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Thoughts on the Sunday readings: “We would like to see Jesus.” (5th Sunday of Lent – B)

21 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by in Christ, faith, law of love, law of reciprocity, life in Christ, sad logic of sin and death, sad logic of violence

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face_of_jesus_610x300“We would like to see Jesus.”  This is the request of some Greeks from today’s gospel.  (Jn. 12:20-33)  “We would like to see” the one who teaches with authority.  “We would like to see” the one who is compassionate, who welcomes the sinner, who goes out to meet others, who weeps for his friend who has died.  “We would like to see” the one who has come not to judge but to save.  “We would like to see” this teacher who says that there is a different way to live.  “We would like to see” the one who says “no” to the logic of violence and isolation.  “We would like to see” the one who does not live according to the law of reciprocity but rather according to a different law – the law of love.

We all know the law of reciprocity.  It is so present, so seemingly uncontested, that we easily take it for granted that it is just the way things are.  The law of reciprocity says an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!  If you do this to me then I can do that to you!  It is a law that perpetuates the cycle of violence.  It is a law of strict justice/retribution alone.  It is a law that leads one into viewing other people solely in terms of being competitors, even adversaries, rather than brothers and sisters.  Due to this, it is a law that isolates and breaks people, communities and nations into opposing camps.  It is also a law that ultimately binds and enslaves.  Jesus never lived according to the law of reciprocity, rather he lived according to the law of love and because of this Jesus is the freest person that has ever walked the face of the earth.

Behind this simple request of these Greeks is a profoundly fundamental yearning and recognition of the human heart – the desire to live differently, to escape the logic of violence and the tyranny of reciprocity.  We yearn for this.  On our own, we cannot achieve it.  “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.”  We need Jesus because he alone can forgive what needs to be forgiven within ourselves, because he alone can make new of what has been made old through sin.  Without Jesus we are left under the law of reciprocity – it is the best we can hope for.  With Jesus, we can learn and we can live the law of love and we can gain that freedom that Jesus himself knew.  We can be made free!

On the surface it seems that Jesus does not answer the request of the Greeks brought to him via Andrew and Philip.  Rather than saying, “Bring them here,” he goes off into a reflection on the Son of Man being glorified. But this reflection is his response!  “You want to see me?  You want to see the one who lives a different way, the one who does not live according to the logic of violence and the law of reciprocity?  You will see this and so much more!  Watch what happens on Golgotha, watch what happens within the tomb itself!  Watch what happens within “this hour”!

Then he give us God’s answer to that deepest disconnect of the human heart.  “You wish to see me because you also want to be free of the law of reciprocity, you also want to overcome the sad logic of violence and isolation.  You want to live differently.”  “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, in produces much fruit.  Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life.”

Freedom, a different way to live other than the dictates of reciprocity, is found when a person lets go of self and lives for others … in Christ.  This last part is often overlooked.  Sadly, even by teachers of Christianity sometimes.  Jesus is not proposing a vague philosophy open to any person apart from him.  The request of the Greeks was, “We would like to see Jesus.”  Jesus – not his teachings, not his ideas but the person.  When we die to self and live for others within the reality of Christ’s own sacrifice then the logic of violence and isolation can be overcome.  Christ goes on to say, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be.  The Father will honor whoever serves me.”  

Life can be lived in a different way.  The sad logic of violence and isolation is not inevitable.  The new law of love is possible!

“We would like to see Jesus.”

Thoughts on the Sunday readings: “Christ crucified” (3rd Sunday of Lent – B)

07 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by in Christ, cross, Jesus, salvation

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Jesus-Christ-from-Hagia-SophiaIt has been said that when it comes to Jesus there are basically only three options to choose from: either Jesus is a madman, a lunatic (How many people throughout the centuries, struggling with sanity, have concluded that they must be God?), either he is a liar and therefore one of the most evil people of all history, someone willing to deceive generations into the belief that he is God or lastly, he actually is who he says he is.  These are the options we have to choose from and if we are to be authentic in life then at some point we must each make a choice.

For Christians it all comes down to this one person who lived nearly two thousand years ago, who was poor, who never travelled in his adult life beyond his immediate area, who did not seem to have any formal education, who preached the good news of a God of love and humility and who was put to death by the powers that be.  If you are looking for an ascetic or a yogi to follow, then do not look to Jesus, he was neither.  If you are searching for a great philosopher or guru then do not look to Jesus.  If you are looking to a man of success in order to feel validated and bask in the glow of, then do not look to Jesus.  Jesus is none of these things.  He is something totally different all together.  Jesus cannot and will not be captured and contained by any of our definitions and biases.  Jesus can only be encountered.  It is because of this truth that Paul is able to write, “…Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified…” (1 Cor. 1:22).  “Christ crucified” – these two words held together break every human presumption about God and how he operates, about what it means to be human, about life itself.  For Christians it all comes down to a person – to Christ crucified.

In his book, “The Lord” Romano Guardini writes:

God did not reveal himself merely by teaching a truth, giving us commands to which he attaches consequences, but by coming to us, personally.  His truth is himself.  And to him who hears, he gives his own strength, again himself.  To hear God means to accept him.  To believe means to accept him in truth and loyalty.  The God we believe in is the God who “comes” into heart and spirit, surrendering himself to us. 

The “temple” Jesus will raise up is not a building, not a compilation of religious laws and precepts, not a system of political or philosophical thought, not an idea of a better world.  The “temple” that will be raised up is Jesus himself, “Christ crucified.”

We cannot constrain Jesus, neither can we explain him away nor fit him into a nice, neat, little category.  All we can do is encounter Jesus – the one who once was dead but who now lives – and in this is found life.

Thoughts on the Sunday Readings: Transfiguration and the Cross (Second Sunday of Lent – B)

01 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by in Christ, cross, mercy, Transfiguration

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A priest of our diocese tells the story that one day he and some friends were out driving and they were coming upon Smyrna, TN.  As they approached the city they started arguing about its correct pronunciation – was it “Smyr-na” or “Smeer-na”?  It was close to midday so they decided to ask someone when they stopped for lunch.  They came to a fast food restaurant and once inside the group went to a lady who was standing nearby.  The priest said, “Ma’am, could you please help me and my friends with a debate that we are having?  Could you, slowly and distinctly, tell us the name of the place in which we are?”  The lady gave them a quizzical look and slowly said, “Bur … ger … King.”

transfiguration_of_jesus_christIt is good to know where we are – both geographically and, for our purposes this Sunday, in the life of faith and discipleship.  Today, as we continue our journey toward Jerusalem with the Lord we are at the mount of Transfiguration but it is worthwhile to note both that this mountain points toward Golgotha – the mountain of the cross and sacrifice of the Son – and why it points that direction.

There is a beauty to sacrifice.  Cinema, in its best moments, is aware of this.  Think of those moments in movies that wrench our guts when the hero or heroine sacrifices (the soldier lets go of the rope and plummets to his death so that others in the troop might make it, Obi-Wan Kenobi lets Darth Vader strike him down, the priest in “The Mission” walks directly into a hail of gunfire while carrying the monstrance).  But the beauty of sacrifice is not limited to “big” moments.  Sacrifice can be seen in the parent who works two or three jobs in order to provide for his or her children, it can be found in the life of the teacher whose great work or opus is not a world-renowned symphony but generations of students whose lives are transformed by the love of learning.  There is a beauty in sacrifice.

Before the sacrifice of the cross to which we are journeying with our Lord is the moment of Transfiguration.  Before the sacrifice of the cross, all other sacrifices pale in comparison.  The sacrifice of the cross is infinite.  God dies that we might have life.  We killed God.  Do we recognize the scope of this?  Sometimes the true depth (and beauty) of sacrifice can only be recognized in contrast to what might have been.

Romano Guardini’s book, The Lord, is a powerful exploration of the fullness of the Christian mystery.  One thing that Guardini explores in his book is the great “What if?”  What if Jesus had not been crucified?  We assume that the crucifixion was just the way it had to happen, the way salvation was to be won.  Not necessarily so, asserts Guardini.  Within the Book of the prophet Isaiah running alongside the prophecies of the suffering servant, Guardini points out, are the visions of God’s mountain where peace is established, people forget the ways of war and right relationship is restored.  God is revealed in the midst of his people.  A choice is brought to us.  Christ, the humble God-man, stands before every part of society, yet each one denounces him and each one turns away.  The religious leaders call him a blasphemer, the government/military leaders mock him and wash their hands of him, the very people who welcomed him into Jerusalem waving palm branches later denounce him in favor of a criminal, even his disciples run away.  What if we had not turned away?  What if we had not denounced?  Yet we did.  Christ must go the way of the cross.

crucifix icon6Do we recognize the depth of the sacrifice?  Before the horror of the cross we have the moment of Transfiguration.  What might have been?  There is a spiritual that is usually sung during Holy Week but it is appropriate for all of Lent, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  Sometimes it causes me to tremble … tremble … tremble … Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”  The depth of the sacrifice of Christ…

Going back to the story shared earlier, it is good to know where we are in the spiritual life, in our journey toward Jerusalem.  This Sunday, in the beauty and awe of the Transfiguration … of who Christ is and of what might have been … we recognize the depth and love of the sacrifice of the cross.

God came to us.  We turned away.  Christ must go the way of the cross.

Another spiritual, “What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss to bear the dreadful curse, for my soul, for my soul…”

The Preacher as Servant of Dialogue

28 Saturday Feb 2015

Posted by in dialogue, Joy of the Gospel, Pope Francis, preaching

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christ_preachingRecently, I re-read Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium and I was brought to the realization that the Holy Father is proposing, in his section on preaching, the role of “servant to dialogue” as the primary role of the preacher.

Let us renew our confidence in preaching, based on the conviction that it is God who seeks to reach out to others through the preacher, and that he displays his power through human words. (EG, 136)

In the exhortation, Pope Francis begins by calling preachers of the Word to a sacred remembering of the power of preaching.  Throughout Scripture we find God choosing to work with human beings in all of their limits to proclaim his plan and his grace.  From Moses with his stutter through the Old Testament prophets and all their tribulations to John the Baptist to the apostles in their weaknesses and misunderstandings to the great missionary Paul, even though he persecuted the Church – the Word of God is proclaimed. The Word of God needs to be proclaimed in our day also!  People need to encounter the Word of God in all its richness and all of its challenging beauty and the preacher is entrusted with this sacred task!

I find it interesting then, that after making this bold and challenging proclamation, Pope Francis moves to the almost seemingly mundane character of dialogue and conversation as the foundation of preaching.

It is worth remembering that “the liturgical proclamation of the word of God, especially in the Eucharistic assembly, is not so much a time for meditation and catechesis as a dialogue between God and his people, a dialogue in which the great deeds of salvation are proclaimed and the demands of the covenant are continually restated”.   The homily has special importance due to its Eucharistic context: it surpasses all forms of catechesis as the supreme moment in the dialogue between God and his people which lead up to sacramental communion. The homily takes up once more the dialogue which the Lord has already established with his people. The preacher must know the heart of his community, in order to realize where its desire for God is alive and ardent, as well as where that dialogue, once loving, has been thwarted and is now barren. (EG, 137)

To help explore this move toward dialogue and conversation I would like to quote in length a section out of Fr. Robert Barron’s book, The Priority of Christ: Toward a Postliberal Catholicism.

At one point in his book, Fr. Barron reflects on intersubjectivity as a component of true knowledge.

For the Christian, authentic knowledge comes not through isolation or objectification but rather through something like love.  Therefore it should not be surprising that the fullness of knowing would occur through an intersubjective process, with knowers, as it were, participating in one another as each participates in the thing to be known.  If, as the Johannine prologue implies, the ground of being is a conversation between two divine speakers, it seems only reasonable that the search for intelligibility here below takes place in the context of steady and loving conversation.  

In a lyrical and compelling section of “Truth and Method,” Hans-Georg Gadamer reminds us that a healthy conversation is something like a game.  As two players surrender to the movement and rules of the game of tennis, they are carried away beyond themselves in such a way that the game is playing them much more than they are playing it.  In a similar way, when two or more interlocutors enter into the rhythm of an intellectual exchange, respectful of its rules and of one another, they are quite often carried beyond their individual concerns and questions and taken somewhere they had not anticipated, the conversation having played them.  The fundamental requirement for this sort of shared self-transcendence is a moral one: each conversationalist has to surrender her need to dominate the play for her purposes; each must efface herself, not only before the others but, more importantly, before the transcendent goal that they all seek.  To have a conversation is humbly to accept the possibility that one’s take on things might be challenged or corrected, that the other’s perspective might be more relatively right than one’s own.  

Holding these thoughts with those of Pope Francis we can see that preaching has as its true basis and foundation the very common and universal reality of honest conversation and dialogue more so than any latest and trendy fad, philosophy or method regarding public speaking and debate.  Rather than belittling the preaching task these depth explorations of conversation and dialogue show forth the true richness of understanding afforded this important and critical task!

The homily takes up once more the dialogue which the Lord has already established with his people. The preacher of the Word, along with the people of God, is himself caught up in this ongoing conversation between the Lord and his people yet he has a truly unique and important role to play.  The preacher must allow himself to be caught up in the game and therefore overcome the constant and often subtle temptation to dominate the play for his purposes.  This is a renunciation and an asceticism that every preacher must develop in his life.  If a homily is too self-referential then it has missed the mark and probably most of the people of God have already tuned out.  To make use of the above analogy – a person cannot play a good and rousing game of tennis if he is more concerned about how he looks rather than the game!  To preach is to enter into the great game of the dialogue between our risen Lord and his people!

The proper progress of the dialogue though is dependent upon respect of the rules given.  The homilist is to be the servant to dialogue.

The dialogue is Christ’s and not the preacher’s.  If preaching is to mean anything then somehow Christ must speak through the preacher’s words to the heart of those who are gathered.  This means that the preacher must learn how to get out of the way and not try to dominate the play for his own agenda or emotional needs.  Any person acquainted with the task of preaching will know that this is not as easy to do as one might think but it is essential.

For preaching to be effective, the preacher must be in dialogue with Christ and in dialogue with the community of the Church.  The preacher must know Christ and allow himself to be known by Christ fully.   The preacher must know the heart of his community, in order to realize where its desire for God is alive and ardent, as well as where that dialogue, once loving, has been thwarted and is now barren.  In order to know his community, the preacher must be with his community.  He must have the “smell of his sheep” on him as Pope Francis has famously said.  When the community is not known there is always the danger of preaching at people rather than assisting the great dialogue that the Lord has begun.  Would it not be an extremely sad thing for a preacher to come before the gates of heaven only to there be given the realization that his preaching was more of an interruption to our Lord’s great dialogue with his people rather than an assistance?

If authentic preaching has as part of its basis knowledge of the community then homily preparation is just as much about visiting the homebound, celebrating with families, serving the poor and weeping with those who mourn as it is about studying the Scriptures and reflecting on Biblical commentaries.  The preacher who shuts himself away in a rectory or a parish office is stunting his preaching potential and doing a great disservice to his community.  Christ dwells in the midst of his people, especially the poor.  Whenever and wherever Christ is encountered deeper understanding of Sacred Scripture is gained. In order to be a servant of dialogue, the preacher must go out into his community.

A little later in his Exhortation, Pope Francis offers these words that again situate the preaching task squarely in the life of the community with some profound implications: The Lord and his people speak to one another in a thousand ways directly, without intermediaries. But in the homily they want someone to serve as an instrument and to express their feelings in such a way that afterwards, each one may choose how he or she will continue the conversation. (EG, 143) Believe it or not, preacher, it is not your gifted eloquence, flourishing rhetoric or funny jokes that unite heaven and earth! Christ and his people are already united; they are already in dialogue in a thousand ways directly. Daily (in prayer, in struggle, in joy, in temptations, in uncertainty, in gratitude, in the depth of the human heart) Christ and his people are conversing, recognized or not on our part. The preacher does not have the task of scaling the heavens in order to unite heaven and earth (and honestly I don’t believe the people are looking for this). The preacher, as servant of dialogue, does have the task of being open to being led by the Spirit to speak the words that help the people catch a glimpse of how heaven and earth are already united and interacting in their lives! (The Holy Father offers three practical resources to aid in this: appeal to imagery, cultivate simplicity in ones words and be positive.) Upon catching this glimpse, the people will then continue the conversation with the Lord in their own way. As a servant of dialogue the homilist is to listen, to seek to be an instrument and then to let go … then repeat.      

Finally, the preacher himself must both allow the dialogue to carry him as well as call forth sacrifice in his life. As two players surrender to the movement and rules of the game of tennis, they are quite often carried beyond their individual concerns and questions and taken somewhere they had not anticipated, the conversation having played them.  In humble prayer, the preacher must first encounter the Word and let the Word speak to him, once something sparks then the preacher must let the Word carry him to where it wants him to go.  We need to trust that the Word of God is indeed active and alive and we need to trust that the Word will take us to what the community needs to hear.  Within this trust, the preacher must even sacrifice of bit of self for this to happen. To illustrate this dynamic of service to dialogue here are two images given by the author Annie Dillard in her book, The Writing Life:

To find a honey tree, first catch a bee. Catch a bee when its legs are heavy with pollen; then it is ready for home … Carry the bee to a nearby open spot – best an elevated one – release it, and watch where it goes. Keep your eyes on it as long as you can see it, and hie you to that last known place. Wait there until you see another bee; catch it, release it, and watch. Bee after bee will lead toward the honey tree, until you see the final bee enter the tree. Thoreau describes this process in his journals. So a book leads its writer.

You may wonder how you start, how you catch the first one. What do you use for bait?

You have no choice. One bad winter in the Arctic, and not too long ago, an Algonquin woman and her baby were left alone after everyone else in their winter camp had starved … The woman walked from the camp where everyone had died, and found at a lake a cache. The cache contained one small fishhook. It was simple to rig a line, but she had no bait, and no hope of bait. The baby cried. She took a knife and cut a strip from her own thigh. She fished with the worm of her own flesh and caught a jackfish; she fed the child and herself. Of course she saved the fish gut for bait. She lived alone at the lake, on fish, until spring, when she walked out again and found people…

Might it be possible that the New Evangelization is calling forth a new approach to preaching? I believe that Pope Francis is sharing some profound thoughts in this regard for our consideration – the preacher as servant to dialogue.

Thoughts on the Sunday readings: worlds collide and the horizon of the gospel (6th Sunday in Ordinary Time – B)

15 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by in bubble, Christ, Christian living, gospel, horizon of the gospel, periphery

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A few years ago a string of movies came out that all seemed to revolve around the theme of different worlds colliding.  Each movie tended to have a large cast of famous actors representing people from different strata of society – rich/poor, black/white, newly arrived immigrant/born in the country, inner city/suburban, liberal/conservative, whatever cultural war delineation one could come up with it was found in these films.  Something would happen, usually traumatic and often violent (a car crash, a misfired rifle shot), and these separate worlds would all of a sudden be brought into crashing contact with one another.  The movie would then go on to explore how these moments of unexpected encounter changed all persons involved giving, sometimes, a deeper awareness of the common human condition.

In today’s gospel (Mk. 1:40-45), there are also worlds colliding but it is not violent.  A leper and therefore an outcast, comes before a religious teacher who epitomizes the very system of belief that excludes him.  A wounded and ill creature comes before the very one who is Creator and Lord.  One who is seeking mercy comes before Mercy itself.
There is no violence because Christ as “God made flesh” is not in competition with creation.  God is not like us – one creature among other creatures needing to claim his own space by limiting the space of other creatures.  God is the very source of creation itself.  God is non-competitive with his very creation.  God is non-competitive with humanity.  The presence of God in life does not limit the creature’s own flourishing; rather the presence of God enables the creature to truly flourish.  God does not limit my freedom, rather when I allow God into my life his presence enables me to truly become whom I am meant to be.  
The leper in today’s gospel seems to intuit this truth.  “If you wish, you can make me clean … I do will it.  Be made clean.”  
One of the points that the genre of movies mentioned earlier makes is that often we live our lives in our own world, in our own bubbles.  To some extent this is natural and necessary.  We get into our own rhythms in order to get things done, we have our particular group of friends and family, we certainly want to protect and shelter those we care about.  This is all good.  The danger comes when the bubbles we live in begin to restrict the horizon and possibility of the gospel.  We don’t see the poor, we rush past the sick, we become blind to the lonely and the elderly.  We get so focused in that we fail to see out! 
 The Gospel continually invites us to see out, to look away from self, to go to the peripheries and to set our lives not by the limits that our world would impose in how it thinks we are supposed to live our lives but by the horizon of the gospel.  Notice the poor, don’t rush past the sick and ill, be aware of the one who is lonely and the elderly!  Be open to encounter with the other because often this can be a point of grace and even healing in life!
Our Holy Father, Pope Francis, is fully aware of this gospel truth and this is why he continues to call the Church to the peripheries.  He knows that Christ can be found there often in the most unexpected of ways.  He also knows that the Church is continually revitalized by this encounter. 
This weekend at our Saturday vigil and Sunday 12:30 pm Mass we are offering the Sacrament of Anointing for any parishioner in need of physical, emotional or spiritual healing.  As a community and a family we are taking a moment to acknowledge the periphery of illness that is often right before us yet, one we often choose to rush past.  We are making the choice to notice and we are making the choice to lift up our brothers and sisters in prayer.  We are making the choice to set our life as a community by the horizon of the gospel.  This is a holy and good thing to do.              

Thoughts on the Sunday readings: suffering as a "thin place" (5th Sunday in Ordinary Time – B)

08 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by in Book of Job, Christ, Christian living, healing, sacrament, suffering, thin place

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There is a story told about Mother Teresa of Calcutta.  A newspaper reporter assigned to write a story on her one day followed the elderly nun around the streets of Calcutta as she made her daily rounds.  At one point, Mother Teresa knelt down to cradle the head of a man who was obviously near death.  As she held his head, oblivious to the sores covering his body and the stench of the man’s illness, Mother Teresa assured him that he would not die alone.  She arranged for the man to be brought to the Home for the Dying that she has founded.  After witnessing all of this the reporter exclaimed to Mother Teresa, “Sister, I would not do what you are doing for a million dollars.”  Mother Teresa immediately replied, “Neither would I!”

Some cultures talk about “thin places”.  The thought is that “thin places” are those places in our world where visible and invisible reality comes into close proximity.  Part of the job of the believer is to recognize the thin place when it is encountered and to seek God’s presence in that place.  Thin places help us to recognize the truth of who we are (both good and bad), what truly motivates us and what calls forth from us true response.  
Certainly the Mass and the celebration of the sacraments are “thin places”.  Here heaven and earth are united and if we let ourselves learn to be open we can be deeply nourished and strengthened for the journey of discipleship.  
Another “thin place” revealed in two of our readings as well as this story about Mother Teresa is suffering in life.  Suffering – whether it be physical, emotional, spiritual – has a way of clearing away distractions and superficials in life.  In suffering we are brought to the truth of who we are and what truly motivates us.  
The story of Job is a reflection on the reality and mystery of suffering.  For any person who suffers, Job’s word’s ring true.  “…troubled nights have been allotted to me.  If in bed I say, ‘When shall I arise?’ then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.  My days are swifter than the weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.”  The Book of Job invites us into the mystery of suffering not as a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived and even a “thin place” where God is encountered and the truth of who we are can be found.  
In the gospel, we are told that Simon’s mother-in-law “lay sick with a fever”.  Christ is not unmoved.  We are told that Christ, “approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up.”  “Approached … grasped … helped” are not words to pass over lightly.  These words reveal the truth of who God is.  God is not unmoved or uncaring toward our pain and suffering.  Jesus, we are told, entered into the house of Simon and Andrew and he approached the woman who lay ill. 
God cares and God chooses to be involved in our lives and our world.  And we need this.  This is where the truth of who we are is also revealed.  We stand in need of a God who cares.  The wound within ourselves is too deep, too much for us to overcome on our own.  We need a God who will approach us, who will grasp our hands and who will help us up if we just ask.  We have this is Jesus. 
Mother Teresa was right – she wouldn’t do her great work of mercy and caring for a million dollars but she would do it for a God who cares and a God who loves.    

St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio

26 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by in Christ, community, grace, reconciliation, St. Francis of Assisi, Wolf of Gubbio

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A couple of summers ago I went with a pilgrimage group to Ireland.  One evening, near the end of the pilgrimage, I went out for a walk by myself.  Wandering around the streets of the town, I walked into a small store that seemed to sell a variety of items.  Although the store did not seem to be a religious goods store I immediately noticed a little statue of St. Francis and the wolf of Gubbio.  I bought the statue and it sits on my window sill today. 

The story of the saint and the wolf is that the wolf terrorized the inhabitants of the small Italian town.  Not only did the wolf kill and devour livestock but it began to attack and devour humans.  All attempts to kill the wolf failed and the people of the town would literally shut the town down in fear whenever the wolf would appear.  St. Francis heard of this and decided to go and meet the wolf.  The huge wolf rushed toward Francis as soon as he saw the saint approaching his lair.  St. Francis made the sign of the cross and commanded the wolf in the name of God to stop his terrorizing of the town.  Immediately, the wolf became docile before the saint.  Francis went on to condemn the wolf for his attacks not just on animals but upon men and women who are made in the image of God.  Francis told the wolf that if he ended his attacks he would see to it that the inhabitants of Gubbio would provide him with the food he needed.  The story goes that the wolf placed his paw in Francis’ hand in agreement.  Francis then walked the docile wolf back into the main square of Gubbio to the astonishment of the inhabitants and there reiterated the promise.  Again the wolf placed his paw in the saint’s hand in agreement.  The saint had tamed the wolf. 
Recently, I have been reading Romano Guardini’s book “The Lord”.  I came across the following passage and it has cast a new light on the story of St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio.  
It is also said that the sheep heed the Shepherd, because they know his voice. Is it true that men recognize Christ’s call and respond to it? In one sense it must be, for he has said so; yet much in me qualifies the statement. Actually I respond much more readily to the call of ‘the others’; I neither really understand Christ’s summons nor follow it. Therefore, in order that I may hear, he must not only speak, but also open my ears to his voice. Part of me, the profoundest part, listens to it, but superficial, loud contradiction often overpowers it.  The opponents with whom God must struggle in order to win us are not primarily ‘the others,’ but ourselves; we bar his way.  The wolf who puts the hireling to flight is not only outside; he is also within.  We are the arch-enemy of our own salvation, and the Shepherd must fight first of all with us – for us.

Guardini gets at the paradox that is the human condition.  We yearn for God and the profoundest part of who we are listens for God’s voice; yet so easily we let superficial contradiction win the day.  We disregard the very thing we most yearn for.  The first fight that the true Shepherd must undertake is the fight “with us – for us”.  The strongest and most terrifying wolf that puts the hireling to flight is not without, but within!
My hunch is that we all have a wolf within; the question is to what extent is the wolf ravaging and to what extent is it tamed?  The story of the poor man of Assisi offers some thoughts for consideration.  
The town of Gubbio shut down out of fear of the wolf.  A “town” is the moment of encounter, relationship, friendship, creativity, new possibility and life.  When a wolf ravages in our hearts all of these things are shut down and boarded up!  Life becomes dull and stagnant.  Maybe people even fear to approach us?  Maybe we even fear to approach ourselves?   I have heard it said that depression is anger turned within, like a wolf ravaging. 
The wolf did not just devour livestock but even dared to attack and devour humans, made in the image of God.  If left unchecked not only will a ravaging wolf inhibit the growth and possibility of life but will even begin to devour life as well as the dignity of the person – oneself and sadly even others if allowed.  St. Francis strongly condemns the wolf for this sin!
How to tame the wolf?
First off, unlike the others who went out and were defeated, St. Francis went out to tame the wolf, not destroy it.  The wolf is a creature of God, a brother.  If we try to destroy it we will fail.  The wolf within is part of who we are therefore we need to have the trust and courage of St. Francis to even approach its lair and encounter it on its turf not with the intent to destroy but tame.  
John tells us that perfect love casts out all fear.  The first thing Francis did as the snarling wolf approached him was make the sign of the cross.  Francis did not fall back on his own resources but rather called on that perfect love, the grace of God won for us by Christ!  There is a depth to our brokenness that we, alone, can never overcome.  Only God can.  Only by God’s grace can the wolf be tamed.  As Guardini notes; “Therefore, in order that I may hear, he must not only speak, but also open my ears to his voice.”
Francis condemns the wolf for his sin of attacking and devouring humans but then gives mercy.  Elsewhere in his book Guardini points out that true justice and true healing can only be achieved when we strive for that which is beyond mere justice, which is Christian love.  We have to move beyond the sad logic and bitter cycle of violence in our world.  It is mercy that allows us to do so. 
The saint recognized that the wolf was acting out of hunger.  So often we sin not out of pure malice but rather out of our own hunger, need and fear.  Francis knew this and sought to heal the root cause and what is uniquely worth reflecting upon in this story is that the saint does this by bringing the wolf back into relationship with the very ones he had been terrifying!  The saint crafts a pact between the wolf and the inhabitants of Gubbio.  It is the very people of Gubbio and their relationship with the wolf that will allow the wolf to overcome his hunger, need and fear.  Francis does not tame the wolf and then send it off to a distant location.  No, the process of taming continues within the very context of the wolf’s ongoing relationship and life with the townspeople. 
There is much to be learned from the story of St. Francis and the wolf of Gubbio as well as Romano Guardini’s recognition that the fiercest wolf is often the one within.  Much to be learned for our own lives, for recognizing what is at work in the lives and actions of others and even regarding what is at work, writ large, in our world today. 
St. Francis, tamer of wolves, pray for us! 

The Possibility of Holiness

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in Catholic Church, Christian living, Church, discipleship, faith, following Jesus, God, gospel, holiness, Jesus, joy

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I am not holy.  My sins, failures and weaknesses are before me every day, but I believe in the possibility of holiness and it is this belief that keeps me in the Church. 

I am not naïve to the sins and failures of the institution of the Church nor its representatives – past and present, universal and local – but neither am I naïve to the sins and failures of those outside the Church and those who deride “church”.  I have also witnessed their sins and their hidden despair and I want none of it.  The louder and more forced the laugh; the deeper the despair, I believe.  
I do not want nor need a “Church” made in my image.  I know my sins.  Holiness is challenge – lived daily and without fanfare.  I am a creature and I need my Creator to heal what is broken within me.  To pretend that there is no brokenness is, in fact, to deny my Creator. 
Holiness is simple.  I am tired of a presentation of faith that needs to be hyper-stimulated.  I feel sorry for our young people who are growing up in such a world.  I am sorry for the times the Church buys into this.  Holiness cannot be manufactured.  Holiness grows simply and quietly.  What is manufactured quickly fades and leaves a void.  Maybe holiness can begin to grow in this void maybe it cannot.  I know that God can work as God so chooses and I have to trust in this.  
Holiness is not argument and it is not philosophy.  Debate does not lead to conversion, the witness of holiness does.  Philosophy and its structure is a good tool but it is not salvific faith.  The wise steward, we are told, is the one who can go to the storeroom and pull out both the old and the new as needed.  Maybe there are other tools available?
Holiness does not isolate.  Christ, the All Holy One, came into our very midst.  He called us brothers and sisters and taught us to love one another.  Holiness is found in my encounter with the other although it may not be immediately apparent.  The holiness uniquely found in community forces me out of myself and I need this.  If anything, the direction of holiness is from the mountain back down into the valley of the everyday. 
Holiness is not on a mountaintop somewhere but in the Gospel, the sacraments and community.  I need these every day.
Many people like to point to the sins of the Church.  It is nice to have an excuse isn’t it?  Pointing out the perceived sins of others does not grow holiness in my own life; it just gives me a way out.  I need to stand before my Creator on my own and not in contrast to what I perceive as the sins of others. 
Holiness is beautiful and I need beauty – a child playing peek-a-boo, friends laughing, feet being washed.  
I feel sorrow for those who have left the Church.  Christ loves the Church … how can you love Christ and not love what he loves?  Maybe Christ’s love should be bigger than my own resentments and excuses?
Holiness is living in friendship with God.            

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord: Baptized into the Commitment of Christ

11 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in Baptism of the Lord, commitment, life, life in Christ, will

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Fr. Robert Barron is a respected theologian, author and speaker.  I was privileged in seminary to have him as one of my professors.  He shares a sports analogy that I have made use of a number of times because, I believe, it speaks so well.  

Imagine a sporting event.  It can be anything – a soccer match, a football or basketball game, a tennis match, volleyball, whatever.  Now imagine all the different characters and roles of the game.  Picture the players (either or a team or an individual) striving with all their ability.  The athlete’s job is to play with all of ones skill.  Imagine the coach or coaches on the sidelines.  Their job is to direct, strategize and encourage.  Imagine the umpires or referees.  Their job is to call foul, to penalize and to make sure that the game is played fairly.  Picture the fans and the crowd.  Their job is to cheer on the team, the athlete, to enjoy the game and to have pride.  These are the different roles and characters of a sporting event and we can probably easily imagine them.  

There is one more role that is critical to any game yet it is easily overlooked.  It is the role of the field or the court itself.  Imagine a sporting event, any type of game, trying to be played without a field or court, without in or out boundaries.  Players can run anywhere, shoot from anywhere.  It would not work, the game would turn to chaos!  It is the field or the court itself with it’s “in and out” boundaries that keep the energy of the game directed and moving!  The field or court itself has a critically important role to play to any sporting event.  

The analogy is this.  Just as the boundaries of a sporting field or court keep the energy of the game directed and moving so the commitments we freely make in our lives keep the energy of our lives moving and directed.  True, authentic and freely entered into commitments do not deny freedom, rather they fulfill our freedom!  If our lives are to go anywhere then they need commitments.  Without commitments it would be like playing a game without any boundaries.  There may be a lot of running around and energy but it is really not going anywhere. 

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord can be approached from different angles.  The voice of the Father and the coming of the Spirit validates Christ as the Son of God.  The humility of Christ is revealed in his willingness to be baptized by John “in order to fulfill all righteousness”.  In Christ, earth and heaven are once more reconciled.  All of these are true and worthy of deep reflection but what has stood out for me in my prayer over the readings this last week is Christ’s commitment to the will of the Father.  

The one undergirding and guiding principle of our Lord’s life is his obedience to the will of the Father.  Romano Guardini, in his book “The Lord” notes that at different times people have tried to define Christ in different terms – radical revolutionary, utopianist, anti-bourgeois romantic, mystic, itinerant preacher, social reformer.  All of these definitions for Christ, contends Guardini, fall far short of the truth of who Christ is.  The identity of Christ is not to be found in political or social categories but goes much deeper to the very core of the human condition.  Christ is the one who perfectly chooses and follows the will of the Father in all things!  Because of this Christ can never be neatly boxed into any of our human and social categories because he transcends them all!  Christ is just as comfortable having dinner with tax collectors and prostitutes as he is with the righteous and the Pharisee.  He is not naïve to the sins of any group but he is faithful to the will of his Father that all might be saved and have life. 

Christ is defined by his commitment to the will of the Father.  In our baptisms, we have been baptized into the life and death of Christ and we have also been baptized into his commitment.  It is in commitment to God’s will in our life that we find life and we find purpose.  

In this way we know that we love the children of God when we love God and obey his commandments.  For the love of God is this, that we keep his commandments.  And his commandments are not burdensome, for whoever is begotten by God conquers the world. (1 Jn. 5:2-3)  

Authentic and freely-entered into commitment is not opposed to freedom rather it fulfills freedom.  We have been baptized into the life and death of Christ that we might share in his resurrection.  We have also been baptized into his commitment.  In this, life gains direction and it gains purpose which lasts even unto eternity.            

New Year’s Resolution, Pope Francis and the Illusion of Immortality and a Dislocated Shoulder

01 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in gift of time, Illusion of Immortality, New Year, New Year's resolution, Pope Francis

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The end of one year and the beginning of another is always a good time to reflect on the gift of “time” that we have been given.  We take stock of the preceding year.  What were the good moments and blessings?  What were my mistakes, missed opportunities and struggles?  We make resolutions for the coming year.  “This year I resolve to … (fill in the blank).”  In both taking stock on what has occurred and looking to the future is the realization that time is a gift and not necessarily a given (although we can easily think so) and how we make use of this gift does matter both for ourselves and for others. 
In my own “New Year reflecting” I have gained some good perspective both by an insight given by Pope Francis and by a recent personal experience.  The insight being the first of the fifteen spiritual diseases the Holy Father made mention of in his speech to the Curia: the illusion of immortality.  The personal experience being my recent dislocated shoulder acquired on a ski trip to Utah.
The media has certainly picked up on Pope Francis’ Christmas address to the Curia and, as often seems to be the case, many outlets are demonstrating more their own particular slant on things than are offering good reporting.  In the Catholic Church we are used the spiritual practice of the examination of conscience.  It is a helpful and fruitful discipline in the spiritual life.  As I read the address given by the Holy Father to the Curia, I heard a pastor leading his community in an examination of conscience in order that the community might advance on the way of discipleship.  Are these maladies present in the Curia and its work?  Probably, more or less, but neither are these maladies limited to ecclesial circles alone.  Any institution (corporate, media, government, educational) would do well to undertake such a thorough examination.  Something tells me not to hold my breath on this possibility though.  To those media and secular institutions chuckling about the Pope’s remarks, I would remind them that Jesus said something about focusing on the speck in your neighbor’s eye while ignoring the plank in your own.
Here is what the Holy Father said about the first malady.  The first is “the sickness of considering oneself ‘immortal’, ‘immune’ or ‘indispensable’, neglecting the necessary and habitual controls. A Curia that is not self-critical, that does not stay up-to-date, that does not seek to better itself, is an ailing body. … It is the sickness of the rich fool who thinks he will live for all eternity, and of those who transform themselves into masters and believe themselves superior to others, rather than at their service”. 
The Community of Sant’Egidio has a saying, “Each one of us is given only so many Easters.”  Only so many Easters to come to know the risen Lord, only so many Easters to let the truth of the resurrection and the gospel settle into our hearts and our very living.  In other words, no one is immortal.  We each have only so many years given us yet it is so easy to fall into the illusion of immortality.  I can easily think “I can do that tomorrow” but I might not have a tomorrow.  This is the “sickness of the rich fool” and it is very easy to catch, individually and even institutionally!  The humility of knowing that I am not immortal, immune nor indispensable leads me to value each day, each setting and each encounter.  It also allows me to cultivate empathy in my heart.  “There but for the grace of God go I,” is a prized awareness gained by the person who knows that he or she is also not immune.  An awareness of my mortality also leads me to better claim the possibilities each day offers.  A body in motion tends to stay in motion.  This is a dictate of good health and the Holy Father is applying it to the spiritual life both of the individual Christian and to the life of the whole Church.  The Church must remain healthy!  Striving for health enables health!  The illusion of immortality does not enable good health because it leads one into the fallacy of thinking that what is necessary and habitual applies neither to me nor to the institution of which I am a part. 
It is a humbling thing to wipe out on a ski slope and dislocate ones shoulder but humbling moments can lead to wisdom if they are approached correctly.  Five days ago on a trip visiting my brother and his family in Utah I did just this yet, while certainly humbling, I am already learning from this experience.  A body in pain will quickly cut through the illusion of immortality.  This is one learning gained. As I ever so slowly made my way down the remainder of the slope after my fall, not able to put the slightest pressure on my right arm, and once I saw in the clinic my shoulder blade about an inch lower on my arm than where it should be I was under no illusion regarding my mortality!  But there have been other learnings gained.  My brother Tony, with whom I was skiing, is an avid skier as well as being a former Army Airborne Ranger.  The skillset he brings to skiing is at a much higher and advanced level than mine.  Maybe there was a brotherly sense of needing to prove something at work but I should have taken things slower and more elementary.  There is an important value in the mundane work of developing the necessary skillset required rather than jumping right into something.  There is also an important value in acknowledging the correct level at which ones skillset is!  Another lesson learned (again, from my brother) was how I saw him staying aware of the risks involved and planning accordingly.  (I think this also might harken back to his Ranger training.)  He stays updated on the avalanche possibilities, he checks the weather, he takes the time to pack the needed gear before he and his family head out on an outdoor adventure, even when this causes his wife and son a little frustration.  But the extra time given at the outset can prove critical later. 
We are not immortal, the time we are given is a gift and we are called to be good stewards of the time we have been allotted.  In our lives of faith we need to do the mundane work of developing the skillset that is needed and we must not be naïve regarding the situation and times we find ourselves in as Christians.  Our Lord calls us to daily prayer, to the daily work of community and service and he calls us to be as cunning as serpents regarding the world in which we live.  We need to know that the extra time given at the outset can prove critical later.  
Not to boast but hopefully to acknowledge; one skillset I did bring to the table the day of my wipeout on the ski slope was a relaxed and calm approach to the event gained through the discipline of prayer.  The doctor and clinic staff remarked how popping my shoulder back into place was one of the easiest they had ever done.  “Most patients,” they said, “especially those with some muscle mass tend to tense up and this is what leads to a painful experience.  You, on the other hand, were so relaxed and calm that the shoulder easily popped back into place!”  When the staff gathered around me to begin the procedure and the nurse encouraged me to slowly breathe in and out and focus on my breathing I easily slipped into the Jesus Prayer in my thoughts.  A prayer I strive to live with every day.  (Breathe in) Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, (breathe out) have mercy on me, a sinner.
Each one of us is given only so many Easters.  How might I make best use of the time I have been allotted?  As we make our New Year resolutions it might be worthwhile to reflect on this question.  It might also be worthwhile to be open to insights coming from the most unexpected of places in our lives and experiences (i.e. the insight of a Pope as well as insights gained from dislocating ones shoulder).