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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Last week we spent time trying to get our minds and hearts around the concept of the Trinity—One God in Three Persons.  I suggested that a better way to understand our God who gives prodigally to us is through the heart.  In understanding the theology of Corpus Christi, which is, The Body of Christ or as the feast is now more formally titled, The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, but for simplicity, we will stick with the more familiar, Corpus Christi; I would suggest that again we try to leave logical thinking and reasoning behind and enter this mystery too through our hearts.

Three years ago, I used a story about my Dad to help us make sense of this mystery of physical presence and I’d like to repeat that here today as a good model for us. My Dad died in 1986, 30 years ago in August. For the last year and a half of his life, he lived at Lake Winona Manor on the first floor in Room 105.  In those days; it was called the C &R Unit—the C & R stood for Convalescence and Rehabilitation.  It’s curious when I think about it now—he was not convalescing, nor was he being physically rehabilitated; he was dying the slow death of people with emphysema and congestive heart disease.

Even though he couldn’t get physically better, the rehabilitation that I saw going on for him was in a spiritual way.  For the first time in his life; he was given the opportunity of time—time to reflect on what was really important in life and I believe he grew closer to God, to Jesus, his brother, as a result.  He also made it his mission to know who his “neighbors” were in the Unit and to be as kind as he was able, to them.

For all intents and purposes, Room 105 became my Dad’s home for the last year and a half of his life—this was where I went to spend time with him, to reflect on all that life had been for us and our family.  After he died, in the first weeks of grieving his loss;  I had the strange sense that if I wanted to see him; I could go to Room 105 and find him.  Intellectually I knew this was wrong, but on the heart level, it seemed right.

In relationship to this feast, it strikes me that Jesus, in giving us the Eucharist, may have been on the same wave length—using it as a way to remain close once he was no longer physically present.  The bread and wine doesn’t look like Jesus, but it is Jesus, just the same, in our need to have him close—still a part of our lives.  Just like room 105 had become the place where I could find my Dad, the Eucharist is the place where we can find Jesus in a tangible way and be comforted and strengthened by that presence.

We might ask in this line of thinking if the Eucharist has purpose other than comfort.  I believe that Jesus always meant for the Eucharist to be a starting place—the place to receive our strength and then move on into our world, pick up the pieces of life and  carry on with all that he taught us—to share all that he gave us with the world of people that we meet each and every day.

In my preparation for this homily today, as I was reading and praying over the Gospel, it came to me what a gift Jesus gave to the people gathered and he started from something so small, a few loaves and fishes. It struck me that if we each took seriously our mission and call to be his followers, what great things we could do in this world, starting from our small places, our own “loaves and fishes.”

Jesus no doubt intended that we would see and feel his presence within the community here gathered, because if we don’t or can’t see and feel him here, then we can never truly know his presence in the bread and wine either.  In fact, Karl Rahner has said that the presence of Christ in the community gathered precedes the possibility of the presence of Christ in the Eucharistic elements.  It would seem, we can’t have one without the other!

In addition, Edward Schillebeeckx stresses the importance of seeing Christ’s presence as ultimately not toward the bread and wine, but toward the community.  He goes on, “If participants want to understand the Eucharist as sacrament, they should understand themselves first as the Body of Christ.” In this sense, as a wise person once said, and a paraphrase, the Eucharist is really not a static word, a noun, but an action word, a verb, and not to see it this way misses the main point of what the Eucharist is all about.

I always struggle with this homily each year because of those who receive it and wanting to be true to what many of us learned in our growing years concerning transubstantiation, yet wanting too, to stretch us a bit past that notion of worshipping Jesus’ gift of his life in the elements of the altar to moving us out into the community and seeing, truly seeing his body and blood in the faces and life experiences of all we meet each and every day.  My fear with the older theology of transubstantiation is that it has the tendency to plant us in front of the tabernacle, the altar, instead of the community.

Indeed, the Eucharist was always meant to be a starting place, not an ending place.  This is why we say at the conclusion of our liturgies, “Let our service begin or continue!”  And, just like Room 105—at some point, I needed to re-engage in life, to come to terms with my loss, to carry all that my Dad meant to me into my life going forward—he would continue to live on now through my life and my siblings’ lives—through our families—every time we remembered him and chose to live out what he taught us.  When I perform funeral liturgies I always remind the grieving families that they honor their loved one best when they carry on in their own lives what their loved ones taught them about right living.

For Jesus’ followers, all of us, it is all about fulfilling his mission.  Jesus has called all his followers to be his presence in their communities—for us specifically, to see his presence in the greater family of our world—to do all that we can to see that Jesus continues to have a body; eyes and ears, mind and heart in our world.  And we will continue to need the comfort of the Eucharist, the strength of the bread and wine blessed, the unity of the community where Jesus truly becomes present by our collective words and gives us the strength then to take him into the wider community.

In our first reading from Genesis, the old is tied to the new—Melchizadek, an ancient king and priest, in offering bread and wine prefigures Jesus’ offering of his body and blood, his life in its entirety to God for us so that we might know how to do the same.

In the Gospel from Luke, Jesus takes the opportunity of a very large group of physically hungry people to teach his apostles and disciples a greater truth—that he will always be with us to care for all of our needs—to show us primarily that we are loved and that no matter what befalls us, our God will be near.  The feeding of the 5,000 exemplifies the prodigality of our God’s love for us—our God is wasteful with love.  We read, “They all ate until they were full; and when the leftovers were gathered, there were twelve baskets full.” Again, we marvel that he began with five loaves and two fish!

Jesus is always teaching us a greater truth—I have come into this world to live your life, to share my life with you—the very life of God!  I have come to show that you can begin with seemingly little and do great and wonderful things for my people—for my body.  Each of us makes up Christ’s body—we are his flesh and blood for our world. When we partake in the Eucharistic bread; we are transformed into Eucharistic bread for that same world, Diane Bergant says.  When we partake of  the Eucharistic wine; we become the lifeblood of Jesus, following his example in service, in sacrifice, for our sisters and brothers.  We give Jesus the greatest honor and glory, along with the Creator and the Spirit, not in our worship of the bread and wine on the table as an end in itself, but in giving honor, respect, mercy, love, working for justice for the “bread and wine, body and blood of Jesus” in our world.  We honor and praise what the words of consecration do—making Jesus fully present in the form of bread and wine, signaling the next step for us—of taking his flesh and blood into our world through our bodies which become with our reception, Eucharistic bodies.

And of course, it doesn’t happen by magic—we must make a conscious effort to live our lives in such a way as to continue his life of love and service in our world.  We see the “wasteful” giving of love to the 5,ooo—we are expected too, not to just give when convenient or give what is left-over, but to give in abundance, “wastefully”—generously.

It only makes sense rejoicing over the goodness of our God in Jesus if it compels us to give likewise. We may not physically be able to meet every need—but we can be a listener, a supporter, a friend to all.  If we can’t help, perhaps we know of someone who can—maybe we can right a wrong by making others aware—writing a letter, standing up for the truth when we hear the lies that incriminate our sisters and brothers.

The feast of Corpus Christi holds great significance for each of us if we allow its deeper message to arise to the light of day.  Each time we say the words here, celebrating that Jesus is fully present within our community; we recall the covenant that our prodigal God made with the People of God from all time—a covenant made perfect in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ—our Brother and Friend.  We, as his body and blood now, for our world, must move into that world and let our service begin!

 

 

Today my friends; we try to get our heads around the concept of the Trinity, which we believe to be our God.  “Mystery” is a good word to describe what we truly can’t understand, at least intellectually.  We are like the apostles of whom Jesus says in today’s Gospel from John, “I have more to tell you, but right now, you can’t understand.”

Perhaps the way to attempt understanding is not with our minds, but with our hearts.  In fact, I am led to believe, with each passing year, that there is so much of life that would be better served through our hearts than through our heads.  Looking through the lens of our hearts truly brings these Scriptures we just shared to life and helps us to shed light on the idea of a Trinity—three persons in one God.  Now, logically of course, this is beyond us—three equal persons, making up one God—fantastic! Or as writer Ann Lamott says, “Wow!”—which is one of her three significant prayers, by the way.  On the heart level, so much more can be seen and believed than through our human minds that, as we know, can be at times, very small boxes.

This year I have been reading a soon-to-be trilogy of books about a great stateswoman of our country, Eleanor Roosevelt.  She was one who very much advocated from her heart for policies that would serve our country’s people in the aftermath of the Great Depression and going forward.

A great place to begin then, on our “heart” journey, looking for the essence of God, is with the beautiful Psalm 8 given for our reflection today.  “When I behold your heavens, the work of your hands, the moon and stars which you set in place—who are we that you should be mindful of us!”  We say that verse with awe and finish it with an exclamation point!  Really, who are we? Our response must be—“We are creatures loved by God!”  The psalm continues, “You have made us little less than the gods…you have given us rule over the works of your hands, putting all things under our feet.”     Another way to say this is that we live and exist on a continuum that includes humanity at one end and divinity at the other—when we strive to be our best selves, we are closest to being divine; “a little less than the gods…”

This is probably my most favorite psalm because it expounds on the down-right goodness of our God—to not only create—give birth to all the beauty in our world, but to share that beauty through giving us life and the awesome task of looking after that life.  We have been blessed the last three years with a pontiff who consistently calls us to this very reflection—the beauty of the earth—its fragility and the need that we care for it.  We are conscious of both the fragility and the strength of our earth as we witness more and more changing weather patterns, the extensive melting of the glaciers and more violent storms and we have to ask how well have we cared for our beautiful earth—the gift of the planet that we live on.

I often think of the beauty of our earth as I take walks through woods on our family farm.  I am enthralled with the many different species of wildflowers and plants, all the creatures scurrying about, seemingly to delight me! We are presently awaiting the annual emergence of some yellow lady slipper plants that grace one of the paths in the woods—they are always a delight to see!  One can hardly look upon the beauty around us and not cry out today with the psalmist—“How wonderful is your name, O God, through all the earth!”

And beyond the plants and animals, the heavens and the earth, there are the people—we and all we associate with each and every day, plus all those that we will never meet, that make up our world and existence.  I like to imagine all that is probably out there in our galaxy and galaxies beyond that I will never see.  How wonderful is all that you have made, O God!

The Wisdom Literature in our first reading today says that the Spirit delights in the children of humankind.  This Spirit is also one who plays like a child.  Does that tell us something of what our stance in this great and wonderful world should be?

We have all delighted in watching a young child discover all that is new and interesting in their world.  There is so much to wonder about.  How would it be if we could be more in awe of life all around us instead of trying to subdue it by our lack of care for it at times?

This calls into question some of the rhetoric that we have had to deal with during the current presidential campaign.  Without being partisan; I mention this only to comment on the tone that has become acceptable not only on the political front but in life in general. In politics, the tone has gone past the issues and attacks persons merely to gain ground and unfortunately, that tone plays to a great many people. What our country stands for is somehow lost when we lower the standards of what is acceptable, when we allow rhetoric to fuel mob psychology that runs over what is best in us.  It is always good from time to time to stand back and ask if we are becoming the evil we say we are fighting against.

The Buddhists call the ability to wonder, to appreciate all that is around us—“mindfulness”—being “mindful” is being attentive to what is present now, in our lives—respecting each other and our world, treating both with care—not worrying about the past or fretting about what the future will bring—just living now—being aware.

I believe that is a piece of the truth about life that John in today’s Gospel says the Spirit wants for each of us to have during our earthly journey—an awareness of the beautiful creation that our Loving Parent, Creator God have given to each of us, wherein we can delight as does the Spirit in playfulness.  Does God ask that we become children again? No, I don’t think so; but maybe that we would rediscover our child-like tendencies again, for wonder, for amazement of all that is about us each and every day—for seeing what is best in each other, lifting that up and debating from that stance, as in the political example.  It is not bad to disagree, but then defend it as intelligent, thinking people with hearts, not debasing oneself to be liked—to get elected.

Perhaps we might acquire a new appreciation for the people who make up our own personal lives—sometimes we are so ready to notice what isn’t just right—how often do we take notice of what almost always goes right, for most of us—the food always present whenever we are hungry, clothes and shelter, friends and family—all so wonderful, yet so fragile, like our earth.  We all know this fragility when we are ill, when loved ones die.  Let us not, my friends, take one bit of the beauty of life for granted—in all of creation, because it can all be taken away so quickly through illness and death.  We should therefore never abuse or disregard any of life.

Human existence isn’t always easy—we all have struggles along the way—we at times get in the way of each other’s dreams—there is sickness of body, mind and spirit that shields us from realizing that we are mightily loved by God, and we simply forget to be present to each and every day.

So what do these ramblings tell us of God on this feast of the Trinity?  Maybe, very simply, that our God is so grand that the goodness can’t be contained in just one person, but must spill over into three! Paul tells us that the Spirit pours the love of God into our hearts—a love so great that it produced Jesus—one to show us the way through the ups and downs of our lives. We as co-creators in our beautiful world know that our love can spill over into new life; physically, emotionally and spiritually. Such a waste when we allow what is worst in us to spill over versus what is best in us.

The NCR—National Catholic Reporter is presently doing a four-part series on Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE).  They are focusing on clergy sex abuse of children, as that is our Church’s greatest need to address, but they also include all kinds of abusive experiences that children either witness or physically experience: such things as seeing your mother beaten, coming home to a drunk parent, or being physically, sexually or emotionally abused through neglect, themselves.

And of course, it is no wonder that these adverse childhood experiences affect them for a lifetime—in all their relationships and experiences going forward.  The compelling thing to me was to learn of the frequency, the amount of such events in the population.  The Center for Disease Control and Prevention stated in its study that only a little over one-third of the population has had no ACE’s up to age 18.  Just to give us some sense of that, the U.S. Census Bureau in 2014 recorded 245.2 million people over 18, so that is more than 156 million adults with histories of adverse childhood experiences.  Narrowing it down even more—that is every other person in our Church pews who have experienced an adverse childhood experience and some, more than one!

So that helps us to understand when we meet individuals who are withdrawn, angry, unable to stay physically well, addicted to food, drugs—whatever—that there may be more going on behind the presenting traits than we know.  On the other hand, sometimes someone who seems very normal will explode emotionally at a certain point and no one can understand where the outburst came from.  Abuse experienced can be triggered by little things; sounds, certain places, articles of clothing—roman collars for those abused by priests, candles and other religious articles.

So friends, there is much work to be done in our beautiful world, much understanding, mercy and compassion to be given to God’s beautiful people. We are apt to not always recognize the God present in each of us and horrors like all the abuse mentioned here confuse us as how to respond.

Simply put, we must keep our eyes on Jesus to show us the way—remember the love between our Creator God and the First Born Jesus and know that the strength of their Spirit is always with us to call the wrong when we see it, but more so to recognize the good in each person infused with the very love of God.

On this feast of the Trinity then, let us praise our good God in all her/his manifestations and ask for all that we need to live and to love—to be our very best selves; more aware, more compassionate, more truly followers of our brother Jesus, in the love and generosity of the Creator and through the guidance of the Spirit.