My friends, I am struck as I look over the readings for this week of how they lay out well what each of us needs to know in attempting to live as a Christian—a follower of our brother, Jesus.  Additionally, this week’s readings seem to clear up some false teachings that many of us probably grew up believing, and this is true from the Old Testament in the selection from Exodus and on through the New Testament gospel from Luke and Paul’s letter to First Corinthians.  The Psalm selection is the only exception. Let’s take a look.

   Today’s psalm, 103 lets us know that our God, “is kind and merciful.”  With that in mind, we can reflect back on God’s words to Moses from the burning bush—”I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt.”  And this God who is “kind and merciful,” calls on Moses to help and basically says, I will be with you—you won’t need to do this alone.  Moses answers in the way that is needed at this time— “Here I am.” 

   And so that Moses realizes that this is a serious, sacred request, God says, “Where you are standing is holy ground.”  Now, upon first reading these words, we think of the surface meaning—yes, God is here, thus the ground is holy. 

   But looking at this, “burning bush” moment, can’t simply be done in a surface way. Moses’ God chose to involve him in a venture that simply put, was “all about love,” because God had heard the peoples’ cries, and Moses is being asked to be God’s envoy to a stiff-necked Pharoah, holding Moses’ people, who also belonged to God, against their will. 

   Now, if Moses has truly gotten the picture, either at this point, or at some time in the future, he will realize that the “holy ground” is not only the physical ground where God seems to be but is ground upon which the Israelites in Egypt stand and the ground upon which we all stand!  Each of us is “the stuff” of heaven and of God, here, having a human experience.

   Now Moses, like most of us is concerned about the surface things—who he should tell the Pharoah it is, has sent him.  And it is almost as if God is teasing him—say, “I AM” has sent you. And to this day, exegetes still quibble over whether God meant, “I AM who I am” or “I AM who I will be.”  Now this probably made no more sense to Moses that it does to us, unless we simply conclude that God is not Some One or Some Entity that can be explained to our satisfaction, so let’s perhaps look at the “why” this encounter is taking place, rather than “who” has come to Moses in this “burning bush” moment. 

   If we recall once again the psalmist’s words, “Our God is kind and merciful,” –one who has heard the peoples’ cries; then the “why” is really more important than getting stuck on what name we should give this caring God. We see additionally that God comes to Moses as God comes to each of us—there is a need in our world and God asks, “Who can I send—who will go for us?”  Hopefully, each of us can see at times, the “holy ground” and the people standing upon it, and do our part, saying, “I will go.” 

   Paul in his letter to the Corinthians seems to struggle a bit too with describing the full picture of what is going on with the Israelites and their freeing from Egypt. He gives us an image of a somewhat “frightening God” and that we better, “watch out” lest we fall, like some of the Israelites did.  Perhaps because Paul never knew Jesus, our brother, in his earthly life, he either wasn’t aware of, or had forgotten Jesus’ teachings from the gospel selection in Luke today.

   Jesus is teaching against the notion that God causes “bad things” to happen to us because we have done “bad things.” Through the lovely story of the fig tree that bears no fruit and the owner who is willing to cut it down in punishment, we instead see the love of our God, through the vinedresser who says, “Let’s give it another chance.”  Rather than God causing a bad result, it is probably more true to say that when we make bad choices, the result is a bad outcome. 

   My friends, as the story of the fig tree seems to indicate, Jesus our brother and our God is strongly encouraging us to change our ways if our end results aren’t what we had hoped for.  Unfortunately, that old theology that wrongly taught us that the only purpose for Jesus’ coming among us was to save us from our sins, didn’t allow us to see the goodness of our God who would again and again give us chances to change and become our best selves.

   A sister of St. Joseph and a Scottish scholar, Sister Mary Beth Ingham, put it this way: “The Incarnation was not plan B (because something went wrong in the garden)—it was always plan A.”  My friends, God in Jesus became one of us out of love, to show us in no uncertain terms—how to live and how to love, and so perhaps we could say, in that case, Jesus did, “save us,” but from ourselves.

   God looks on each of us with love—we are “holy ground” as a result, and so are all others, and this same God then, asks us to love in return—first God and then, others. Meister Eckhart, a 13^th Century German theologian says it like this, “The eyes with which you will look back at God will be the same eyes with which God first looked at you.”  You might want to think about that a bit, but to me, that is why it is so important that the Eucharist that we celebrate each week here, and partake in, doesn’t stop here.  Or, as we say in faith, “This is Jesus, the Bread of Life, how blessed are we [to receive it] and become the Bread of Life for the world.” 

   My friends, my challenge to each of you and to myself is to always strive to see beyond the words on the page as we read the Scriptures—I am quite sure our God wants us to go deeper so that more “burning bush” moments happen, that is, when we can see God, “in our midst.”  When we can all work toward creating a world where all are seen for their basic goodness, instead of in racist, sexist and all other diminishing ways, we will be able to truly say that we are “standing on holy ground.” Amen? Amen!

My friends, we are journeying through Lent and are at the 2^nd Sunday—the 2^nd week of 6 given us by our Church to come to know our brother Jesus better and then go out, after learning what he did and how he did it in his world and do the same in ours!

   The Scriptures given us this Sunday speak of a history of a merciful God from Genesis in the Old Testament to Luke and Paul in the New Testament. Let’s look a bit at what our God says first to the man, Abram and his wife, Sarai: “Just as the stars of the heavens, so will your descendants be.”  In other words—many, many, even, uncountable descendants! 

   The reading from Genesis lays out for us a covenant made between this merciful God and the man Abram, who will later be known as Abraham and his wife as Sarah, to signify the promise made between this couple and their God, a promise based on “trust” between the two—God would be their God and they would be God’s people. 

   That is really all we need to remember about this passage—the halving of animals is not something we understand, but Abraham and Sarah and their people did—basically a covenant with God must not be broken, cut in half, as it were. 

   The psalmist today continues the thought of how our merciful God will watch over the people and that includes us: “You are my light and my salvation, of whom should I be afraid?” 

   In the letter to the Philippians, we see our brother Paul instructing the people, “to stand firm in Christ Jesus.”  It is good to recall that Paul never personally knew the man, Jesus, but only the Risen Christ. We can only imagine the power of this encounter that knocked him from his horse, turning his life around, from one who fought to bring Jesus’ followers down, to one who gave the rest of his life to bringing people to Jesus, the Christ.  Paul tells the Philippians that he wants them, “to stand firm in Christ Jesus,” because, “he so loves” them. 

   Lately, I have been spending time reviewing the Enneagram, the psychological tool that many have written and taught about to basically show us how to become our best selves.  As many of you are aware, this tool consists of 9 personality types and the “trick” is to discover the one number that best describes how each of us engages our world.  In the early years of our lives and into adulthood, we tend to use the traits that make us most comfortable in dealing with our world. 

   The Enneagram can at first and even second glance, and more, appear to be very complicated, but upon further study, we come to see that each of us faces our world with the ability to be, affective (emotional)—theoretical (thinking) and effective (doing) in our approach.  More simply put, we each come complete with emotions—thought processes—and the ability to make change, to accomplish things in our world. 

   The piece or pieces that get in the way of us becoming our best selves is that each of us faces our world with a preferred way to be—one of the 9 numbers.  For example, each time I work with the Enneagram, I come up as a #2, or “Helper”-type.  Becoming our best selves will require that we learn to use all the talents in our own personal “toolboxes” as we work and “be” in our world. 

   When a person learns over time to act in our world, not only out of our comfort zone, (for me as a 2-Helper—my comfort zone is in reaching out to my world and helping as I can) but to add the other ways— “thought” and “doing” to round out the approach.  So, why am I sharing all this?

   When we strive to be our best selves, using more of the ways to “work in our world” so as to be more effective, the Enneagram describes that as a “swan,” a beautiful bird, “finding their wings and learning to fly.”  I submit that this is what happened to Paul once he realized that to be truly “effective” in his world, he needed to “get out of his head, (theoretical) and begin to understand that he also needed to face his world “with care,” (affective) in order that his life could be all that God meant it to be. 

   There are many approaches to working with the Enneagram, psychological, and spiritual, and as you might guess, I have most often tuned into the spiritual aspects of the tool, as that is how I tend to work and “be” in the world.  As Paul says to the Philippians in today’s 2^nd reading— “we have our citizenship in heaven,” and can’t be overly concerned about the attractions of the flesh.  What I have found works best for me is to look for “balance” in my one, wonderful life that began in a spiritual way and has taken on a human component here.

   So friends, that brings us to the lovely gospel of the Transfiguration of Jesus in Luke.  I love Peter’s line in this gospel, “Rabbi, how good it is for us to be here [!]” His response follows the appearance of Moses, representing the law, and Elijah, representing the prophets with Jesus in the middle, which to my mind speaks to the balance that our human brother asks of himself in his human life, and asks of us as well, in ours—know the law, but act with truth and love in our actions. 

   Exegetes aren’t too flattering of Peter’s response, basically saying that he didn’t understand what he was saying.  I would disagree.  This apparition that he, James and John were given gave them proof to base their faith upon that no doubt, in addition, gave them the strength to carry into the future, all the mysteries and wonders that they were privy to in their lives with Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus, the Christ. 

   This past year for Christmas, Saint Nicholas/Santa, gave Robert and I several new, compelling books on our present times and one which came more so, as a Three Kings’ gift, is the very poignant story, Unthinkable by Jamie Raskin, who you will remember was the lead manager for the second impeachment trial of Donald Trump. Even though he deals with the trauma of the January 6, 2021, Insurrection at our nation’s Capitol, he clearly states that this is not a book about Trump.  One week before the Insurrection, Raskin’s only son, Tommy, became a victim of suicide. 

   What this book deals with then is the personal trauma to him and his wife Sarah, and their family and friends over losing their very accomplished, likeable, concerned, 25-year-old son and brother, juxtaposed with the trauma to our country in the “unthinkable” events that took place on January 6, 2021.

   Many people asked Raskin how he could deal with these two traumas at the same time, and he said, looking back on accepting Nancy Pelosi’s request that he lead the case against the former president, he realized that she had offered him a lifeline—that to begin to engage in a noble cause once again was the best way to honor his lost son—one who had spent much of his short life advocating for those with less than the simple goods of this world. 

   Several times throughout this book, Raskin, with a 20-year long career teaching young lawyers, constitutional law, before being elected to Congress, quoted one of his favorite people from the early days of our country, Thomas Paine.  Paine was known to have said, “The times have found us.” 

   My friends, as we contemplate the Scriptures today and this new season of Lent, we might say the same—“the times have found us,” at a place where our world is crying out with such need: wars begun by bullies, for no apparent cause, other than greed, causing millions to leave their homes, our own country that through the rhetoric of some in Congress and in our everyday world, seem to have lost their way.  When one’s personal freedom, to not be told what to do is more important than the welfare of the many, “the time” to look again at who we are, and what we have become, seems to have “found us.”

   And whether we choose to become more of our best selves as our brother Jesus calls us to through the Enneagram or any other way is not as important as that we simply look for balance in our lives, with a focus not only on ourselves, but on others—treating them as we would want to be treated.  If we can come to Easter realizing that we are finding more of that balance in our lives (for ourselves and others), I think we can say that “the times have found us,” and that we have responded as Jesus did in his life.  Amen? Amen!

   Lent is upon us again my friends.  We may come to this season with some “baggage,” of not so fond memories of long fasts and long church services to go to, feelings of guilt perhaps about not being good enough and part of the reason that Jesus needed to come and die on the cross.

   If any of this sounds true for you, then I would like to invite us all to come to this season with some fresh ideas and see perhaps, these 40 days as a gift given by our Church to help us “open up” and grow closer to our God who loves us beyond all imagining, and came not because of our sinfulness, but for love of us so as to show us ways to live better, our one wonderful life—each of us. 

   Just as Jesus found it necessary before beginning his public life to go apart and prepare for the challenges he would face; we too need such times to do the same.  He knew that the challenges would be many—to speak truth to power, to let all his sisters and brothers—all of us, that is, know not only how much we are in fact loved, but to address those “lording” their power and position over the less fortunate to change their ways, to call all of us to be our best selves for ourselves and for others. 

    Today, we have the opportunity to receive ashes on our foreheads, which we will do after the homily today.  Receiving ashes is a simple, but very telling reminder of our vulnerability and impermanence in this life. The gift of a human existence is temporary, in other words, and our life in Christ is always calling us to that reality and challenging us to be our best for whatever time we have.

    In truth probably, none of us relishes thinking along these lines—I know I don’t, and I don’t think Jesus did either, in his humanity, and this was part of his agony in the garden I believe, knowing that his time in this life would end.

    Lent calls us then to struggle with these questions of impermanence, of justice for all—sharing the goods of this world, extending mercy as Paul writes of our God to the Romans in today’s 2^nd reading: “Here there is no difference between Jew and Greek, all have the same Creator, rich in mercy toward all who call.”

   The first reading from Deuteronomy is a testament of gratitude for all that our God has done.  Lent can be a time when we become more grateful for the gifts in our lives that we regularly take for granted—gifts that in the impermanence of our lives could be gone tomorrow. Again, that was one of the unforeseen gifts that Michael gave us in his unexpected death—to treasure each day and make it one that we can look back on and see that we were able to do something good for someone, even if that “someone” was ourselves.

   In working with each of you through my ministry here and in the greater community of our outreach, I meet and work with many, very good people who are so generous with their time, talent, and treasure.  And within the generosity we shower upon others who we know have less than us; we must try and remember to share a bit with ourselves, because an “empty cup” can’t continue to give.  It’s a balance my friends.

   A positive thing that we might do this Lent is to spend some time, “in the basement of our hearts,” as someone once said, with our brother Jesus and discover how we truly look at ourselves.  Can it be said that we love ourselves, treasure our existence, are grateful for each day?  We can only face our world and all its needs, and do a good job of it, if we start from a place of love.  Maybe we will discover, “in the basement of our hearts” that there is an old wound to our spirit that needs healing.  Maybe we need to forgive ourselves for the times we have been less than Jesus asks of us.  Whatever we may find there, perhaps we can come to terms with it and move on to a healthier place, beginning to love ourselves again as God always has.

   My friends, for those of us who come out of many years’ experiences in the past of fasting, abstinence and other “penances” that signify, Lent, much of this is quite a task to take on; and end up, still appreciating a time like Lent.  Usually, it comes in the Church Year, at least in our climate, in the dead of winter and it might make us feel dull, but through the 40 days, we begin to glimpse spring, when new life begins to burst forth.  This new life not only shows itself in material ways around us, but there is every chance that this new life will be seen in us as well if we have allowed ourselves to open up to the larger world around us—the world that so desperately needs true followers of our brother, Jesus.

   The prophet Isaiah, in one of the Mass readings of this past week challenges us to be about the “fast” that our God truly wants—the “fast” that calls us to care for the least among us.  With this in mind, I share some commentary that I heard on public radio this past week. 

   The guest in the time slot I was listening to brought up the great suffering of the Ukrainian people at present in Putin’s war.  He rightly acknowledged their suffering, but went on to say that, in his experience, when the same kind of suffering-killing-injury, and destruction happens in countries of black and brown-skinned people, the same animosity and disgust against the perpetrators with a willingness to do something doesn’t seem to be present. 

   And being that this was a radio commentary, I wasn’t able to see this brother’s skin color, but from his next comment, I knew he was dark-skinned.  He was addressing the inherent, often unnoticed racism in several newscasters who were reporting on the people fleeing Ukrainian cities.  One of the reporters said, “These people look just like us (white skin) and many are Christian.” 

   Now to a white person and a Christian, this may have sounded fine and brought forth emotion and solidarity, but if you were a dark-skinned Muslim, you can imagine the reaction to this statement that does not match the lack of concern they likewise felt in their own times of trouble. 

   It shocked me when I heard this and had to wonder if I too have, in the past, sounded “racist” in comments I have made.  Of the many books that have been written in the past few years on racism, the authors seem to agree that racism is in our very DNA.  The same can likewise be said of “sexism.”  I know that I want to talk this over with my brother, Jesus, in the “basement of my heart” this Lent. 

   So, it would seem that a different kind of “fast” is before us to consider this Lent—one that can truly purge, not just our physical bodies, but our spiritual and emotional selves too—of racism and sexism—flaws that we perhaps aren’t even aware of.  This is not to say that physical fasting and abstinence aren’t good because many times such practices give us the strength to move on to the much harder issues—uncover them to the light of day and do something to change our behaviors.  Unfortunately, I think, many times we don’t extend the “fasting” beyond the physical. 

   Interesting that our country and its airwaves yearly sponsor, Black History Month in February, and a month to women in March.  On the face of it, we might say, this is good! But looking deeper, we might say, why is there a need to do either if we believe as Paul said in today’s second reading, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, all have the same Creator.” 

   Looking then to today’s gospel from Luke, I found it interesting that to all of the devil’s temptations, Jesus turns to the Scriptures to make his response.  Perhaps if each of us did the same more often—turn to the Scriptures for guidance in the ways to go, or as I always say to us, “Follow in Jesus’ footsteps, we would have a better track record trying to become our best selves.

   I find great comfort in today’s Psalm 91 response and especially in those times when I’m not clear on the way to go— “Be with me God, when I am in trouble…” 

   So my friends, as we begin once again, this really beautiful time of Lent—a gift, if we can see it as such, to come to know that One better that we profess to follow, then, I believe we can come through these 40 days more open, more loving, more willing to be all that we can be for ourselves and for others.   Amen? Amen!