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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We can all think of momentous occasions that we might like to attend—events that invitations or tickets would be hard to come by, either because we are not “in the loop”—don’t know anyone influential or simply cannot afford the asking price.  Such events might be a presidential ball, an installation of a pope, a World Series, such as was going on this past week in Kansas City and New York.  In fact, when we arrived in Kansas City this past week, we teased our daughter about whether she had secured tickets for us to the opening game and we were informed that if there were even any to get, it was standing room only at $200.00 or more a ticket!

Today we celebrate the most momentous gathering we will ever be invited to—the gathering of the saints of heaven—where we will see God as God is. It will be more wonderful than any of the above events mentioned or any others that we might think  of.  What’s more, the invitation has been extended to all women, men, children—everyone from every nation, race, people and tongue—no exceptions!  What kind of ticket do we need to get in, we might ask? The reading from Revelation says that we must be marked with the seal of the servants of God—the seal we are told is the blood of the lamb. To our minds, I think this simply means that we are all included because our God’s love is all inclusive.

Nadia Bolz-Weber in, Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People puts an unusual spin on this “gathering of the saints,” which I find, as she says, “something like Jesus would do.” She sees the Jesus of her belief as one lavishly extending blessing on all gathered on that mount not because of what they have done, but because of who they are!  She especially sees Jesus extending blessing to those who get forgotten—so her beatitudes sound something like the following:

• Blessed are the agnostics
• Blessed are they who doubt—who aren’t sure—who can still be surprised
• Blessed are those who have nothing to offer
• Blessed are the mothers who have miscarried
• Blessed are they who don’t have the luxury of taking things for granted anymore
• Blessed are they who can’t fall apart because they have to keep it all together for everyone else
• Blessed are those who no one else notices
• Blessed are the closeted
• Blessed are those without documentation
• Blessed are those without lobbyists
• Blessed are those who make terrible business decisions for the sake of people

“You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you,” she says.  She truly sees our brother Jesus as one who includes all, sees all and loves all.

We are not only called to be people who include in this way, after the model of Jesus, but should know that we too, when we may feel that we have nothing to give, are blessed by our God who loves us lavishly as well.

The reading from Revelation today, in its entirety, may present a problem when we try to understand its meaning.  The book of Revelation is one huge symbol, so to take it literally, which of course, we should never do with Scripture, would be a mistake.  The number, 144,000—those who will apparently be saved, is a symbolic number.  It is  12 squared, multiplied by 1,000 and is meant to signify a number impossible to count for the writer of this book. In other words, the invitation is extended to all—God’s love and inclusion is limitless, just as Jesus is doing in the Sermon on the Mount.

This gathering will take place before God, seeing God face to face and in the presence of Jesus who gave us, all of himself, so that we would know and experience the love of the Creator for each of us.  Quite powerful stuff, we might agree—better and grander than any ball, any sports event, any installation.

The terminology used in the psalm reading today about climbing the highest mountain to be near God comes out of near Eastern mythology—these people believed that the major god would have lived there. Scripture scholars tell us that the Israelite people then took over this belief and placed their one, true God there on the highest mountain, eventually placing the temple in Jerusalem on the highest hill calling it the holy mountain.

We also know that the Israelites came up with all kinds of codes for ritual purity to determine who was worthy, who was not—they basically were about physical wholeness and proximity to blood.  As a result, the lame, the sick (lepers), anyone bleeding (women mainly), children (imperfect adults—not fully formed), were considered unworthy.  To us; there would be a problem with this kind of thinking.  And the psalmist writing would have had all this in mind in the answer given about whom was worthy. Seems important then, with this kind of thinking afoot,  to exclude many considered unworthy, that Jesus had his work cut out for him in including all. Our brother Jesus, taught that being “worthy” has nothing to do with ritual purity—what is on the outside, but, what is on the inside.  Jesus’ stinging words elsewhere to the Pharisees about being “white-washed sepulchers—all whiteness without, but inside dead bones and all corruption,” comes to mind.

What our loving God wants of each of us, demonstrated so wonderfully by Jesus is a clean, pure heart.  Pastor Nadia, in her modern day beatitudes basically says the same—trying to do our best even when it seems we can do nothing right, or even have any energy to try, is still looked on with love by our God.   We are to be “beatitude” people—our disposition and response to people and our world must be one of concern for all, no matter how distasteful we might find someone initially.  We must remember that each person is the beloved of our God, ourselves included—each considered a saint—one chosen, in God’s eyes.  Our attitude toward the world must be, simply must be, one of respect and care with the mindset of protecting this beautiful gift for future generations.

Looking into the beatitudes closer; we see that their challenge to us is not about keeping laws, even good laws, because we all know how empty a practice that can be if there is no engagement of the heart and mind, but mere sheepish following, without question.  No, the challenge is to take these sentiments to heart—being cognizant of the abuse of power that can come with the accumulation of wealth, to be people who look with mercy upon all of God’s creatures, to be people who hunger and thirst for justice for all. We must remember that we are not just being asked to think that justice for all is a good thing, but to “hunger and thirst”—a real primal instinct, for this good. This is part of the real challenge that Pope Francis is making in Laudato Si—this change must come from within ourselves in a way that changes in fact, how we do things—how we live our lives.

We must be people of peace—we must abhor war and all the empty lies about the ultimate good of it.  We must strive for this seemingly, at times, unattainable good.  I was encouraged this week to stumble upon a discussion between men and women on Facebook talking about their heartfelt desire for our country that we would sometime, soon, realize that war and violence as solutions to living with others in this world are not the solutions that make us great.

The book of Revelation clearly tells us today that this type of action, this type of disposition for our fellow human beings is our coveted ticket to the great gathering of saints before our living God. And our brother Jesus goes a step further as Pastor Nadia teaches, to include all those who are forgotten, passed over, not seen by many of us in our seemingly best efforts to extend mercy. The First Letter of John names us all as children of God—we come from great stock!

So on this day of all saints, a good reflection for each of us might be to think about ourselves as saints, remembering Pastor Nadia’s instruction, “What makes us saints of God is not our ability to be saintly, but rather God’s ability to work through sinners,” which we all are! The church she has founded in Denver is entitled, “House for All Saints and Sinners.”  So, in other words, we must allow God to do that work in us—God will never force change upon us, only through our openness can it happen.

We all admire many saints of our Church–those who have been canonized and those who have not, some even unchurched who are doing good and beautiful work in this world. We can name them beatitude people—blessed ones among us, blessed and loved by our God. It is such as these, ourselves included that we celebrate today.  Tomorrow is an equally special day—All Souls—wherein we remember all those who have lived and loved and gone on to a new life, awaiting us one day.  We will have the opportunity to pray for all these loved ones throughout this month and to add names to our book of life that have died this past year.  Friends, let us pray today for them, and for ourselves that we might first know that we are loved and do our best to love in return, extending the mercy we have been so graciously given by our God in having this human experience to enjoy!

Friends, as I said in the bulletin message for this week; the chosen scriptures call us to service in the footsteps of our brother, Jesus.  And we see clearly what that service will entail—it is and will be about meeting people where they are—loving them there and doing what we can for them there.

I think many times we are like those first followers of Jesus—we want to choose where we will serve,  at our convenience, and for only those whom we find acceptable.   Jesus’ followers in the gospel today didn’t want to be bothered with some “screaming creature” on the side of the road. But Jesus shows them the way—“Call him here.” And then he does an even more astounding thing—he asks Bartimaeus what he wants Jesus to do for him. This is clearly not about Jesus’ agenda—he wants to do for Bartimeus what Bartimeus needs, a good reflection for the bishops as they conclude their Synod on the Family.  I reflect on this when I’m deciding what to do with my time in retirement—is it all about me or is my heart big enough to truly discover what people need and then do it? It truly is a work in progress, because I am as human as the next one.

I am encouraged in this journey—struggle really, to do what people most need as I read Nadia Bolz-Weber’s, Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People.  I recall an incident where she was called to do the funeral of a young, suicide victim, someone not from her parish and on one of only three days her had off in that month.  Everything human within her was saying, “No, I can’t,” yet, within another place, came, “I have to do this!” The family said they would understand if she couldn’t and she left it with, “I will get back to you.” Within a short time, she called the family back and agreed to do the funeral.

Something, actually Someone, was calling her to fulfill what this family grieving the loss of a beloved son to suicide—probably one of the most horrible ways to lose a child, most needed and wanted. Families of suicide victims always agonize over what more they could have done or said to have prevented this tragedy and see it as a failure to have been there for a loved one. Within some belief systems it is even seen as an unforgiveable sin by God.  Nadia assured this grieving family that “God is always present in love and suffering and that God was present both the moment Billy entered this world and the moment he left it, loving him back into the arms of his Creator.”  This was all his family, not religious, needed and wanted to know, and they thanked her.  Would someone else have been able to do the same for this family if they could have even found someone—we don’t know.     Now having said that, I do feel the responsibility of throwing into the mix, for those of you who give tirelessly, the caution of taking care of ourselves too—it’s a balancing act.

In our lives as baptized followers of Jesus, the Christ, we are called and in fact have the responsibility to carry on his work of love in our world.  Sometimes it is like planting seeds; we may not harvest the fully grown plant, but we still have the responsibility of getting things going and growing.

More than fifty years ago, a man of the people, Angelo Roncalli, now Saint John XXIII, pope, brother and friend to all, was about getting things going— in his words, “Opening some windows,” letting some fresh air into our Church, long stagnating, falling short of the message and work of Jesus—he was truly about Jesus’  work—that of loving, simply loving.  Today, another man of God, by the name of Francis is attempting to once again let fresh air into the Church.  He “gets it”—the idea of loving and extending mercy and moving away from the trappings of power so long associated with the hierarchy in Rome. It is the hope of many women that his love and mercy will extend to us as well; that he might make the connections to the poverty of women and their children in this world really starting at his doorstep by his inability to see and treat them as equals.

It is the needs of people, where we find them that the readings are really speaking about and calling us to today.  Jesus told the people of his time that “the reign of God” is here now, among you.   He also talked about the “harvest” and I think we can get our minds and hearts around that notion when talking about the great gathering of all of God’s people at the end of time.  Jesus’ teachings and parables are filled with this kind of terminology because it was language that the people understood.

Fifty years ago when our brother John was about opening windows to let fresh air into our Church and to basically get us back to the message of Jesus, language that was not understandable or readily used in the world (Latin) was dropped from the liturgy—the idea being, we want the Scriptures—God’s  Word to be more intelligible—we want God to be better understood, closer to us. What a wonderful idea!

But, for whatever reason, Church fathers tend to want to push God further away, keep HIM (their word, not mine) more mysterious, so that they, I believe, can have control over what we believe.  This has been the struggle these 50 years since our brother, John, left us and it would seem one that continues today as we have watched the Synod on the Family march through its paces. There is just the smallest bit of hope this morning in the news in their final document that communion for the divorced and remarried may able to happen on a case by case basis.

These many-times, entrenched Church fathers really missed the Spirit-led joy of the Second Vatican Council that called for more and greater participation of the laity in Church matters.  An issue that Vatican II didn’t address because it wasn’t yet time was gender equality, but now it is time! Church fathers’ blatant sexism at this Synod was only too apparent as 18 men from religious orders were invited, none of them bishops, and each was given a vote.  Of the religious women invited, not one was given a vote!  It is time!

Gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender rights were not dealt with at Vatican II—it was not yet time—but it is time now! Not allowing all the voices at the table gives us a “poor” Church, one where the Spirit of God cannot fully be heard or acted upon and until and unless this happens, it strikes a death knell for our beloved Church.

The Scriptures today are very clear.  Jeremiah speaks of a time when all people will be gathered together—not just the rich and the famous, but the blind and the lame, the pregnant women and children—all the outcasts of society—we might add those of the “wrong” gender or sexual orientation.  The reading from Hebrews speaks of Jesus as the high priest and the gospel reading shares the wonderful story of Bartimaeus who is cured of his blindness. Even in that much of a review, we see the intention of the Spirit to include all under the high priest Jesus who in fact did include all.

Jeremiah is talking about a future time when all will be one, gathered and welcomed.  Jesus is indeed named as high priest, but this distinction, came as a result of his giving of himself for the many, for us—in his life, his death, his resurrection—all of it.  Bartimaeus receives his sight from Jesus’ intervention; but as Jesus said, it was Bartimaeus’ faith that saved him.

I think this is an important piece for each of us to remember—Jesus isn’t just running around performing stunts to amaze—he is very much engaging people, meeting them in their need and responding accordingly.  I believe too, what Jesus, our brother and loving God is calling forth in each of us, beginning with Bartimaeus today, is the fruits of the cure—the transformation in our lives.  The scripture says that Bartimaeus immediately began to follow Jesus along the road.  We can assume that it meant that he would become more like the one he followed.

As we know, Jesus’ words and actions always carried a deeper message than what appeared on the surface.  Here today, Bartimaeus is the depiction of someone who cannot physically see.  From the story, we realize that he has spiritual sight through his faith in someone greater than himself.  The question comes to each of us as well—what are the areas in our lives where we are blinded to a larger truth?

I think we are all blinded at times as we rush around tending to the cares of life—so much so that we miss the beauty of our ever-changing earth, especially here in the Midwest with our delightful change of the seasons.  And most importantly perhaps, how often are we blinded to the beauty and joy that family and friends and others—friends yet to be, do and can bring into our lives? We were astounded again by the wonder and goodness of our family to keep things going during our sojourn to Alaska—those who came and picked our garden, saving some for our return, many family people, especially our son Isaac and his wife, Lauren who disrupted their lives every weekend leaving their Minneapolis home to come and mow the Redig Family Farm’s extensive lawns, along with Dick Dahl and all of you for keeping things going here at the parish.

How often do we take our families and friends for granted when all is going well?  I, as you have had times in life that make us realize how fragile we are—how fragile life is, and of how there are no guarantees.  So, I personally want to take my life more  seriously, being more mindful and take my responsibility to share life with all whom God puts in my path, realizing that if I choose to see, to truly see, I can assist others who themselves , simply want to see—in whatever way that might be! We are called friends by our brother Jesus to the table, to life, to participation, to the sight that includes all, leaves no one behind. Let us turn our backs on those who would thwart the work of Vatican II saying that we need to go back. Our response should be to say, yes, let’s go all the way back then to the time and words of Jesus. We must keep pushing forward, doing the work of the kindom, opening windows, planting the seeds that others may have to harvest as did Good Pope John—listening, truly listening to the Spirit that calls each of us to life and to love in the here and now. And, let the people say—AMEN!

Friends, we all have images in our memories of incredible suffering that has been inflicted upon people in our country and around the world, and we wonder, “why.” We are aware of suffering experienced due to human trafficking, ignorance, poverty, war, gender inequality, sexual expression, gun violence, and we wonder if it has to be this way. What is missing in the human will and consciousness that allows such situations to go on?  Is it apathy, greed, frustration at trying and not succeeding to solve these problems, or all of the above?

We are all faced with the question—what’s the point of it all? What’s the point of all the suffering?  Our religious tradition has tried to give answers to why people are subjected to so much pain—people ask; if God is so good, why does God allow this?

The readings for today could be considered, troublesome.  We hear of servants “being crushed” in Isaiah; Hebrews says that Jesus too “was tested” and in our Gospel, two of Jesus’ closest friends and disciples are told they must drink the cup of suffering that he does.  On face value, this is not a very consoling message.  In all of these readings one person is called to suffer for others—and our sense of justice cries out—is that fair?  But maybe, that is the wrong question.  Both the servant and Jesus have moved past that question to a greater point—they are seeking to bring good out of the suffering.

The reality my friends, is that suffering simply is a part of human existence—we all get our crosses along the way; illness, job loss, marriages that fail, children that lose their way for our best efforts to guide them, and death—it comes to us all, one day.

I would offer that rather than get caught up in “why?” the suffering, “who caused it? –or “where should I lay the blame?”—the grander point seems to be, as our brother Jesus did, in bringing some good out of the suffering.

Many in this community had the opportunity this past week to hear the story of a woman pastor, ordained in the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church of America), Nadia Bolz-Weber as she visited our community and challenged her listeners in several presentations to basically be true to themselves and true to the message of Jesus.  She is a striking presence in her tall, lithe frame, ripped jeans, tattooed arms and colorful language, but even she says, that after five minutes, that loses its attraction.

What really stood out for me in Pastor Nadia’s presentation that I heard as she challenged a group of pastors here at the Lutheran Campus Center on Thursday afternoon was her absolute love for Jesus because of the way she has been first loved by him in all the incompleteness she finds in her life which includes alcoholism. She challenged all of us as pastors to be true to Jesus’ message as she shared that she is positively convicted by that message and that calls her to love God and find God in, as she says, “all the wrong people.”  Of course we were challenged to do the same.  She pastors House of All Sinners and Saints in Denver, CO and there, as here, at All Are One, all are welcome at the table. Her ministry, in many ways—I would say, is to bring good out of the suffering she finds in people’s lives.

The theology that wants to point to God as this avenger of evil—sacrificing the First Born Jesus, to a horrible death on the cross, to satisfy the need for reparation, is one that we should really leave behind, as I have said here, repeatedly. Jesus became one of us, not to let us know of God’s vengeance, but of God’s love.  When we love totally, completely, and without exception; we are then called to do things that some people don’t always like or appreciate.  We may have to step on toes to follow the dream of bringing justice to all, and as a result, some may want to crucify us, excommunicate us, or they may want to “set us straight.”

Being the “radical” woman in the Church that I am; I will from time to time get a letter from a well-meaning person delineating why I am wrong, some even expressing their concern for my eternal well-being, or their anger at what I am doing.  But following our brother Jesus calls us to get above the negative feedback and follow the Spirit’s lead which will always show itself in peace, when we question the way to go.

And it will be important for us to come to a different view of God than we may have grown up with.  I have mentioned to you in the past the work of Sr. Ilia Delio in her book, one of many, The Emergent Christ.  I was reading a section this week where she is writing passionately about the love that our God has for each of us.  Rather than holding our God at a distance so that this entity can remain more mysterious, as I understand was the intent of all the strange phraseology in the Mass a few years back, she says that God wants to be part of our lives.

It was for this purpose that Jesus came to be one of us—so that God could live our very lives, and have a human experience alongside of us.  And as Paul in his beautiful letter to the Philippians says so well, he “took on the image of oppressed humankind” so that we would always have someone to turn to who understands all that we go through.  Or as the psalmist said today, “May your faithful love be upon us, O God, as we place all our hope in you.”

Most of us don’t enjoy punishment, so to say that suffering, as some church people do,  is a punishment from God makes me want to say—for what purpose?–to stop the wrong-doing? We should know from watching the effects of capital punishment in this country, that it is not a deterrent to crime.  And again, coming from a God whose only purpose, according to the 23^rd psalm in the bible translation, The Message,  is to chase after us every day of our lives until we are finally home; it would seem strange that this loving God would be about punishing us by inflicting suffering.

Just this past week; we saw an example of this type of theology when the news carried a deplorable story of two people within a religious sect who beat one of their sons to death and nearly killed the second one to force them to confess their sins. Such a mindset for God that depicts an all-powerful, mysterious Being, set apart, waiting for us to fail is not the God of our brother, Jesus.

Yet, suffering, my friends, will probably always be part of our human existence—we will never totally understand why or from where it comes.  What we can do is what Jesus did—pray for the grace to withstand it with courage and strive with all our being to bring good from it, knowing that our God, rather than causing it, walks through it, with us.

We have talked a bit here today about “mindset”—how we look at God, how we look at ourselves. Today’s Gospel clearly states that greatness is about service—service to all, even those we may despise. Jesus told us before leaving this physical existence that we would carry on his work—in fact that we would do greater things than he did through the power of the Spirit.  The suffering that is a part of human life, that we can’t always change, can be made more bearable through our service and our care for each other.  Let us pray today friends for the strength to be good and faithful servants, not accepting of the evils in this world, but somehow, finding a way to accept the perpetrators of the evil, who may sometimes be ourselves.