Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Question of the Week



Beginning this week I will be posting a question for adults and children to consider their answers about the scripture readings for the next Sunday. This is a resource that will help everyone better consider the readings at Mass.

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Running the race of faith

Reading I Wisdom 18:6–9a (on the death of the Egyptian first-born)
Reading II Hebrews 11:1–2, 8–19 (faith of the ancients)
Gospel Luke 12:32–48 (we depend on God; prepare for the master’s return)
Key Passage Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. (Hebrews 12:1–2a)

Adult:  Other than Jesus, which of the ancestors of Christian faith has served as the greatest example to you? Why?
Child:    Which person of the Bible has been a good example to you of how to live?

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time C



Luke 12:13-21
August 4, 2013

For readings click here.



It is summer!
Today is the fourth of August, and for many it is tough going.
No matter where you live in the United States, summer and August make for some uncomfortable days. It gets hot and dry.
Vacations are used up; school is almost ready to begin.
Early August is an in-between time and it is easy to feel a little worn, a little down, a little tired.
So the church serves up a great text to boost our spirits and help us keep going. Here in early August, in the middle of summer, we get the spiritual equivalent of a supervitamin.
I will take the liberty of creating a paraphrase for today’s text about being raised with Christ.
The writer of Colossians seems to say, “If you have been raised with Christ, then live like it!
Don’t get dragged down into ordinary, casual living.
Live like people who are alive in Christ.
Remember how good you look in the new clothes Christ has put on you.
Walk with a spring in your step and a song in your heart.
You have been raised with Christ.”
In the dog days of summer this is a great text to take to heart.

Living like we have been raised with Christ means to take faith off the shelf and onto the street.
It means to realize in fresh ways that the Christian faith is not so much about what we know as it is about what we do.
Think of faith as a verb and not a noun.
 Let’s consider how the life raised with Christ might look in these days.

When we are raised with Christ we can dare to live tomorrow’s life today.
We can stop putting off living the best lives we are capable of.
We no longer have to make cheap and easy compromise with our best selves that says, “One day when things are right, I will do this or I will love more or I will be more kind or trust more.”
Today is the day to live like this.
Because we have been raised with Christ, we can take the future and live it now.
We can dare to make real the petition of the Lord’s Prayer for the kingdom to come on earth as it already has in heaven.
We can dare to live lovingly in a world in love with war and destruction.
We can dare to live generously in a world choked by stinginess.
We can dare to offer cups of cold water to strangers whom everyone else fears. Let the experience of being raised with Christ intoxicate you so that you dare to live as though tomorrow is today.

If you have been raised with Christ, do something for the good of the world.
Don’t get weighed down by the mundane concerns of life.
Keep scanning the horizon and working for the kingdom of God.
A college professor once told his students, “All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely.
But dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance; just don’t tiptoe.”
 Bored people tiptoe through life.
The antidote for boredom is to give ourselves to something larger than ourselves.

Have you ever had an idea pop into your head about how to do something or create something that would make life better for others?
I am sure you have.
When that happens, usually another voice starts in our heads saying that the idea is not practical, or no one will listen, or we should not be so foolish.
We should just get back to doing what we know and are familiar with. Unfortunately, too many of us do just that and we start tiptoeing toward death. It is a tragic way to live.

I believe that people who have been raised with Christ have the power to create a new world.
The challenge of faithfulness is to live that power every day; to stay so focused on the resurrection experience
that we know we have overcome all obstacles and can dare to live with holy boldness because of a Savior who walks with us every step of the way.

It is summer.
The days are long and at times oppressively hot.
To hot and tired people comes the challenge to reclaim the experience of being raised with Christ in order to know his energy and aliveness for today’s ministry.
 A minister friend of mine related a story that he says is true and that illustrates what being raised with Christ means today.
An Episcopal priest, dressed in civilian clothes, walked into a motorcycle shop to look over the latest in two-wheel travel options.
As he stood on the showroom floor wishing he could afford a large and powerful motorcycle, a salesman began to talk to him.
The conversation went something like this.
“Hey, dude. That’s some bike, ain’t it?”
“It sure is,” said the minister.
“Man, you could put your woman on the back of this baby and really haul. I mean, it will leave rubber in three gears!
Dude, if you come to town on this hog, there ain’t anybody who will mess with you.
I’m telling you, this is one mean machine.
By the way, bro, what do you do for your bread?”
“I’m a minister.”
“Oh, excuse me . . . Reverend or Mister. What do they call you?
You know, these bikes, I mean machines, they really get good gas mileage, and you can park them anywhere.
Why, I sold one to a doctor the other day.”

Reflecting on this encounter the minister observed, “No one is surprised to find a Christian looking at lawn mowers.
Lawn mowers are safe, middle-class, and boring.
 Is being a Christian more like pushing a lawn mower or riding a motorcycle?”
Good question!
“If you have been raised with Christ . . .” Brothers and sisters, maybe it’s time we take our living faith out on the road and give it the gas and see what the old church can do.

Vroom! 

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Seventeenth Sunday Ordinary Time




Luke 11:1-13



How many of you know the Lord’s Prayer?
By heart?
There is the traditional language and cadence that we use in the atholic Church, which is so very familiar: “Our Father, who art in heaven.”
And there is the contemporary language: “Our Father in heaven, holy be your name.”
There is controversy over some fine points:
Are we forgiven “sins” or “debts”?
And how does the prayer end? “Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil”?
Or “The kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever”?
There are a number of versions of this prayer used by Protestants and Catholics in contemporary services and in more traditional worship.
The important thing is that we pray.

But what are we praying?
What are we praying for?
And where did this prayer come from, what does it mean, how are we to use it?
It is clear that prayer is important to Jesus.
We hear of him praying, we hear of him calling his followers to prayer, and we hear the lessons he offers about prayer.
In Luke’s gospel alone, Jesus is at prayer at his baptism; before choosing his 12 disciples; before the first prediction of his passion, at the Transfiguration.
Prayer seems to be important to Jesus.

And prayer was clearly important to Luke – after all, he collected and presented several stories attributed to Jesus right here in a rather small section of his gospel.
Presumably, then, prayer will also be important to us.
Let’s take a closer look.
What we read today begins with “Jesus was praying.”
And when he was finished, one of the disciples asked him to teach them to pray “as John had taught his disciples.”
We learn a couple of things in this.
One, that prayer is something one learns, something that can be taught.
There goes the excuse of “But I don’t know how to pray!”

And we also learn that there are forms of prayer that teachers pass on.
It was usual in Jesus’ time, and still is today, for teachers to instruct their disciples in how to pray and give them a formula.
This is essentially what the disciples were asking for.
Rabbis, teachers, taught their students, their followers, their disciples, how to do things.
In this case, it was John who had taught his disciples how to pray, and the disciples of Jesus asked for the same thing.
They asked to be taught. So Jesus told them, “When you pray, say this.”

Here we get to a potential stumbling block in understanding what we traditionally call “The Lord’s Prayer.”
It wasn’t his prayer, was it?
It isn’t what he prayed.
It was his response to a disciple’s request to be given a formula for praying, to be given some instruction, a method.
How often have we introduced this prayer in worship, saying, “And now, as our savior taught us, we are bold to say”?

So, is it the Lord’s Prayer?
Well, yes. And no.
He didn’t teach us his prayer, but a way to pray, and what to pray for.
He gave it to his disciples as a way to formulate prayer.
There is another point about this prayer that is sometimes missed:
This is a community prayer, not a private prayer.
It is a prayer that first praises God, and then makes three petitions for the ones praying.
The language of “us,” “we,” assumes that the community shares the longing for final coming of the kingdom.

This puts a bit of an eschatological thrust on the prayer.
The people who formed the early church believed with all their hearts and hoped that Jesus was coming back to lift them out of oppression, any day.
They expected that the kingdom would be established in their lifetime, and that they would live with God.
Hence, the community prayed in the way that Jesus instructed them.
Another point: The “daily bread” piece in Luke more accurately reads “day by day give us,” or “continue giving us,” or “each day give us.”
It seems that Luke wasn’t looking to a glorified bread in an eventual kingdom, but sustenance for the day, food for those who were encouraged to take up the cross daily, and who were expected to travel on missionary journeys with only what is needed for the day.
It is as much a request as it is a demand.

In Luke, the one praying asks for God’s forgiveness of sins – not debts – while promising to forgive others their debts.
This may be a reflection of Luke’s concern that possessions not get in the way of community relationships.
It may also be a reminder that God is the only one able to forgive sins, and that we are always in debt one to another.

Ultimately, the importance of the Lord’s Prayer is not only that Jesus gave it to his disciples, but that it was picked up by early Christian worshipers and incorporated into their understanding of how God shall be praised and what is right to ask for. And it is especially important that it has been handed down through generations to bind our community together.

How does Jesus teach his disciples to pray?
Boldly. Courageously. Expectantly.
Praise God. Place your needs before God.
This prayer begins in boldness.
It is a prayer of great courage, both praising God and placing demands upon God’s goodness, God’s justice.
It is the prayer of community.

We hear a lot these days about Jesus as “personal savior,” and it is common to hear the question “Have you been saved?”
But that would have been a foreign notion to the Jewish community, and out of character with Jesus’ teachings.
It is all about community, not you and me individually.
Pray in boldness, my friends.
Stand strong. Lift your head. Raise your voice.
Never mistake that our God is a strong God, ready to hear us.
And pray together, for the community.

That is what Jesus taught.

Fourteenth Sunday Ordinary Time




Luke 10:1-12
July 7, 2013


We are good at placing burdens on our clergy.
One of the most severe is to expect them to be the chief, perhaps the only agents of parish growth.
We await a new pastor, ready to give a list of lapsed people, former parishioners who have strayed, or perhaps even the names of people we might think would fit in with the rest of us.
Then we sit back and expect the new priest, who knows no one, has never lived here before, to get on with it.
That’s what we pay the priest to do. Right?
Consciously or not, our expectations transform our ideal of priests.
We envision them as well-polished sales clerks, adapt at getting customers to buy.
For our part, we make sure that the building looks spick-and-span, the sign welcoming, the doors open and the grass cut.
It is so difficult to avoid imposing on our faith that which we have become used to in our secular lives.
Few things impact us more than marketing.
We are consumers all, bombarded with objects on offer at a price, most of which we neither need nor really desire.
It’s important that we don’t start to think of our priest as the object designed to provide what we believe to be our “spiritual” needs.
Lessons like the one from the gospel today tend to reinforce all this. St. Luke tells of Jesus sending out over 70 disciples into the surrounding villages.
They are to travel light, but are armed with special powers.
When they return, it seems they had great success.
So, we reason, as the disciples, or some of them, became Apostles, and as we think of apostles as clergy, who created bishops and through them priests and deacons, obviously this story is meant to inspire the clergy to do a better job for us.
Jesus created a team to assist him and sent them into the world.
But was that team made up of clergy alone?
We continue to insist that these people were the first clergy.
In this we are both right and wrong.
We are right that among those called and sent were those who would be pastors, preachers, celebrants of the sacraments, those who led emerging Christian communities.
We are wrong if we think that all those called and sent filled that description, or were rather like our full-time, paid, professional clergy.
Those called and sent today, as then, are not merely the ordained, but rather they are the baptized.
Yes, this gospel is about you.
The gospel tells two things about every baptized Christian here today.
The first is that the task of telling the Good News to others is given to us all.
We may achieve that task in many different ways, quietly or spectacularly, verbally or by our loving care for others, but the task of showing Jesus to others is one of the chief reasons why we exist.
That is not an exaggeration.
We have to grasp the idea that each of us has been created, was born, for a purpose, and that purpose is in the mind of God and is more important than any other purpose we may take on.
The second truth the gospel tells us is that we have been “empowered” so to do. That’s an assurance and a challenge.
We tend to absolve our passivity by muttering things like, “I’m an introvert,” “It’s not in my nature,” “I get embarrassed.”
The Gospel assures us  – and Luke later stresses this at the beginning of Acts – that we are all empowered to witness in the world and that empowerment is not the same as natural talent.
Imagine that you find yourself by a sick bed.
Everything in you tells you to cut and run.
You are extremely uncomfortable, don’t know what to say, feeling inadequate and close to panic.
Yet you stay, maybe holding a hand and just sitting there.
That action comforts and cheers the sick person.
You have used not your talent, but the power given to you in baptism and reinforced every time you receive Holy Communion.
Perhaps you are in line at the store; an irate customer is yelling at the sales assistant.
It’s not her fault.
She is close to tears.
When you get to her, your notice her name, speak it to her, smile and offer her silent comfort.
In so doing you use the grace given to you in baptism.
You see, our second problem, apart from consigning the task of witnessing to the clergy, is that we don’t recognize spiritual gifts because we think they must be spectacular.
Yes, the 70 were given the power to cast out evil, but to do so may merely be the offering of goodness and kindness, objective love.
That may sound trite.
Practicing consistent, objective love, particularly toward people we hardly know, or are not like us, or people that repel us by their actions is no trite or easy thing.
 It’s much easier to lump them in a convenient group, label them, espouse an all-embracing cause and keep one’s distance.
Jesus, present among us this morning, continues to call us, send us, and empower us.
We all have a vocation to ministry.
Perhaps this coming week, in our quiet times, when we have the opportunity to reflect, or even to pray, it might be good to consider what task, seemingly beyond of strength or talents, our comfort zone,

 God wants us to take on and embrace, in the strength of the Holy Spirit, who has lived within us, often unrecognized, since the day we were adopted by God in Baptism.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Sunday 13 C


Image: If You See Me As I Am Being Taken © Jan L. Richardson

Luke 9: 51-62

Elijah and Elisha.

What an epic story.
It’s pure Hollywood!
Mix together “Lord of the Rings,” Harry Potter and Indiana Jones, and this would give just some of the ingredients.
There are wicked kings and queens (they featured a couple of weeks ago), wild-bearded ascetic revolutionaries (that’s Elijah),
wide-eyed acolyte disciples eager to drink from the deep well of the master’s wisdom (that’s Elisha),
sacred, powerful garments (that’s Elijah cloak), incredible scenery (mountains, deserts, huge rushing rivers).
And we have not even considered the special effects.
 And what special effects they are.
George Lucas would be so proud.
Whirlwinds, rivers magically parted,
firestorms beyond our pyrotechnical dreams,.

Fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry – oh, wait – those aren’t from Elijah’s story, they’re from Paul’s Letter to the Galatians.
And what a letter it is
Whatever those Galatians were up to, it certainly wasn’t stamp collecting. And what themes Paul raises: the dangers of replacing slavery of one kind with slavery of another – slavery to self-gratification and self-indulgence.
Let’s look at this in detail.
What a vivid description of Elijah: the whirlwinds, the fire.
 Rather like the disciples in that Samaritan village.
They must have been thinking about Elijah as well.
They ask Jesus if he wants them to summon down fire on the Samaritan village because the townsfolk didn’t receive him.
What an extraordinary episode.
What on earth were those disciples thinking, wishing a fiery immolation on that village?

“Foxes have their holes, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”
“Let the dead bury their own dead.”
“No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.”
But weren’t we talking about the Galatians?
We seem to have been distracted by Elijah, or was it the Samaritan village?
And that is precisely the point.

In this day and age, distractions abound like mushrooms in a damp, dark basement.
 Far from avoiding them, we appear to seek them out.
The term “multitasking” doesn’t seem to have negative connotations:
In fact, we tend to view the ability to do more than one thing at a time as a virtue.
Texting during a meeting? Sure, why not?
Checking Facebook at a dinner party? Why, yes! Doesn’t everyone?
It persuades the people around us that we have full, busy, important lives.
Most probably we persuade ourselves, too.
We flit from one shiny thing to another, wowed by things that are sleeker, faster, bigger, higher.

And that, also, is precisely the point.
There are so many distractions, diversions.
But each of these conspire to take our minds off the ball.
Faced with a bewildering array of choices, we can easily become unfocused, lose our single-mindedness.

All of the characters that we meet in today’s readings – apart from Jesus – are distracted by something.
The disciples of Jesus are distracted by their mistrust of the Samaritans.
The people that Jesus and the disciples meet on the way are distracted by their material possessions, duties and social conventions.
The Galatians are distracted by all manner of ephemeral, selfish gratifications or petty jealousies.
 Elisha is distracted by the thought that he might not inherit Elijah’s special powers.

Elijah’s conversion experience seems not to have filtered down to Jesus’ disciples.
They – along with the rest of their contemporaries – seem to prefer Elijah in his noisy showman phase.
 When Jesus’ disciples suggest raining down fiery destruction on the Samaritan village, their understanding of God is just as off-target as Elijah’s had been.
Time and again we are shown how the disciples just don’t seem to get it.
We know that eventually they do, but it’s a long journey for them to reach the realization that God’s strength is in weakness,
God’s rule is in servanthood, God’s power is in humility and God’s judgment is in forgiveness.

Before we congratulate ourselves on being smarter and more insightful than those first disciples, let’s just take a moment to consider if we ourselves – and the church in general – get it any more than they did.

More and more people are saying that the church is at a pivotal point in its life.
Some even describe it as a collapse.
Certainly it is a time of wholesale reassessment.

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Perhaps, it is that we are on the brink of a new Great Awakening.
Perhaps it is where we will hear afresh the still, small voice of God, and what his voice is inviting us to do,

and where we will understand much better how to break free of the slavery of distractions.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Cannonballs!





Any cannonballs in your life lately???
More often than not we usually recognize them in retrospect.
God is always communicating with us.
Sometimes we can hear and choose to listen in the moment.
At other times the 'white noise' of our lives gets in the way.
Then there are those occasions when the light bulb goes off and we say 'Remember when...I think that may have been God saying..."
Listen...Discern...Act!


Sunday 12 C



Luke 9: 18-24
June 23, 2013
Click here for readings


 The  question to the disciples is one that every reader of the Gospel must answer sooner or later: “Who do you say that I am?” 
Repeatedly the disciples and others around Jesus had asked one another who Jesus was. 
Jesus now turns the question back on the disciples. 
He did not ask who he was but who they believed him to be. 
Beyond the question of identity is the issue of confession.

Peter gave the best answer he knew, the highest confession he could imagine, (“ The Christ of God”)but it wasn’t enough. 
On the one hand, it failed to see the struggle and sacrifice that lay before Jesus; 
on the other hand, it wasn’t enough because it failed to recognize the sacrifice and demand that would be required of any who confessed Jesus to be the Christ.

The questions that mean most in life may be the questions of identity and relationship. 
“Who are you?” 
“Who is God?” 
“What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus?” 
And, maybe even more important: “What do our answers to these questions mean for our values, priorities, and commitments?” 

The answers to these questions usually emerge from experience and require a commitment of life. 
We answer these questions by the way we live. 
Peter may have been partially right about who Jesus was, 
but he was completely wrong about what following Jesus would mean for him. 
Jesus was on his way to a cross, not a throne, 
and those who follow him must be ready to follow him on this road of obedience to God’s redemptive will and sacrifice for the salvation of others.

I sometimes hear that my homilies are too harsh.
But, those who preach a cheap grace or a gospel of health and wealth not only offer false promises, but also they preach a false gospel. 
Discipleship and lordship are always interrelated. 
When we offer false assurances and teach a cross-less discipleship, we proclaim a distorted christology. 
On the other hand, when we preach a crucified Christ, 
the only authentic response is for us to give up all other pursuits that might compromise our commitment and devote ourselves completely to the fulfillment of the kingdom tasks for which Jesus gave his own life. 
The nature of our discipleship always reflects our understanding of Jesus’ lordship.

Discipleship is also a continuing process. 
That means first that however lofty our understanding or obedient our discipleship, 
most of us are probably not far from Peter—confessing but failing to grasp the implications of our confession; 
understanding, but only in part; 
following Jesus, but maintaining our own aspirations and ambitions also. 

The present tense verbs of the sayings on discipleship should, therefore, not be overlooked. 
We might paraphrase: “If you want to continue following me, deny yourself now and take up the cross every day, and keep on following me.” 
What net profit is there if having gained everything you lose your own life?

There are only two impulses in life. 
One is the impulse to acquire, take, hoard, own, and protect. 
The other is the impulse to give and to serve. 
One assumes that each of us can be the Lord of our own lives 
and that our security and fulfillment depend on our ability to provide for ourselves. 
The other confesses the sovereignty of God and devotes life to the fulfillment of God’s redemptive will in delivering and empowering others, 
establishing justice and peace, tearing down barriers, reconciling persons, and creating communities. 
Those who devote themselves to these tasks confess that the true fulfillment of life is to be found in the service of Christ and that our only security is in him.


There is a further truth hidden in the contrasts between the present and the future in the coming Son of Man sayings. 
In the context of teachings on discipleship, the emphasis is not on the coming Son of Man 
but on the truth that the way we live in the present determines our relationship to the Lord in the future. 
We are becoming who we shall be. 
Who we say Jesus is now determines what he will say of us in the future. 
How we answer the question “Who do you say that I am?” through our day-to-day discipleship is the only answer that matters

—but everything depends on that answer.