Sunday, September 29, 2013

The Mouths of Babes

It’s 1990.  We’ve recently moved to Connecticut, and have decided to take a trip to see the sights in New York.  Mary Kate is six and Joey is four.  As we’re walking from the train station, I’m focused on getting us where we need to be.   Suddenly, Joey is tugging at my pants leg.  “Daddy, daddy,” he says, “there’s a man back there sitting on the sidewalk collecting money in his hat.  Can I have a dollar to put in his hat?”  Stuck in my own little world, I never even noticed the man begging on the sidewalk.  I give Joe a dollar bill and he happily trots back to the man with his contribution.
Out of the mouths of babes…
I imagine today’s parable of Lazarus and the rich man is very familiar to most all of you – it was familiar to me back then on the streets of New York.  And yet, I found myself uncomfortably cast as the villain of the tale.
What I’ve since realized is that my perception of the man’s sin was simply the symptom of a much deeper spiritual disease.  Apparently, the rich man did nothing during his life to alleviate poor Lazarus’ distress, despite the fact that Lazarus was just outside his door.  Okay, that’s bad, but again, just a symptom of the true evil.  The real issue is revealed in his conversation with Abraham.  He calls him Father Abraham, for the rich man was a Jew, a son of Abraham.  But he doesn’t refer to Lazarus as a fellow Jew, a fellow son of Abraham, his spiritual brother.  For him, Lazarus is simply a slave or a messenger.  His lack of charity towards Lazarus was not out of ignorance – he knows Lazarus’ name – but was because he considered Lazarus almost not human, not worthy of the slightest attention or dignity, never mind charity.
Jesus constantly reminds in his words and in his deeds to respect the dignity of every life around us.  While the rich man did not recognize his brotherhood with Lazarus, a fellow Jew, Jesus insists that we recognize the brotherhood and sisterhood of all humans, who are our fellow children of God, created in God’s image and likeness, vested with the goodness of God from their very conception.
My sin on the sidewalk that day long ago was not that I saw the man and decided to pass him by, but that he did not even break through into my consciousness.  For me, it was as if the man did not exist.  In my concern about tending to my own, leading my own to where we should be, I could not extend the dignity of human life to others around me.
When I can remove the dignity of life from any one person, I have opened a floodgate of ills and evil.  I can justify just about any offense against life - war, racism, xenophobia, capital punishment, abortion, poverty; you name it.  All I need to is to deny the full humanity of my victims.
The rich man, recognizing that his own fate is sealed, asks for Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his brothers.  Interestingly, the Greek word that Luke uses for “warn” is the same word that his uses nine different times in the Acts of the Apostles to describe the disciples witnessing to the risen Christ.  Yet Abraham says that even that warning from one risen from the dead will not be enough.  After all, they haven’t paid any attention to the plentiful warning already given by Moses and the prophets.  To remind us of these very warnings, we hear from the prophet Amos today, scathing the wealthy for being oblivious to the plight of the people of Israel (Am 6:4-7), a typical prophetic urging to care for the poor and needy.

Yet even today, with not only Moses and the prophets, but Jesus himself as an example, I can easily disrespect the life, the dignity, the humanity of others.  But then, Jesus sends me a message as I remember a tugging on my pants leg, “Daddy, daddy, there’s a man back there…” 

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

To pack or not to pack

It was about January of February of this year that Mary and I began to pack in earnest for our Camino that would not start until June!  We spent hours and hours deciding what we would need and what we could do without as we planned what we would take with us on the Camino.  On the one hand, we would be gone for five weeks or so in a foreign country.  We would need lots of stuff.  What if we forgot something we really needed?  On the other hand, whatever we took, we’d be carrying on our backs for five weeks!  How much could we carry for so long?

We consulted books and blogs.  We talked with people who had done the Camino.  We bought lightweight this and lightweight that.  Who knew it was so expensive to pack lightly?   We meticulously weighed everything, adding this and subtracting to get that perfect balance.  But of course, it wasn’t perfect.  Up to the very day before we left, I was picking up a few last things.  Even then, we probably took too much and still didn’t have a few things that we could have used.

This morning, we hear how Jesus sends his disciples off on a mission that could also last for weeks and weeks. (Lk 9:1-6)  But Jesus knows his disciples well.  He knows that if they are left to their own devices, the disciples might never get started on the mission at all.  They'd have to store up some provisions, get some extra clothes, arrange for accommodations in the different villages and towns, and who knows when they'd feel ready to go.

Yet they already have everything they need, for God has not abandoned them.  He has sent them his Son, who empowers them and through whom they have received every spiritual blessing in the heavens.  Jesus insists to them that this is sufficient by commanding that they bring nothing on the trip – no money, no food, no extra clothes, and no plans for accommodations.  They respond to his faith in them with faith of their own...and they succeed beyond their wildest imaginings.

Every day, Jesus shows this same amazing faith in each one of us.  Every day, we are called to proclaim the good news of Jesus' coming.  Every day, we are called to cast out demons of doubt and anxiety with the confidence of salvation through Jesus.  Every day, we are called to anoint the sick with the love and compassion of Jesus.  Every day, we are called to cure the world's anger and injustice with the forgiveness and mercy of Jesus.  This is not a mission that will last weeks and weeks, it is mission that lasts for the rest of our lives.

So what is Jesus to think of me who takes months and months and months to pack for a mission of a few weeks?  How many years would it take to prepare for this life-long mission? 

Let’s see…I have to do some research.  I need to make a list of what I would need to be ready to proclaim God’s great love.  Maybe I’ll take a course of two to gain some more knowledge and confidence.  Of course, I’ll need time to store up some resources so I can afford to be as generous as I’d like.  I’ll probably never feel that I’ve packed enough, that I am ready enough.  But Jesus has empowered us and he insists his power is enough.  We need no more.  We are to begin the mission today and continue day after day after day.    


Although Jesus calls each of us to share his work, he does not call us to pack.  Jesus has already packed for us – and he has not forgotten a thing!

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Hacking My Way to Hell

There was a time when I was a pretty fair golfer.  Certainly, I was no threat to be club champion, but when I struck the ball well – which was more times than not – I knew that the direction and distance of the ball would be close to what I had intended and my score would be good.  I played often, and the more I played, the better I became.  This was in a long-ago time that Mary and I refer to “B.K.” – before kids.

A.K. – after kids – who had time for golf?  Now, I seldom golf and when I do, it’s not pretty.  I am just a hacker.  I rarely strike the ball very well and even when I do, the ball seems to have a will of its own.  Things only work for me in those rare times when the shape of the course coincides with the flight of my ball.

Unfortunately, this reminds me of my life of discipleship.  Like you and like all human beings, God blessed me with a will of my own, a free will.  I can decide whatever I want!  My problem is that I’ve used this will to live in a conditional world, a world of ifs.  Perhaps I don’t consciously will this, just as I don’t consciously will my golf ball to the bottom of nearest pond, but it’s the world I choose.  For me, it is a world of simple logic.  If you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.  If you respect me, I’ll respect you.  If you love me, I’ll love you.

And if the course of my life is filled with people who share my values and my interests, people who are like me and who like me, I can seem to be a pretty good disciple of Jesus.  I love people since they generally love me.  I help people since they generally help me.

But more often, the course of life is not so congenial.  Then, the flip side of “if” rears its ugly head.  If you threaten me, I’ll threaten you.  If you hurt me, I’ll hurt you.  If you reject and hate me, I’ll reject and hate you.  At those times, it becomes apparent that I’m a mere hacker as Jesus’ disciple.

Just as the only time I look like a good golfer is when the golf course conforms to my ball’s will, the only time I look like a good disciple is when the course of my life conforms to my desires and my will.  And just as it is a ludicrously hopeless venture to find a golf course that always conforms to the flight of my ball, so I am constantly frustrated trying to make the world constantly conform to my will.

Jesus has the answer.  Do not reject him like the Pharisees rejected John as a demoniac, like they rejected Jesus as a glutton and drunkard, damned by his associations with the tax collectors and sinners.  (Lk 7:33-34).  Rather than reject Jesus because he doesn’t fit into my will, I must form my will to that of Jesus and the will of the one who sent him; the one who created the heavens and the earth; the one who breaks the chains of if by loving me and you and all creation without condition and beyond all measure


Accept Jesus without condition and I may still be a hacker at golf, but he will make me, as he will make you, an ace disciple, and the kingdom of heaven is ours.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Blessings and Woes

We have a plaque on our kitchen wall inscribed with the Beatitudes.  I am pretty sure that many of you, somewhere in your house, have a similar plaque or painting or picture.  But my plaque, almost certainly just like yours, sounds different from what we hear in today's gospel (Lk 6:20-26).  Of course, my plaque has the familiar Beatitudes from Matthew’s Gospel, and today we heard Luke’s quite different version.  Luke reminds us not only of the characteristics that open us to the message of Jesus, but, as he does throughout his gospel, Luke makes sure we are also aware of those attitudes and situations which close us off to Jesus and shut us out of the kingdom.
Now wait a minute.  Woe to you who are rich, who have food, who are happy, whom people respect and love?  I want all those things.  Wouldn’t this be a short list of the things that we would want for our children?  I want my kids to have money, to have plenty of food, to be happy, to be respected and loved.  Why is this wishing them woe?
Paul gives me a clue in this morning’s reading from Colossians:  “Seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.  Think of what is above, not of what is on earth.” (Col 3:1-2)
When I simply think of what is on earth, I am stuck in a world of finite resources, limited time, and conditional love and respect.  I have to work hard, make efficient and effective use of my time, and even then hope for a little luck, if I am to gain my rightful share of resources, of respect, and of love.  And even if I am lucky enough to get it for myself, I cannot guarantee the same for my children.  And in my focus on worldly success, in my anxiety for my children’s own success, I lose sight of what is above.  I lose sight of God.  Woe is me.
Everything changes when I seek what is above. 
Seeing that God loves me so much that, while I was a sinner, he gave his only Son to die for me, I need not seek love and respect.  I am already loved unconditionally.
And knowing that I am loved unconditionally – and therefore loved eternally, for time is not a condition which can end God’s unconditional love – I need not seek the happiness that comes from short-lived earthly pleasures.  I am filled with lasting joy, a light which shines through the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
And trusting in the eternal, unconditional and infinite love of God, I need not scrabble for food which does not satisfy, for wealth that does not last.  I need not strike out against those that do me harm, for they cannot take from me what God has given.  I know the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he is my rod and my staff, I fear no evil.

Seek what is above, and blessed indeed you will be.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

One-on-one time with Jesus

Jesus and the Church fathers often tell us that prayer should be ubiquitous in our lives.  We can pray anytime and anywhere.  We can offer all that we do to Jesus and make our every action a prayer.  While this is certainly true and spiritually salutary, Jesus shows us that, at times, we should also set ourselves apart from our daily activity and busy-ness to be present to God in a more dedicated way.
Our passage this morning concludes a section of Luke’s gospel (Lk 4:38-44) where Jesus has been quite busy in the town of Capernaum, the home town of Peter and James and John.  After spending the morning preaching and curing a demoniac in the synagogue, Jesus arrives at Simon’s house, presumably expecting a restful Sabbath meal.  Instead, he is called upon to heal Simon’s mother-in-law.  As the sun sets and the Sabbath ends, people flock to Simon’s house, bringing the sick to Jesus, who heals them all.
The next morning, Jesus leaves for a “deserted place.”  We often see Jesus doing this, most notably after his baptism, where he spent forty days in the desert.  Just a few verses later in Luke, we again hear him mention that Jesus “would withdraw to deserted places to pray.” (Lk 5:16).
These one-on-one times of prayer were very important for Jesus.  They gave him the wisdom, courage, and strength to understand his Father’s will and to follow it no matter where it led.  For example, while he may have thought that his productive time in Capernaum and the pleading of the people to stay with them were signs that he should continue his ministry there, his prayer time directed him another way – he was to proclaim the kingdom throughout Judea.
Just so, while we certainly benefit by integrating prayer into our daily activities and from gathering together in prayer at Mass and other group liturgies, setting apart time from others for one-on-one prayer with God allows us to listen more deeply and discern more clearly what God may have in mind for us.  By simply being still and resting in the Lord, we can also find renewed strength to serve others in his name.
I always had a difficult time finding that “alone time with God.”  My life was always busy and it seemed the only time I wasn’t doing anything was when I was asleep.  Where was I going to find any time for dedicated prayer?  The only way I could be sure of doing anything was to put it on the calendar.  If I just assumed I would do something whenever I had time, it never got done – I never had the time!
About twenty years ago, a group of people were inspired to start a perpetual eucharistic adoration chapel at St. Mary’s in Ridgefield, my home parish at the time.  This devotion was never part of my life before – oh, maybe a holy hour or two during Lent sometimes, but that was it.  To make that holy hour by myself – no benediction, no incense, no special occasion at all – seemed almost silly.
But I signed up for an hour.  It was not silly at all.  It was – and still is today – the best hour of my week.  Like Jesus in this morning’s gospel, I go off early in the morning – 4:00 am on Friday has always been my hour – and I find the dark and the quiet help still me and make me more aware of God’s presence to me.  Oftentimes in the spring and summer, as I leave the chapel, the birds are just waking and their chirping seems a celebration of the new day that is dawning.  I rejoice with them.  
For much of my time at St. Mary’s, I basically lived just behind the church and across the street from the chapel.  It could not have been more convenient.  Today, I have a ten-minute drive to St. Marguerite’s in Brookfield, where there is a perpetual adoration chapel.  At times, the thought enters my mind that I could do the same thing at home.  Why drive to the chapel?  But I know that’s just the devil talking to me, for I remember that before I committed to adoration, I also could have simply gotten up early and spend an hour with Jesus at home.  Yet I never did.  Other things always got in the way. 

Perhaps they do for you also.  If so, please consider joining me and commit to just one hour each week in adoration.  Perhaps you, too, will find it becomes the best hour of your week.