Friends, for your reflection these days–

We can hardly miss the starkness of this day—our liturgical space cries out with the bareness—no candles, no altar coverings, no liturgical drapes.  We are a bereft people on this day that marks the earthly, physical death of our brother, Jesus.  This is the way that any of us feels when a loved one dies—bereft, sad—somewhat lost, even though we have come to call the Memorial Services we do for deceased loved ones, “Celebrations of Life.”  The Church asks us to hold off on the celebration for a day or two and steep ourselves for a bit on what it is like to be without Jesus in our lives.

John’s gospel is always used on Good Friday because it gives us a different focus than the other accounts from Matthew, Mark and Luke.   In John’s account today, we simply heard Jesus say, in regard to his own personal needs, “I am thirsty.” His concern isn’t for himself but for his apostles—that they would be set free. When he does die, he simply gives up his spirit. We very much get the impression that John is trying to give; of Jesus being in control of all that is happening to him. He had the power to avail himself to what would be asked of him and he accepted his fate with no complaint.  As Isaiah said in the first reading; he did not cry out, even though he was badly abused.

Even with all the suffering Jesus was asked to bear, we see only the silence with which he carried himself, so the silence built into today’s service is very appropriate.  Isaiah gives the truth to this notion as well—“you were like a lamb led to slaughter and didn’t open your mouth.”  John’s account does not include the purely human moments of the Last Supper or the agony in the garden.

John shows us Jesus as one who suffers, yes, but one who is truly the high priest spoken of today in the letter to the Hebrews—one who stands with us and loves us in all our weaknesses, continually calling us to more.

John’s purpose it would seem is to let us know that Jesus freely accepted his death and did not struggle against it—he lived his human existence constantly showing us how we must live and accepted the consequences in his time for living a life demanding justice for all.

The evangelist further tells us that because Jesus freely chooses death, he can just as freely choose life—the new life of the resurrection. This is our hope in Jesus— to one day do the same. In this spring-time of year, the idea of resurrection is one we can get our hearts around—out of the cold and damp ground comes so much life.

Holy Week reminds us to be grateful to our God for loving us so much in Jesus.  It calls to mind Paul’s letter to the Philippians that we used on Palm Sunday—he was God, but did not hold onto that, but became human and took upon his shoulders our existence for no other reason, but love.

One can hardly walk through Holy Week and not come out on the other side believing anything but that we are loved by God.  We can all stand before our loving God unafraid because of Jesus—one who came among us and was so morally perfect, coming to be one with us, living by example what each of us is called to.  He only asked that we would follow in his footsteps. Sometimes that can feel daunting, but we must always remember that we will not have to do it alone—Jesus will be with us and knowing that takes my fear away—I hope it does yours as well.

After today—we begin walking toward Easter joy—this is our hope—because of Jesus, we all will have new and everlasting life.

Several from our community, as well as others not from this community, but of our hearts have completed their life journeys.  We pray that they may all rest in peace now as we all look forward one day to that eternal life that Jesus opened up for each of us due to his life, death and resurrection.  And we continue our prayers for all those who are completing their life journeys at this time and for their families. May they and each of us know peace and many blessings today and always.

My friends, as we begin Holy Week, just a few thoughts.  I decided, due to the reading of the Passion today and the wealth of the other Scriptures; we might just reflect a bit on the emotional side of what this day brings us.  We could spend time describing the significance of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and of how he did everything as the prophets foretold, but when all is said and done, it is really all about love—love first for the God who sent him and then love for those who awaited a Messiah.  He, of course was a different manifestation from what the people thought they needed and wanted, a King to conquer the Romans—instead of a humble man of character and a servant—this was who they needed and only later would they discover, it was who they wanted as well.

Paul, in his beautiful treatise on Jesus to the Philippians says it simply, “His state was divine, yet he did not cling to it…but became as all people are.”  Jesus in his image as slave and servant showed us the way to go—not as this world sees greatness, but as God does.

We saw these images throughout Lent in the form of the Good Shepherd, the Samaritan woman at the well to whom Jesus gave, ‘living water,” the man, born blind to whom Jesus gave much more than physical sight.

This week will zero in on three very significant days—the Triduum—remembering the institution of the Eucharist and the formal institution of the priesthood—ideally intended to be a calling to service.  Within the Holy Thursday service Jesus demonstrates what being a servant means when he washes the feet of his apostles—not about him—but about others.  Pope Francis has been trying to reacquaint the present day “apostles” to this concept and still there are those who don’t get it!

We will meet as a community here on Good Friday to remember the height and length and depth of our God’s love for us.  To be about love—to wear it as a breastplate as Christians means that as Jesus did, love is always the response to what we as humans can come up with by way of injustice, even if we stand alone.  Jesus would not compromise this principle and he knew what the consequences were for that stance.

The Easter Vigil concludes the Triduum as we remember and reflect on our salvation history—a story that delineates God’s over-the-top love for us—always directing the prophets of Old and New to keep us as a people on-track until the message of love could be given to us in perfect form—in the person of Jesus.

This, my friends is a wonderful week that we are beginning—one not to be taken lightly, one not to miss.  Let our prayer for each other be that our God’s over-the-top loving for us be something that we can give back as we respond to our world.

 

 

 

 

My friends, as we continue our Lenten journey toward Easter and new life in Jesus; we are called, as in the first Sunday of Lent, to reflect upon death.  Ironically, this past week, I found myself reflecting upon death for very personal reasons.

Within the course of our trip to China, which, in and of itself, was wonderful on many fronts; I experienced a return of the sciatica pain from last fall along with a new pain that doctors have told me is tendonitis or bursitis, or both.  This new pain has felt like someone socked me really hard in the muscle below my right shoulder blade and it further presents itself as a stinging pain, when it isn’t otherwise simply being very sore. So that, added to the sciatica pain that shows itself, radiating up and down my entire left leg, makes it very hard to concentrate on anything else, when it is, shall we say, “alive and well.”

As a result; I found myself at times, this past week, wondering literally, if I could live with such pain. Of course these aren’t rational thoughts but the irrationality of the pain speaking.  I have talked with some of you who have felt the same in your own times of pain and suffering. And again, this has nothing to do with right or wrong, sin or virtue, faith or unbelief—it is purely the human condition of being in physical pain. Further, it brought me personally, to a new understanding of what those with chronic, debilitating physical pain go through.

Add to that the pain of loneliness that one feels in the dead of night when sleep envelops the household and you agonize about awaking someone to join in your pain when they can’t really do much to take it away. Somewhere within that experience though, you decide to express your emotional vulnerability simply because the pain of doing so is less than that of being alone in the physical pain of the moment.

I found that the image of Jesus in the garden was a meaningful one for me. And too, I have reflected on what this experience was supposed to teach me in 2017 during the holy season of Lent.  And please know that I share these thoughts not to gain your empathy, only to put into perspective these Scriptures that ask us to consider death and what brings life.

The Church asks each of us believers to consider some form of penance during these 40 days of Lent and I have always thought that the most meaningful fast or penance is the one that “breaks open my heart” –in effect, grows me as a person, into a more ardent follower of my brother Jesus.

To reach out then in the dark, in my loneliness and pain to the only other human  present, was for me, to know the love of God at that moment.  He held my hand until the pain subsided.

The gospel story this week is one showing the great humanity of our brother Jesus—love causes the lover to want to take the pain of the beloved—sometimes that is possible, sometimes it is not. But we are always called upon to, do what we can, to “untie and set free” those who are bound by pain, suffering, injustice, whatever it might be.

We are struck, I think, by Jesus’ expression of emotion at the death of his friend—and looking at this, we can never again say that our God is distant from us, or that God doesn’t care. Seeing Jesus’ expression here makes me know with confidence that God will be sad with me when I am sad and will likewise, rejoice with me in my happiness.

As we near the end of our Lenten journey, it might be good to ponder what it is that “breaks our hearts open,” helps us to see more clearly, hear messages that include, rather than divide, untie those who are bound. The Scriptures this week ask us to consider death and life—what brings death and what brings life—may we always choose life. Peace, my friends.

Friends, our scripture readings this week call us to walk in the light. Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians calls the people of Ephesus, “children of the light.”  Paul was accustomed to seeing his converts as spiritual children, believing that they and he had a long way to go to be true followers of Jesus, the Christ.  But, when we think about the task before us, “to walk in the light,” having chosen to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, we realize that this is not a task for children, but for folks grown-up in their faith.  Now, that having been said, it is clear in reflecting on today’s readings that it is not the strong and competent, the physically flawless of this world that God calls into service, but the weak and vulnerable, by this world’s standards.

As I have been recovering from our trip to and from China the past few days–getting nights and days turned around again; I took the opportunity to watch a DVD that I had recently purchased on the life of Mother Teresa.  She was a woman of small stature, presumably not to be taken seriously. At 18 she entered a convent in Yugoslavia that was considered “safe” for women as a career choice and for 20 years she worked in ministry teaching girls of the well-to-do behind convent walls. On a trip outside the walls, she became aware of a different reality in India, of the people on the streets who had lost everything, who literally were dying on the streets and became compelled through the call of her brother Jesus, to do something about it.

A woman of small stature, taking on what most considered an impossible task, especially for a woman, but who knew in her heart that the desire, the call, came from God and that God would be all the strength she needed.

Samuel the prophet, in today’s 1^st reading goes to Jesse as commanded by God to choose the first in a dynasty of kings to rule and guide the People of God.  Jesse brought the perfect number of sons—seven, before Samuel for his choice and even though the people of Jesse’s time saw completion in that number seven, God’s choice was not among them.  Even Samuel, God’s prophet had eyed the strongest, most capable-looking one in the bunch, but he was not God’s choice.  We see that once again, God turns things upside down.  David, the youngest, and seemingly most unfit for the role, by age and experience, is God’s choice.  God, we see, doesn’t judge by what is on the outside, but by what is on the inside. God looks into the heart.  It was so with Mother Teresa when she was accused of doing all that she did to gain acclaim—she said, “I am the pencil in God’s hands—it is God who does the writing.

In our gospel selection today we are given quite a treatise on how God chooses, and what ultimately each of us is called to, when we choose God back, in Jesus—when we choose to follow in his footsteps.

All the people in this story aside from Jesus and the blind one are walking in some form of darkness.  They witness, especially those who regularly frequent the temple, a person that they know and recognize as someone, blind from birth, being given sight.  What happens to this blind one through many symbolic gestures on Jesus’ part is nothing short of miraculous.  Yet, these people, even the apostles for a time, until Jesus sets them straight, skip over the miracle and look for a dark response for why the person was blind in the first place. It must be sin, if not the blind person’s, then that of the parents. The Pharisees take the darkness to new levels of blackness in believing everyone is steeped in sin, thus making it impossible to see the miracle wrought in their midst through a loving God in the messianic person of Jesus.  Why is it so much easier to believe in evil than in good?

In Mother Teresa’s case this was true as she asked to work in the streets of Calcutta—what was she after was what people wondered. She had to have the Church’s hierarchical permission and they too didn’t believe she had been called by God for such a task, until they witnessed her work in the streets and the difference she was making and of course, the followers who came to her asking to do what she was doing.

The blind one who was now recreated with physical sight is the model for all of us to follow. The light that has come into this person through physical eyes has been extended to include the mind and the heart.  Sometimes being weak and vulnerable is the very door through which God can enter as the Spirit did through the once blind person.

Jesus sends this sightless one to a pool, Siloam, which is a word meaning, “one who is sent.”  The blind person goes, out of the need to see, and returns with the makings of whole-person-sight—in body, mind and spirit.

Even for this blind one, complete sight doesn’t happen immediately, so there is hope for us too, friends.  This person who now walks with physical sight spills out the joy that can’t be contained, “I was blind and now I can see!”  This simple, yet profound fact is not enough for the Pharisees to praise God because of the claim that the “miracle” came about through the man, Jesus.  Because their vision is corrupted by power and greed, their hearts and minds are locked to the mystery that the blind one knew through a lifetime of walking in physical darkness.  He/she, could only worship the God obvious in Jesus’ eyes, when in answer to his question, “Do you believe in the Chosen One, the One who is now speaking to you?” the answer came, “Yes, I believe!”

Friends, if ever we are to hear the voice of God, it will be through our hearts first—not through our heads.  God is not something we can figure out—God is about the heart—about lovingkindness, justice, mercy, truth, generosity toward ourselves and others, compassion for a world that our God is so in love with.  Mother Teresa had a profound and wonderful response to one of her dissenters who asked her why she wasn’t angry with him for not believing in her.  Mother Teresa responded that she couldn’t be angry with someone whom God loved.

It is this kind of feeling that will allow each of us to walk in faith, choosing to follow Jesus who first chose us—doing the sometimes hard things that this faith will demand of us, like it did to the blind one whose eyes and heart were opened. When people, such as the Pharisees live and move out of power and greed, the penalty for being inspired by a different drummer apart from the status quo is generally swift and painful.  Because the blind one—now seeing, will not let go of the miracle experienced and of who brought it about, she/he is put out of the synagogue.  Today, we excommunicate and there is no discussion, no desire to understand.

Mother Teresa was given an ultimatum—either stay within the convent walls or leave.  She really had no choice because her God was calling and she had to follow.  Out of this, the Missionaries of Charity was founded with her serving as superior for nearly 50 years.  Toward the end of her life, she said to a colleague and friend, “Never be afraid to be a contradiction in this world.”

Jesus told the people of his time that he is the light of the world.  Let us pray that those who claim to lead our Church might more consistently let this light illuminate their hearts and minds—show them the way to truly follow in Jesus’ footsteps.

Each of us friends is called to walk in that same light—a task not always easy, but one that will give us great peace because we will know in our  hearts that it is the right thing to do, standing up for justice for each person. Moving from our hearts is always the right action and we will never do it alone—Jesus will be with us!  May God bless us all as we struggle on.

Friends, in preparing for today, I came upon a homily that I shared with you six years ago and it lays out rather succinctly, through the help of Scripture scholar, Diane Bergant, the whole of Lent this year through the readings that the Church gives us for this holy season. Being that I will be gone the next two weekends, I thought this a good one to share again with a few updates.

We begin then with the traditional thought that Lent has been a time to reflect on our sinfulness, our unworthiness before God and as a time to mortify ourselves—to do penance in reparation for our sins.   We all, as Catholics, have this sense of “unworthiness” in our blood—we call it “fondly,” “Catholic guilt.” But, as with any message, there can be over-kill, that is why in our masses at All Are One and in many women priest led liturgies, before communion, rather than using the old prayer that, “we would be made worthy,” our prayer is more in thanksgiving that, “we are worthy in Jesus.”  If we were to lay out the readings for Lent on a graph looking at the themes presented, we would get a picture that does indeed lift up the fact of our sinfulness but that is only done so as to reflect on the graciousness of God who put the “earth creatures” in the garden, complete with beauty and sustenance, blew life into their nostrils—all so that they could experience the gift of life in the garden of paradise.

The reading from Genesis doesn’t speak of any falling from grace, any repentance that is required of them; in fact the reading stops at the point where they realize that the result of their choice to possess wisdom like unto God is not all that they had imagined it to be.

The remainder of the first readings for the Sundays of Lent follow a similar vein—sinfulness of the people as in the 3^rd Sunday when we will read of Moses and the people in the wilderness—their lack of faith in God as they cry for food and water, totally forgetting that God had brought them out of Egypt so probably would not have done that to let them die in the desert;  in the 5^th Sunday in the reading from Ezekiel, when even though the people had been unfaithful, “God will open up their graves and send the Spirit so that they can live.”  The sinfulness of the people is always overshadowed by the gracious goodness and care of God for them as evidenced in making this people a chosen people as related on the 2^nd Sunday, through the calling of Abram to go to a new land, raising up David as their king as we will hear on the 4^th Sunday and then on Palm Sunday through the prophet Isaiah, we read of God’s most profound gift of graciousness, Jesus—the one who would become one of us in order to show us how to live and love and die and rise.

I believe this graciousness and ultimate love of God for us is best expressed through Psalm 51 today where the writer asks for compassionate love in regard to what is needed. The Hebrew word used to describe this love comes from the root word for “womb.” So, we would translate it as “womb love.”  We recall the intimate language from Isaiah last week in comparing God’s love for us to a mother with her newborn, feeding at her breast.  The psalmist is asking for this same kind of love that a mother would give to the child of her womb and is expecting to get it!  This expectation comes from such love received from God in the past. This is the love that ultimately Paul is speaking of when he writes to the Romans in today’s epistle about God’s great love and compassion for them in sending Jesus.

The remainder of the psalm responses for the Sundays in Lent speak of a combination of themes that are all interrelated—God’s mercy, God’s trustworthiness, God’s tender care, all beautifully expressed in the 5^th week in the 23^rd psalm.  As we move toward Holy Week, again the focus shifts from lamenting over our own plight to focus entirely on Jesus who will carry all the sorrow, pain and grief upon himself.

I find in my life, that there are times when I so desperately wish that I could take away someone’s sadness, their pain, allowing them to know life in its fullness—and I would guess this is true for many of you as you relate to family members and friends. Sometimes people are held back due to their own choices as with our human ancestors in the Genesis reading today, but other times, “life happens,” as we say, to people, not through their own choices. I take great comfort and hope in knowing that I can turn to Jesus to help carry the pain and sadness that is too much for me to carry alone.  I can also with great assurance, direct people who feel so overwhelmed, to this God-Man-Jesus, who loves them so much.

The epistle readings for the six Sundays of Lent follow the same pattern as the first readings and psalm responses—we are directed not to focus on ourselves, but to keep our focus on God who will show us the way to go—especially in Jesus.   These epistle readings assure us that our sinfulness is never greater, nor more powerful than God’s grace.  They will let us know that if we keep our eyes on Jesus we will see and walk in the light of the Spirit who lives within each of us. And then on Palm Sunday, our full attention will be squarely on Jesus who humbled himself as we will read in Philippians 2 on that day—“he was divine…but became as all humans are.”

In the Gospels for Lent, we will see clearly what an extraordinary person Jesus is.  With today’s selection, we see him fasting 40 days and nights to prepare himself for the temptations that will come at the end of the 40 days.  Disciplining ourselves would appear to be important if even Jesus needs to do it!  Whether it is food, material goods, self-righteousness, pride, drugs, power and control—name your own addiction that needs to be put in balance; the ability to discipline ourselves against the subtle temptations of life that inhibit us from being our best selves, seems to be something worth looking at.  As we saw with the earth creatures, temptations are often not what they seem as far as what they ultimately bring into our lives.

Next week we have the gospel of the Transfiguration of Jesus which is truly an awesome event—one to encourage our belief.  Then on the 3^rd Sunday there is Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman, and his revelation to her that he is the Messiah. Then on the 4^th Sunday, we read of the curing of the blind man and the revelation to him by Jesus that he is the Son of Man, a term generally meaning, God.  Finally, there is Jesus’ astounding rising of Lazarus from the dead on the 5^th Sunday.

All of this together makes what happens on Palm Sunday in the reading from the Passion so much more astounding! Knowing and truly believing that Jesus is God which he has proven time and again through his life and deeds, we see that Jesus wasn’t overpowered and had his life taken from him—but that he gave it freely—all of it—from the moment of conception to his death on the cross—he chose to be one of us—to walk our journey. He certainly had the power to stop it as is evidenced by the actions and deeds recorded in Scripture which we will share throughout these Lenten Sundays. He took on the life of any human person, showed us how to live it, and gave it up in total sacrifice. In the dying then, the God-head alive in him could rise as each of us will rise one day.

So my friends, without denying our sinfulness, Lent really invites us to keep our eyes on Jesus and on God’s graciousness. We can do that in part by remembering that we are dust as we will be marked with ashes today—not for the purpose of groveling in it, but simply to see ourselves in relationship to God, one who is all powerful, all merciful, all just—gracious beyond belief, and who loved us so much as to become one of us to show us the way, the truth and the life.