My friends, as I have previously mentioned, I will be away this next Sunday, November 17, 2024 taking in a retreat with my Midwest sister-priests. I have also added in a bit of vacation time before and after the retreat. Being that I won’t be with you on Sunday, I am leaving an older homily of 12 years ago, and except for the outdated examples, I think you will find that much of the overall thought is still relevant. I wish you all a good and healthy week–enjoy the weather and remember to keep on doing all the good you are always about! Remember those from our parish who are preparing for surgery, doing rehab, and preparing to relocate. Peace and love to you all, Pastor Kathy

P. S. Please know that any of you are welcome to pray on Sunday with the Congregationalists! We will gather again as a community on Sunday, November 24, 2024 at 10 A.M.

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Homily—33rd Weekend in Ordinary Time
November 17/18, 2012

My friends, I believe for many of us, the apocalyptic readings—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 first one today from Daniel and 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? Both the readings from Daniel and from Mark have 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. In Daniel’s writings, the Israelites were told 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.

It has been thought that the reference to the “heavens and earth passing away” referred to the destruction of Jerusalem. As with the first reading, 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” readings on this weekend is appropriate as our Church Year is winding down, with next week’s traditional celebration of Christ the King, which in fact ends the Church Year, 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.

I made mention of next Sunday’s feast; in all Christian Churches, the feast is named, Christ, the King. I have mentioned this before and I humbly suggest again that we try and think of a title for Jesus that more honestly and clearly reflects his reality in our lives—what he in fact calls us to. We don’t live in a time of “kings,” so perhaps a different way of depicting him is appropriate. We might want to envision him as our Brother, which he is, having taken on our human form as Paul writes so beautifully to the Philippians. He was one who came to establish not a kingdom, which evokes a top-down, control-over mentality, but a kin-dom, based on love, compassion, mercy, justice. “Kin” as opposed to “king”–kin representing “family”—a concern for each one who makes up the family. In this light, calling Jesus, our brother makes more sense than to call him our king. If we are simply worshipping someone who stands above us, we don’t have to become engaged with that person if we don’t choose to. But when someone is your “brother” that is a whole different relationship.

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, 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. 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.

This past week, I took the opportunity of renting a table at Winona State University (WSU) to display our “wares,” as it were, as a Catholic parish here in Winona. I recently received a letter, which I’ve mentioned before from someone taking issue with me about calling our church “Roman Catholic” in the WSU student bulletin when I don’t agree with the bishops. The last time I checked, my baptism within this Church signified that I would ultimately be following Jesus, not the bishops. It is great when the two are asking the same of me as far as how I live my life, but when that is not the case, I must follow Jesus’ lead.
My time at WSU was to offer an invitation to the student community that all are welcome at our table, should any want to pray and celebrate with us. That is what the call of the end times is all about—that we would be our best selves. I would guess that the traditional Catholic community has the same mission; that people would be their best selves; but if the choice is between following Jesus or the bishop, the choice for me is clear.

Interestingly enough, what I discovered in sitting for 5.5 hours in the lower hyphen of Kryzko Commons, a well-traveled area by students, is that “church,” as represented there is either a non-issue to them, or for Catholic students, they are an ultra-conservative lot. Three young people stopped at different times, with two engaging me and another Church member, at one point, rather passionately about the law and of how I was confusing people. Both, rather smugly, promised to pray for me and I promised the same for them. We have a long way to go my friends in helping people “get” the message of Jesus.
The hopeful note was that of my presence there and of trying to engage students as they passed by, with a smile, a greeting. We never know the seeds that we plant.

Friends, there is much suffering in our world—just this past week we heard of the renewed fighting in Jesus’ homeland. Suffering in our world has traditionally been held as a sign that the end times are near. When we look at starvation, wars and injustices around the world and in our own country; we may at times wonder if we will ever get it right. Therein lays our task as individual Christians. Jesus is constantly calling each of us to transition in our life through his blessed word in the Scriptures that we hear every week. We must not only hear the word with our ears, but let it sink into our hearts and then show its goodness—through the works of love, mercy, compassion, justice and peace in our personal lives.
I had the privilege a few years back to hear a presentation by Jim Bowey at the Minnesota Marine Art Museum. Jim is a photographer, and his presentation was on how the photographer communicates a message through his medium. He said that we communicate most and best as photographers, as people, through pictures or words, when we allow a communion to happen between those we encounter—when we let their story seep into our hearts. In reflection on my time with those passionate, ultra-conservative Catholic students, I realized 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 that I am not the errant, law-breaking feminist that they have been led to believe, but a faith-filled woman trying to answer God’s call in my life.

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.

My friends, I continue to be amazed at how the Scriptures given us to ponder each week do give us a way forward even in the seemingly darkest of times. And sometimes that way forward comes in the smallest of ways…
Our first reading today from Kings we have all heard many times before—that of the prophet, Elijah asking a poor woman and her son, “living on the edge,” to share some of what she has with him. I would like to lift up for us to consider a few words from Elijah that seem to me to speak, volumes: Elijah says, “bring [me] a little water.” I believe his words here are a fine way forward in our world that today seems to be so in need.
If any of us had to be responsible for all that is needed, we would have given up long ago. But if we each can do our “little bit,” together we can become, as Episcopalian bishop, John Shelby Spong has said so well, “divine,” and when that happens, he continues, we have reached “heaven,” the place, more than just physical, that God intended for us all along, “giving, caring, loving, and living for [not only ourselves], but for others.”
In today’s gospel from Mark, we are shown another poor woman, “living on the edge,” who gives from her need, and it seems that our brother Jesus wants his disciples, including us, “to truly get” the meaning here—we are all asked to give something. Many of us are blessed to be able to give, for the most part, out of our excess—sometimes life calls us also, to give out of our need—perhaps, and I know there are those of you either hearing or reading this today, that while maybe financially secure, are being called to give, emotionally and spiritually, out of your need as you care for spouses, children, friends, and more.
We can look again to the prophet Elijah’s comforting words to the poor woman in his time that he requests help from: “Do not be afraid.” Elijah asks her “to share,” and if she does, “there will be enough.” Others have written about this phenomenon when trying to make sense of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes that our brother Jesus accomplishes: “when we all share, we encourage others to do the same, and then, there is enough.”

A comment that I have heard repeated several times since the “will of the people” was brought to light on November 5th was the fact that many in our great country, “felt unheard.” Somehow my friends, it would seem that we all need to become better listeners, hearers of what people truly need. None of us as true followers of our brother Jesus, should be okay with the fact that anyone in our world is hungry, homeless, lonely, or afraid—frankly, it should weigh heavy on our hearts that this is the case.
Now, having said that, I want to lift up for each of you, that I know, all of this does weigh heavy on your hearts, because I see the generosity of your giving through our parish in many ways, to do our “little bit” in our world to make a difference. All of this is about striving to be “our best,” which Jesus modeled so well for us.

Being that two of our readings for today speak of women “living on the edge,” I would be remiss, as your pastor, a woman too, if I did not at least lift up a comment that came from a man in the past few days that speaks to the sexism still so prevalent in our country.

This nameless man simply asked, “What kind of a resume does a woman have to put forth in this country to be elected president?” I share this here, not to be political, but just to lift up the issue of “sexism” and to say, it’s time to grow up as a country, and a world and see the tremendous gifts that women, as well as men bring to our world. And our Church is no better—Pope Francis ended two years and more of study and contributions to make our Church better –including seeing women equally in the mix, and he could only say, “the time is not ripe,” to which I say, “if not now, when?”

I would like to further encourage all the men here and those reading this who have faithful, trusting and caring women in your lives to begin more purposefully advocating for them—speaking truth to power and calling the lie that it is whenever you hear it, “that women are not equal or acceptable!”
I did not mention the second reading today from Hebrews yet, but what I would like to lift up from there is the simple fact that, “the Jesus from the gospels,” (Paul and Barnabas—probably the writer of this letter)—never knew. They always speak of him as what he became through time, “the Christ,” –someone big enough for all believers in this world. It would seem that we all as believers need to realize, as the banner behind me signifies, our God who loves us in an over-the-top way, is big enough to include us all.
So friends, I will conclude here today, trying to make sense and to respect wherever you and I are at this point, by sharing something that came to me this week that gave me hope, direction and purpose for all that comes next, continuing to be about something bigger than myself—hopefully, there is meaning here for you as well—

From Rebecca Solnit, author of Hope in the Dark:
“They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love…
You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who’s upset… A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.
People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it’s sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.”
And I say—Amen? Amen!