on Earth and converses with us.
These readings are from the past, but they tell us more than how the Divine acted a long time ago. They illuminate what that Divine Presence is still doing and will continue to do for us. They speak of origins and destiny together. Much like what our liturgy celebrates for us today.
In the New Testament reading tonight, St. Paul’s letter to the Romans lays out very clearly that if we follow Jesus through death, through hardships, through uncertainties and fear, we will rise with Jesus and live a new life forever.
And the best part, the Gospel story of Mary Magdalene who is charged with being the first evangelist -- the first apostle among them all -- was sent to tell the disciples that Jesus had risen. This is indeed a saving event not only for humankind as a whole, but specifically for all women.
Tonight, there is very real reason to celebrate! As we gather together, we are the anawim spirit. This Community has gathered and includes those who are frustrated over the lack of vision and inclusivity in our church, who are indignant over the lack of transparency and equality in her leadership, are disappointed in the restoration of ancient prayers that do not reflect the understandings of an enlightened people, and those who are excluded from a traditional faith community because their lifestyles and those they love are not recognized as part of the Creator’s plan for life. Women are major players in the anawim of today. In addition to all the social and religious oppression we continually face in our world, we have endured the exclusion from lawful ordination in the Roman Catholic Church based on culturally conditioned and long documented discrimination. Ann and I are now leading the prayer of our sacred liturgies, and there are other women tonight, spanning five continents across the planet, who are doing the same. The anawim spirit has been resurrected once again among us and is coming to light in the face of bias, prejudice, and injustice. The lowly have once again come into the Light!
Tonight, we are the anawim -- living examples of new hope entering our world and our church.
My friends, we began with a personal journey that was before us, and, as was stated in the words of the shop girl character in You’ve Got Mail, “Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.” But our journey is more than personal, isn’t it? We are a community, and, as such, we enjoy the harvest of our faith together -- our own personal resurrection and our communal resurrection in Christ. We are truly an Easter People! May you know and experience the effects of this sacred event as your joy and resurrected hope is shared with all you encounter.
Happy Easter!
4/16/17
In the 1998 movie, You’ve Got Mail, Tom Hanks plays an ambitious book store owner who opens one of his stores in a New York City neighborhood. Meanwhile, Meg Ryan plays the local children’s bookshop owner who goes out of business because of the big box competition that lured her sales across the street. At one point in the film, Hanks’ interest in this woman moves him to pay her a visit. He finds Ryan in her apartment nursing a bad cold. Charming his way in with a bouquet of daisies, they begin a conversation that develops into an interesting exchange with Hanks claiming, “It wasn’t personal.” Ryan retorts with, “What does that mean anyway? …whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.”
Our Lenten journey as members of the Community of St. Bridget started out with a personal plan. It was suggested that we read the weekly reflections in Sr. Joan Chittister’s booklet, The Prophet in You, that follow the Gospel readings from the first week of Lent through the Resurrection on Easter, seven weeks total. During that journey of reflection, Sr. Joan challenged us to meditate on how we can grow, heal others by our physical and spiritual touch, find a venue that would fruitfully direct our passion, discover a new vision, love deeply to the point of tears, improve the life of others so that Jesus’ face becomes clearer, and find a way to live faithfully in a hostile world. Yes, this was our personal beginning… It left some of us feeling like the reflections before us were more like the big box behemoth in the movie that moved in across the street, and they were sucking the life out of the little we thought we had. Yep! This assignment was a lot of work.
Leaving that aside, tonight I want to share with you a very intimate thread that weaves through the history of Christianity. Columnist Sr. Joan Roccasalvo, C.S.J. piqued my memory with her writing on this theme.
In the Old Testament are poor people of every sort: the vulnerable, the marginalized, and socio-economically depressed, those of lowly status without earthly power, a group of people referred to in Hebrew as the anawim. This expression is used frequently in the Bible, especially in the Psalms, and is the basis for Jesus’ belief that the poor are those blessed among us. The anawim are a people who lovingly surrender to Holy Mystery, remaining faithful and waiting for the Holy One to fill their emptiness.
Mary of Nazareth belonged to the anawim. Her life of fidelity and free acceptance in allowing the Spirit to work in her came to voice in the Magnificat, where she acknowledged that the Almighty had done great things for her in her lowliness. Mary is the star among the anawim about whom Jesus later speaks in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the poor.” In a letter to the Philippians, Jesus is said to have “emptied himself,” freely choosing to give up wealth of any kind, and become poor in many earthly ways, even to the point of feeling spiritually abandoned. Jesus and his Mother embraced their station in life knowing the embrace of the Divine in their doing so.
Our Old Testament readings tonight are messages that look toward the future, much like the anawim looked ahead and believed they would be eventually and eternally satisfied.
As we reflect on the readings offered at this Easter Vigil, religious writer Rita Ferrone sheds light that provides some clarity. Our faith is in the creation story, showing the power of the Holy One to give life and to create a new world, always poised to act again in our liturgy.
In our Exodus reading, the events at the Red Sea underscore the Christian conviction that true freedom comes by passing through the water.
Isaiah offers us a compelling invitation to come to the water and partake of a feast. These passages sing to us of the loving and generous promises of the Sacred Presence that holds us together. They awaken hope and expectation not only for the sacred moments we celebrate, but for the life into which these moments welcome us.
The passage from the Book of Baruch uses the title “Divine Wisdom” as a figure of Christ, who we now believe is among us on Earth and converses with us.
These readings are from the past, but they tell us more than how the Divine acted a long time ago. They illuminate what that Divine Presence is still doing and will continue to do for us. They speak of origins and destiny together. Much like what our liturgy celebrates for us today.
In the New Testament reading tonight, St. Paul’s letter to the Romans lays out very clearly that if we follow Jesus through death, through hardships, through uncertainties and fear, we will rise with Jesus and live a new life forever.
And the best part, the Gospel story of Mary Magdalene who is charged with being the first evangelist -- the first apostle among them all -- was sent to tell the disciples that Jesus had risen. This is indeed a saving event not only for humankind as a whole, but specifically for all women.
Tonight, there is very real reason to celebrate! As we gather together, we are the anawim spirit. This Community has gathered and includes those who are frustrated over the lack of vision and inclusivity in our church, who are indignant over the lack of transparency and equality in her leadership, are disappointed in the restoration of ancient prayers that do not reflect the understandings of an enlightened people, and those who are excluded from a traditional faith community because their lifestyles and those they love are not recognized as part of the Creator’s plan for life. Women are major players in the anawim of today. In addition to all the social and religious oppression we continually face in our world, we have endured the exclusion from lawful ordination in the Roman Catholic Church based on culturally conditioned and long documented discrimination. Ann and I are now leading the prayer of our sacred liturgies, and there are other women tonight, spanning five continents across the planet, who are doing the same. The anawim spirit has been resurrected once again among us and is coming to light in the face of bias, prejudice, and injustice. The lowly have once again come into the Light!
Tonight, we are the anawim -- living examples of new hope entering our world and our church.
My friends, we began with a personal journey that was before us, and, as was stated in the words of the shop girl character in You’ve Got Mail, “Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.” But our journey is more than personal, isn’t it? We are a community, and, as such, we enjoy the harvest of our faith together -- our own personal resurrection and our communal resurrection in Christ. We are truly an Easter People! May you know and experience the effects of this sacred event as your joy and resurrected hope is shared with all you encounter.
Happy Easter!