Category Archives: Christ

The Humble and Patient King

21 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by in Christ, Christ the King, Christian living, Feast of Christ the King, holiness, homily, humility, Uncategorized

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jesus before pilateAt one point in his commentary on this Sunday’s Responsorial Psalm (Ps. 93), St. Augustine shares this observation: Humble people are like rock.  Rock is something you look down on, but it is solid.  What about the proud?  They are like smoke; they may be rising high, but they vanish as they rise. 

In the gospel for today’s Feast of Christ the King (Jn. 18:33b-37) we are given the humble and patient God.  Pilate (representative of all the powers of the world but powers that really have no authority of Jesus) questions Christ – a seemingly defeated and isolated man, abandoned by his friends and followers and mocked by his own people.

Pilate answered, “I am not a Jew, am I?  Your own nation and chief priests handed you over to me.  What have you done?”  Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world.  If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.  But as it is, my kingdom is not here.”  So Pilate said to him, “Then you are a king?”  Jesus answered, “You say I am a king.  For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  

Today, we as Church, proclaim Christ is King yet, like Pilate, our understanding and idea of this title is often limited.  It is interesting to note on this Feast of Christ the King that our Lord, himself, never took on the title of “king”.  Even on this most final and bitter of stages; when the fallen pride of our human condition would eagerly grasp onto a title of assertion to throw back into the face of the powers of this world (how often we see this exalted on our movie screens in the myth of redemptive violence) our Lord chooses a different path.  “You say I am king.  For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Our Lord rejects the title “king” and by so doing he forswears the fallen world and all it has to offer – self-indulgent pride, sad divisions and triumphalism and all forms of violence.  Our Lord chooses a different path – the path of humility.  “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  

Humility has more in common with truth than does pride and power.  In fact, humility is essential if there is to be any real understanding of truth.  If we would know the truth then any temptation to put ourselves and our way of thinking at the center of creation (and these temptations come in all shapes and sizes: blue and red state, enlightened secularist and righteous religious, male and female, rich and poor, all colors of skin and shades of culture) must be put aside.  Everyone (I repeat “everyone”), needs to accept the purifying light of humility because the only constant, the only necessary is God – all else is contingent upon God’s will.  We are not necessary.  The more we realize this then the more we open ourselves to those moments when we catch a glimmer that God is indeed the “rock”, the only solid basis of all creation.  We also catch a glimpse of the infinite patience of God who submitted Himself to our illusions and misguided hatred.  Gratitude grows in our hearts when we honestly acknowledge and reflect upon the humility and patience of God.

Ours is a different type of king.  All is grace.

Do you want joy and gratitude?  Then look to the one we proclaim “king” yet who never sought that title for himself.  “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  Cultivate humility.  Humility leads us to truth and truth brings gratitude.

The coming of the Son of Man. We are not Afraid. (Thoughts on the Sunday readings: 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time – B.)

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in Christ, homily, hope

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new_jerusalem1One of my professors in seminary would often remark that the events of the last days as portrayed in the Scriptures should be read like the labor pangs of birth rather than cataclysmic destruction.  In fact, the birth analogy is more in keeping with the fuller sense of Scripture than any “cataclysmic, world destroyed in a ravaging ball of fire, Hollywood movie” version.

The texts of Scripture do not confirm a sort of “theory of catastrophes,” according to which there must first be a complete destruction of the world after which God can finally turn everything to good.  No, God does not arrive at the end, when all is lost.  He does not disown his own creation.  In the book of Revelation we read, “You created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (4:11). We must also remember that at the very beginning of Scripture, after God has made everything, God looks upon creation and proclaims it to be good. God does not disown his creation.

The “upheaval” expressed throughout the New Testament is that when the Son of Man comes, he comes not in the weariness of our habits nor does he insert himself passively into the natural course of things.  When Christ comes, he brings a radical change to the lives of men and women and it is always a change that brings the fullness of life.

Notice that in this Sunday’s gospel passage (Mk. 13:24-32) after our Lord speaks of the coming of the Son of Man with “great power” he goes on to state: Learn a lesson from the fig tree.  When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near.  In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates. 

Our Lord does enter into our lives and the life of our world with “great power” but the upheaval he brings is an invitation to turn away from sin and the works of sin and to turn toward the fullness of life.

As Christians we are to live in this world not bound by the deadening works of sin and pride but rather in the upheaval and pangs of birth of the establishment of the Kingdom of God.  Because every day and in every situation Christ is near, at the gates.  The Book of Revelation gives us an image of this hope toward which we yearn and work.  Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth … And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband (Rev. 21:1-2).

The great “Day of the Lord” is not yet to happen. It has already happened!  God has entered into creation and history in the person of Christ, eternity has entered into time, and now this upheaval comes to every generation and even each day!  We are caught up in the great work of God where all peoples and nations will be gathered together into the new Jerusalem!

The “end of the world” must come every day.  Every day, we must put an end to both the small or big pieces of the world’s evil and malevolence … Scripture invites us to keep the future, toward which we are led, in front of our eyes: the end of the world is not a catastrophe, but will in fact establish the holy city that comes down from heaven.  It is a city that is a concrete reality, not an abstract one, gathering all the people around their Lord.  This is the goal (and, in a sense also, the end) of history.  But his holy city must begin in our daily life now so that it may grow and transform the lives of men and women into God’s likeness. 

Our thoughts and prayers this weekend turn to Paris and the victims of Friday’s terrorist attacks. One of the stated goals of ISIS is not just to bring about a caliphate (a Muslim state) but the apocalypse as they view it. They wish to bring about the apocalypse through acts of violence. Theirs is a sick and twisted ideology. Already the people of Paris are responding to these violent attacks by standing up and saying “We are not afraid.” This is a classic Christian response. We are not afraid because the coming day of the Lord is not a day of destruction but a day of life. The coming Day of the Lord will be when all injustice will be righted, every tear will be wiped away and life will reign! We are not afraid because God has entered into human history and has overcome violence and emptied the tomb of its power!

We are not afraid because Christ is Lord!

(Quotes taken from The Word of God Every Day by Vincenzo Paglia.)

The Holy Face (Volto Santo) as spiritual remedy

21 Friday Aug 2015

Posted by in Christ, Christian living, life, life in Christ, resurrection

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The Volto Santo of Manoppello

The Volto Santo of Manoppello

What was that first moment of resurrection like for our Lord? What was that first sudden intake of breath like; which came from an up-to-then lifeless corpse – an intake of breath which cracked the silence of the enclosed tomb? Did our Lord gaze with wonder as he watched the return of color to his hands and feet and body (now marked with the signs of his crucifixion) as the pallor of death dissipated?

These thoughts have been in my prayer reflection now for a while and as they have remained I have discovered a needed remedy for my own spiritual well-being and, I think, for the well-being of our Church and world.

A little over a year ago, I had the opportunity to visit the Church of the Holy Face (Volto Santo) in Manoppello, Italy. This church houses what is claimed by some to be an image or imprint not made by human hands which captures the moment of our Lord’s resurrection. The image is found on a scarf size piece of very delicate and rare byssum fabric. One theory goes that the scarf was laid over the face of Jesus in an act of devotion as he was placed in the tomb and shrouded. The veil of Manoppello would then be akin to the Shroud of Turin in its witness and mystery. There is an ongoing debate about the authenticity of the veil and I do not wish to wade into those waters. I will leave that to those people with the appropriate academic and scientific credentials.

From an iconic point of view though what I do find intriguing about the image of the Volto Santo is that the eyes are opened and the lips are parted as if in an intake of breath. Is the image real? I do not know. Is the image a necessity for belief in the resurrection? No. Is the image worthy as an object of devotion? Personally, and here I stress “personally”, I say yes. Why? Because the Holy Face witnesses to the triumph of life over death and this is the needed spiritual remedy it offers.

We live in an age chasing after and fixated upon death. Despite all protestations to the contrary; the love of death is rampant in our day. Pope Francis has courageously noted that the economy has become the rule against which all human life and even creation itself is to be measured. To paraphrase the Holy Father; the market drops and the world is in a panic, people starve to death every day and no one notices. A world guided solely by the principles of the market is a world in love with death. Does the finance market have its place? Yes. Can the finance market achieve great good? Certainly. Should the finance market become the one rule over which all life is measured and judged? Definitely not. When it becomes the one measure we see the effects – baby’s body parts are sold to the highest bidder, euthanasia is promoted as efficient care, life becomes so stressed that social isolation increases and people (especially the elderly) are forgotten, the stranger, the person of different skin color and the immigrant are viewed solely in terms of threat, creation itself is disrespected and destroyed solely for profit and the list could continue.

Christians are not a people in love with death. We cannot be because we know that death has been conquered. There was that sudden intake of breath and the tomb has been emptied! But we are so surrounded by a culture in love with death, so inundated by it, that it is so easy to become cynical in order to just go along for the sake of going along. But we die when we do this and we are not true to what we know as Christians. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! The one who once was dead now lives!

The Holy Face (the Volto Santo) reminds us. Contemplating upon the Holy Face and those first moments of the resurrection enkindles our spirits again in the face of our world and its vain and often death-seeking pursuits! The Holy Face seen as an image capturing the moment of resurrection offers a remedy of hope that our hearts and our world need. Again, is any particular image of the Holy Face necessary? No. Is remembering the resurrection and living our lives according to the resurrection necessary? Absolutely.

We are Christians. We do not proclaim nor pursue death. We proclaim life.

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…”

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! 

Thoughts on the Sunday readings: John the Baptist and Atticus Finch (3rd Sunday of Advent-B)

13 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by in Advent, Atticus Finch, Christ, John the Baptist, justice, truth

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The play, “To Kill a Mockingbird” is a story about prejudice and the courage to do what is right.  In the play, Atticus Finch – a lawyer, agrees to defend a young black man (Tom Robinson) when he is unjustly accused of a crime he did not commit.  Racial bigotry is stirred up and Atticus and his family are persecuted for seeking justice for the young man.  Despite the persecution Atticus does fight for justice for Tom but by the end of the trial bigotry and the need to scapegoat win out and the young man is condemned for a crime he did not commit.  After this verdict as Atticus leaves the courtroom and passes his two children, a black minister who is aware of all the factors at play tells the girl and boy to stand because their father is passing, “a good and just man.”

Is not Atticus, in many ways, a figure of John the Baptist?  Atticus can be seen as a man proclaiming the truth even in the face of persecution, misunderstanding and ridicule.  Like John the Baptist, he proclaimed and held to the light even in the very midst of darkness.  Both men faced the same temptations – the temptation to remain quiet, to keep ones head down, to not make waves.  Both also faced the temptation to proclaim oneself.

Throughout the play, Atticus is a soft spoken, humble man even as others talk about all his achievements and abilities.  In his final speech in the courtroom Atticus does not proclaim his own skill as a lawyer nor his gift of rhetoric; rather, he proclaims and points to truth and justice for Tom Robinson.  It was a proclamation to those gathered in the courtroom just as pointed as the cry of the Baptist in the wilderness.

John the Baptist also faced this temptation to proclaim self.  The people were streaming toward John from all over the countryside, there was a deep yearning for the messiah – John knew this and he could have seized all that energy and power!  But he didn’t.  “I am not the Christ,” said John.  “I am the voice of one crying in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord … I am not worthy to untie his sandals.”

John the Baptist was able to do two things extremely well: he was able to look away from himself and he was able to look toward God.  In this he was able to recognize the truth of who he was – a man in need of a savior – and therefore he was able to recognize the true savior when he came (in contrast to the Pharisees).  “I baptize with water; but there is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me, who sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” (John 1:27)

What John the Baptist and the figure of Atticus proclaim to us is that truth and justice do not lie inherently within ourselves as if they were our own possessions.  They are not part of our constitutional makeup that we can either summon or dispose of at will.  Rather, truth and justice are acquired by us only insofar as we place ourselves in relation to truth and justice itself – whom we proclaim to have a name and a face: Jesus.

As we place ourselves in relation to Christ, we both learn to see anew with eyes enlightened by faith (judging rightly) and our own dignity is found.  The words spoken by the black preacher to the children of Atticus might then be applied to any one of us, “Stand, your father (mother) is passing, a good and just man (woman).”  Whether victorious or not in the realm of worldly success and opinion; could there be any higher compliment?

Come, Lord Jesus and do not delay and, in all things, may we testify to the light!