Friends, this weekend we are asked to contemplate the ministry of hospitality in the context of service to others. We begin with Abraham and Sarah and their life together as nomads in the desert.  For them and people like them, hospitality was key in their lives because travelers depended on the hospitality extended by those one met along a journey. This rule of hospitality was an expectation whether the traveler was friend or foe and was extended religiously to one and all.

It might strike us as strange that Abraham and Sarah would go to such an extreme as to kill the fattened calf, but for a guest, nothing was too much. We see the same sense of hospitality in the Gospel passage concerning Martha and Mary; only here, Jesus asks Martha to see the bigger picture.  Paul, in his letter to the Colossians is asking them to also see the bigger picture—to see beyond the suffering that life sometimes brings in following in Jesus’ footsteps to the joy also present in such a life.

All the tension and strife of the last several weeks in our country, with the killing of black men by police and the killing of police by someone looking for revenge, calls each of us to see the bigger picture too.

President Obama, in his message of condolence this week, called each of us beyond the grief we are feeling over the killing of five police officers and the wounding of nine others to see the whole picture of race relations in our country.  As he said so well and I paraphrase; it is about the disparity in equality in our country, as we spoke about last weekend—the higher rates of pull-overs, higher rates of killings by police, higher rates of sentencing of black individuals and so on. It is about all of us as a nation forgetting about inner cities that have no jobs, no chances for education and moving ahead.  It is about failing to take responsibility for all of this as individual Americans and giving all that responsibility to our police officers and then wondering why it all reaches the boiling point from time to time.  The freedoms we enjoy in this country come with a price and that is responsibility—each of us is responsible to see that all enjoy these freedoms.  Sigmund Freud wrote: “Most people do not really want freedom because freedom involves responsibility.  And most people are frightened of responsibility.”

The readings for this weekend call us to be creative in our belief—in our lives, as we try to do the right thing for the right reason—to see what is most important in any situation and then choose the better part, as Jesus instructed Martha.  It is one of those head versus heart situations again—law over love choices that we are so often called to make as Jesus’ followers. Freud calls it “responsibility”—I would call it our “mission” as Christians.

Friends, our God is trying to help us to see that we have to go deeper, beyond our fears to see what is really being asked of us.  In the situation of race relations in our country, which we have seen recently is only exasperated by the proliferation of guns, it is time that we must move beyond the fear, see the whole picture and do the right thing—demand of our Congress safety measures as a start.  Then, as a safer nation, we can begin to tackle the racism that has raised its ugly head so many times throughout the presidency of Barack Obama.

Abraham and Sarah, our parents in the faith had a strong belief—they were people of principle and did the right thing that their culture asked of them—to extend hospitality to travelers whose lives would be in danger if they didn’t tend to their needs.  They are our models in the way we need to go—we may have to be inconvenienced to care for each other as were Abraham and Sarah in giving hospitality.

We know that these particular travelers of our Gospel story today were no ordinary travelers as they carried a special message for this elderly couple to wrap their hearts and minds around. The travelers seem anxious to share the news that Abraham and Sarah have waited their whole married life to hear, that at last, they too will be parents.  Instead, the travelers have to wait until the couple has done the tasks that hospitality demands.

Today’s readings are all about seeing what is most important in a series of good things that we might do—while it is good and necessary to be hospitable, caring for others, there are different kinds of hospitality as Jesus indicates in his response to Martha.  Listening, really listening to another is a priceless gift of hospitality.  Abraham and Sarah could have done less by way of caring for their travelers’ physical needs and spent more time listening to their guests, finding out much sooner the gift that these particular travelers had to share. Our black brothers and sisters need the gift of listening too, from their white sisters and brothers—whites need to hear the black stories so that there can be more acceptance and appreciation of what their daily lives look like. Last week, we spoke about, “who is my neighbor?”

Our community, through written media has been discussing the slogan, “Black Lives Matter” juxtaposed with that of “All Lives Matter.”  Some whites are not able to get the point of the “Black Lives Matter” slogan. Ray Dretske of Winona, this week, in a letter had this to say:

“The problem with the saying, “All Lives Matter” is that it erases the need to do anything about racism.  It allows us to say the words, and then just go back to our regularly scheduled lives. White America needs to take responsibility for the problem and finally begin addressing solutions; it’s not something blacks can fix.”

On face value, Jesus’ words may be hard for us to grasp as they were for Martha.  After all, she was simply doing what her culture told her to do in this situation—take care of the traveler who came her way.  As always though, Jesus asks her and us, to go further.

It is important for us to know that Jesus was not “picking on” Martha or criticizing her—he only says something to her when she objects that her sister, Mary, is not doing her part.  He is calling her to more in her life—to realize that Mary is caring for him too and in this context, perhaps a greater way, by listening to his words.

Jesus is asking Martha and each of us to grow out of our comfort zones, to stretch, to be creative, to be responsible as Freud and Ray Dretske put it—to find new ways to serve all “travelers” who come our way. Listening, as in my commentary about our black sisters and brothers from the context of white people of privilege in this country is so very important.  When we are busy about many things—all of which probably have purpose and are needful; we may miss the most important thing happening.

The Mary/Martha story is more about doing the right thing for the right reason, a good point for us to consider. Martha and Mary were both faithful disciples of Jesus—Martha is caring for Jesus’ physical needs, Mary is listening to his words, giving him spiritual comfort. If truth be told, part of Martha’s need is to be recognized for the gifts she is supplying to make Jesus’ visit comfortable and pleasant, and her human hope, no doubt, is that Jesus will recognize her in a special way for the gifts she is providing.  The same might be said of Abraham and Sarah—perhaps the killing of the fattened-calf wasn’t necessary and perhaps Abraham had his eye on being known in the area as the one who cared best for travelers, so his motives may not have been totally pure.  In Jesus’ time, he is gently calling Martha and us from our selfishness and asking us to grow.

My friends, I believe Jesus is asking us to be well-developed people, good listeners, caring for people in physical, spiritual and emotional ways—as whole people, in other words. This total care and awareness of what people need will allow each of us to become our best selves so that all the “travelers” who come our way, might see in us, our brother Jesus.

 

My friends, today we are challenged to ponder the question of “who is my neighbor?” within the context of the two great commandments of loving God and my neighbor as myself. The Israelite people come from a long history of studying and interpreting the law—one only has to look to the Old Testament book of Leviticus to know and understand that this people had law-keeping down to a fine art.

What this people was challenged by Moses to see, as related in our reading from Deuteronomy today and later by Jesus was the fact that the law is written on their hearts—the words of love, compassion and care are already in their mouths—in their psyches—they, and us by extension, are already hard-wired for loving—God made us this way—we only have to act upon it.

In the recent speech by our president, Barrack Obama, after the second shooting by the police of a black brother here in Minnesota, he challenges us basically with the same question as Jesus in today’s Gospel, in the simple statement, “We are better than this as a nation.” This was in regard to the fact that our black brothers and sisters are stopped by police 30% more than are whites, once pulled over; they are three times more likely to be searched and are shot by police at more than twice the rate of whites. African American individuals are arrested at twice the rate of whites and are 75% more likely to be charged with offenses carrying mandatory minimums—they receive almost 10% longer sentences than whites for comparable crimes.  Jesus asks us to consider, “Who is my neighbor” and our president says, we all as a nation, can do better!

When the Book Shelf closed this spring, I picked up, It Takes a Village by Hillary Clinton— in deference to the election year, a book that I had always wanted to read.  It lays out her life-long care and passion to raise our children well.  Given what each one needs to grow well—first the basics; food, shelter and clothing and moving on to the next and probably more important elements; love, care and respect; each child can grow to become an asset to this world, and as Hillary stresses throughout, it takes a village, all of us, to make it happen.

In the president’s speech, he mentions that we ask much of our police force at times to patrol cities that we have forgotten about, where jobs are scarce as are good schools—where, as Hillary has said, “the village” hasn’t always cared well for its children.

While I believe that we are hard-wired to love, we also know that those who aren’t loved as infants and small children aren’t necessarily going to grow up to be loving people.  Children also need guidance about right-living—how to live in our world with others. And we have all witnessed what happens when children don’t get this guidance.

In some respects, given the fact that God made us to be people of love, it would seem that this shouldn’t be a hard thing to do.  Yet, as we see in Leviticus and in our reading from Deuteronomy today, Moses needed to remind the people to keep their eyes on the heart of the law, not merely the letter of the law.  You will recall from last week—Paul let us know that merely performing ritual isn’t enough—we have to engage our hearts.  And then there is free will—both a blessing and a curse at times—a gift that each of us must struggle with to become all that God intended us to be.

By the time of Jesus, there must have been a true disconnect between the letter of the law and the heart of the law for him to tell the story of the Good Samaritan.  There was also apparently, in their thinking, a disconnect, as to what it meant to love God and to love their neighbor as themselves.  Jesus makes it clear that if we say, “we love God,” we must extend that love to our neighbor.

And yet, I struggle as I know you do with those who misuse and abuse power in Church and State. I struggle to love those who refuse to see, because they are in power, that there is any different way to come at a problem—that listening to where another is coming from is what we are called to do in our world from both a human and a spiritual standpoint if we ever hope to live in peace on a personal, national or international level.  Our president’s call was not to us as members of any political party, but as Americans.  We can’t refuse to help immigrants out of fear; we can’t label whole races, cultures or denominations as bad because of the evil of some within any particular group.  And finally, in light of the recent black shootings, I am called to task as a white person of privilege simply by how I happened to have been born to not have to worry about my adult children being pulled over for little or no offense because their skin is white too.  And I have to ask if in my life, I am doing all that I can to safeguard the children of my black brothers and sisters because the danger is not in my own backyard.

So, we must face the question—who is my neighbor? Jesus tells the people and that includes us, that our neighbor is anyone basically who needs us—our neighbor has no gender, culture, race or particular way of life—and further, our neighbor must be treated as we would want to be treated.  President Obama said in conclusion to his speech, “What if this happened to someone in your family? How would you feel?”  And friends, until we can truthfully answer this question and do something to change “the way it is” mentality, we can’t say that we truly love God.

Treating others as we would want to be treated has to be the starting and ending point and if it were, we could accomplish so much—so much!  If we wouldn’t want the evil we are about to do, inflict on another by word or deed, to happen to us, then we simply should not do it to another. We need to stop—stop—stop—before we act!

Part of the trouble is that we live in such a fast-moving culture that wants everything now, where claimants to Second Amendment rights demand automatic, rapid-fire weapons designed only for killing humans, and all this has left us as much less of a reflective people. What indeed would you do if what happened recently in Louisiana and in our beloved state of Minnesota happened to someone you love? So, let us stop and reflect, finding a better way that calls us to our best selves—the part of us, hard-wired to love.

We see an interesting twist in today’s Gospel—the model for right behavior comes from the one most despised and looked down upon by the Israelite people—the Samaritan.  He is considered “less than” by probably everyone mentioned in Jesus’ story—even the man he is helping; yet, this despised one, shows the way.  Which again lifts up the truth that goodness is not inherent to individuals because of race, gender, nationality and the same can be said of evil.

I have shared before who the Samaritans were and why they were despised, but in order to make the reading more understandable, a bit of review. When the Babylonians took the Israelite people into exile, not all the people were taken. The people living around Samaria were Jews too, but during the time of exile, they intermarried and became lax in other Jewish practices too.  When those in exile returned, they began to look down on the Samaritans for lacks in rigidity following the letter of the law—they seemingly had forgotten the heart of the law. This judgmental attitude on the part of the returned exiles, given their own treatment in captivity might strike us as strange given Moses challenge to always get beyond the letter of the law to its heart.

We might look to ourselves in this regard. As I shared earlier, I often struggle with those in both Church and State who talk the good talk, but fall far short of the heart component. There is a contingent in Rome and in more conservative groups throughout our Church who are worried that Pope Francis will destroy the Church that they have become comfortable with—a practice that involves law first and second, if ever, love.  One cannot look at the life of Jesus and see anything but love first.

So, how do we stack up? I think we all have been subject to the judgments that happen in a split second upon meeting someone new who is different in any way from those we generally associate with. And if we never take the next step to move out of our comfort zone, to get to know the person behind the outward appearance, we may very well miss a wonderful connection.

Today’s readings speak of loving God and our neighbors as ourselves, which is many times not easy.   In fact it will often demand that we pay a price to fulfill our call as Jesus’ followers—we may be the only one and we may stand alone. The Samaritan cared for one who was in his culture, his enemy.  He could do this because God’s law of love was written on his heart. He may not have followed the letter of the law—but he had the heart component down!  How about us, do we act on a regular basis out of our hard-wiring to love, or is our faith just on the surface? The Levite and the priest were on their way to the temple and would have become ritually unclean had they stopped to assist their brother who had fallen in with robbers.  Evidently the letter of the law was their guide, not the heart of the law.

Who are the people that we perhaps don’t want to be seen with? Is our faith big enough to include any and all in our circle of friends?  Because that is what we say we believe in here at All Are One. Sometimes we don’t want to be bothered, but often times it takes little time to give the gift that each of us is already hard-wired to give.

My friends, our call today is the same as for the Levite, the priest, the Samaritan. We must go the extra mile; pay the price of truly being Jesus’ followers by standing with our brothers and sisters in need. As we reflect on the violence of this past week, the disparity in the freedoms in this country and what we can do about that, we must remember that there is one thing we know for sure in this country—there are far too many guns with little or no restrictions on who can purchase them, which makes all of us less safe and vulnerable. I believe that most of us would agree that when a situation escalates the prominence and availability of guns makes that situation immediately more dangerous. So, let’s be calling our Congress people and demand the votes that will make all of us safer.

The book I mentioned earlier by Hillary Clinton, published in 1996 spoke of a time when all the measures now being asked for to make our country safer were in place—waiting periods to purchase, background checks and bans on the types of weaponry that could be purchased.  All these measures have been dismantled over the years because the letter of the law has become more important than the heart of the law.

My friends, may God bless us all as we strive to love with all our hearts, minds and souls.

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!