Friends, I think today, as we look at our readings; we could conclude that they teach us mercy and that is no better depicted than in the familiar story of the prodigal son.  The story should really be called the “prodigal father,” because that emphasis is what makes the story so astounding.

This father (picture, God) demonstrates over-the-top love for the one who has turned his back, left and squandered his life.  And yet, none of that matters to this prodigal parent.  All that matters is that this lost one found the way back.  Our hearts can hardly not, go out with mercy and compassion and run with the parent to meet and greet the lost child.  None of it matters, what was done, what was squandered, only that the child has returned.  We see a parent here who is as “prodigal” in bestowing love as the child was “prodigal” in turning away from all that life had given.

It is perhaps good for us to try and see the reaction of this parent through his 1^st Century eyes.  We must remember that family was everything and one’s inheritance came once the parent was dead. For this son to ask for it ahead of time, was really an insult to his father—the fact that he couldn’t wait until the proper time.  And then to further go off and squander it was a double insult.  By these actions, he not only turns his back on his father and his family, but on the community that he was a part of.

I learned more of the background story to this beautiful display of parental love when I was still working with the seniors at Lake Winona Manor—I’ve shared this in the past, but it bears repeating. Apparently part of the reason that the father ran to meet his son, besides loving him and being so happy that he returned, was to arrive before the town’s people met the boy at the city gates and denounced him for his actions to his father and to the community’s way of life.  This denouncement came in a ritualistic way.  A group of town’s people met the returning person at the city’s gates, dropping a clay pot at the person’s feet—shattering it, which indicated that the relationship was broken between that person and the community.  The prodigal dad, not wanting this to happen; runs to meet his son, and bestows everything on him that the community was ready to take away.  Even his action of running meant that he would have to raise his tunic, showing his legs; which was also against custom, basically shaming himself in order that his son would not be shamed.

As we reflect then on this prodigal parent and the fact that it seems there is an inability to show anything but love and mercy, we are called up short at the representation of God in the reading from Exodus.  This God is ready to torch the Israelites for once more proving their unfaithfulness.  It is Moses who has to calm God down—he even asks, “Why should your wrath flare up against your own people?” Looking back again to the gospel from Luke, we see the opposite and some people find it hard at times, including the older brother, to understand such “wasteful” love for one who seems so clearly not to deserve it.

I raise the apparent different images of God for our reflection because they don’t seem to coincide.  We have often heard that Jesus came to fulfill the law and the prophets; to perhaps set straight, some of the discrepancies about God and God’s place and relationship with our world and its people.  In this reading today from Exodus, Moses almost seems more god-like in mercy than God does.  It might be that Moses,  who is supposed to have written these early First Testament books, was trying to make up for what he does in the next scene that we didn’t read here today.  Upon seeing his people dancing around a golden calf to worship, Moses throws the stone tablets to the ground in anger, destroying them.  He is now on a par with his God’s anger!

Albino Luciano—Pope John Paul I, a pope that we had for too short a time, only 33 days, did not like the theology of Moses or the God of Moses.  He felt that the God of Moses was and is responsible for all the religious wars ever fought, for all the violence perpetrated against women, gays and lesbians, and the lack of charity and mercy toward the “lepers”/the downcast in our societies.  This kind of violence toward others is given license in the theology of Moses—the killing and raping of innocent peoples in order to take the Promised Land.  John Paul I had a great deal of trouble with the God of Moses and saw the discrepancies between this God and the Prodigal God of Love depicted in Luke today.

Let us shift then to this God that Jesus talks about.  Again we see the need for Jesus, God incarnate, becoming one of us.  We hadn’t quite got the message that we are loved abundantly; Moses apparently didn’t translate the message too well about who God was to end up with two readings, one from the First Testament and another from the Second Testament that show us such a different face of God with the two really so opposed to each other in style.

I believe the part we must not lose sight of is that God’s ways are not our ways. This becomes crystal clear in the reading from Luke where we see the image of God in the Prodigal Parent—one who is almost maddeningly merciful and understanding. We humans tend to want people to get what they deserve—if people have been bad; we want to see them be punished.  And likewise, if a person has done something noteworthy, reward is in order, we feel.  We all had cause to reflect on this tendency of retribution this past week when the rapist and murderer of Jacob Wetterling was finally exposed.   This human quality was even raised up in defense of Moses’ God wanting to torch the Israelites for their unfaithfulness in some of the exegesis that I read in preparation for this homily.  The exegete said, “The wrath of God’s fury blazed against them.  And who would blame God for destroying them?” The God of Luke—the Prodigal Parent would not have agreed with such an action.  God’s ways are not our ways!  Thank God this is so!

This long gospel today gave us several images, faces, if you will, of our loving God—each different, yet each showing us a God who loves us deeply, and is never inconvenienced by our needs.  First we see the shepherd who will leave the 99 and go in search of the one who is lost.  The woman who turns her house upside-down looking for the lost coin (both, by the way—legitimate images of God) and finally, as we already discussed, the exquisite story of the Prodigal Parent who continues to wait and pray that the lost one will return and when it finally happens, runs to embrace him/her and throws a party to celebrate.  In my work as a chaplain, it was this over-the-top, God of love that I always tried to have the people I met with, especially those in the Department of Behavioral Medicine recognize as the One who wants them to come back, to check in again, and know that they too are loved and cared about.

Paul, in his letter to Timothy expounds on the love of this God.  He is totally aware that he deserves the worst punishment—the wrath of Moses’ God, yet he received love, from Luke’s God—only love, and is challenged by Jesus to go out and share the love that he has been so freely given, with others.

One final point that we need to remember friends—our readings today are not just about becoming aware of God’s great love, mercy and acceptance of each of us; but coming to the realization that each of us must move past recriminations and a need to exact punishment toward seeing as God sees.

I am presently reading a biography of Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen, who pastored the people of Seattle, WA from 1975 to 1991. He was known for his generosity and goodness as a person, but most significantly for taking on the U.S. presidency in the person of Ronald Reagan, the Catholic Church hierarchy in the person of Pope John Paul II and the government of the United States.

All this was done because the good bishop was following his conscience by calling attention to our country’s nuclear build-up through the Trident submarine system.  In the early days of this build-up, there was a real threat that the Soviets would attempt to keep pace with the United States and the result could have been annihilation of the world as we know it.

Hunthausen struggled with his conscience over this issue. He had attended all four sessions of Vatican II and as this council forever changed our Church, it forever changed this pastor—he had to go public with what his faith and conscience were telling him—he had to do the right, albeit hard thing. He spoke publicly challenging that our country needed to turn from this proliferation of nuclear weaponry—he even challenged Catholics who worked in plants putting together warheads to give up these jobs. He then advocated for civil disobedience by asking people to refuse half of their taxes that would go toward this nuclear buildup, beginning with himself. You can imagine that he wasn’t popular among everyone, even though he did receive much support.

My friends, we are challenged to see as God does that each person’s action in the now is a composite of so much more that we don’t see that has gone into making them who they are.  We know this is true in our own case as it was true for Raymond Hunthausen.  He was a man of the Church—but at a certain point, his conscience, his faith, called him to become a true man of God.

Let us pray together today that we might grow bigger hearts, wider minds, eyes that can see more deeply, ears that can hear more intently the stories of our brothers and sisters in God’s world.  Let us work toward peaceful resolutions to strife in our world—let us strive to understand what causes unrest among people and look for real solutions.

My friends, it would seem that the time has come to face our world and its problems with the prodigality of our God that looks beyond the hurt done to see the heart of individuals and the good that they are capable of.  We must grow beyond the easier answer of, “an eye for an eye” and choose the answers of diplomacy, communication, peace and ultimately, love.  As we have often said, “Love is the hardest lesson,” but it is the only one which truly sets us free.  Amen? Amen!

My friends, this week, once again, we are called to humility through our readings from Wisdom literature, from Paul and from Jesus.  We are also called to seek out wisdom through our religious traditions in order that we might live our lives in a more wholesome and unified way.  Each of us has grown up learning to be obedient—to follow rules our parents gave us to keep us safe—“don’t play in traffic;  rules the Church gave us to guide our religious upbringing—the Ten Commandments.

When we were children, the rules gave order to our lives and we learned that it was better to obey than not, because there were consequences if we didn’t.  As adults, we continue to obey, because there are still consequences if we choose not to, but with more maturity, we begin to question and to reason—“is this the best thing for me to do? Who is helped by my action? Is the world any better because of what I am doing?  Is this action just about me or someone else’s selfishness?”  Rules of wisdom and further commitment—the Beatitudes and the two Great Commandments guide us in addition.

There are so many choices in our current society—sometimes our decisions are simple to make and it really doesn’t matter—other times much comes into play and we simply have to decide using some of the questions that I posed earlier.  Does this action hurt or harm others?  Is this action ultimately about love?

In the reading from Philemon today, we get a good example of this.  Paul is posing a moral question to Philemon, who is a slave-holder.  Onesimus, the slave mentioned but not named in this reading, has run away and has found an advocate for his cause in Paul, who tells Philemon that the decision is his to make, but he appeals to the baptism that joins him and Onesimus.  He asks Philemon to see Onesimus, no longer as a slave, but as a brother.  And Paul will not demand this of Philemon, but as he says, “I prefer to appeal in the name of love.” When we act out of true love, we can never really go wrong.  And this doesn’t mean that we necessarily choose the easy way—true love calls us to make hard decisions at times.

The society of Philemon’s day said that slave-holding was acceptable, but his baptism in Jesus, says the opposite; so Philemon must decide—what is the right thing to do?  And the question is ours to ponder too—what effect do my actions have on the greater world? What in effect does Jesus ask of me?  Paul asks Philemon to welcome Onesimus as he would welcome Paul—basically to consider Onesimus, the slave, as equal to himself and to Paul because of his baptism into Jesus, the Christ.  And we shouldn’t be surprised by this as this is the same Paul who also said, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female”—all are one. Each of us friends, face like questions in our day-to-day living. Who is helped, who is harmed by my decision—often it is not a clean, clear decision.

We have all been taught to respect the law and those who enforce it, but we have seen a rash of killings recently perpetrated by police who are supposed to protect, but instead appear to be ready to kill without question if the suspect is black.  A recent example is telling.  A young black boy was chasing a ball and found himself pursued by policemen who apparently thought he was up to no good.  A contingent group of neighbors who saw what was happening surrounded the boy shouting, “Don’t shoot, he’s just a boy!”  And the boy, what could have been going through his mind?—probably his young life flashed before him.  Thankfully he had some concerned others who stood up for him!

Jesus’ words are equally challenging for us today.  This particular gospel is always a hard one for people to get their hearts around.  I say, “hearts,” because we can many times rationalize our actions to do something that our hearts won’t allow if we are tuned in.  Can Jesus actually be asking me to turn my back on my family as a result of being his follower?  That seems very harsh and who can actually, literally, do this?

I believe we have to come at this gospel from a couple different sides, as we do with many of Jesus words, always remembering that his words are multi-layered.  First we have to understand how the people of his time would have heard his words.  One’s family was everything to them—their lifeline really, in connection with the larger world. It was your family who stood by you, no matter what—these were your people and this meant something.  This was especially true for women and children as we have discussed before.

Today our connections to our immediate families may be strong, but they generally aren’t a person’s only lifeline in the greater world. So how are we to look at Jesus’ words?  Are we literally being called to turn our backs on our parents and family members in order to follow Jesus?   The Scripture seems to be saying, “As a Christian, we give up forever our right to choose who we can love.”

Our decisions to love the one that nobody loves may come between us and our family, but Jesus’ message to us is clear—as much as we may love and care for our families, we must as Jesus’ followers ultimately do the loving thing, at times speak truth to the lie that some are not acceptable, are not good enough, even if that runs counter to our familial relationships.

The writer of the Wisdom selection for today’s liturgy says it a bit differently, but seems to point up the fact that we cannot know the mind of God.  We do know though from everything that Jesus says elsewhere about loving our neighbor as ourselves, that he doesn’t want us to turn our backs on our loved ones.  I believe what Jesus is trying to tell us as we care for family, friends and others is that we remember that our actions must resemble his in order to truly be his followers.

The CBS nightly news carried a very poignant story in this regard this past week. A group of college football players visited Montford Middle School in Tallahassee, FL to share some time and pizza with the students there. Wide receiver, Travis Rudolph sat down next to a student who was sitting alone. Turned out that 6^th grader, Bo Paske often sits alone as he lives with autism and most of his classmates choose not to sit with him. Travis Rudolph found him to be, in his words, “a cool person” and said he would “sit with him any time.” Bo’s mom was overjoyed because it breaks her heart to see her son being treated this way by his classmates and all because they haven’t gotten to know the boy she knows and loves. Rudolph had no idea that his seemingly small action would mean so much.  Often this is true for us as well—it’s not always the big things, but the ordinary, day-to-day kindnesses and gestures that mean so much.

We don’t always follow the wisdom writer in all of our decisions—sometimes we choose out of selfishness and greed—“this will make me look good in others’ eyes,”  instead of just doing it because it is the right thing to do. Sometimes we act out of our own personal need to be loved. Sometimes we act out of ignorance—helping when it might be better to hold back, and we enable bad behavior by giving someone something they needed to earn on their own.  Sometimes we act out of arrogance thinking we know what is best for someone, when ultimately, only God knows.  We don’t as humans always choose wisely; that is why it is so important to keep our eyes on Jesus.

These are hard sayings, no getting around it! Wisdom today says well, I believe, what we feel from time to time:  “For a perishable body presses down on my soul, and a clay house weighs down the restless mind.”  All of our human weaknesses as described above, our selfishness, ignorance and arrogance get in the way of our ability to truly do the loving thing at times. Those of you in our community who have lost loved ones know too of how this “clay house” of our bodies can weigh one down.  Those who struggle in this world with mental illness, with poverty, with people shunning them for one reason or another know the press of the perishable body and the “clay house” that can weigh us down.”

So, my friends, I would invite each of us to walk in humility with our God in order that we would understand that which is needed to live our lives well, always keeping our eyes on Jesus who shows us the way.  He asks nothing of us that he didn’t ask of himself.  So, let us strive to be people of truth, mercy, justice, love and care in regard to ourselves, others and our world.  We must ultimately never let anything or anyone get in the way of fully following Jesus.  I believe this is what he truly meant when he said, “if you can’t turn your back on mother, brothers, sisters; you can’t be my followers.  God bless us all in this endeavor as we cry out with the psalmist today:  Make us realize the shortness of life—in every age O God, you have been our refuge.  Amen? Amen!

 

 

 

My friends, our readings today call each of us to honesty in our lives.  Who are we? What do we want others to think of us?  Who are the people who know our names? Which circles do we travel in? Do we read all the right books? Do the parties that we throw include only the people who are “somebody?”  What truly is the treasure that we seek in our lives?

Sirach, in our 1^st reading today tells us in no uncertain terms that humility should be a guiding force in our lives.  And that should be coupled with gentleness.  We are told not to be someone greater than we are or strive beyond our means.  Now, of course there is a fine line between being content with what and who we are, and sliding through life doing as little as possible.

Sirach is certainly not giving us permission for a laissez-faire sort of existence, but a coming to terms with our abilities—who we in fact are, acting accordingly, and always remembering from whom the ability to do all that we have accomplished, comes.  The greater we are in the eyes of the world, Sirach instructs, the more we should behave humbly.

This reminds me of this past weekend.  You all know that in my absence on last Saturday, I was officiating at the wedding of two gay men, friends, both by the name of John—some of you met them last spring when they visited here. We sealed their love at St. John’s (no less) Episcopal church in Minneapolis as it was there that they were welcomed and I as a woman priest was also welcomed to conduct a Catholic Mass, which the guys expressly requested.

The Mass, the vows and the reception later were filled with emotion as these men publically gave voice to what has been in their hearts for several years.  Their families and friends gathered with great joy to celebrate their public commitment to each other.

And amid all the joy, there was the expression of family members coming to terms with having gay sons and brothers and finally being able to listen to who they said they are. In addition, there was the added layer of their Catholic faith, and a Church hierarchy that doesn’t wholeheartedly embrace them, certainly wouldn’t have witnessed their vows.  And finally, throw into the mix, a woman priest, an element that some present struggled with.

But I believe by the time we finished the Mass wherein I officiated the public expression of their love for each other and their commitment to be true to each other for life, there was less struggle on the parts of all.  When you can lay the law onto the human condition and give it a face, the objection doesn’t seem to be so important.

The parents of the two men were following the law and presented themselves for communion with their arms crossed meaning that they wouldn’t be receiving, but that they clearly wanted to participate. Two of the parents told me afterward that they wanted to participate and had asked their parish priest beforehand if they could receive, explaining the situation of me presiding and my brother priest said, “No,” because the bread, “wouldn’t be consecrated.”  They told me they didn’t really believe that, but clearly were in a quandary, so presenting themselves as they did was the way they could participate, which I affirmed.  Their other comment to me was that it was, “a beautiful ceremony.”

At the reception, there were many lovely examples from family and friends, sharing of how they knew each of the Johns and a theme that ran through each of the sharings was of how there was an obvious difference in each when they came into each other’s lives.

I want to share one comment that our daughter-in-law Lauren made that speaks so well to the struggles of gay people in this world.  Lauren knew one of the Johns before she knew our son, Isaac and said, “I’ve known John so long that I knew him when he was straight!”  That caused me to reflect on how our Church and society lifts up for individuals the norm—heterosexual living and pairing off so that gay and lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender folks have to come to terms with who God made them to be and ultimately to rise above the untruths, the ignorance and the arrogance of those in power who don’t allow, nor embrace who people truly are and as a result, make life so much harder to live.

I, as a woman priest struggling in a world and Church that is still so patriarchal, get that.  Hillary, striving to become president of the United States, a position that has been dominated by men gets that as she realizes that she is held to a higher standard and scrutinized more severely than any man would be—this would be true no matter who the woman is that attempts to break the glass ceiling.

So, my friends, Sirach and Jesus call us to honesty—to the search to be who we truly are, who God made us to be and a piece of that honesty is then to humbly serve in the ways we can in a world where we are ultimately all one,

moving in the same direction toward a God who loves us beyond all imagining and wants us then to be open to the gifts in all our sisters and brothers, to the diversity in gender, race,  and lifestyle expression and to see in all of that the face of God.

This reminds me of a book that I just finished reading by Richard Rohr, entitled, Things Hidden, Scripture as Spirituality. In a section on the great love of God for us, for everyone, no exceptions and not when we get it all right, but now, just as we are, Rohr says, “God does not love you because you are good, God loves you because God is good.” That is one to pray over!

Difference is not a cause for shunning and punishment but for joy and delight in being able to witness all the ways that we as humans can express what it truly is to be human—to be of God—to be divine. Amen? Amen!

Friends, each of us has been given life—a gift by our Creator in order that we can have a human experience and all that it entails.  Hopefully, we can come to experience being loved while here because ultimately we came into being from a God who has loved us beyond words.  We know this to be true from stories like the Prodigal and the woman who lost a coin and turned her house upside-down to find it. Parables like the Good Shepherd and the Good Samaritan describe over-the-top love for us as creatures of a magnanimous God.

When we remember; we must be filled with gratitude for such love and endeavor to share that love with others.  Sometimes life in its ability to give love isn’t always kind to everyone.  That is where we as Christians, followers of our brother Jesus must step in and pay forward the love we have graciously received.  Recent scriptures let us know that Jesus expects those of us who have received much to give more.

The readings for this Sunday lay out the perils of being a prophet.  We see what happens to Jeremiah in the first reading, spoken of by many exegetes as the “reluctant prophet.”  Jeremiah apparently had a tender heart and felt that he didn’t have the stamina to speak truth to people who didn’t want to hear it.  In our human nature this is understandable, but Jeremiah finally realizes that God believes in him and will give him the strength needed for what needs to be done.  Even those who don’t want to hear and do violence to Jeremiah are upstaged ultimately by compassion.

Each of us friends, even though we may feel like Jeremiah and perhaps don’t want to be bothered, must realize that we gave that up when we said “yes” to Jesus. Our “yes” only is true if indeed we stand up for those who are misused and abused, who live their lives lacking justice.

We see from the gospel additionally, the cost of discipleship—Jesus tells us he means to set a fire upon the earth and he wishes it were already here.  That line from scripture has always intrigued me and I read it to mean that our brother Jesus wants each of us to be so ignited with love that nothing will stop us in following God’s call to let everyone know that they too are loved.  And like Jesus, we show our love through action.

There were of course those in power who didn’t want to hear this message because it threatened their control and place in society and in synagogue—today read, church—sharing and caring and dispensing justice to all is generally not part of the agenda of those in control.

And so that brings us to the cost of discipleship.  Jesus minces no words—your family and friends may turn against you for demanding a love that includes all.  And even though this may be hard to bear, we each need to ask what is most important to us and then move ahead.

In the time of Jesus, he was asking a great deal of his followers as family—kinship was everything to these people.  Your good name, your family meant the difference between physically living and dying and if they turned against you, you were literally lost.  Today, we value being individuals and our independence, so family may not be as important in a physical sense. Our connection to family tends to be more on the emotional side—the place from where we came, how we make sense of ourselves in the world. This past Friday was the 30^th anniversary of my dad’s death and even though the relationships in my family of origin tend to be somewhat dysfunctional, our dad was always the unifying force and we all felt he left us way too soon. I shared some pictures on Facebook of him and tagged my siblings and once again, our dad was that unifying force for a stroll down memory lane.

But during the time of Jesus, connection to family was really more of a practical consideration even though the emotional component may have been present too. We are made with physical, emotional and spiritual components and each can be tested as we endeavor to be true followers of our brother Jesus. I well remember the reaction from family and friends when I announced my plans to become ordained in response to God’s call to do so. There was overall great support for my action, but I was surprised by some of those, friends and family who couldn’t support me. Each felt, as did I, that they needed to follow their hearts.

The human reaction was more understandable than the reaction from the Church hierarchy wherein one would expect the Spirit to be alive and well. Because I and my sisters who had chosen to follow the Spirit’s call in challenging an unjust law concerning who God had called to ordained ministry, we were accused of being unfaithful and untrue to the Church—that we were a source of confusion to the people. Jeremiah and Jesus were accused of the same.  The cost of discipleship!

My friends, speaking up when we are with family and friends, for truth and justice—acting in ways that might set us alone in the crowd is what Jesus meant by setting a fire upon the earth. Being his follower is not a “milk toast” proposition!  We pray with the psalmist today, “Come to my aid, O God.” The writer to the Hebrews instructs us to remember Jesus and ultimately take strength from him so that we will not grow weary.

As I have said so many times before, the Sundays in Ordinary Time call us to anything but “ordinary” challenges.  We are called to rise about that which is lowest and most base in our human natures in both rhetoric and action and strive along with Jesus to set that fire upon the earth which melts hearts, clearing the way for a love which includes all. We really can do no less my friends—we are hard-wired for all that is just, all that is good and we must demand it of our leaders, both social and religious and we must begin now! Amen? Amen!