All of our readings today show us a bit different face of God and together they leave God rather mysterious.  Catechisms of the Catholic church overtime have described God as all-knowing, all-loving, all-present and so on.  Moses’ encounter with God can only be said to be awesome—from the burning bush that couldn’t be explained to the strange name, “I Am Who I Am” that God used.  Clearly God wanted to get Moses’ attention in a way he would always remember.

Exegetes who have looked at this name can’t agree on what it means.  They do agree that it is a Hebrew form of the verb “to be,” but can’t agree if it means, “I am who I am,” or I will be who I will be.”  Is God claiming to be the source of all that is, or is God saying something about the future?  It could be God’s way of telling us that as hard as we try, we can never fully understand who God is.  This is a God who lets us see, but doesn’t let us see all—perhaps because we couldn’t take it all in! I am presently reading a book by Fr. Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality and he seems to be saying that it is us humans who make God mysterious when really all God wants is for each of us to know that we are loved.

Rohr compares it to when we first fall in love.  The one loving us delights in us, enjoys us and when we are looked on with love, he says, we feel like our very best selves as we are reflected in the eyes of the lover—we can do anything and this is exciting.    God looks on each of us with love and calls us to love in return—to live our lives in a way that understands that to be loved means that we will love in return—first God and then others. Meister Eckhart says it a bit more loftily, “The eyes with which you will look back at God will be the same eyes with which God first looked at you.”

But you see friends, this gets rather messy, rather involved.  It is perhaps much easier to keep God’s love for us on our own terms—more abstract, less involved. Rohr says, “We will always resist relational, practical truth in favor of abstractions”—and I believe this truth has been played out in our Churches over time.  A God of our own making allows for more control over our lives.  When we return God’s gaze of love as did Jesus, our actions toward the rest of humanity are clear—we must move in love then, toward all.

Just as the first reading, the Gospel account from Luke is confusing as well.  It relates the story of the Galileans killed by Pilate and the people who were crushed by the wall.  This basically illustrates for us that we can’t understand why God allows bad things to happen to us—a question humankind has struggled with ever since the first covenant between God and people was made.  The one thing we do learn in this Gospel is that our loving God will always show us mercy as related in the beautiful story of the fig tree.  The owner is willing to give up on the tree—on us, whereas the vinedresser—God, wants the tree, wants us, to have a second chance.

Blessed John Duns Scotus, a 14^th Century Franciscan believed that our God is about one thing and one thing only—love.  He proclaimed, unlike our Church universal today in its more conservative branches, and especially during this holy season of Lent, God’s purpose was to have an intimate relationship with humanity, not the traditional belief that Jesus came to die on the cross so as to save us from our sins.  Scottish scholar, Sister Mary Beth Ingham, CSJ states clearly, “The Incarnation was not plan B (because something went wrong in the garden)—it was always plan A”—God became one of us out of love, to show us in no uncertain terms, how to live, how to love.

For each of us, our journey through life is a process; coming to understand this mystery of how much God loves us. Few of us get to have a “burning bush” experience in our life-times like Moses did—something that seals in our hearts and minds that God is above and around, and within and will not let anything happen to us. We have all struggled with the “whys” in life—why horrible and sad things happen to people for no apparent reason.  Much in the news of late gives us reason to ponder and wonder why seemingly innocent people are made to suffer—a case in point—all those who have lost their lives as a result of so much gun violence.

Sometimes, we realize that tragedies happen due to people’s choices; something they ate or drank, or drugs ingested.  But other times, as in school shootings, the deaths of many innocents, leaves us reeling. Our hope is that we as a nation can do what we must to make our people safer going forward—we must take the necessary steps to make this so as in demanding that our Congress move on common sense gun safety measures.  If we truly are about protecting the children and all others, perhaps we need to, as a nation give up the weapons, or at least reduce the amount that make the slaughter of the innocents all too common, all too easy.

The same can be said of clergy sex abuse in our Church.  We must as a Church be willing to do whatever it takes to stop this abuse and we must demand this of our so-called leaders.  The clerical system must be dismantled because no matter what programs are in place, the danger of continued abuse is always there in a system that is run by only half the population, and doesn’t allow for input outside of the men in power.

We are comforted in the story of the fig tree as it reminds us to always remember that our loving God is a God of mercy, who will be there to stand with us in our pain, to give us a second chance, when needed.

Our family has been called to hold on to this truth recently when our daughter and son-in-law’s second pregnancy came to an end. When all goes well in life, we are prone to very simply proclaim that we are blessed.  When things don’t go well, do we then say, “God didn’t bless us?” In my faith and belief system, I must say that God didn’t cause the loss any more that God causes the good to happen, even though I impulsively am always ready to thank God for the good. Perhaps I need to rephrase my prayer, “Thank you God for standing with us in whatever life brings.”  I have come to see the wisdom in my husband’s simple prayer, “We are blessed, may everyone be blessed,” without giving anyone credit, but simply acknowledging the blessing.

Many of us grew up with the message that God sent Jesus, our brother to die for our sins and Lent was a time to dwell on that notion. It wasn’t something we questioned as children and grew into adulthood believing.  In a black and white world such theology can, for a time, be acceptable, but when placed alongside the “gray” of what life brings, it often falls short. Ministers over time have tried to give consolation to parents who have lost a child with the fact that God understands their loss because of Jesus’ death.  That old theology said God sent or chose to have Jesus die whereas the grieving parents didn’t choose to lose their child, so there is a disconnect. We would do much better to suggest that the God who always gives second chances, who is always loving us into the goodness for which we were made, will stand with us, cry with us and be there for all our needs.

Paul’s reading today from Corinthians, basically relates the story of how God through Moses saved the people from slavery in Egypt and brought them into the Promised Land.  But this people forgot time and again the promises made to God and felt they were invincible—that they could live as they wished.  Paul reminds the Corinthians that God in Jesus asks that they live and act with justice, mercy and love toward all, just as Jesus showed them, shows us, the way.

The God whom we hopefully all believe in is one of love who wants a loving relationship with us, and thus sent us our brother, Jesus, to accomplish this. Yes, Jesus did die, but it was a direct result of how he had lived—not because of our sin. I believe a theology such as this makes sense to all of us and then allows God to bring comfort when we tell a grieving parent whose love relationship with their child ended in tragedy, or simply too soon, that just as God cried when Jesus died, God, who is all about love, cries now with you as well.

The psalmist’s prayer today can truly be ours in times of tragedy and hard times, “our God is truly kind and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in gracious ways.”  As we live our lives, I think it behooves us to have eyes and ears open to see the interventions God makes in our lives through parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, co-workers, neighbors—God is always there—we just have to have eyes to see and recognize. A wonderful example of this for me in our present loss is the memory of our son crying with his sister when she related the truth of her loss with him—God was there in those shared tears—that I believe. We must remember as in our first reading today–God told Moses—he was standing on holy ground. We must never forget the chances we have daily to share God’s love, God’s desire to be one with us in the encounters of each day.  We too are standing on holy ground!

If we are waiting for one “burning bush” experience, we may miss the gracious appearance of our loving God in all we meet and touch each and every day.  May the ordinary, through new eyes, become “burning bush” experiences for each of us!

 

 

 

My friends, I’d like to begin today’s homily with a short reflection from Joan Chittister because I feel it says so well what we as Christians are called to not only this Lent, but every day of our lives.  Lent, of course, is a good time to begin.

   To be a Christian is to put on the mind of Christ and so put on the broken heart of the world.

To follow Jesus, to live a Christian life, costs.  It means that we will see life differently than others do, we will live differently than most; we will be regarded with misgiving by many. But in the end, we will have lived life in harmony with the entire cosmos.

Life is a journey to goodness.  It goes through a world of the poor who wait for the word that God loves them through the love they see in us.

Lent is a call to weep for what we could have been and are not.  Lent is the grace to grieve for what we should have done and did not.  Lent is the opportunity to change what we ought to change but have not.  Lent is not about penance.  Lent is about becoming, doing and changing whatever it is that is blocking the fullness of life in us right now.

And Lent is a time to become the heart that is so generous and merciful, whose largesse is so reckless that there is no damping the flow in the face of need.

We are meant to prepare the way for the works of God here and now.  We are all required to do our best to bring the Reign of God in our time.  We are not here simply to wait for heaven.  We are here to bring it.

Today our Scriptures give us stories of extraordinary happenings—God is revealed and makes a covenant with a wandering migrant, Abram; the face of Jesus is shown to new pagan converts in Philippi through the deeds and preaching of Paul; and the glory of our God is made known to fishermen, Peter, James and John.

Given that, it’s important to remember—Scripture’s meaning is held in many layers—we must always strive to see beyond what we usually see—what is obvious.  We must always ask, “What is in this for me?” as Joan Chittister is fond of asking.

We can assume that in each of these cases, an extraordinary thing—a teachable moment was happening, as that is what the Scriptures contain for the most part—teachable moments.  I once read that the extraordinary is what is recorded in Scripture—the teachable moments. That which was understood and ordinary—what we would expect, is not there.  As Jesus said, “I am doing something new!”

It doesn’t take much on our parts to realize that something extraordinary is going on in the account of Abram and God and the making of a covenant between them.  We look at the dividing of the animals and we can only wonder—what is this about?  But actually, there is great significance here for Abram, his culture and times.   The making of a covenant or a sacred promise was indeed a solemn thing.  The “cutting” of a covenant represented by the halving of the animals—held great meaning for Abram and the people of his time.  This covenant between God and Abram meant that God would be there for this people; always!—and the people were expected to be faithful to God.  It was a grave thing to break or “cut” a covenant.  So, the meaning was not lost on Abram.

We know from a later read of Scriptures that this promise made by God to Abram is sealed by God giving him a new name—he would now be Abraham—his wife Sarai would be Sarah—God was doing something new.  We also see how this reading follows the theme for Lent for all the 1^st readings—God’s graciousness for the people is clearly shown—God will be their God—they will be God’s people—they will become as numerous as all the stars in the heavens, as all the sands on the seashores!

Beyond the extraordinary graciousness of God in choosing to make a covenant with the people through Abram,  it is important for us to realize that the way God chose to do it was really very ordinary.  The Israelite people understood animal rituals so that is how God chose to have them experience what this new relationship would be—through something they could understand. We too must realize that our loving God will work through our everyday lives to help us see the face of God and know that we are loved and cared about.  And if we are looking for God’s face, we need look no further than the people we associate with every day, because if we do not, or cannot see God in such as these, then God may very well be absent to us.

I believe a great part of the reason for sending Jesus to be one of us was for humanity to see the face of God in the clearest possible way.  Through all the time and teaching of the prophets, humanity, namely, the Israelites, weren’t getting the message that God intended—God would be their God—they would be God’s people.  God was calling each of them to right and just living, calling them to be their true spiritual selves as they lived out their human existence.

In Jesus, the Israelites, and ultimately all of us, come to see the extent of God’s love for creation. In sending Jesus we could finally know with assurance that we are loved.  We recall that our Gospel readings for Lent will be showing us Jesus’ glory amid his ultimate suffering.  The Transfiguration certainly is an example of this. Those closest to Jesus—Peter, James and John are privileged to see their mentor and friend in the glory that is his, along with Moses and Elijah.  The Scriptures tell us that they are discussing all that will happen to Jesus in Jerusalem.  Moses represents the Law, Elijah, the Prophets, so it is fitting that both would be present—the Law and the Prophets have been the people’s source, as well as ours, in knowing who God is and what God wants.

Exegetes tell us that the glory and suffering of Jesus always stand together—we can’t talk about one without the other, therefore Moses and Elijah and Jesus must discuss all that is coming.  This truth is a lesson for all of us as well.  When we go in search of the face of God, we need look no further than suffering humanity all around us.  Because again, if we can’t see Jesus in the defeat and the disgrace, the struggles of our sisters and brothers, then our eyes will not see him elsewhere either.

This past week our parish had the opportunity to co-mingle with our Lutheran sisters and brothers who offer a weekly community meal, The Feast, at no cost other than a free will offering.  The commitment of these Lutherans was an opportunity to see the generous face of Jesus. Within that meal, your pastor and Pastor Corrine Denis led a prayer service asking participants to reflect on how each of us might make a difference in our country that has at least one gun for every man, woman and child, 270-310 million guns, depending on whose figures you look at, where roughly 32,000 people die every year in gun-related deaths and 60% of those deaths are suicides.

In Joan Chittister’s opening comments, she stated that in following the Christian way, “We will be regarded with misgiving by many.” Such was the case with one individual who emailed an anonymous comment to Central Lutheran church, who hosts The Feast, “It is too bad that The Feast, has become a political forum,” in regard to the pastors holding a prayer service on gun violence.

But regardless of opposition, it is important that we move forward.  We receive affirmation in that the epistles chosen for Lent that highlight Jesus, the Christ’s role in our salvation, help us to become our best selves. In Paul’s letter today to the Philippians, he speaks about how people do truly become transformed when they listen to and follow Jesus’ ways.  Paul gives himself as an example at the risk of coming off as arrogant, to show the people how much of a transformation happened in him by letting Jesus become central in his life.

My friends, our readings show us extraordinary things today—a God who loves us so much as to become one with us—to work with all of humanity in all its forms to bring about transformation—teaching us that the transformation will and must happen within our ordinary lives.  All that makes up our lives is the “stuff” God will ultimately use to draw us close—to show us the face of God.  We simply must have eyes to see beyond what we usually see—a good prayer to lift up this Lent.

In my opening comments taken from Joan Chittister, she mentions that, “Life is a journey to goodness.  Sometimes, as in the issue of making our world safer from gun violence and in other big issues that plague our world; we may feel that there is little we can do to make a difference.  That reminds me of the story about the thousands of snowflakes falling upon a tree branch and with one snowflake added to the thousands, even millions before it, the branch snapped under the combined weight.  It is like that with our combined actions in the world. Each of us counts—each of our voices matter in making a difference in our world.  Like Peter, we are tempted to want to stay on the mountain where all is peaceful, but our journeys, like that of Jesus, like that of the apostles are to go among the people and work for good for all.

God will always use our everyday lives to get our attention, just as with Abram and the Israelites, to let us know that love is the goal and that in the ordinary, we will be called to the extraordinary and therein see the face of God.  All that happens, each and every day is an opportunity God will use to draw us close and make a difference in our lives and the lives of others, if we are willing to participate.  As in the story of the insignificant snowflake, we should never underestimate the strength of our actions to make a difference.  Blessings my friends on the ways you and I choose to make a difference this Lent.

 

 

Each year on Ash Wednesday the Church gives us the opportunity to recall our humble beginnings and the humble way of our ending upon this earth; “Remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return.”  It is a solemn statement that calls us back in many ways to our place in creation, no matter who we are or what we have accomplished—the same call comes to each of us.

So as we reflect on what Lent means to us; we might wonder why, at the beginning of this holy season we would concentrate on a call that reminds us of where we came from (dust) and of where we will return (dust).  I believe there is need in this if we are to put our lives in the proper perspective.  In the times that Robert and I have traveled, particularly to Third World countries where many people lack the material blessings that we often take for granted, it has let us know in very concrete ways how we are so truly one, with all the world because we know Jesus and of how our loving God does indeed call each one of us, where we are, in our own time, to share the message of God’s great love for each of us, by advocating for the least among us.

Lent may signal for some of us an uncomfortable period of six weeks when we are called in a special way to pay attention to this great message of love and the actions that must necessarily follow if we can truly call ourselves followers of Jesus, the Christ, our brother and friend. Most of us have come out of that old mindset that Lent is a time to make amends for our past indiscretions—to suffer and to do penance because we have disappointed God.  It is true that some discipline never hurts any of us—it makes us stronger as individuals to face what life brings, to stand up to evil in our world and perhaps speak the word that will make a difference when such a word is so badly needed and no one else will say it.  But if our purpose in giving up something for Lent and punishing ourselves is to make amends with God because She/He is disappointed in us, then we have missed the point my friends, of the Scriptures—the New Testament, in particular.  This testament is basically a book of love, love freely given as evidenced in the Story of the Prodigal—there is nothing we can ever do that would separate us from the over-the-top love of our God.

This fact is evidenced for us through the readings the Church has given us for this holy season of Lent:

• All the first readings that we will use during Lent will recall for us times in Israel’s history that God showed graciousness to the people. Today, our reading from Deuteronomy tells the story of God bringing the people out of Egypt amid wonderful signs and into a land flowing with milk and honey.
• All the epistles for Lent will highlight the role that Jesus, the Christ plays in our salvation, and when I use the word,“salvation,” think, saving us from our natural inclinations to at times be less than our best selves as opposed to the idea of saving us from our sins so as to one day win heaven. Today we hear, “there are no tiers or levels—all are welcomed and loved”—the common denominator is our faith.
• All the Gospels during Lent will reveal Jesus’ glory in the face of suffering as well as the mercy and the compassion of God. Recall that we are in the midst of a Year of Mercy promulgated by Pope Francis.

Today’s Gospel shows Jesus at a most vulnerable time; he is alone, exhausted and starving.  He is preparing himself for his ministry among the people.  He will, as we know, be a different kind of leader than the people who have been waiting for the Messiah, expect.

As we see in the Gospel today, he will not dazzle with cheap tricks to receive gratification from the people, but he will be a servant who will be about mercy, compassion, gentleness, and humility.  Again, these are themes that Francis has continually uplifted in his papacy thus far. When Jesus performs signs and wonders; they will come from a compassionate heart that does the right thing, the just thing—the needed thing.

Lent truly is a time to call us back—it is a time of invitation to grow closer to our God who so wants each of us to know that we are mightily loved and cared for.  While it is a good thing to perhaps spend some time thinking about our failings, it is good to remember that even in the Scripture readings that the Church has chosen for Lent, any call to repentance is indirect.  Rather, these readings assure us of how we are loved and we all need that knowledge, don’t we–the knowledge that we are loved?  These readings insist that we should be grateful and trust in our loving God and if necessary, reform our lives.

Whatever we may choose to do this Lent should enable us to commit ourselves again to our God who has been so gracious to us.  Pope Francis “agreed” with me in a piece he put out on Ash Wednesday suggesting that what we “give up” for Lent be about moving us closer to others, helping us to be better servants of others. A woman in a group I belong to posted on email this past week that she was giving up “shame” for Lent—shaming herself and others was my take—giving it up!  As Francis said, to give something up—going through an empty ritual that basically just helps ourselves, is rather shallow.    The trouble with concentrating alone on our sinfulness and Jesus dying for our sins, plus the fact that there is nothing-we-can-ever-do-to-repay-the-debt-mentality, is that we then tend to forget that God loves us even though, and probably because of the fact, that we aren’t perfect.

Our Lenten practices, I believe, are intended to strengthen our faith and trust in God, not to reassure us that we have paid our debts.  Lent should indeed open our eyes to the fact that God alone is the one we should turn to in everything—the good, and the not-so good.  Psalm 91 so beautifully reminded us of this truth today—“Be with me God, when I am in trouble.”

The true salvation that Jesus offers us all, each one of us, is not saving us from our sins, but in enabling us to be all that we can be as people, modeling our lives after his; being people of justice, mercy and love.  A warning though—being such people can get you killed as is evidenced in Jesus’ life.

What our readings truly call us to today, is choosing to do whatever good we do, for the right reason.  The Evil One tempted Jesus to do good things—supply his hungry body with food, have the people love him—in his loneliness, and call the angels of God to support him in his need.  The trouble is, the good done would have been done for all the wrong reasons. If our fasting, praying, abstaining and almsgiving is to make us feel better about ourselves, then we would probably do better speak a kind word or do a good deed for our neighbor.

We will have that opportunity this next week by partaking in The Feast—the city-wide event held at Central Lutheran church each Wednesday to offer a free meal to the community.  Pastor Corrine Denis and her Lutheran Campus Center students are hosts one Wednesday a month at this event and as symbiotic partners in ministry with them; we are invited to help them at this event. Pastor Corrine and I will offer a prayer service during the meal this next Wednesday, February 17 to educate and pray for some movement in our country to eradicate gun violence.

It is good to remember finally that the readings today and throughout Lent show no interest in what we can do for God, but in what God has done for us.  The Scripture messages don’t primarily call us to repent our sins, but rather to open our hearts to God in faith, being ready for the ways this same loving God will prompt us toward action in our own particular lives.

So, my friends, I haven’t given us a necessarily easy way to go this Lent; a one-two-three-step plan, but perhaps we can recall the many times God has stepped into our lives as a savior—much needed, and give thanks this Lent. Or we might think of some subtle ways we are subject to temptation in our lives—to perhaps do a seemingly good thing, but for the wrong reason? And finally, we can think of some particular practices or devotions that we can do this Lent that will strengthen and deepen our trust in God–because my friends, that is truly what it is all about—Lent and the Christian life—to open ourselves completely to our God, who has first loved us and loved us so well.

 

As I reflected on today’s readings, especially the prayer of the psalmist, “In the sight of the angels; I will sing your praise,” I was reminded of how in the Midwest, we are treated to four wonderfully different seasons that change year after year, just as we change, each with its own joys and challenges.  In the rush and busy-ness of life; we often fail to realize and fully appreciate the differences, the beauty and perhaps what each is intended to teach us.  We take much of this for granted until it changes.  The process of retirement has afforded me the time to be more reflective; to perhaps see what is most important now—like simplifying my life so as to be more aware.

In preparing for this homily; I found myself reflecting on a very special trip that Robert and I took to the Galapagos Islands six years ago at about this time. Talk about seeing differences from our life here and what is experienced there!  “In the sight of the angels; I will sing your praise!”  That trip took us into a strange and challenging world unlike anything that I had experienced before—iguanas, blue-footed boobies, giant tortoises—so many creatures, wonderfully made, that over time have had to adapt again and again to the volcanic islands they live upon—adapt and change, or literally die!

Friends, the world in which we live, challenges us continually too, with change,  whether in the realm of business, our work, Church or family life—we are called to be open, to listen, and to grow in order to live fully, and completely.  We can learn from what goes on in the Galapagos—even though strange to us, about adapting and changing when need be.

The psalmist’s prayer seems a fitting tribute to our marvelous world that includes our beautiful, blue planet earth upon which we live.  “In the sight of the angels, I will sing your praise.” And even if we have the opportunity to visit exotic lands like the Galapagos or simply to spend our days in good, ole Minnesota; we are challenged to take care of our beautiful earth and use it for good, not bad and to preserve it for future generations.

This challenge we find today in our Scriptures, that of God continually working to guide us, through prophets like Isaiah, our brother Jesus, and faith-filled followers of the Christ such as Paul, to the knowledge of how much each of us is loved by God.

This basic message is one for all time—that we are loved—loved by God. When we know that we are loved, it makes all the difference in what we can do in life! The challenge then is to not only hear about this love—freely given, but to share it with our world—those we come in contact with each and every day. Now, we can simply live our own lives and not get involved, or reach out in any way, but we are challenged just like those in the Scriptures today, Isaiah, Peter and Paul and all who they ultimately preached to.

Today’s readings show us these three great individuals of our faith—each one felt unworthy of their call to spread the Word that God is love, that God wants to be part of our lives, yet God called them just the same as God calls each of us.  Isaiah spoke of having “unclean lips,” Peter said, “he was a sinful man” and Paul said, “He was least among the apostles, because of having persecuted the Church.”

Each of us, no doubt, can come up with like excuses for why we are unworthy for the task we are called to—to preach the Gospel as St. Francis said, “at all times” and if necessary, “to use words.”  What this speaks to is living our lives in such a way that our day in and day out tasks reflect an awareness that God put us on earth for a reason—the old catechism answer that I learned went something like—“to love and serve God” and one day to experience God fully, which we know to be, heaven.

The faith that has been entrusted to each of us came in a sort of hand-me-down fashion—from grandparents and parents and for better or worse, that faith has made us who we are in a religious/spiritual sense today.  The faith we have received is a living thing that was always intended to grow and change, with the times and the culture, to make sense to one generation after another.  We, as a Church, from the hierarchy on down to those of us in the pews need to take responsibility for the generations after us who have been turned away from the Church we grew up loving because of the stubbornness at times to change, to hear the needs being presented that are often times discounted. As we learn more, become more open and accepting of changes in our world understandings; we learn that there is a place for more and more diversity, just as Robert and I saw in the Galapagos and in other places that we have traveled to—people are people everywhere—different, yet the same, seeking what we each seek; life, love, purpose—meaning.  We are constantly being called to be more open, more inclusive, more loving, more just—more ready to meet Jesus where we least expect.  And this is key—to be ready—to be prepared to share, whenever, wherever.

I am always amazed how our God uses all of my experiences and the places I happen to be to send someone to me who needs a kind word, a bit of hope and it is usually at times that I am not expecting in my day—I had other things planned, but because I was working off a mindset of being open to all that comes, I was more ready for God’s intervention.

When we read the story today of the great catch of fish; we are amazed and impressed.  Scripture scholars tell us that this story was no doubt embellished to make the point of how God works in ordinary events to make extraordinary things happen. Without the embellishment of the story; we might miss that point. As we do with the ordinary events in our own lives—discounting our ordinary actions as not being important for speaking the Word that our God loves us, cares about us, wants good for us and in fact shows us that our willingness to reach out to others, our ability and strength to speak the kind word, stand up for someone down-trodden or treated unfairly; we do in fact spread the wonderful message that we are first loved by God and that love then gives us the strength, the impetus to love in return.  God is always present, always wanting to be near to us—we just have to be more attentive—see with bigger eyes.

We have all heard the story of the person who prayed to God when the floods came, scrambling higher and higher on his house refusing the help of rescue boats, even a helicopter to carry him to safety. Being a person of great faith; he cried out to God, “I’ve always believed in you and learned that if I prayed, you would help me! Where are you now? A voice then came from the heavens, “I sent you a boat and a helicopter!”  We must see friends with bigger eyes at the good our God is doing all around us and perhaps through those that we least expect.

Another important thing for us to remember is that the message of love, held in the faith, handed down by our forebears is a message that fits every time and place—the intent is that it will need to be reshaped for every time and place to encompass new ideas and ways of being as we learn more—understand more.  We are called to make Jesus’ message relevant to each age.  We can’t live in the past through old rituals and practices that don’t speak to our times as our Church hierarchy seems intent on doing in many places yet today—it is still too much about power—not enough about love.

I am presently reading a new book by Robert Blair Kaiser entitled, Whistle: Father Tom Doyle’s Steadfast Witness for Victims of Clerical Sexual Abuse, wherein he exposes the concerted effort of so-called shepherds to cover up these crimes in order to protect their power when they should have been protecting their sheep.  I was encouraged to read of some good priests who were able to rise above the law of power to give voice to the law of love. Fr. Doyle, who by training is a canon lawyer, so he knows the law—what it says and does not say, has said that he will always remember the advice given him by a senior priest, “Canon law can go only so far. The Church always has to be ready to go further (if need be) to provide pastoral care.”  In other words, the law can never be surpassed by love.

The Spirit is continually renewing the face of the earth—opening us up to more and to greater ideas—ideas of inclusivity—ideas of welcoming—ideas of greater love and acceptance than ever before.  In conclusion, we might want to think about how we pass our precious faith on—do we grow and change with the times? Is Jesus’ message big enough for all times and places? Do we, in fact just speak of our faith, or do we show by our lives, our day in and day out actions what it really means to us?  Blessings on us all, as we strive to be our best selves.

 

Friends, I was away from the All Are One community today and Pastor Dick Dahl stood in for me–here is his very fine homily–enjoy! –Pastor Kathy

In his book,The Culture of Education, Jerome Bruner concludes that stories, the ones we tell about others and ourselves, are “the most natural and earliest way in which we organize our experience.” We live and die by stories; they are not mere “entertainments” but organic to our self definition and well being. So I am beginning this homily by telling you a story.

It’s about Joan who is now 73 but who entered the Benedictines in Erie, Pennsylvania when she was 16. During her 50+ years as a nun she helped her community incorporate the changes encouraged by Vatican II which were difficult for some in the community. She helped them realize thatministries, such as their long history of teaching the children of working class people in Erie, Pa, come and go. The community was the constant. Her conviction is that nothing remains static. She wrote, “I have come to realize that church is not a place, it is a process….The church needs to grow in its understanding of the Gospel, and I need to grow in my understanding of myself as I strive to live it. It is, in other words, a journey of conversion for both of us.”

A major part of that journey of conversion is the role of women in the church. In late 1999 Joan received a call from a member of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur, asking her to be a keynote speaker for a conference on the topic of women’s ordination scheduled for 2001 in Ireland.  Joan said she would not speak on the ordination topic because she wasn’t an expert on the original documents. She herself had never felt called to the priesthood and it had not been a personal issue for her. However, she did agree to talk about discipleship, something her whole life had been immersed in. So it was agreed that she would start off the conference with a scriptural perspective on what it is to follow Jesus.

A year and a half later, in fact two months before the conference was to take place, Joan’s prioress asked to see her. When they met, Joan was handed the letter the prioress had received. It was from the Vatican agency that oversees religious orders. In it Joan’s prioress was “officially and explicitly directed…to forbid and prohibit Sr. Joan Chittister from participating in this gathering in Dublin.” It went on to warn that failure to follow this command…will result in appropriate punishment.”

Joan later wrote, “I doubled over. I had literally been kicked in the stomach. When she straightened up, she told the prioress, “Christine, before there’s any discussion, before we say a single word. There’s something I need to tell you. I’m going to Dublin. I’m going. These men are not going to do this. They have no right.”

Joan wanted to separate the prioress and the community from repercussions for her decision. Her biographer Tom Roberts said that for her the matter became a justice issue. She herself wrote, “This was not a woman’s issue to me. This was a justice issue that happened to be rooted in the women’s question. It was a matter of ‘Who do you think you are that you can tell me what to think, tell me to whom I may speak, tell me where I can or cannot go? Who do you think you are, Daddy? I’m a big grown-up girl, and I can go into this myself and, trust me, I will maintain my faith and I will be a member of the church. That doesn’t make me a moral infant or an immoral woman, and if we have to shoot this out in the street, we’re going to because I’m going. I am going.”

She said the letter was “the equivalent of mugging a woman in the alley” where the assailant will have his way. Joan  said to herself, ‘Well you may, but I refuse to be complicit in the silence. I will scream and I will tell, and I am not going to give in to this kind of intimidation and ruthless, brutal use of power simply because I am a woman without power.”

Psychological research has shown that many people who feel powerless come to feel unworthy and even become complicit in their own oppression. Sister Joan Chittister was not one of them. This is where the first and third Readings today come in. In the first, the Word of the Lord came to Jeremiah and said, “Stand up and tell them all that I command you. Be not crushed on their account, as though I would leave you crushed before them: For it is I this day who have made you a fortified city….They will fight against you, but not prevail over you, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.” During her years of service to the Spirit of the Gospel, Sister Joan gained the courage to stand up for what was right and just.

I think we can also see in Joan the strength and courage of Jesus’ example in Luke’s Gospel today. The reading describes the way the people in the synagogue turned on Jesus after he gave them examples from Elijah and Elisha, that no prophet gains acceptance in his native place.” They wanted to shut him up and tried to hurl him over the edge of the hill on which the town was built. “But he went straight through their midst.” Similarly, Joan Chittister went straight to Dublin. She and the sisters in her community also went on unharmed.

That’s the story about Joan. Now I have another one—this time about George…well, Jorge in Spanish…actually Jorge Bergoglio, whom most of us know as Francis, Pope Francis. Life is complicated and discouraging at times. Sometimes despite our best efforts; sometimes as a result of poor judgment, or arrogance or inexperience. Problems develop for us or others we know and love. We sometimes feel, and even are, powerless to do anything about them.

When Jorge Bergoglio was 50,  his Jesuit superiors sent him to Germany, purportedly to do research for his PhD, but in large part to get him out of Argentina where his leadership of the Jesuit province over the previous fifteen years — as Novice Master, then Provincial, and finally as Rector of the seminary — had divided his religious order deeply and bitterly. He was a man in turmoil when in a German church he came across a Baroque painting done in oils on wood paneling that bore the title, “Mary the untier of knots.”

The story behind it went back to 1610 when a Bavarian nobleman begged the counsel of a priest to help save his marriage. The priest remembered that St. Irenaeus in the second century had written that “the knot of Eve’s disobedience had been loosed by the obedience of Mary.” The priest implored the Virgin Mary to loosen  and resolve the knots that threatened the marriage. The couple subsequently overcame their problems and stayed together.  In 1700 the aristocrat’s nephew commissioned the painting of Mary unraveling the entanglements of their marriage ribbon. Bergoglio found that the painting gave him much comfort. The knots were the difficulties in his life, the daily difficulties in each of our lives.

When he returned to Buenos Aires, he brought a postcard of the Augsburg painting with him. A decade later parishioners raised money to have a full-sized copy painted. Thousands of people go to see it every month.

Bergoglio had changed when he returned to Argentina. His attitude now incorporated the spirit of Paul’s message to the Corinthians in today’s second reading. That reading is a beautiful homily in itself, perhaps the only homily we ever need to hear. Bergoglio became the priest to the poor, to the people living in the slums. As Paul  wrote, “There is no limit to love’s forbearance, to its trust, to its hope, its power to endure.” Jorge Bergoglio came to realize and to say, “The most important thing is the person in front of you.” In his inaugural homily as pope, he went on, “Let us never forget that authentic power is service. Mercy is the Lord’s most powerful message.”