Homily – 23rd Sunday of Ordinary Time

As I looked forward to our trek to Alaska and contemplated the grace of seven weeks to do that; I relished the notion mostly of unencumbered time away, with no huge responsibilities so as to settle in to what retirement would or could mean to me, having just passed that milestone.  My travel partner Robert, and I saw many wonderful sights—from high, cascading mountains, glaciers and falls, to beautiful wild flowers all across this vast land. We were treated to whales, bears, seals and marmots. It seemed that on many of the Sundays that we were away; we were gifted with the most beautiful drives through landscapes that almost took our breath away! As Robert became fond of saying, “You just have to suck it up,” to which I responded, “I think it is, soak it up, dear!”

We are indebted to Dick Dahl for the gift of this time away and for his wonderful pastoring of the parish. A big thank you goes to Jo Hittner for planning and leading the music, to the board, and to each of you for all the unseen work that was done in our absence. We are so grateful!

Part of what I tried to focus on in our days of travel was to be present to whatever I was doing, present to wherever I was, on any given day.  We have all experienced being physically present, but actually are mentally elsewhere planning for what is coming next.  So, as Jim Elliot says so well, “Wherever you are, be all there!”

A “companion” of sorts that I took with me on this trip was a travel journal, complete with good quotes from the famous and not-so-famous, about travel; the above being one from a not-so-famous person. I also took four books that I wanted to read and read none of them, but did read two that came to me from a close friend we visited along the way. Part of “being present” I’m learning is leaving the agenda and allowing something else to happen.

One of the books was great in encouraging this practice—The Barn at the End of the World, by Mary Rose O’Reilly, a story of a woman who decided to give a year of her life living and working on a sheep ranch, to learn what she could about caring for sheep.  Of course, what she learned was more about herself as is always the case in such ventures.  During the year she gave to being a sheep intern; she took a month off for a Buddhist retreat as she wanted to deal with her innate tendency toward anger in response to life’s injustices and irritations, as she saw them.

Having come originally out of a Catholic background, even doing a stint in the convent, set her up already for feeling a certain amount of anger, but she found that many of those joining her for the Buddhist retreat, angered her in new ways over stupid things, in her mind, that they focused their time and energy on. Some of the retreatants were very into themselves and their own needs not seeing the needs of others while others felt giving up all earthly pleasures was the way to go. Retreatants were expected to share a room with one other person, and as you might guess, this could be rather annoying depending on who the roommate was.

The best advice she received in calming her anger came from a mentor who basically told her to “slow down” and try to decide how important something really is and if it is worth all the upset—what perhaps might she do to improve the situation?

The second book, Slow Love, by Dominique Browning is the story of a woman whose job ended unexpectedly due to the economy and the journey she then made into herself to find who she really was aside from what others expected from her—what did she really want from her life? Having not chosen to quit the work-a-day world, but having that thrust upon her, threw her into a depression where she questioned her own self-worth. Because the country was experiencing an economic downturn, her savings were hard hit too as an added complication. She had experienced a divorce in the past and her present relationship which had stretched over a ten-year period was clearly dysfunctional she was realizing. It seemed to be always about what he needed and wanted, never about her needs and wants. She realized as she struggled through all these losses that her life had been often, too often defined by others, thinking almost unconsciously that if everyone else’s needs got met, hers would too.

Both women in the two books learned as the Buddhist tradition teaches that they needed to slow down and be present to what was happening all around them—ask the important questions about how does this action, lifestyle that I am part of really, truly, affect my life and the lives of others? Does my life bring joy in the actions of my days?–and is there enough run-over to bring joy to others?

Mary Rose O’Reilly found that caring for animal life spilled over into caring for human life and being present to each situation helped with her impulsive tendency toward anger because she then understood others better—where they were coming from.

Dominique Browning found that “slowing down,” something she may not have done had she not lost her job opened up a whole new world for her.  In addition to losing work and a relationship, she also experienced cancer.  All of the above let her know in very clear terms that life is fragile, short—but also, sweet.  She discovered music once again at her piano, the beauty of the outdoors, on the water and in her garden.

As I said earlier, this seven weeks for Robert and I afforded us the time to again, slow down and just appreciate life—ours and others. In order to get to all the places and people that we wanted to see, some days we had to travel  more, some days the traveling was done for us—by boat or train, so we could rest more.  Sometimes we took the opportunity to stay put for a few days and just relax.  We said many times that this was an epic journey, once in a lifetime and it taught us much about all that is most important to us and what we want to spend our days going forward, doing.

The Scriptures for this week call us to just such introspection.  We must face life and what it brings with clear eyes and open hearts, James teaches.  We must treat all people equally, he continues, seeing them all as beloved by our God.

Our brother Jesus is our model as he brings healing to a deaf mute through what is perfectly human—touch, saliva, his words. Sometimes I think we believe that there is little we can do in our world to make a difference against all that is wrong.  A better thing to do it seems would be to focus on all that is right and move on from there using what each of us is gifted with, our humanity—to make the changes needed for our country, our world and its people.  We have tough issues to face it is true—just listening to the news since returning home, something we tried not to do while away, all the problems were not fixed in our absence.

The prophet Isaiah proclaims that we should not fear, even so, because our God is with us. As we traveled through our beautiful 49th state of Alaska and experienced its vastness, we came, once again to realize the greatness of our God that put this all into motion—all this that one can only call, grandeur!

Each of us has been gifted a share in this grandeur through our lives on earth.  We might pray with the prophet Isaiah today that our eyes would be opened, our deaf ears cleared, our tongues freed so that we can do all in our power to make life good for ourselves and others, and it must be both, not one or the other as the stories I shared with you today indicated—life and it’s goodness is for us and for others, as our God intended.

The troubles that plague our world and its people are within our abilities to fix—we must simply be present to them—find the balance between our own needs and the needs of all on our beautiful planet. When we strive to be our best selves, also as God intended, one action at a time, great things are possible! We shouldn’t forget that Jesus, our brother promised that we would do greater things than he.  And when this all happens, the streams will burst in the desert, burning sands will become pools and thirsty ground, pools of water.  Things we thought impossible, will become possible!

As I contemplate the grandeur of the mountains, oceans, glaciers—beautiful creatures in the seas and on the land; I know the One who put all this in motion will be our strength too!  Amen? Amen!

 

 

 

Homily – 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

(The following is from Pastor Dick Dahl)

Today we have readings from two books of the Bible we don’t usually hear from: Deuteronomy, one of the first five books of the Old Testament which the Jewish people call the Torah, the Law. The other is the letter of James, who was “known as “a brother of the Lord”, and became a leader in the earliest Christian community in Jerusalem before being put to death in 62 AD.

In the first reading Moses teaches Israel the statutes and decrees which God was giving them to observe. He noted that people of other nations would marvel at the good fortune of the Israelites to have a God so close that they could call upon him and to have statutes and decrees that were as just as the law being taught to them that day.

James, in turn, notes that every worthwhile gift and genuine benefit comes from God the Father….” If James had lived in a less patriarchal society, this would have been a good place for him to say, “from God the Mother” when he then speaks of God “who wishes to bring us to birth with a word spoken in truth.” He goes on to say, “Welcome this word that has taken root in you and has the power to save you. But don’t just listen to it. You must act on it.” How? Among other things, by looking after orphans and widows in their distress, in other words, the poor, the needy, the helpless.

Finally, in the reading from Mark’s Gospel, Jesus harshly criticizes the Scribes and Pharisees who took offense over his followers who had eaten without first washing their hands. Jesus said these religious leaders put more importance on their own dogmas about external observances than what is really God’s commandment, namely actions based on love, worship that comes from the heart.

When we see such a stark contrast between external observance and inner love of the heart laid before us so clearly, it’s easy to recognize which is more important. The Franciscan Father Richard Rohr says the ego prefers to be part of a moral achievement test in which we feel in control, versus surrendering to the “word spoken in  truth” that James wrote about–the word that has the power to save us, namely that we are surrounded and immersed in God’s presence and unearned love.

I am reminded of a reference I made in a homily here a year and a half ago when I learned of the death of a friend and fellow Paulist Jerry Travers. In 1968 Jerry was interviewed as a young priest at the Church of the Good Shepherd in New York city. In this very Irish parish 20,000 parishoners filled nine Masses in the church and five more in the auditorium every Sunday. Yet in the interview Father Jerry said, “We can have our throats blessed 87 times, carry home wheelbarrows of palms, and get ashes 15 times. This doesn’t mean anything if we don’t follow the Gospel, the message of Christ loving our neighbors.

At that time in the 1960s Jerry confronted the animosity of parishoners who feared losing their homes and their jobs, as Puerto Ricans and Negroes (which was the acceptable designation at that time) started moving into their neighborhood. The devout Catholics of the parish were at home with their Rosary beads and novenas, but not with their neighbors of a different race and culture.

We can be blinded by following the law and engaging in religious practices but then failing to recognize and love Christ in those around us. This is especially true when they look different, act out of different cultural patterns, and speak differently from us. This is true when their entrance into our neighborhood, city or country strains social services, costs us more in taxes, threatens to take jobs, or just makes us feel uncomfortable.

There is nothing wrong with our religious practices, nor with the observances practiced by the Jews of Jesus’ time, except when they seem to be more important than loving God and Christ in those around us. As James taught us today in the second reading, God our Mother wishes to bring us to birth with the word spoken in truth, namely all that God has revealed to the human race. This word has taken root in us and has the power to save us. James says, it is not enough to believe this, we must also act on it. As Mother Teresa said, “We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

Homily – 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

(The following is from Pastor Dick Dahl)

Pastor Kathy prepared us for today’s liturgy with the following message:

“This week’s liturgy calls us to reflect on who it is we say we believe in—something people have struggled through time to come to terms with. Joshua says simply—’I believe in Yahweh.’ Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians calls us to action in our belief—we must love others as we do ourselves. Jesus asks his followers this week, ‘Am I a stumbling block to you?’  The psalmist cries out his/her belief that ‘Our God hears the cry of the poor’ and Peter answers with the resolution that we all most often come to, ‘Who are we to turn to?’”

***         ***       ***

What stood out for me in today’s readings was Jesus’ question to the twelve men he had called and spent so much time with: “Are you going to leave me, too?”

Many of his disciples had remarked, “We cannot put up with this kind of talk! How can anyone take it seriously?” The Temple authorities had argued, “How can he give us his flesh to eat?”

They did not understand the meaning behind Jesus’ words. Did they really think he was saying they were to participate in cannibalism? How much confusion and distortion has resulted from people misunderstanding Jesus’ words and the Scriptures! How much alienation from God has come from the literal understanding of teachings that had deeper symbolic meanings!

But the bottom line is, “Are you going to leave me, too?”  But like Joshua in the first reading, Jesus was saying, “Make a decision. Are you with me or not?”Joshua asked a similar question of the tribes of Israel and their leaders, “Make the decision today whom you will worship.”

Assumption of Mary

(The following homily is from Pastor Dick Dahl)

I was recently asked by two friends of mine to help plan the funeral/memorial service for their mother. We arranged to meet and they talked for  over an hour about their mother, what was important to her, her accomplishments and setbacks, and the experiences and relationships they had with her. It was like looking through a memory scrapbook of what they remembered and  now viewed as important. Of course, so much was missing. What would their mother have added if she were in the conversation?

We don’t have a day on which to commemorate the death of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Her son died. I assume she did also. What we have instead is this day to celebrate her transition, her transformation, her full participation in the resurrection of her Son. But just as his Resurrection would lack meaning without the life and death that preceded it, so would Mary’s.

So, like my session with my friends who described their mother’s life, we might reflect on the scattered images, incomplete as they are, we have of Mary’s life. What image comes to your mind when you think of Mary, the mother of Jesus? Here are just ten I’ve gathered from the Gospels of Matthew, Luke, and the Acts of the Apostles:

*A confused, pregnant teenager…with courage to believe and accept that her condition was God’s will

*A young woman in late-stage pregnancy having to travel to Jerusalem to fulfill the required Roman census

*A new mother giving birth in a barn shared with animals

*A frightened parent fleeing into Egypt due to alarming threats to her baby

*Again a frightened parent, twelve years later, having completed the annual Passover in Jerusalem and traveled for full a day toward home in Nazareth, to finding him missing

*A relieved but confused mother, after three days of searching, finding him teaching elders in the temple

*Having him, in his 30s, begin preaching in his home town of Nazareth and elsewhere to mixed reactions–some enthusiastic, some hostile.

*Frightened to learn he had been arrested, imprisoned and then condemned to die by the horrors of crucifixion

*Standing at Golgotha and seeing him die in agony while he struggled to put her under the care of his disciple John

*After his death, gathered in the Upper Room with his followers, praying fervently…where after three days he suddenly appeared to them.

Who can identify with her? Pregnant young women who feel alone and scared can. Women who must travel and give birth to their babies in terrible circumstances can. Parents fleeing persecution and seeking refuge in other countries can. Parents of a lost child can.  Parents of an incarcerated son or daughter can. Parents of an executed son can.

The celebration today has its roots in all these experiences of Mary’s life. The mystery of her assumption opens a perspective beyond anything we have experienced. It is linked with the Gospel reading of this Sunday, the 20th in Ordinary Time, in which Jesus says, “The truth of the matter is…Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Everyone who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I live in them….So those who feed on me will have life because of me.”

Today’s celebration is about life. It’s about death. It’s about ongoing, transformed life.

Those who seek to know and love Jesus often experience a bond with his mother. Many of us experience her as our mother. We rely on the conviction that Mary can help us be the followers of her Son that we want to be.

Despite all we don’t know or understand about Mary’s Assumption, we have her example and intercession as we seek to  surrender ourselves daily with a total “Yes, Thy will be done.” We too are called to be temples of the Holy Spirit of God. As baffling and unlikely as this seems, how do we respond? Mother Mary, help us to respond as you did.

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Homily – 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

(The following is from Pastor Dick Dahl)

Pastor Kathy introduced us to today’s liturgy in an e-mail this week with some of the following words:

“We Catholics have long called ourselves a Eucharistic people and rightly so because this is what Jesus always taught us to be. Simply put, this means that we are to share ourselves with others—in effect, be the “bread” that feeds not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually.  The readings for the last several weekends, as well as this one, deal with how we often get caught up in our physical needs and desires rather than seeing the bigger picture….as Paul teaches in the second reading this week….”

I suggest the following further thoughts about today’s Liturgy:

Pope Francis has said he wants the Catholic Church to make a lasting difference in people’s lives. He has repeatedly said he wants the Church to be a hospital on a battlefield, taking in all who were wounded, regardless of which side they fought on. Can we find a connection between this image and today’s readings?

The Church has counterposed the reading from First Kings with that from John’s Gospel. The first reading describes Elijah become weak from fear and exhaustion after he had fled into the desert. He was at the point of despair. Then he was given bread and drink that enabled him to continue for forty days and nights until he reached the mountain of God.

The desert is a symbol of our journey through life, often one of struggle. Forty is a symbol of an undetermined length of time, just as each of our lives is of an undetermined length of time. Can we relate to Elijah even though the time and circumstances in which we live are very different?

Then we hear the reading from John’s Gospel. Jesus tells those who were questioning his authority, “I am the living bread come down from heaven. If any eat this bread they will live forever. The bread I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

We know that John’s Gospel reflects a deeper theological development than the earlier three Synoptic Gospels.  It was written thirty years or so after them  during the last decade of the first century AD (or Common Era). More time had gone by for the Christian community to better understand what Jesus’ actions and words meant.

He said his body and blood, surrendered for our life, were bread. When we eat this bread, we are strengthened, like Elijah in the desert, for the journey we are on in our lives. Like Elijah, at times we fear, become anxious, grow weary. We may even want to give up. We need the healing of a spiritual hospital…like the one Pope Francis compares the Church to. Even when we feel alone and unsure about going on, the Church is the means by which Jesus offers himself to us, the Bread of life to revive and strengthen us.

In the second reading Paul says that, just as Jesus loved us by offering himself in sacrifice for us, we are called to walk in love. He says, “Try…try to imitate God…as beloved children.” He seems to compare the Holy Spirit to a mother upset by the quarreling of her children when he says, “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit with whom you were sealed.” “Get rid of all bitterness, all rage and anger, all harsh words, slander, and malice of every kind. In place of these, be kind to one another, compassionate, and mutually forgiving….”

We struggle with conflicts…with those we love, and with those we don’t like or perhaps even know. The first Christians had the same struggles or Paul would have had no reason to write to them as he did. We, like they, are sealed with the Spirit of the Father and Son. Jesus offers us himself, the Bread of everlasting life, for our journey.

One of my friends in the Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship shared with me his view that Catholics are lucky to have the Eucharist, this powerful sacramental meal that unites and nourishes us. How right he is!