Media presentations often want to portray the passion of Jesus in much detail, yet as exegetes tell us, there are only three brief references to it in the passion account today:  First—his sweat became like drops of blood (Lk. 22:44), second—the men who held Jesus in custody were…beating him (Lk. 22:63), and third—they crucified him (Lk. 23: 33).  We are told further that the attention seems to be more on how the passion has and will affect our lives. Diane Bergant, scripture scholar, suggests that Paul’s beautiful hymn of praise to the Philippians seems the best way for us to understand Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection—while he does not minimize it; he also doesn’t spend undo time depicting it.  Rather, Paul really explains the suffering to us and tells us what it means. What happened to Jesus on Calvary and on the way there, happened because Jesus allowed it to happen, Bergant goes on to say.

Paul tells us that Jesus emptied himself, he took the condition of a slave—he humbled himself—he gave up all that was divine to be completely one with us.  That is something that can’t be minimized—he gave up everything to be one with us.  We need to remember this especially when suffering comes to us—we are not alone—our brother Jesus stands with us, as Paul says, he knows all that we have suffered.

In the society in which Jesus lived; he spoke out too powerfully—he questioned power that lorded it over the poor, the downtrodden, the women and the children—he lived and taught boldly that justice for all was a must—not just reserved for the high-born and privileged—or for the priestly class.  For those in Jesus’ time who didn’t like the message; death was the only way to silence such a voice. In our day, Pope Francis has boldly spoken out during his papacy with much the same message as our brother Jesus—we must pray that he continue to extend his reach for real change in our Church for women, for our LGBTQ sisters and brothers, ultimately, for us all—because when there is justice for all, then we all benefit—when there isn’t justice for all, we can’t nor should we enjoy justice ourselves—in other words, we should be convicted in our hearts and never cease striving for the good of all.

Bergant reminds us that the people who carried out Jesus’ execution attempted to humiliate him, but that he never lost his dignity.  We see that he experienced his humanity fully, asking that the cup he was about to bear be taken from him—yet in the end; he would be faithful to what was ahead of him. Those who wanted him silenced thought his death would do that once and for all—but little did they know or understand—that the truth cannot be silenced.  Out of pain and suffering come new life and glory.

This truth is a message we must always remember during Holy Week—we can’t get stuck in the death but must always see it in the light of the resurrection.  So while there is sadness in Jesus’ death—we must remember that it is only through death that new life can come—this is really a message for not just the Easter Season, but for all time.

Each of us has a span of time upon the earth—there is birth and death and all the wonderful and perhaps not so wonderful life experiences that come in between.  Each of us knows this and has experienced it in our own lives, especially as we have lost loved ones.  We don’t always understand death—the why and when of it.  We are not always ready to lose a mate of many years, parents, or close friends. Most people in fact, are not ready for such a significant change.  There is clearly a disconnect for us in our heads and hearts—often it takes a while for the two to catch up with each other.

Jesus lived his seemingly short adult years no doubt with the knowledge that taking a certain course, living and speaking a certain way, would bring him to his physical end that we know as Good Friday.  He was a man of his times—he was well-versed in the Scriptures of the First Testament—he probably prayed Isaiah’s words many times before, knowing that they, as others, would be fulfilled in him—“God gave him a well-trained tongue to speak the truth in a way that would sustain the lowly,” and for those words, he would suffer because truth isn’t always well-received by those in power.  Power can corrupt and blind those who hold it; blind them to the truth that each creature no matter how small and powerless, is as wonderful in God’s eyes as the most powerful.  It would seem that Pope Francis has a sense of this and we have seen him act in this regard in his first three years as pope.

And in all of this there is hope—our loving God does not miss the way the servant, Jesus or the way we as his followers are at times called to suffer.  Isaiah tells us today—the Most High is always there to support us as Jesus was and therefore as he was not dishonored nor shamed, neither will we be when we speak the truth—true power comes from that—not that we would lord it over others, but raise them up to new life.

Even Psalm 22 which is always used during Holy Week and is basically a “crying out” to God about the suffering and the seeming absence of God in the midst of the horrible things being done, has a hope-filled ending—we will praise God because God is always there—God never leaves us.  In fact, as Elizabeth Johnson, in her book, Quest for the Living God, says so well, “Whenever persons are caught in the grip of unjust suffering, where the life of the multitudes is throttled, gagged, slain or starved, there the Holy One is to be found, in gracious solidarity with the poor, calling the oppressors to conversion, giving birth to courage for protest, struggling to bring life out of death.” I find her words very hopeful in that it speaks of a God who is compassionate—who sees the suffering, is there to comfort, but also to challenge those who abuse others to change and become their best selves—to likewise give strength to those who are called to speak a word of truth, of challenge.

The first two readings as well begin with suffering, but end in trust.  Exegetes looking at these scriptures tell us that this is how we should frame Holy Week—recognize the suffering, but hold it in the context of trust in our loving God.  Life is about making choices—the gift of free-will.  The choices have consequences though—Jesus’ crucifixion happened as a direct result of his following his calling to raise up the lowly—to bring balance back—to make justice flow throughout the land.  It would seem this is the job ahead for Pope Francis. We must all pray for him to have the courage and strength to follow our brother, Jesus. We must all pray for each other that we won’t be complacent in our lives as we face our world—that we won’t just see the suffering, but do what we can to bring change, to bring justice, to bring compassion as the Dalai Lama has been advocating in his recent visit to Minnesota.

On this weekend celebrating Palm Sunday and Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem which really speaks to his triumphal entry into human existence; we are praying today for those in our midst living with Down Syndrome—the actual national day of remembrance is Monday, March 21^st this year.  Julie and Fred Gruber and their family have come once again to share their son, grandson and brother Simon with us and to be witnesses—yet another manifestation of our God with us.  We are grateful Fred and Julie that you and your family can be with us to raise our awareness.

And at this point I would invite us to extend our hands in blessing to Simon and to his family asking for all the help they need to raise and be family to him.

May the blessings of our God be upon you, we bless you in the name of our God.  May the blessings of our God be upon you—we bless you in the name of our God.

My friends, if we truly wish to follow Jesus’ lead, life calls us to see the faces of our God around us, in those we may see as different—in the poor, the down-trodden, the abused, all those who suffer unjustly and not just see them, but act in ways that can make change for the better in their lives. And as we do this work, call for justice; we can expect that people won’t always understand, won’t always appreciate our actions.  But we can also live with the knowledge that we are in good company and as the readings proclaim today; we will not be alone in this endeavor—our loving God will stand with us.   May your Holy Week be blessed!

Friends, in my absence, here is last Sunday’s homily by Pastor Dick Dahl–a fine reflection!

During the years I worked as a counselor I kept a quotation taped to my file cabinet where clients and I could see it every day: “To be angry and hold resentments is like swallowing poison and waiting for the other person to die.” The truth behind this is not immediately apparent, but becomes so over time.

One can be hurt by rudeness from another, a thoughtless remark by someone, being contradicted and embarrassed in public. One can be hurt in a deeper and more devastating way—the betrayal by someone we loved and trusted, the infidelity of a spouse, The Dalai Lama was interviewed during his recent visit to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. He was quoted as saying, “When we develop anger, the object appears very negative, but actually that negativeness, 90 percent is your own mental projection.” He warned that if one holds on to angry feelings, that anger can fester and grow. He advised those listening to him: “So (when) something happens—an angry face, a harsh word—the next day, no problem.”

Some of you may have attended the recent Frozen River Film Festival talk at Saint Mary’s University Page theatre by Frederick Ndaramiye from Zwanda. As a 15-year old boy he was brutally dragged from a bus and told to kill all the passengers. When he refused, the rebels themselves killed the passengers and then, to teach him a lesson, cut off his hands. It took several years for him to recover physically and even longer to come to the realization that the only way for him to go forward in life was to move past hate and anger and embrace forgiveness and action. He actually met the person face to face who gave the order for what was done to him and forgave him.

The words of the Dalai Lama and the example of Frederick Ndaramiye are not preaching to us “Thou should….”  They are enlightening us as to what works in the midst of suffering and what does not. The path of forgiveness is not an easy one to follow, but it is the only way to heal, to go forward.

Even though forgiveness was not the subject of today’s first Reading from Isaiah, nevertheless in it God is described as telling the Israelites, “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see I am doing something new!” That message might be taken by us to let go of hurt and resentments, big and small, so that God may do something new in our lives—freedom of spirit to go forward. And if you can stand a brief political aside, even Bernie Sanders ended his recent talk in Rochester by saying, “Love always trumps hate.”

Frederick Ndaramiye has become an artist. He has begun a community center helping hundreds of children with disabilities to experience its motto, “I am able.” Hatred and resentments are disabilities from which we must be freed so that we can be able to love and serve.

Forgiveness, however, does not condone injustice, especially the violence and harm done to the weak, the powerless, especially to children. Forgiveness especially does not restrain efforts to stop ongoing abuse, wherever and by whomever it takes place.

When Jesus faced the woman caught in adultery and was pressured to condemn her, he apparently found a way to expose her accusers with what they had done until they all left him and her alone. “Neither will I condemn thee, he said, but he added,  “Sin no more.” He says the same to us.

When Jesus taught his followers how to pray, he included “forgive us…as we forgive those who hurt us.” But we must not condemn or criticize those who are unable to forgive. They carry a heavy burden in their hearts, not only that which was done to them, but the pain they are unable to let go of, a pain most of us may not begin to comprehend. We can only pray for their release. We have the unbelievable example of Jesus, tortured, humiliated and nailed to beams of wood, somehow saying for his tormentors, “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.”

The most challenging part of forgiveness may be to forgive ourselves, to accept that we are forgiven. I know there is a tendency to rationalize our faults. But in our heart of hearts, we know when we have been wrong, when we have failed to be the people Jesus calls us to be. In this year of mercy, may we be merciful to others and to ourselves. As Paul said in today’s Second Reading, “I have no justice of my own based on observance of the law. The justice I possess is that which comes in faith in Christ. It has its origin in God….I give no thought to what lies behind but push on to what is ahead.”

 

Last Sunday we talked about the mystery of God and of how God shows us some of who God is, but not all.  We get more of that this weekend as the Scriptures show us a most gracious God–one passionately in love with all of creation—most caring and even prodigal in that caring—loving us to excess! Most of us humans tend to love rather selfishly—we love because we have been loved, and often times, if we haven’t been loved, or been treated badly, our first reaction is certainly not to love our abusers or those who have mistreated us.

This year I have been doing a great deal of reading on the clergy sex abuse crisis probably due to the showing of the film, Spotlight documenting the investigative work of the Boston Globe in 2002.  I had previously read quite a bit on this travesty but my reading this time is to try and understand why this happened in a Church that professes to follow our brother Jesus who according to our Scriptures always treated children with the greatest of care and love. In fact, he spoke rather harshly about what should happen to those who would ever hurt or lead them astray.

The closest I can come to any kind of understanding is, as the old adage goes, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”  Certainly there is more to it than that—the whole clerical system that teaches these men that they are a grade above everyone else, above the law even, plays a role.  Accepting men who haven’t the maturity needed or vetted for their ability to be true servant leaders and training them not to question,but to accept and protect the institution over and above those that they are called to serve goes a long way toward giving birth to a system that not only allows abuse to happen but looks the other way when it is discovered.

What professionals who have looked into the phenomenon of clericalism and the sins that it spawns have found is a very sick institution that they say needs to be dismantled, needs to start again, needs to get back to the message of Jesus.

The clergy sex abuse crisis in all its revelations has done more to discredit the Catholic church in its hierarchy, cause it to be diminished in the eyes of the world than any other event in its long history. And against this backdrop; we hear the story of the Prodigal.  Our God is truly a prodigal lover—one who does it “over-the-top.”  Our loving God calls us to the same kind of loving.  Prodigal goodness—over-the-top may be as hard for us to accept as is prodigal selfishness—and downright prodigal evilness.

As much as we don’t want to think of pedophilia within those called to serve, those we have trusted, this fact must be faced and addressed.  The notoriety that Spotlight has received in being named, Picture of the Year, along with the organization, SNAP (Survivors’ Network of Those Abused by Priests) has done more to heal its victims and their families than anything our Church officials have done.

When the Boston cover-up was finally exposed in 2002 which was huge in itself, but proved that the cover-up was basically worldwide, victims of these heinous crimes, and let’s be clear; we are talking about rape of little children, were further abused by Church officials who stated that they were only after the money paid out in settlements—no prodigal or even minimal charity or understanding shown here.

Victims have said time and again, they only wanted to be listened to, to receive understanding and some heartfelt sorrow for what was done to them.  Even to this day, we have yet to hear any heartfelt sorrow from Church officials, the bishop of the Winona diocese included—the most we get is, “mistakes were made!” SNAP has reported that with the first showing of Spotlight increased numbers of victims were able to address their victimization of decades ago for the first time.

A question that we need to look at in the context of the story of the Prodigal who squanders all the good of the loving parent is how our God might look on the actions of the pedophile priests and those involved in the cover-up—it is one thing to be a sick individual committing unspeakable harm to children and quite another to cover-up the crime and make it possible for the crimes to continue.  From all that has come out on this issue, one can only believe that the so-called leaders would not have done what they have to date to say, “no more” had they not been forced into it—not very prodigal, in the good sense, of these so-called leaders.

One thing that we must not lose sight of in the parable of the Prodigal Child and the Prodigal Parent is that the over-the-top love of the parent didn’t come into play—the running of the parent to embrace the child until the child had in fact decided to return to his father and all that this implies, the turning around of his life.

It would seem that the “shepherds” of this Church need to make this next step looking honestly at themselves and admit openly and publicly how they have squandered the loving gifts of our prodigal God—choosing power over love. Only then, can we move on as the Church of our brother Jesus.  And that would truly be something to celebrate!  As Jesus through the parable states and I paraphrase, these were lost and now they are found—they were dead and have come back to life!

All of our readings today speak to the over-the-top love of our God.  The first reading from Joshua recounts the end of the journey of the Israelites from their slavery in Egypt as their loving God leads them into the land flowing with milk and honey. By rights they probably deserved punishment for all the times in their human, stubborn natures that they turned from God—but no, again we see the gracious goodness of God toward them.

In the second reading from Paul, he tells the Corinthians and us that we aren’t required to offer sacrifice anymore because of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection which have been to reconcile us before our loving God who has loved us in a prodigal way—always! All that the Creator asks in return is that we be reconciled with the rest of creation—that we would honestly strive to be people of peace, love, joy, mercy and justice.  To listen to one of the candidates running for the highest office in our country this year, you wouldn’t believe that this in on his mind at all.  Equally disturbing is that his message is being accepted by many!

And that is the hardest lesson about reconciliation rather than aggression.  But in seemingly hard times in our lives when we are faced with evil versus good—truth , it is good to remember the facts of the Gospel story. The returning prodigal realizes what he has done and with the realization of wrong-doing, comes the desire to make a change in his life. Until one comes to that conclusion, there is little that can be done in our Church or elsewhere in our world.

Love is hard work and there simply is no way around it—love calls us to do the right thing even when it would be so much easier to forget the wrong-doing, and take the easy way out.  We must remember that the rejoicing is over the prodigal’s return with the understanding of a need to change, not the enabling of continued bad behavior. Taking one back, giving them another chance, simply allows for the change to happen.

What Jesus is trying to teach us today is that our God loves us enough to call us to repentance—to be our best selves and when we choose that as the prodigal son did in the story today, that is reason to rejoice.  Hopefully, the men in our Church who wish to be our leaders would hear the message of Jesus when they read the story of the Prodigal this weekend. That is my prayer for them and our Church.

Our Lenten task today and this next week might be to reflect on the gracious goodness of God in our lives—of the times, but for the strength of God, we would have floundered.  We all know of God’s love through the concrete examples of love shown us by family members and friends. As we remember the gracious goodness extended to us, let us my friends, extend that goodness forward to all in our lives.

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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