Those who have been part of the parish for a while know that I love Advent and for the newer members, you will come to know this fact. Advent is a precious time given us by our Church Universal each year to step back, and take a look around, at our world, but mostly at ourselves. It is a time of expectant waiting as we prepare once again for the coming of our God, as one of us, in Jesus, the Christ, who came to be our brother and friend—one who would save us by showing us how to live and to love.

Of course, for his original coming we look to the past to remember, but Advent is also a time to invite Jesus’ coming into our lives now, in a special way—each and every day.  And finally, Advent also calls us to the time when Jesus will come “on the clouds with great power and glory,” in the future.  We can only imagine what that will be like!

I read this past week that contrary to what we usually hear, that Advent is a time of waiting for Jesus to come; we might think about it as a time to go to Jesus—to get our heads and hearts around what it was for God to break into our human existence.  We have to step back and say, “Wow!”

Advent is also about reading the “signs of the times.”  Jesus tells us as much in the Gospel today. But are we to “read the signs” literally? Are we to wonder and worry when we see cataclysmic changes in the heavens and on the earth, such as the raging fires in the West this past year, the fury of tornadoes in the middle section of the country recently?   Exegetes tell us  “no”–that Jesus surely intended for us to look within and not without for the answers so needed in our world today—answers to war, pain, hunger, and suffering of all kinds.  Pope Francis is calling us to just such introspection and there are those in his own ranks, clerical types who are hoping his papacy will be a short one!

My good friend, Fr. Paul Nelson once, speaking on human nature said, and I paraphrase, when were we little, we didn’t know what people thought of us—when we became adults, we worried what people thought of us, in middle age, we grew to simply wondering what they thought, and in old age, we ceased to care.  Advent, my friends, is a time to reflect on what God thinks and what we think of our place in the world and of the work each of us is called to do in that same world.

It is interesting that in the early days after Vatican II, Christians were encouraged to “read the signs of the times.”  And many of us were very excited to do that because we were being instructed to not just be blasé Catholics who said, “Yes Father” without thinking, but to let the Word of God really take root in our hearts—to let that Word live in our lives, to question and to reflect on our personal lives, asking how our faith affected our day in and day out dealings with each other. It was in those days that we sang hymns like, “They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love,” because such sentiment spoke of our intentions then.  In those days we were trying to let our faith make a difference in our lives and that was a good and exciting change.   Hopefully, that is still our intent.

Prior to the Second Vatican Council, Christians lived good and pious lives of devotion, but often times, we didn’t make the connection that what the Scriptures said to us on  Sundays, we were somehow supposed to apply in our day to day lives to really make a difference—especially where justice was concerned. But the Council changed all that—with a language we could now understand, we heard the message more clearly and more regularly, that yes, we laity, the folks in the pews, were to be conscientious followers of Jesus of Nazareth and his message of justice and love for all, and that it could and should affect our lives at home, at work and in our neighborhoods.  With Vatican II, we connected the dots, we became bold in the Spirit to challenge ourselves, each other, even our Church leaders, to be our best selves because it did truly matter that we lived out in all our worldly dealings what we said we believed on Sundays.  It was an exciting time because we became empowered to be true Christians—true followers of Jesus!

And as we have watched history unfold, it is sadly the lack of doing just this; talking, asking the questions, connecting the dots, having our faith, our liturgies, our lives make sense in modern times that caused a whole generation to walk away from the Church, because it ceased to make sense in their lives.  That is why it is so important that we don’t get stuck in the past, holding onto ideas while, they may have been comfortable because we had “always done it that way”—if they don’t help us to live fully the message of Jesus in this age, it is time to let them go.

John XXIII asked us to open some windows—to let some fresh air into our Church. This gentle man saw that rituals and practices long outdated, that lacked inclusivity of all the People of God, needed to go.   Pope Francis is striving to get bishops and other hierarchical types to remember that our God came among us so as to dispel the mystery of who our God is and let us know that God is indeed, Emmanuel, God-with-us whom we prepare for during this holy season of Advent.

Advent is and always has been a time of challenge—a time to prepare for a guest so sublime, but yet so like us, that we probably wouldn’t notice him on the street, should he pass by.  The way we would know him would be through his actions—Scripture tells us, on that first Easter morn—they knew him “in the breaking of the bread”–ultimately, they knew him through his love.  I would think that is how others would know us—through our love.

When we can make the hard decisions as he did, based on justice for all; recognizing women for their God-given gifts and calls to ministry along with men, (Francis says this door is closed, which also means, it can be opened, as my husband reminds me!) when we can accept and receive all people at our communion tables, regardless of marital status or gender differences and expression, (Francis has basically said in regard to marriages between Catholics and Lutherans that they can listen to their consciences, which opens doors I would say to many other issues) when we more often choose peace over war as a way to live with global neighbors, (perhaps we should dig out Pacem in Terris—the encyclical on peace from that wonderful man of peace, John XXIII and learn again, its wisdom) when we begin to more often respect our beautiful earth and work to preserve it for future generations, (as Francis teaches in Laudato Si) when we pay individuals a just, living wage and so many other things we could name, then we will truly see Jesus coming on the clouds, in power and glory because the kindom he came to establish, based on the love of his Abba—his loving Parent—will have finally come to fruition.

My dear friends, when Jesus came that 1^st time, over 2,000 years ago, he gave us all we needed to be free, happy and fulfilled—he saved us by showing us how to live and to love—that is what we are preparing to celebrate at Christmas—a gift of complete love—a total giving of self.

And each of us is challenged in different ways to follow our call to make a difference for justice and for mercy—beginning December 8^th, we move into a Year of Mercy, actually, an Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy running December 8-November 20, 2016, promulgated by Pope Francis. For many of you, it amounts to having made the decision to attend this parish, putting up with disdain perhaps, from acquaintances and relatives, working from the fringes to call our Church back onto the path of Jesus. We are in good company as this Sunday, Francis calls us “into the streets” to march for global climate action.  There are marches across the country and world today. There is one in La Crosse and Rochester for any who may be interested in going. But whether you can go or not; we can all be aware that how we live does affect our world.    Advent, my friends calls us to this kind of commitment if we want our Church to be reflective of our brother Jesus.

When we can each truly follow our commitment to walk in Jesus’ footsteps, as Paul describes so beautifully in today’s second reading, when we can “grow and overflow with love,” then we will let that shoot of justice grow up in us, we will become the mature Christians that Vatican II asked us to be instead of the milk-toast Catholics of former years who didn’t realize they had anything to say about their faith.  When we are alive in the Spirit, we will be people who challenge when we see an injustice, even if the perpetrator is the bishop. No doubt many of you saw the ads calling forth those abused by priests to come forward. As sad as this is, it is the right thing that this issue be addressed now! Jesus asks this of each of us because he asked it of himself.

So, my friends, as we begin Advent today and move through this holy time; let us be open to the signs of the times, not cataclysmic changes in the heavens and the earth; even though our earth does depend on us noticing these changes and working to turn them around. Instead let us reflect upon cataclysmic, if need be, transformations within ourselves that would allow us to be, for our purposes here today, Gospel people, both when convenient and when inconvenient.  May we each be blessed with strength to be all that we can be and truly prepare a fitting welcome for our brother, Jesus.

Today’s readings speak of kings, kingdoms, reigns of glory and power, and it is all connected to Jesus, the Christ, one, who in my read of Scripture, especially John’s gospel today, did not claim that for himself.  He takes pains in fact to explain that kings and kingdoms are the people’s issue—he is in fact more concerned about truth and says clearly that those who would follow him must be about truth too.

So then, we must figure out what “truth” is. In Franco Zefferelli’s 1975, epic film, Jesus of Nazareth, Rod Stieger, who played Pilate was most concerned about this question as he interrogated Jesus, recognizing him as a step above the usual prisoner that he saw.  So, what is the truth?  Webster’s tells us that “truth” is, “sincerity in action, character and utterance”—or in other words, what we say we believe, we show in our actions and in our words—we are pretty much the same in private as in public—our character is true.

Jesus, we know and believe, was sent by Abba God, our loving maker, to show humankind how to live, because for the best, or maybe not always the best of our efforts, we hadn’t yet got it right.  So Jesus came to show us the way, the truth and the life.

Presumably, if we would follow him, it would become crystal clear what we needed to do—how we should live our lives.  One of the speakers at Call to Action, Jesuit John Dear, in his quest and passion for peace and justice in our world, a world free of nuclear weapons, said that we should just read the four gospels and forget about the rest of the bible.  I took that to mean, keep our eyes on Jesus.

Given that, Paul’s letter to the Philippians, chapter 2, verses 6-7 gives us an idea of what Jesus initially needed to do—he emptied himself of divine privilege and became one of us.  From the beginning of his papacy, Pope Francis has been challenging the Church to be of and for the poor.  We need to then apply the notion of servant imagery to today’s feast, which we as humans came up with, and search our hearts about “why” it was done and if in fact, we do justice to Jesus, our brother, who appeared in our midst, as servant.

Pope Pius XI, in 1925 instituted the Solemnity of Christ the King to counter the rising tide of secularization sweeping the world.  If the intent was to draw peoples’ focus back to the image of a God who was stripped of all power and glory to join humankind in their earthly struggles, it would seem strange that the image of  “king” would be chosen—an image that connotes power and top-down authority over others.  But then, maybe it isn’t strange because for too long, the power-over, top-down authority, with little or no room for discussion coming from Rome, has been the norm.  At least now with Francis; we are seeing more of a chance for discussion and with that, the prospect of more equality, and once again, our Church might be of the people.

We might consider what was in the minds of the early Christians when they considered Jesus to be a king—in fact longed for a king who would save them from the cruel and selfish, power-hungry kings that were their reality. This thinking was part of it, no doubt, but as with other aspects of their belief; they took ancient myths of the time and rolled them over, so to speak, into their understanding of who their God was in light of Jesus.

The ancient Near Eastern myth talked of a cosmic warrior-god who defeated a monster and then thereafter reigned in glory in the heavens, watching over all of creation.  Followers of Jesus then took that image and transposed it in significant ways, namely that Jesus conquered evil in our world, not through more war and violence, but through his life of love and justice, mercy and compassion, sharing in deed and word where he came from and what he was about.  This is interesting as we struggle in our world to be free of violence as was perpetrated on Paris this past week and Mali, this week.

Our task then as Jesus’ followers would seem to me, to follow his lead.  Our challenge will be not to get lost in the pomp and circumstance of images of kings and royalty and trappings of power on this feast of Christ, the King.  Truly the glory and honor that Jesus is due today, and every day, is not about crowns and titles, but about deeds and purpose and that becomes the harder task for each of us. If we honor Jesus as a member of royalty and keep it all quite on a surface level, cheering on our king—it is easier then to allow ourselves to be creatures who live rather shallow lives.  We don’t then have to try and understand ISIS or try to find ways to stop the violence once and for all in our world. Because my friends, that is the real task, isn’t it?—to find the way to stop the violence, once and for all, knowing that violence only breeds more.

And if we see the truth of who Jesus, the Christ—the Anointed One truly was and continues to be; a man of sorrows and a man of joy—God, yet human, suffering and experiencing all that we suffer—demanding justice for all, accepting all, loving all—and if we say we follow him and this is indicated when we name ourselves, “Christian,” we must, we simply must strive to be like him.  And God knows that isn’t easy.  When people treat us badly; we want to retaliate.  We need though, to learn a new way.

In my mind, and others believe this too, this feast is really more, in truth, about celebrating not a kingdom where Jesus will rule, but a kin-dom where all are accepted, loved and appreciated; and that would be something to truly rejoice about!

It is appropriate at the end of a Church year and as we look forward to a new one next Sunday with the beginning of Advent, to reflect on who we have been this past year, of how we have contributed to the building of the kin-dom, here and now.  For most of us; we will probably have to say that we haven’t always done our best, but that in truth; we have tried.

Tomorrow history will record the 52^nd anniversary of the assassination of President John Kennedy—a man whom in many ways stood out as a fine, capable leader, who did his part to encourage servant leadership—ideas of justice for all, compassion towards those less fortunate.  Was he a perfect human being?—no, but I believe he tried to make a difference for the better—this is our hope as well—to keep trying.

My friends, as we close this Church year, moving this next week into the celebration of Thanksgiving, reflecting and being grateful for all of God’s bounty; we arrive next Sunday at the holy season of Advent.  Tonight, we as a community of believers will celebrate a time of thanksgiving in a pot-luck supper lovingly prepared by our community—all of us. Let us be grateful for all this parish has been for each of us and for so many others that have benefited by this community’s generosity in reaching out to others. Let us be grateful to the Spirit of our God for helping us to form a parish  where all are welcome at the table, where all are seen as equals, from the youngest to the oldest—where no one’s status is more important than any other’s—pastor or child.  Let us be grateful for loved ones who have lived and loved and passed on to their eternal reward this year.

And now, this next week, as we look toward Advent, a time to gently prepare ourselves for the awesome coming of One who loved so much that he was willing to give up everything—all power and glory, to show us the way—let us strive to walk in his footsteps for our own good and for that of the kin-dom. And let the people say, “AMEN!”

 

 

 

 

 

As you all know, Robert and I were away last Sunday attending the Call to Action conference in Milwaukee.  Each year since 1976, a group of between 1,000-3,000, at its zenith, Catholics, meet to discuss, ponder, pray and celebrate the mystery of Church—all that it means, all that it can and should be and then to go back to our personal lives and hopefully be enlivened in ways that can truly ignite fires in the smaller spaces that we call “church.”

Ironically, it was the bishops of this country that ignited the first flame under the laity, back in 1976 in Detroit—to become more involved in the Church.  As I said last week, the bishops have all walked away from this movement that took them at their word.  Perhaps under the guidance of Francis, the bishops will once again recognize the Spirit-filled work of this 40 year-old group.

Call to Action has been evolving since its inception, trying to ever more be open to new ideas, to more inclusion, to ever more deeply mining the message of our brother, Jesus.  The past several years this organization has been concentrating on more diversity, proclaiming that Jesus’ face can be seen in all creatures, cultures, genders, lifestyles and this was so evident in the liturgies throughout the weekend:  A Jewish opening hymn on Friday evening, a Portuguese liturgical dance, and a Eucharistic prayer on Sunday, prayed in Spanish, German, Hmong and English tongues and where, of course, everyone was welcome at the table, no exceptions!

I don’t know why German was specifically chosen, but I surmised that it might have been in deference to the German bishops,  and what has come to be known as the “German Miracle” coming out of the Synod on the Family wherein they all agreed on change being needed on marriage and family and other issues within the Catholic church to make it more viable in our world.

This conference heard the wisdom of Joan Chittister who spoke of the “spiritual arthritis” that has taken over our Church; John Dear, Jesuit peace activist who was called in by his bishop in New Mexico to defend his work trying to eliminate nuclear weapons in our world. His defense was that he was following the words of Jesus, to which his bishop responded that he need not listen to the words of Jesus anymore!—that God won’t protect us!  Talk about “spiritual arthritis” –this sounds more like a terminal illness; Barbara Blaine, of SNAP (Survivors’ Network for those Abused by Priests) and their present work at the United Nations to name child sexual abuse and its cover-up for the crime against humanity that it is; Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas, an Episcopal priest and director of the Religion Program at Goucher College in Baltimore whose new book is Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God, wherein she makes the case powerfully for how history merely shifts and changes the words that keep black people enslaved; Zach Wahls, a young man raised by his two lesbian moms who basically told us that it’s all about love—that is all it is about! –Maria Teresa Davila, Associate Professor of Christian Ethics at Andover Newton Theological School in Maryland, Sunday’s homilist, spoke to us, as she said, “in the confidence of the Incarnation” about “the [kin-dom] being on the move”—in other words, being a follower of Jesus, calls for action.  This was just a sampling of the many presenters at this annual conference that challenged us to “Love Radically and Live Faithfully.”

This week’s readings call us to the same as this in the last Sunday in Ordinary Time with next week’s feast of Christ the King, or as I prefer, the feast of Jesus, our Brother and Friend.  The apocalyptic readings this week—those that describe the “end times” or the, “end of time,” are disturbing.  Whether they were meant to frighten or not, the fact is, for many of us, readings like the selection from Mark’s gospel, do.  For this reason, exegesis of the Scriptures becomes important, so that we can understand what is truly meant by words that we may otherwise just take at face value.

First, we have to understand that the ancient Israelite people had a concept of two different times—the “end times” and “the end of time.”  The end times were thought to be a time of transition, when suffering and hard times would be no more, when the Chosen One, whom Christians believe is Jesus, the Christ, will come again in glory to make all things right and the kin-dom will be celebrated before the face of God, in that wonderful reality.  It is a tremendously hope-filled image that is attractive to many people. The cinema has in recent years come up with such images of a time of justice when good, will reign—we have seen it in the epic series, The Lord of the Rings, and in the Star Wars movies.   The “end of time” is another time, and when that time will come, none of us knows, or in fact understands just how it will be—we will just have to trust that all will unfold according to God’s loving plan.

So why are we given frightening images—of the sun and moon going dark—of stars falling from the sky?  The reading from Mark has an apocalyptic tone, and part of that, the exegetes tell us, was their way to cover the subversive tone of their writings from their enemies. The Israelites were told overtime that all they were suffering would come to an end—the Chosen One would come to alleviate their sufferings—this was their hope.   This knowledge that their God did hear their cries and would come to save them, gave them the will to go on.  In faith, we believe the same.

It has been thought that the reference to the “heavens and earth passing away” referred to the destruction of Jerusalem.  It encouraged fidelity when the people’s world seemed to be crumbling around them.  And for each of us, this type of reading gives us courage in our struggles through life because there is reason to hope—we are not alone, our God is with us.

The placing of the “end times” reading on this weekend is appropriate as our Church Year is winding down, setting the stage for the wonderful season of Advent—a time of gentle hope, yet building anticipation for the coming of Jesus, our Way, our Truth, and our Life.

This weekend’s readings serve then as a beginning to a time of transition in our Church Year, but also in our personal lives.  They also remind us of the end of time, whenever and however that might come to be.  The end of time—our personal time, when our life as we know it, comes to a close, need not frighten us if we strive in our lives to do our best, always keeping our eyes on Jesus, unlike the New Mexico bishop seems to think, who truly shows us the way.  The thought then of our God—Jesus, the Christ, coming “in the clouds,” with great power and glory,” should bring us joy and anticipation, not fear and dread.

Many people over time, from those people who were the first Christians, followers of Jesus, thought that the “end times” were inaugurated with Jesus and that the end of time would follow shortly.  Jesus, they thought, had come to make all things right, get us on the path of goodness—mercy, love, justice, compassion and once we got it, Jesus would return and take us all, the faithful, with him, to heavenly glory.  It seems it has taken us all, collectively, longer to “get it” then those first Christians thought.  It was evident this past weekend that there is still much that we as a nation and world need “to get” our heads, but mostly, our hearts around, and at the same time, much to be hopeful about as well. And when the end of time will come, no one knows, and perhaps it is not something we need worry about, but rather, to concentrate on the transition in our own lives.

Much of what we heard this past weekend was about communicating with others, hearing and understanding their stories and where each is coming from. It has been said that we communicate most and best, when we allow a communion, a sharing of ideas, needs and concerns to happen between those we encounter—when we let their story seep into our hearts.  When I reflect on situations where I have disagreed with others in the past; I realize that the way to make a difference with them will be by the way I am with them—trying to understand their concerns—witnessing to what I have come to, and showing them by my actions that we are probably concerned about many of the same things at the heart of it all.

So, my friends, this week, as we ever so relentlessly move toward the end of our Church Year, anticipating the beautiful season of Advent,  recalling that our brother Jesus is always with us, showing us the way, let us pray for each other that we might let his example of truth, goodness and justice for all seep into our hearts in order that our encounters with others might more regularly move from the surface to become empathic encounters, true communions with them, and through them, with our loving God.