My friends, this past week the Church lost a wonderful man of God, Fr. Paul Nelson and I’d like to dedicate this homily to him. He was one of only two male priests in this diocese who when I announced my up-coming ordination eight years ago, sent congratulatory comments.  Fr. Nelson gave encouragement and spoke in terms of gratitude for Robert and I listening to the Spirit and following in this path.  Later when the bishop at that time, Bernard Harrington, at a priests’ gathering spoke disparagingly of me, Fr. Nelson moved among the groups of priests and spoke positively of the ways he knew me and that the bishop was wrong in his assault of me and Fr. Nelson told me of his action in another gathering we both were at soon after this event.

Through his 55 years as a priest, Paul Nelson was a model of goodness, strength and right-living, following in the footsteps of our brother Jesus.  Those of us who attended Cotter High School in Winona during his tenure as principal recall his words to us time and time again as he tried to instill in the student body, in us as individuals, the importance of always living up to our humanity.  “Have the intestinal fortitude to be men and women,” he proclaimed and followed it up by pounding on the podium for emphasis. It was this same intestinal fortitude that helped him to deal with his own personal addictions with truth and honesty. We could follow him because we knew he didn’t just talk about goodness, but emulated it in his own life. He had a winning smile that was always on his face and he welcomed all.

Over the years he counseled other women who felt the call to priestly ministry to pursue it within a Protestant denomination that ordained women and he assisted them in doing this—this was in the days before Roman Catholic Women Priests and other groups that ordained women within the Catholic family.

When I pursued certification with the National Association of Catholic Chaplains, I needed episcopal endorsement as a layperson. In addition, I needed the recommendation of a priest in good standing in the diocese who would vouch for my character and catholicity.  Even though he wasn’t my official pastor at the time, he was willing to stand up for me.  All the priests who knew me at this time wouldn’t have stood by me, because I was already, 20+years ago, “rattling the cage” so to speak, within the Catholic church.

In a homily that Fr. Nelson did in the past for this 14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, he began his comments reflecting on a song done by Bing Crosby and the Count Basie band, entitled, “Everything is Beautiful.” Within this seemingly light song, comes a line that calls each of us to task, “No one is as blind as the one who refuses to see.” I believe Fr. Nelson lived out his priestly ministry always trying to be aware of the truth and acting upon it.

I remember back in the days of Bishop John Vlazny when Fr. Nelson was rector at the Cathedral in Winona—there was an inclusive language group studying at the church, of which I was a part. Fr. Nelson printed up our study and findings about vertical (God) language and horizontal (people) language that made the connections between language and power—those with the words (male language) have the power.  He thought, and rightly so, that the entire community had a right to know what we were discussing.  The bishop disagreed.  “No one is so blind as the one who refuses to see.”

Paul Nelson was open to a Vatican II Church that was bigger than the law—his Church was about love, mercy and compassion—everything that Pope Francis is advocating for today.

When people, you included, applaud me for my action in becoming ordained, I know that I stand on the shoulders of others who have gone before me to show me the way.  Fr. Nelson was one of those.  He did his advocating for change a bit on the sly and it often had to be somewhat undercover as I explained above so as not to lose his place in active ministry, which I understood. I had invited him to my ordination and he responded, “Kathy, I’d be there in a heartbeat, but I’d be defrocked before I got out of town!”  So, for myself, having nothing really to lose, as I had no position of power, I could follow the Spirit and do as she asked.

Eighteen years ago, as I completed my Masters’ Degree in Pastoral Ministries at St. Mary’s University here in Winona, I was privileged to be chosen by my class to give the reflection at our closing liturgy. I reflected on the same readings that we are using today as it was at the same time.  Not knowing what the readings were ahead of being chosen, I marveled at how the Spirit had chosen the perfect readings and saw to it that a woman would reflect on them.

First, we are given the wonderful reading from Isaiah today wherein he was really standing out as the prophet that he was, uplifting the feminine face of God. The Israelites are back from exile and Isaiah wants them to know how much their God loves them, has always loved them.  What better, more enduring and nurturing image than of a mother feeding her young—this is true intimacy and the tenderness of the image is one that we must not miss.  Exegetes tell us that the word given by God in Hebrew for “comfort and compassion” is “womb.”  In other words, our God loves us as a mother loves the product of her womb.  Isaiah unfolded this image in a patriarchal culture that was about power and control, much as today.

In all my years as a Catholic, this reading from Isaiah would have been used at least every three years in the Cycle of Readings and I had never heard any priest ever lift up this feminine image for God.  Could we say that it wasn’t the focus of an entirely male clergy?—perhaps—I’ll leave that for you to decide. But I found myself marveling that the Spirit in her wisdom chose a woman to proclaim a message about the feminine side of our Great God.

The Gospel reading for that liturgy as for today from Luke spoke of the harvest being rich, but the workers few. Back 18 years ago, knowing me, I proclaimed to my colleagues and our families that there was an easy solution to the workers being few!  Just as the Scriptures proclaimed the Feminine Face of God and Jesus’ words called for more workers for the harvest, it was clear the intent of our Loving God—it was time for our Church to affirm women in priestly ministry just as our God has always affirmed women.  As Fr. Nelson lifted up, “No one is as blind as the one who refuses to see.”

I began this homily sharing about a man who has gone to his heavenly reward and I will conclude with something he once said to me in confession—“Kathy, you have a good heart!”  To my friend, Fr. Paul Nelson, you too have a good heart—may your good heart rest always now in God’s good peace.

 

 

 

Friends, I was away this Sunday and Pastor Dick Dahl shared this homily with those gathered for Mass. He has given us a fine reflection! 

I recently read the book, “The Spiral Staircase,” by Karen Armstrong. In it she describes working with a Jewish Librarian at a college in North London who said to her: “We (Jews) have orthopraxy instead of orthodoxy.” We focus on right practice. You Christians  emphasize right belief.”

Beliefs can lead us human beings to be extremely cruel. When Karen Armstrong studied the Crusades, she came across an eye witness account of the conquest of Jerusalem in July, 1099. The Crusaders massacred 40,000 Jews and Muslims in two days. The observer declared it “a glorious day,” the most important historical event since the crucifixion of Jesus.

Karen Armstrong’s study of the Crusades confirmed her conviction that stridently-held parochial certainty could be lethal. It changed her and made her determined always to try to listen to the other side, at least to try to understand where the “enemy” is coming from.

The librarian in North London also told Karen about a revered Jewish rabbi, a Pharisee who lived slightly before the time of Jesus. His name was Hillel. A man allegedly once challenged Rabbi Hillel to explain all of Jewish religion while standing on one leg. Hillel’s many students spent their entire lifetimes studying Judaism. Nevertheless, he responded to the challenge. Standing on one leg, he said, “Don’t do anything to others you don’t want them to do to you. All the rest is commentary.”

Orthopraxy, right practice, trumps orthodoxy, right beliefs.  In St. Paul’s famous first letter to the Corinthians he also made that clear when he said, “If I have the faith necessary to move mountains but I am without love, I am nothing.” In today’s second reading Paul warned the Galatians, “You cannot do whatever you feel like doing. If you go snapping at each other and tearing each other to pieces, you will destroy the whole community. Take care. Serve one another in works of love since the whole of the Law is summarized in a single command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

The trouble with this is that we’ve heard it so often that we don’t really  hear it. Another way of saying this that may break through to us is the way Joseph Cambell expressed it in his book The Power of Myth: “Christian love doesn’t matter who the person is.” In other words, it’s not just the neighbor we know or the neighbor we like.

The tendency runs deep to hurt and punish those who think differently from ourselves. We even see it in today’s Gospel. Jesus was traveling with his disciples toward Jerusalem. He sent messengers ahead to prepare for their passing through Samaria. When his followers were told that they would not be welcomed there, James and John said to Jesus, “Lord, would you not have us call down fire from heaven to destroy them?”

But Jesus rebuked them. They simply went on to another village. No need to destroy the Samaritans for their beliefs or their lack of hospitality. Most Catholics were taught to believe that homosexuality is disordered, wrong. This belief was easily distorted in the minds of many to mean homosexuals are bad people. When over 100 people were shot in the gay nightclub in Orlando two weeks ago, Archbishop Cupich of Chicago was the only bishop in the country who condemned the violence for targeting gay, lesbian and transgender victims due to their sexual orientation.

Father James Martin, the editor of the Jesuit magazine America, called out the remaining bishops for failing to address this glaring aspect of the massacre. Father Martin said, “For the Christian there is no ‘other,’ there is only ‘us” because for Jesus there was no “other.”

Archbishop Cupich saw in the gunman, Omar Mateen, “a very lethal combination of an unstable personality,” psychic conflict and homophobia, the incitement to violence offered by ISIS internet propaganda and “finally, the idealization of guns as the best means to take out one’s rage on others.” But, he said, “It was easy access to guns that made possible the horrific attack. It’s the spark that allows that explosion to happen.”

Archbishop Cupich quickly followed up his initial statement with a letter read in Chicago on June 12 before a Sunday night Mass for the lay Archdiocesan Gay and Lesbian Outreach organization, A.G.L.O. “Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,” Archbishop Cupich wrote. “For you here today and throughout the whole lesbian and gay community, who are particularly touched by the heinous crimes committed in Orlando, motivated by hate, driven perhaps by mental instability and certainly empowered by a culture of violence, know this: the Archdiocese of Chicago stands with you. I stand with you.”

He went on, “Let our shared grief and our common faith in Jesus, who called the persecuted blessed, unite us so that hatred and intolerance are not allowed to flourish, so that those who suffer mental illness know the support of a compassionate society, so that we find the courage to face forthrightly the falsehood that weapons of combat belong anywhere in the civilian population.”

The archbishop explained that he has made a point of meeting with members of A.G.L.O. to directly hear the concerns and experiences of L.G.B.T. Catholics in the archdiocese and “just to get to know who they are as persons.” He said, “I don’t think people in positions of leadership in the church sometimes really engage gay and lesbian people and talk to them and get to know about their lives.” He explained his personal outreach is an attempt to emulate the example set by Pope Francis.

“The pope constantly talks about those three words: encounter, accompany and integrate. That’s the template for us in our approach to people who feel excluded, whether [the gay and lesbian community] or other populations out there. That’s the demand that is before us in this moment.…” Archbishop Cupich said that leaders of the church in America have yet to successfully reach out to many gay and lesbian Catholics who feel isolated from the larger church community or alienated by it. He said: “Getting to know people as they are is very, very important.” That can prevent categorizing and dehumanizing people.

He went on, “We’re all different; we all have our ways of understanding ourselves and the way we live our lives and struggle with our humanity. It can be a great joy once you get to know people.” He pointed out that during the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus “looked at a bunch of people who were struggling, who were oppressed, who were hungering for different things in life. But what did he do? He looked at the crowd and said, ‘Blessed are you.’ “He looked at where the blessings and the graces were happening in their lives.” Archbishop Cupich concluded, “I think that the church has to do that as well…helping (people) cultivate the goodness of God’s graces that are in their lives.”

In conclusion, Karen Armstrong wrote that all the great religious traditions were and are in unanimous agreement—the one and only test of a valid religious idea, doctrinal statement, or devotional practice is that it must lead directly to practical compassion. Compassion is a habit of mind that is transforming. The struggle to achieve harmonious relations with our fellows brings human beings into God’s presence.

How we treat others is more important than what we say we believe.

Today Jesus asks the apostles and us to answer a question whose answer will determine the course of our Christian lives. Typical of Jesus, there is a question beneath the question, “Who do you say that I am?” and that is, “What difference do I  make in your lives?”  This truly is the answer Jesus seeks of his apostles, followers, friends—US.  Jesus, like most human beings, near the end of their lives, wants to know if his time on earth has mattered.  Has anything that he has said or done really got to people?  Now if we were ever looking for proof of Jesus’ humanity—here it is!  I have found myself as I’m sure you have, asking as the years roll by, have I made a difference, have I done what I intended with my life—have I been a true follower of my brother, Jesus? So, I think we can understand his question.

Jesus is asking those closest to him in ministry and probably in his life too, what effect he has had on the crowds, on them, in regard to his mission in the world. When we think of our own life journeys to discover who each of us is, his question makes sense to us. We are given life, but we need to discover how to live it—what to do with the gift.  It often takes many years—for some, it takes most of their lives to discover and come to terms with their place in the world.

Joan Chittister, in her monthly, Monastic Way, a daily reflection on a particular monthly theme, writes this month about the journey into the self. She qu0tes David Viscott, a psychiatrist who said, “The purpose of life is to discover your gift.  The work of life is to develop it. The meaning of life is to give your gift away.”  We can see this journey in Jesus’ words to his friends. One of the very poignant bits to come out of the Orlando massacre was the truth of realizing for the first time for some parents of the victims, that their child was gay.

We are each someone’s daughter or son—that is our source, our starting point.  We are not our parents, but they were our beginning, and our task in life is to differentiate ourselves—choosing to be like them or not, depending on what that experience of being parented by them was for us.

When Jesus asks, “Who do the crowds say that I am?”—he is asking THE BIG question that isn’t about who his parents were or what town he came from—he is asking the question that defines each of our existences—“What difference have I made in my world?” Life events allow us moments of knowing that we have made a difference and it is good when that happens.

Our present time calls us in many ways to make a difference.  The news all this week has focused on Orlando, FL and the mass shootings there in a gay night club; a place the regular inhabitants felt was a safe place for them to be, to relax, to be themselves.  A news reporter this week made a statement that really struck me—basically saying that many places that we once thought safe—a school, a church, a movie theater, a night club, are no longer safe places to be.

We are living in a time that allows people regardless of their mental capabilities or radical ideas to purchase weapons to carry out these mass shootings. We had a group in Congress this week that was trying to change this through a filibuster to make those opposed finally take action. Apparently there will be a votes on two significant measures to make us all safer from gun violence this next week because of their courage to stand up and speak their truth.  The weapons that many of these perpetrators of mass violence use are military-style guns that are designed, not for hunting animals, but for hunting humans and we hear the defense given for such weaponry not being outlawed, that it would be a threat to the Second Amendment to bear arms, or “guns don’t kill, people do.”

Then I think of all the people involved in this most recent shooting in Orlando, the families, friends of the slaughtered ones, but also those who lived through this most horrible experience who will relive it again and again for some time. And if that isn’t enough, lay on top of that the fact that this was not a random terrorist shooting, but a particular group of individuals that was targeted because of the way that God created them.

What are we to do? What do we feel compelled to do? We attended a prayer service at the Lutheran Campus Center on Tuesday evening and one of the most poignant parts of it was when each of the 49 names were read aloud concluding with the name of the shooter making 50 of our sisters and brothers who are no longer with us.  With each name, a candle was lit in their memory—a beautiful ritual signifying that their own particular “lights” will continue to shine in the memories of all who knew and loved them.

One of the frustrating things for Jesus must have been the inability of many to get beyond the signs and wonders he showed–his eloquent and challenging words of love, justice, peace, mercy—the miracles of care for the down-trodden, the sick, the fallen, and move to the realization that these words and actions had to be from God. As Nicodemus would proclaim later, a mere human couldn’t speak so, couldn’t act so, unless God were truly with him, and in him, and as a result, with us!  Jesus wanted his followers to see beyond the miracles and accept his actions as a model for what they too must say and do—what we must say and do.

In the wake of yet another mass shooting, an action that many of us believe was preventable, we wonder and are frustrated about what can be done.  We must look into our hearts and respond from the answers we find there.

The people of Jesus’ time apparently thought he was another John the Baptist, another Elijah, even though Jesus wasn’t really like either of these forerunners in temperament or life style. Elijah was a fiery prophet and John the Baptist, a prophet in his own right, was a hermit who chose to live separate from people and exist on a Spartan diet.  Jesus came into the center of people and he and his apostles were often guests at banquets.  These people—Jesus’ neighbors, friends and acquaintances were always looking for the “Messiah” who would do battle for them against their enemies, the Romans and others.

Little did they know that Jesus would be a messiah who would wage a different, greater battle—that of modeling life that was about justice, love, mercy, goodness—challenging the powers-that-be to be people of integrity allowing those most down-trodden and afflicted in their midst, “a place at the table”—a share of the goodness of life given to each of us at birth—our true identity and heritage as children of his Abba God.

We should never doubt, any of us, that Jesus our brother, came for all of us, into a culture that didn’t welcome all to the table and he came into the midst of that injustice and said that God’s house is for all of us and that everyone is welcome.  A good friend once said,  “The road is wide.”  Jesus’ heart and mind was big enough to see that if the synagogue wouldn’t give everyone a place, he would take the meal out to the hillside, where all were welcome.

Another poignant bit from the prayer service at Lutheran Campus Center on Tuesday evening was when Pastor Corrine shared the meaning of the altar cloth we were using that night. It was white with the outline of a body drawn across it in black with a black dot in the center of the body.  The cloth was made after an encounter that Corrine had with a student who came to her and stated that she was a lesbian and wanted to know if she was welcome here, because if she wasn’t, she’d just keep moving on.  Corrine answered, you are welcome and you are loved, period! End of story!

Friends, through our readings today, we come to see not only who Jesus is, but who, ultimately, we are—maybe better said—willing to become.  We see in the reading from Zechariah and in the gospel from Luke the foreshadowing of the cross.  Both readings point to Jesus’ ultimate crucifixion—“they will look on the one whom they have pierced; they will mourn as for an only child, and grieve as people grieve over a firstborn.”  I have read commentary this week about how these 49 massacred sisters and brothers, even though most of us didn’t know them, seemed like family.  We bear grief for them, sorrow for their families because we are ultimately, FAMILY!  These readings have to be faced by each of us—if we will truly follow Jesus.  We must be open to the cross in our lives, in our world, wherever and whenever we see it.  We must take Paul’s words to the Galatians to heart—because we have been baptized into Christ—there are no more distinctions between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female.  All are one in our brother, Jesus, the Christ.

So, my friends, there’s no getting around it—we are one—with no differences that matter—called by our loving God to make a difference in our world—to live as Jesus did.  We have a decision to make though—a question to answer.  If we say that Jesus is the Christ, then our path is clear—we must, if we say that we want to follow him, walk in his footsteps, living fearlessly, doing the right for ourselves and others, even if we must face the cross.  We must keep our sights on Jesus, our brother, who is our hope and who has told us, “I won’t leave you, but will be with you always.”

Yet as we sometimes experience hard things in life that we don’t really understand, we may find ourselves wondering, “Why God, why this now—why don’t you do something, why let this happen?” We wonder if that promise that Jesus would be with us always is really something we can put our faith in. And then we witness the love and care of people all around us.  I’m sure as time goes on, we will continue to hear stories coming out of Orlando of how those facing their own deaths cared for and ministered to others.  It is at such times that we should clearly see and have no doubt about it—our God is present, loving us into wholeness.  One such moment happened in our Congress this week when the leadership called for a moment of silence for the victims in Orlando and a prophet stood up, completely “out of order” and said and I paraphrase, I will not be silent—silence is not what is needed in the wake of such violence, action is! We must remember that our God is present in the goodness of each one of us—when we act on the courage to speak the truth—our God is there!

We began today pondering Jesus’ question, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” Peter answered correctly, “You are the Messiah”—one who came to show us the way to live, to love, to die and to rise.  We, as Jesus, will have made a difference if we live and enjoy the life—the gift given by our loving God, but also remember to share it with others—to be grateful for all that is given and to give that gift away by seeing to it that the least among us receive justice, mercy and love.  Amen? Amen!

The psalm that we sang today beautifully sets the starting point for this homily.  Musician and liturgist, Marty Haugen, in his wonderful rendition of Psalm 63, “O God I seek you, my soul thirsts for you, your love is finer than life” speaks so well of the love of our God for each one of us.  “Fine” is a word that is brought out when we think of the best, most revered, exquisite articles in life: china, precious metals, architecture and art.

When we are speaking of love and use the word, “fine,” we mean something certainly above the ordinary—we might say self-giving, over the top.  This is a love that is long-suffering, that is patient—a love that never gives up on the beloved-one, that trusts and believes in the best that a person can give and knows that if given a chance, eventually this one will step up and become all that they were created to be.

Such is the case in the story of David in the reading from 2 Samuel today.  David had been blessed by God, a shepherd boy, chosen above all his brothers to serve, gifted in many ways, yet he yearned for what wasn’t his, rather than being satisfied with all that God had already given.  Did God turn away? No.

The second reading from Galatians reminds us of a similar story, that of Saul, one so caught up in the law that love eluded him.  Yet, once Jesus opened his eyes, Paul could truly say, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”  And when one knows that, as a follower of Jesus, the course that a person takes in life is necessarily changed.

All the readings for today’s liturgy lift up the mercy of our God and how wonderful for us, because we know just as in these Scripture stories, none of us ever does it completely right, but each day, we must begin anew.

The Gospel story today shows us the humility and strength of a woman, known to be of low reputation trusting that love would prevail as she came into a gathering where she instinctively knew she would be looked down upon.  The Scripture tells us that Jesus was aware of her many sins, but he loved her in spite of the sins that she didn’t commit alone.

Forgiveness is given in all the three stories today because those who had sinned were repentant.  And this is true love, isn’t it?—when God and others can extend a second chance, calling forth the best that a person has to give for the good of all.

This final piece, action, is the completion of each story that began with repentance.   God can and will forgive the wrong doing but the invitation, the expectation really, is that the person will change their life—not continue in the sin.  David and Paul we know go on to change their lives for the good. The unnamed woman we can assume, by her sorrow and grief and the love personally afforded by her brother Jesus who trusted and loved her into a better life, did the same.

This past week, I felt compelled due to local news, to write a letter on the sins of clericalism, a system that has allowed for so much pain and suffering among the People of God.  This system places the clergy over and above the people they serve by affording them rights and privileges the people in the pews do not receive.

The real danger of this system is that it allows the young and the vulnerable to be taken advantage of and once the damage is done, the clergy are promoted and the victims left to basically deal with the aftermath of trust broken and faith shattered.   Additionally, the rest of us are duped into believing that this system is as God intended.

As the Scriptures very clearly suggest today—we have a loving God-yes-but this love that is indeed, “finer than life” demands that responsibility for our actions be taken and that the right thing be done going forward.

The system of clericalism, within the Church we love, must be rooted out for true repentance to happen and our Church to then be guided by the spirit of love, not law.

I dream of our Church becoming one of equals where compassion is given to all, not just the perpetrators of crimes, such as the recent example from the Cathedral and evidenced by letters of support with little mention of the victim.  I dream of a Church where sinners and saints, all of us are loved equally with a love, finer than life.

Because you see my friends, it is a love such as this, free of power over, free of levels of goodness, and instead, filled with compassion and the expectation that all will strive to be honest, trustworthy and responsible for their actions, and faith-filled that would make our Church irresistible to the unchurched who have given up on ever finding God within our doors.

We have much to do friends—let the work begin!

 

 

 

Today’s readings expose us to the most vulnerable in society and challenge us to respond. We find two women; both have suffered the loss of their child, and two men, Elijah and Jesus, are confronted with these losses and are challenged to respond.

In the first case Elijah sought hospitality with a woman outside of the land of Israel and while he is in the woman’s home, her child dies.  She assumes that Elijah is somehow responsible.

In the Gospel reading; we encounter Jesus entering a town as a funeral procession is leaving—a widow has lost her only son. The Scriptures tell us that Jesus responded with pity toward the woman. We can assume that Elijah was experiencing that same emotion when the provider of his hospitality lost her child as well. In fact we see a real intimacy in his care for the child—the Scripture making note of the fact that he “laid the child on his own bed.”

We always have to remember the cultural situation out of which both these stories come. Both these women were doubly disadvantaged—first, as women; they had no rights, no voice.  In their culture, men were responsible for the welfare of all in their households.  Secondly, the two women were both widows, so had no one to protect them.

We don’t know the gender of the child at Zarephath, the town where Elijah was staying, but the child at Nain in the Gospel story, was male—a son.  By the amount of upset that the woman in the story with Elijah seemed to be experiencing; we can assume that her child was male too.  Beyond the sadness of losing a child, losing a male child in this culture, someone who eventually would hold some power within the community, becoming a source of support, was doubly distressing.

Both interceptors in these grief stories, Elijah and Jesus, model the behavior that must be ours—responding to others in need with pity, with love—seeing beyond the immediate predicament to all that it truly means.  Seeing the injustice in a society where all are not equal.  Where half the population, men, have the power and the voice and the other half, women and children, which in truth is more than half, suffer, if not connected to a man.  Where the population is taught that all of this inequality is God’s will.

It’s curious isn’t it that the teachers of such a “truth” are the very ones who have the most to gain by it—the men! We could cut these men a break given the fact that this was more than 2,000 years ago and perhaps they didn’t know any better, but the same situation exists today, so as thinking, compassionate people who should and do know better; we have to ask, why we allow our Church to continue teaching such untruths.  Because you see, when we support untruth by our compliance; we give power to the lie.  A case in point: If you haven’t seen the film, Spotlight, documenting the child sexual abuse by clergy in Boston that came to light finally in 2002,  extending the light across the country and around the world; do see it. A quote from the film, “If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse one.”

This past week, women from Women’s Ordination Conference (WOC), Roman Catholic Women Priests (RCWP), and the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests, (ARCWP) demonstrated in Rome, at the Vatican, during a Jubilee Time that Pope Francis hosted for priests.  We women priests thought that included us too, even though we weren’t invited.  The women successfully met with a cleric there and presented a groundswell petition signed by a great many women and men requesting that Francis reconsider his stance on ordaining women to the priesthood. The women were told that the petition will be given to the pope on Wednesday.

Jesus was one of us, a man of God, who came to turn all this injustice on its head.  He did this by refusing to live as the men around him lived—he challenged the powers in place and called the lie to such behavior. It has been said that the plight for women in this world would be better had God initially came as a woman.  Elizabeth Johnson, theologian par excellence, criticized by Rome, primarily because she is a woman,  for questioning and speaking her truth, has said that Jesus needed to be a man in his society giving the example primarily to men, of servant-leadership—the women already knew how and were living servant-hood. And such prophecy doesn’t go unrecognized, as we know—they killed Jesus for this affrontery.

So what of our society? What has changed? The plight for single women today is not much different.  There is still injustice, inequality all around—people still live on the streets while others have two houses. We still fight wars instead of educating and feeding our children.  Religious so-called leaders still try to control the consciences of people, while they themselves live arrogant, immoral, and dishonest lives. These same so-called leaders uphold God’s call to men to serve at our altars while diminishing God’s call to women, stating from their positions of power that nothing can be done—God has willed it so! Is this the same God who lived so wonderfully in Jesus of Nazareth—who loved so perfectly and turned his society on its head, boldly stating through his life and actions that, “No, this is not God’s intention!” Is it any wonder that in his wake, the people proclaimed, “God has truly visited us!”

Fear makes us want to keep our silence when we witness power that strips members of our communities such as women advocating for ordination, of their status, and even attempts to sever them from the life of the community through excommunication because they do not follow the man-made laws. We must not give in to the fear. We must be willing to speak up to this power which is not of God, not of the Gospel, not of Jesus.  Anglican bishop, John Shelby Spong has said, “Christianity, at its origins was intended to be radical, transforming—a boundary-breaking religious system built on a Gospel message identified with Jesus. Spong continues, Jesus does not let us get away with merely, “keeping the law and not caring for the needy in our midst—Jesus called attention to the prejudice of the day, the Samaritans,” –those considered “less than” by the Torah-touting Jews, because of their different views and practices.

Who are the “Samaritans” in our day?—those we don’t have time for, don’t want to be seen with, are comfortable to let others care for, or not? It must always be remembered that Jesus’ mission among us was all about love—he didn’t come out of God’s “need” for atonement for our sins, which we all learned in our catechisms.  The trouble with such theology is that it takes our focus away from the love. Spong says it well: “Love is manifested in the human willingness to venture beyond the boundaries of safety…love calls us into being.” Really it calls us into being our best selves, what we were created for!

The recent revelations displayed once again in the daily news and across the air waves of impropriety and cover-up within the Catholic church here in Winona cause us all to feel sad, angry and more. And as painful as it is to realize once again that our so-called leaders can’t be trusted to tell us the truth, it is even more painful for the victims of the abuse perpetrated to have to relive the abuse all over again. But friends, the truth must be told and deep sorrow and regret must be expressed by these so-called leaders if we are ever to become the community of believers that Jesus intended.

Being a follower of Jesus calls each of us to courage, to faith, to trust and to the realization that the answers are within us and complacency is not one of them. Let us pray together my friends for the strength to speak our truth and to demand the change that we all need—we have great power if we but use it. Amen? Amen!