My friends, as we continue on in Ordinary Time, a good place it seems to start today is with the Wisdom writer who said, in the 1^st reading that, [we] “are modeled [each of us] on the divine.”  That seems to go along well with the writer, whose name I am forgetting, who said, “We are spiritual people here, having a human experience.” 

   The idea that we “are modeled after the divine” is not just a “static” fact, but one that comes with a responsibility to strive to be our best.  The Wisdom writer goes on to say that “God created all things to be alive —[everything] is meant to be wholesome,” and additionally that, “justice lasts forever.”

   Now, if it is true that, “justice lasts forever,” and that our brother Jesus, came to “show us the way,” it would seem that part of our responsibility as his followers would be to have an awareness of the times and places where “justice isn’t equally given out in the lives of others, and this, by the way, includes ourselves!  Sometimes in our zeal to help others live a better life, we forget about ourselves.  This is often the case in the lives of many women who tend for the most part to be the givers/helpers in society, not often remembering themselves. 

   Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians in the 2^nd reading today, speaks about what really needs to be a “balancing” act in our lives. He quotes Scripture saying, “the one who gathered much had no excess, and the one who gathered little did not go short.”  In perhaps more simple language we could say, “at present, I have a surplus, and I need to, as a follower of Jesus, view that against another’s present need” –one day the surplus may belong to another, and I may be in need, with the hope that others will share with me! 

   Earlier, I spoke of women not always remembering to include themselves in the equation of “giving to others.”  Jesus, in today’s Gospel selection from Mark addresses this issue through the lives of two females.  It’s important from the get-go that we be aware that neither Jairus’ daughter, nor the woman with the unusual blood flow are named—the same is often true in other stories where children of either sex are spoken of—neither women, girls or boys had any standing in the culture in which Jesus lived and ministered, so why name them was probably the thought. 

   Next, let’s look at how Jesus handles each situation:  In a general way, wherever he finds injustice, his natural response seems to be, “to heal” –to bring understanding, compassion, and love. 

   In the case of the little, unnamed girl, Jesus hears with compassion the pain of her father, as he asks Jesus to heal her.  Jesus, I believe, is also trying to address our human tendency, to see the “glass half-empty” as opposed to “half-full.”  When the attendant arrives to say that “the little girl has died,” Jesus counters this with, “she is only sleeping.” 

   On one level—the surface that is, the child is dead, but Jesus wants to strengthen their faith—to see what may be beyond their human eyes.

   In the second story of the woman with the unusual blood flow, he is again working at addressing and strengthening the peoples’ faith. The woman with the physical condition already believes in something she can’t explain—”if I can only touch him,” I will be healed, and she believes in the miracle the moment it happens! 

   Additionally, I believe Jesus is trying to uplift the injustice that women face in his society by the mere fact of how they happened to have been born, and as such, he cares for, touches and heals females who suffer not only physically, but emotionally, and spiritually by the lack of equal justice in their world that doesn’t even name them! These are acts he wouldn’t have to do in his society, but then we know that he is always about, “doing something new!”

   Edward Foley, Capuchin friar, is well-known in  his book, From Age to Age: How Christians Have Celebrated the Eucharist for addressing Jesus’ desire that all would be treated equally, especially when speaking of who was welcomed in the temple.  As we know, women and children were relegated to a separate section apart from the men, and women experiencing any blood flow weren’t allowed at all along with anyone having any type of illness.  Jesus, Foley says, “took the meal to the hillside where everyone was welcome!”

   We can hardly miss the connection today to the hierarchical rules and regulations about who can present to receive the Eucharist.  It must be remembered that the invitation to receive the Eucharist does not ultimately come from the clergy, but from God, thus it is not the responsibility of humans to decide who is worthy or acceptable! That is why we women priests hold up the bread before it is received by all and say, “This is the Body of Christ, how blessed are we who are called to this table!” instead of, in the traditional Church we hear, “O Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I will be healed!”  The difference in the two statements seems to be that, in the 1^st, we receive with “gratitude,” rather than in the 2^nd, our stance is more about “shame.”

   In conclusion friends, I would direct us back to the Wisdom writer in the 1^st reading who said so well  that, “God created all things to be alive…wholesome,” and that each, could, should experience, justice.  Jesus often addressed “fear” in his ministry, saying, “Don’t be afraid, just trust, and believe.”  Our brother Jesus wants us to live and work in our world in like fashion, dispelling fear and shame, uplifting justice for all—touching and healing our world as he did his.  Jesus’ primary mission in our world was to make clear that his, and our “God’s goodness,” is as the psalmist says today, “for a lifetime.”  Our mission, like his, in our world, can be no less—or as Anglican Bishop John Shelby Spong is fond of saying, “over-the-top-love” for all, to the best of our ability.  Amen?  Amen!

My friends, the readings for this Sunday really call us to consider how strong our faith is, and if we place that faith in our loving God who at times, can feel somewhat, “intangible,” or do we place our faith in the more “tangible” things of this world—people, material possessions, and so on?

   The characters in today’s readings from the Old and New Testaments are having this same struggle, so looking at their experiences can perhaps guide our search. 

   We all know the story of our Old Testament brother Job, which isn’t included in today’s 1^st reading, but knowing that story helps us better understand the text that we do have today. Job, as we know has lost all that was important to him in his physical life; wife, children, animals, his health, and at one point, even the respect of his neighbors who couldn’t understand why he would not turn his back on his God who in their minds had caused all of his loss, or if not, certainly didn’t stop it!

   In today’s 1^st reading a voice rises above the storm, answering Job’s question of where God was in all this turmoil.  God’s simple answer to Job is—“I have been with you always!”  My friends, our struggles throughout life often call us to this same question—“God, are you there, do you care that I am suffering?”

   God’s answer, spelled out to Job in this 1^st reading should be taken to heart by us as well—“If I could control the chaos that creation was, I can control and support what is happening to you as well!” 

   We don’t fully understand why suffering happens in our lives and if truth be told, most of us would just as soon, it pass us by.  It is one of those things that we can only see in an unclear way—around the edges, as Paul speaks of in another place. 

   I always find that looking to our brother Jesus, to see how he reacted to what his life brought, gives me strength to do the same. In his humanity, as his life was ebbing away on the cross, his struggle to keep believing that his God was, “still with him” is expressed so poignantly in the words, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” But through his patience, and his prayer, we know that Jesus’ faith was sustained, as in the end, he could say, “Into your hands God, I commend my spirit.” 

   With Jesus, as Paul tells the Corinthians in the 2^nd reading today, “the old order has passed away…now everything is new!”  Jesus was constantly looking at his world, turning things upside-down when needed to insure that everyone had a chance at a full life.  He asked and continues to ask today that his followers do more, be more, but at the same time, he doesn’t ask more of us than he is willing to do himself.

   I am presently reading a quite, wonderful, new book about Jimmy Carter by Jonathan Alter.  The title is, His Very Best: Jimmy Carter, A Life.  There came a time for this ex-president, who had always considered himself quite religious, when he was compelled to move to a new place in his religious/spiritual life.

   Being from Georgia, he grew up and into manhood during a time in the south when the racism that undergirds our nation was coming to the forefront, demanding justice.  Being that Jimmy had many political aspirations, he often straddled the fence, not speaking publicly about what, in his heart, he knew to be wrong—it was often a delicate dance for him even after his faith told him that he couldn’t just “talk,” but had to “walk” what he supposedly believed. Jimmy found the words of a Baptist minister at this point in his life most compelling.  The minister asked, “If you were arrested for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict?” 

   My friends, faith for each of us can be a slippery thing—Paul prayed during his life— “I believe O God, help my unbelief!”  Our humanity gets in the way for us just as for the apostles in today’s Gospel from Mark.  They are dealing with their life-long nemesis, “the sea” and they are afraid.  And to make matters worse, their friend and teacher, Jesus, whom they have seen heal and care for others, is asleep!

   It is almost comical to read, even in its seriousness, as Jesus—now awakened by his fearful followers, asks them, “Why were you so frightened?” (Where’s your faith?)  I too find myself convicted by Jesus’ question, “Have you no faith?” As we all know, “faith” is most often easier to talk about, than it is, “to have, to act upon, in times of trouble.  But then Jesus does, what Jesus always does—he calms, he reassures, he brings peace, and the apostles can only marvel, and hopefully we can too when we are afraid—“who is this that even the wind and sea obey?”

   Sister Ilia Delio speaks most beautifully in her book, The Emergent Christ about “this something new” that Jesus is doing in the lives of us humans who are trying to believe.  As the “Christ,” Jesus, she says, becomes so much more in our lives, and to so many more than as “Jesus” alone.  As the “Christ,” Jesus is basically, big enough to be meaningful to all, showing all human creation how to become all that we were meant to be, and in fact, she calls that, “heaven.”

   Jesus, through the calming of the sea, shows his apostles and us a greater truth—no matter what befalls us, with God by our side, we have no need to fear.

   And my friends, with that assurance, we can do the good in our world that Jesus did in his, and when we are afraid, especially if it feels like we are standing alone, we must remember that we aren’t—that he is right there with us.

   This is the real Eucharistic revelation that needs to happen in our world—that we, each of us becomes “the bread, the body of Christ here, now! Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, our Jewish brother spoke well to the issues of where is religion today—why it is declining, and I will end with his words, which I have shared in the past, but which bear a re-hearing:

       It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the

        eclipse of religion in modern society.  It would be more honest to blame religion  

        for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it

        became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid.  When faith is completely replaced by

        creed, worship by discipline, love by habit, when the crisis of today is ignored

        because of the splendor of the past, when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a

        living fountain, when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than

        with the voice of compassion—its message becomes meaningless.

Amen? Amen!    

My friends, all the readings for this weekend are mostly quite positive in speaking about our relationship with our loving God, especially in the person of our human brother, Jesus, who became the Christ.  Paul tells us in the second reading to the Corinthians that “we walk by faith, and not by sight,” and we realize how true this is, especially in the statement that I made above about, “Jesus becoming the Christ!”  We do truly take this on faith that indeed our God is big enough to be “meaningful” to all, in all—as the Christ!  Now, if our Church hierarchy could be more inclusive in how they look at who God may indeed be!

   The images given us in each reading are about “growth” and what happens, or can happen when a power (God)—Someone, or something is alive and well in our lives.  Ezekiel speaks about this force as the Cedars of Lebanon, as does the psalmist in the selection from #92 today.  Cedars were large, massive, and strong trees in their time, akin to “God” in their lives—able to protect and care for them. 

   Mark’s gospel speaks of the mustard seed which is said to be the “smallest of seeds,” yet grows into the “biggest of shrubs,” and even the “birds of the air nest there.” 

   Now, we probably can all agree that these reading selections for today should not just be taken on a merely surface level, because then what we have is simply some nice stories about how trees grow. No, God and God’s prophets have more in mind for us. 

   Ezekiel’s first reading can be taken as a great comfort in our attempts to follow Paul’s command that, “we walk by faith.”  The prophet Ezekiel tells us that “the tall trees, God stunts, while the low trees, God makes grow.”  Perhaps a statement on how our God will always lift up the “lowly” first! And the psalmist suggests, seemingly in agreement with Ezekiel that “the just will flourish like the palm tree.”  The psalmist continues, “Our God is just, my Rock…[who protects].

   So again, so much here in these readings about “who God is for us, how this God will be present to us, and with us, how God wants us to live, and how this same God will protect us.  I would encourage a re-reading of Ezekiel’s reading this next week if we are needing comfort in “walking by faith,” when we don’t have full “sight.” 

   I am sure each of us can look back at times that required us to “walk in faith,” when we weren’t sure of the outcome, and perhaps we would say that God’s Spirit was with us, giving us the strength to move ahead when we couldn’t yet see the outcome—times when we made life choices, for education, marriage, having children, purchasing a home, and so on. Each of you, along with me, “walked in faith,” in starting and participating in this parish—one that the hierarchy of our Church often called, “playacting.” For me, I have always looked at what we do here by its “fruits,” and as long as I see us growing spiritually and doing the good that God calls each of us to, we will continue. 

   In Mark’s gospel for this weekend, the mention of that “smallest of seeds,” the mustard seed, is such a wonderful way to think of something “small” –the invitation from our loving God, to do something capable of becoming life-giving in so many ways, such as our beloved AAO experiment here in Winona. 

   This past week, I had the opportunity to travel back, as it were, in my memories to a time as a young, married woman with small children, when I was part of a rural parish—Immaculate Conception—Wilson, the parish where Robert and I married each other over 50 years ago now, and had our children baptized.  The passage of time with the deaths of many over the years, changing spiritualities, the clergy abuse crisis, and other matters, caused the numbers attending to dwindle, to the point that the powers-that-be determined that it was no longer a viable parish, and with the shortage of male priests, could no longer be kept open.

   The church was officially closed two years ago and has been used since as an oratory, for funerals mainly, but weddings too.  The meeting this past week was to determine what, practically speaking, needs to be done with the church building going forward. 

   I was saddened to realize that the over-riding decision seems to be that the building will be taken down—demolished possibly within the next year.  I don’t say this with any animosity per se toward those wanting/needing this end, as I haven’t been an active member there for many years, but only in a general way toward our Church that doesn’t seem to be more creative, in its many church closures, of its “temples” housing so many wonderful, memorable, and poignant spiritual memories of a community, than to simply, tear them down.  Where are the pastors, leaders, filled with “mustard seeds” who might see such situations as “closed buildings” and envision “greater shrubs” of new life? –offering perhaps spaces to house the homeless, or as fixer-uppers for just the right family. 

   It is at times like this that beyond, “walking-in-faith,” that I also need to have “hope” that our “better angels” perhaps can break through in our world.  We need such a Church as well as a State, where actions such as our United States Supreme Court voted on Friday—to appeal the ban on bump stocks for semi-automatic weapons making them ever more deadly, would be looked at more through a lens of common sense, and goodness, than mere law.  Let us pray friends this week for more life-giving actions, as well as write letters demanding better of these “interpreters” of the law.  And finally my friends, in these times that try our faith so much, let us hold onto hope for each other, me for you, you for me, and keep on planting the “small seeds” that we know can and will grow!  Amen? Amen!

My friends, as I said in the bulletin, we are back to Ordinary Time, which our Church names as such because it represents an in-between time that is not about the major times of Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter, but as we know, if we are trying to “walk in Jesus’ footsteps,” it is not, “ordinary” at all! This time brings challenge with every week! 

   We only need look to this Sunday’s Scriptures to realize the truth of this.  The first reading from Genesis lets us know that it is very much the human condition, when something goes wrong, to look for blame in someone other than ourselves.  Looking within ourselves is always a challenge—what part of this is mine is a question that we need to routinely ask. 

   “Fear” is another human condition or reaction that we often experience when “wrong-doing,” or “something out of the ordinary” takes place, and we are at the center of the apparent conflict.  We see our brother Jesus, who we confess to follow, in calling ourselves “Christians,” facing this dilemma today.  The locals are saying that he is probably “possessed” in curing people, so his brothers and sisters and mother go to rescue him. 

   His family, along with the locals are challenged to see that Jesus’ words often are pointing to a “bigger picture” than what the words say.  Of course, he is not denying his physical family, his mother and his siblings, who in many ways are partially responsible for the man he has become in his relationship with them. No, Jesus is teaching a larger truth; “those of you who are willing to challenge yourselves, becoming the best that you are capable of, for yourselves and for others, become to me, in a special way, my sisters, my brothers, and my mother!”

  Unfortunately, for many humans, we don’t want to “stand out,” or “be different,” because punishment, physical, or worse, at times, emotional or spiritual punishment may be a consequence of our brave, different, or lone action.  Again, unfortunately, our Church hierarchy uses “fear” in the face of actions that they don’t understand, or more so, haven’t sanctioned.  I would suggest that “fear” plays a part in the present push with the Eucharistic pilgrimages which are attempting to move our beloved Church backward instead of forward. 

   This year, as we remember our beginnings 16 years ago, I recall being personally threatened (fear) with the loss of episcopal endorsement to serve as a Catholic-certified chaplain, a needed piece, by the way, for a lay person to be certified with the National Association of Catholic Chaplains, and eventually with excommunication from the Church that I have been faithful to for my entire life, if I didn’t recant my ordination as a priest.  And all of you, simply by attending Mass here are supposed to consider yourselves, excommunicated too—these words came from retired Pope Benedict XVI.  In choosing not to “recant,” me and you are saying to the powers-that-be that in the end, we choose, “love” over “fear.”  Fear keeps us from doing what love calls us to do. 

   Our brother Jesus, in today’s gospel asks an obvious question of the “powers” in his time:  “Why do you assume that when someone comes in strength and goodness, that it has to be about the devil?” One of the “fears” of the original bishop who asked me to recant, was that I would “be confusing the faithful.”  There was never the thought, as with our brother Jesus, that I, along with him, might be doing anything good. 

   So my friends, with you as well, when you question whether you can, or should speak, or act in a certain way that is against the status quo, you must always, as Jesus has told us, “check the fruits,”  –always look at how “love” is being served,” because, in the end, it can’t just be about the law! Our present-day bishop, Robert Barron won’t sit down and talk with us because we won’t recant, and it is hard for me to see this as anything but law over love.  Why, as with Jesus today, does our “holy presence,” which again, I humbly suggest that we are in this community, that has served many over the past 16 years need to be looked at negatively, rather than positively? 

   The psalmist today gives us hope in this prayer: “I trust in you O’God… and my soul waits for you more than sentinels wait for the dawn.  For with you is kindness and plenteous redemption.”  St. Paul, a tentmaker by personal trade, gives us a wonderful image today as we strive to follow our brother Jesus, the Christ, “when our earthly tent is folded up,” “may thanksgiving overflow” within us [because of the] “grace that is reaching more and more people—to the glory of God,” due to the strength and goodness that we allowed to happen in our lives through love.  Amen? Amen!

   My friends, today’s liturgy brings us to the 3^rd of three, rather hard to understand, in other words, “get our minds around,” themes presented to us in this interim between Easter and a return to Ordinary Time in our Church Year.  And once again, it is best to come at this theme of the “Body and Blood of Christ” as with the other two, Pentecost, and Trinity Sundays, through our hearts, as our minds aren’t expansive, or flexible enough to take in what I believe our God wants us to “get” here. 

   Now if we were to stay on the surface of today’s theme, “the Body of Christ,” as do many in the teaching authority of our Church, we would spend most of our time considering the “real flesh and real blood on the altar, and consider what we do here at Mass, each time we do it, as a reliving of Jesus’ death on the cross and not much more. Apparently, this is the prime intention of the National Eucharistic Conference coming up in July in Indianapolis. 

   And granted, that takes a great deal of faith to imagine the “bread and wine” in that way, as real flesh, and real blood, if the only purpose is to somehow get ourselves to believe what our minds tell us, is just not so.  And please, don’t get me wrong; I am not denying that Jesus is fully and miraculously present here in the bread and wine, on our table of thanksgiving, but I don’t find it necessary to place “that presence” in a teeny, tiny box of physical elements, especially when that focus keeps us from moving out, and seeing that wonderful presence in others and our world.

   I believe that our brother Jesus had this totally bigger, more expansive view for all of us when he said, “This is my body, [all that I taught and modeled for you] this is my blood, [all that I am doing for you in living and dying to let you know how much my Abba loves you] and do this in memory of me!”  We must remember that these words come within Jesus’ priestly prayer, the night before he died, where he asked our God to bless his followers, and by extension, that includes us, with a sense that “they would try to be one, and find a place in their lives going forward, to include everyone,” as for our brother Jesus, these, and all of us, are his “Body and Blood” and the ones he wants us to “worship” –or better said, “care for.” 

   That first “Eucharist” was simply the starting place where the apostles, disciples, and all of us received a physical, everyday sign, “bread and wine”—the stuff of life, meant to help us recall all that Jesus taught us through his earthly life, through his very, “body and blood” poured out, in action for us.  So, my friends, I guess what I am trying to say is, we shouldn’t merely look at Corpus Christi Sunday as a noun wherein we worship Jesus’ physical “body and blood,” but as a verb that moves us to recognize in others and all of creation, “his body, his blood,” and care for it.

   We don’t receive much help through today’s chosen readings from Exodus, Hebrews, or Mark in seeing this greater mission of ourselves being Jesus’ “body and blood” in our world—living as he did in order that our lives are more often than not, about seeing him in others. 

   These chosen readings are basically showing us the history of the “Chosen” people in understanding their relationship with God—one that was about “atonement for their past failings through animal sacrifice that would be “made perfect in the sacrifice of Jesus.” 

   And if we “stay there,” in this mindset, then it is all about, a one-time action that basically calls us to do nothing in our life’s journey but be “grateful.”  If that was all that the Incarnation was about, then I don’t think that says much that is good about our God! 

   But, if Jesus was meant to show us through his “body and blood,” basically his life, how we then could also be his “body and blood” in the world, then we are talking about a God who really loves us in an over-the-top way. 

   I would much rather use my time and energy attempting to see Jesus’ physical presence in our world, where unfortunately, it is too often denied, then to somehow recognize that “Jesus is physically present” in the elements on an altar for a select group who believe all the rules and regulations.  I believe our brother Jesus would much rather we “worship and care for him” in the immigrants at our southern border, in all the homeless and hungry not only here, but around the world, in those abused because of race, gender, or any other impediment we can think up to discount folks, than in the physical elements on an altar.

   But, let’s go back to today’s Scriptures, as I always feel we need to start there, and allow the Spirit to show us the “good, and not so good.  From the Exodus reading, if we simply take the idea that our God is making a covenant, or promise with these “chosen” people to be their God, and they in return, will be God’s people, which, by the way, includes us all as Jesus so clearly stated during his physical lifetime.  We don’t need to “get lost in the weeds” here with all the animal sacrifice.

   If we jump ahead to the psalmist in 116, we get quite a different sense about, “who” God is for them: “What return can I make to the Most High for all your goodness to me?”  And again, “Precious in your eyes is the death of your faithful.” 

   My friends, it is hard to bring this homily to a close, because this feast day in our Church is about so much, “profound stuff,”  that we can never truly understand, and thus I believe, we shouldn’t necessarily try so much “to understand,” but simply, “to do.”

   Corpus Christi Sunday is really about seeing our world, and its people, as much as possible, as God does, and then, love all, “wastefully” as Bishop John Shelby Spong has so rightly said of our God! Amen? Amen!