Urban Hermit at 3156 Doyle Street, Toledo, OH 43608-2006 US - Sundays, Year A

2^nd Sunday of Lent (A):  Wasting Time with God, or Wasting God's Time?

Genesis 12:1-4a—Abram went as the Lord directed him.

Psalm 33:  Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you.

2 Timothy 1:8b-10—Bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.

Matthew 17:1-9—Rise, and do not be afraid.

Dear People of God,

I want it to be easy. 

I want to sit on the top of the mountain, entranced by the glory of God, awestruck.  I want to stay there—to build a tent, a house, a temple and dwell there forever.

I want to be part of the great nation, a blessing to all the communities of the earth.  I want life and immortality through the gospel.

And it's obvious that I'm not there.  Yet.  It's obvious that I'm at the beginning of the journey—not only at the beginning of the 40-day journey of Lent but also at the beginning of the journey to enlightenment and transfiguration.  Sure, I have glimpses of light:  adumbrations of immortality, resonances of soul, lifts of spirit.  But they do not last.  I am unable to erect a tent over them or a fence around them.  They disappear, and I am left to face the cross of my life.

And so the journey goes on.  When I am bereft of the vision, I force myself to bring it back in memory.  I relive the steps before the vision came.  I pray about the vision itself.  I ask for the vision to return.  I need that light as a guide on the way.

It's the end of the basketball season for our high school players.  For the team I've been following, it's been a fairly successful season, but one that will not see them continue in the playoffs.  For teams like the one we played last Friday night, it's the end of the journey.  As they came onto the floor after the halftime break, I wondered what light they could possibly be following:  the score was two-to-one against them, and they were already exhausted from trying to play against a taller, stronger, deeper team.  Why not forfeit? 

The answer, of course, is that their goal is not winning but playing their best.  I'm reminded of one of my 7^th grade students, a young man with considerable talent.  He is able to assimilate and repeat verbatim every lesson he hears or reads.  He easily scores between 97 and 100 on every test, quiz, and exercise I put before the class.  Nevertheless, I evaluated his effort at "U"—unsatisfactory—for the semester.  When his mother questioned the grade, given that his academic average was 98 percent, I explained that he has not been doing his best.  Even though he is able to perform all the required work for his grade level in an excellent manner, he is wasting his time—and mine—with a lackluster performance. 

On this second Sunday of Lent, I am called by the scriptures to take a look at the effort I'm putting forth.  Am I wasting time with God, or wasting God's time? 

God bless!

3^rd Sunday of Lent (A):  God with Us

Exodus 17:3-7—Is the Lord in our midst, or not?

Psalm 95:  If today you hear God's voice, harden not your hearts.

Romans 5:1-2, 5-8—While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

John 4:5-42—My food is to do the will of the one who sent me.

Dear People of God,

How like the ancient Israelites, our ancestors in faith, we are!  Delivered from bondage, walking with God, we crumble before the hardships of the journey and start grumbling.  We ask God, Why are you doing this to us?  Is this the reason you called us to follow you? 

In the Gospel the followers of Jesus show the same lack of understanding.  They find Jesus at the well with the Samaritan woman, and they are amazed to find him talking to a hated foreigner, astonished to find him talking with a woman.  They seem to ask him, "Is this what we can expect if we follow you?"  The undertones of their incredulity continue to reverberate throughout the passage.  When Jesus tells them he has food to eat that they don't know about, they wonder if someone else brought him something.  So Jesus explains that his food is to do the will of God. 

And what is God's will?  In this passage it's clear that God's will includes inclusiveness.  Jesus feeds off the searching of the woman.  Jesus feeds off the first glimmers of her faith.  Jesus feeds off her trust as she spreads the word to the townspeople.  He is not fed by his fellow Jews, his closest followers; he is fed by a Samaritan, a woman.

Just as Moses brought water from the rock, so Jesus brings faith from an outcast foreign woman.  God indeed loves us, always ready to send us what we need.

As we travel through this third week of our Lenten journey, let's rest in the confidence that God showers us with presence at every step.  As Paul's letter to the Romans discloses, God's love is proved in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

4^th Sunday of Lent (A):  Do We See?

1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a—Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart.

Psalm 23:  The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Ephesians 5:8-14—Live as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.

John 9:1-41—I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.

Dear People of God,

What really happened?  What did we see?  Is the thing we think we saw really there? 

A photograph of clouds has been making the rounds in religious circles for a couple of years now.  In the picture some light rays and cloud formations combine to suggest the shape of an angel as angels have been depicted in art in recent western culture.  It's quite striking.

At the same time, whenever someone shows me the picture, I'm struck by the belief that prompts him or her to pull it out.  The person needs to have some proof of the spiritual and therefore is attracted to this photo.  So the questions begin:  is this a supernatural occurrence or a natural one?  if it's a natural occurrence, isn't that the way God speaks to us?  what does this mean?  is the end of the world at hand?

On a personal level, we don't always see what's there.  Barbara Fiand, in Living the Vision, relates that Sigmund Freud once tipped his hat to himself, not recognizing himself in a mirror he was passing by.  She had done the same thing when she was giving a workshop in a mirrored mansion.  It's not uncommon to see ourselves in a mirror, not realizing it's a mirror, without recognizing ourselves right away.  We're usually embarrassed when we realize we're looking at our own reflection.  Are we surprised at what we see?  Maybe our vision of who we are differs from who we are.

This week's scriptures call us to be "children of light."  We are reminded that God looks into the heart, not on the surface of things.  We are reminded that Jesus came that we might see.  It's a good time, as we travel through the introspection of the Lenten season, to ask ourselves what we're looking at these days.

Are we setting our eyes on the things of God, or on the things of this world?  Do we look for proof in earthly terms, or do we seek the goodness, righteousness, and truth that God wants of us?

5^th Sunday of Lent (A):  God in Us

Ezekiel 37:12-14—I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the Lord.

Psalm 130:  With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.

Romans 8:8-11—The Spirit of God dwells in you.

John 11:1-45—Untie him, and let him go.

Dear People of God,

Here's the fifth week of Lent already, and my Ash Wednesday resolutions are just that:  ashes!  Today's readings are a call to new resolution, with God's promise of life in Ezekiel, Paul's assurance that God dwells in me, and Jesus' call to new freedom.

Ezekiel records God's promise of life:  I will put my spirit in you that you may live.  Without God's spirit we are indeed dead.  The days of our lives shuttle along aimlessly, or, even worse, are aimed at pursuits that leave us empty and as good as dead.  On the other hand, with God's spirit, we have life; we have purpose and meaning.

Paul tells us that God's spirit is within, dwelling within each of us.  Even though we do not always keep that truth in mind, it remains.  I'm often reminded of Fr. Mike Ricker, who included in his inaugural homily at Fremont Sacred Heart some years ago the observation that he would make a slight bow to people as he met them or left them, thinking to himself, "The Jesus Christ in me bows to the Jesus Christ in you."  That's stuck with me as an act of simple but profound reverence, one that I myself attempt to emulate.  It's Paul's observation, put into the flesh:  God's spirit is indeed dwelling within each of us.

John's Gospel, the long pericope relating the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, culminates with the imperative, "Untie him, and let him go!"  The death that ties me up in the midst of life is the death brought by attachment to the ephemeral.  It is the death brought by hatred of those who do injustice to me.  It is the death brought by greed.

As we go about this week, let's resolve again to follow Jesus, putting aside everything that keeps us from life.  Let's remember that the Spirit indeed dwells in us, and act like we remember it.

Passion (Palm) Sunday (A):  Heard It Before

Blessing of Palms:  Matthew 21:1-11—Who is this?

Isaiah 50:4-7—God has given me a well-trained tongue that I might speak a word that will rouse the weary; I have not turned back.

Psalm 22:  My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

Philippians 2:6-11—Taking the form of a slave, humbling himself, he became obedient even unto death.

Matthew 26:14-27:66—Not as I will, but as you will.

Dear People of God,

A print of the Last Supper hangs on my living room wall, but it’s not the Leonardo da Vinci portrayal of twelve males sitting behind a table, Jesus in the middle.  This version depicts a group of Jewish men, women and children reclining around a table with Jesus.  Instructions from the Irish monastery that commissioned the painting in the late 1990s directed Polish artist Bohdan Piasecki to show the gathering as nearly as possible to what contemporary Scripture scholars now believe it was, not as it was interpreted through Italian Renaissance eyes in the 1497.

Piasecki changed many of the obvious inaccuracies of the earlier work.  Oil lamps light the space instead of daylight, reflecting the fact that the meal would have taken place after sundown.  The diners recline around the table instead of sitting behind it.  Most significantly, women and children are included in the scene, as they would have been in the traditional Jewish celebration of the Passover.

I grew up with the da Vinci interpretation firmly implanted in my religious consciousness; the fact that it showed a limited patriarchal picture of Jesus’ disciples did not occur to me until only recently.  The more I study scripture, the more I see how my understanding of Jesus has been formed by the interpretations of others and the more I understand how I must continue to pray and meditate on the Word of God in order to be conformed to it more completely and accurately.

Our reading from Isaiah announces a clarion call to lectors and preachers.  God gives those who proclaim the Word “a well-trained tongue” in order that they might rouse the weary.  Our inclination today is to stand in the pews half-hearing the long reading of the Passion, occasionally tending to its message and occasionally pondering the flotsam and jetsam of our lives that floats into consciousness.  We have heard this before.  We know the story.  We think it doesn’t really matter if we listen carefully.

It’s as if we have the Leonardo da Vinci painting in our eye while we’re looking at Piasecki’s interpretation.  We do not see what’s there because we think we know.  We do not hear the Word for us today because we think we’ve heard it before.

The Word is alive.  The message is fresh and new, aimed by God from all eternity straight into my heart today. 

It’s imperative that I listen, for this moment will not return.  The celebration of the pilgrimage to Jerusalem with Jesus and the sharing of the Passover meal will quickly give way to the painful agony of Gethsemane and Golgotha.  My task is to capture each moment, the eternal now, and to live it completely for what it is.  That’s the gift, and that’s the cross.  That’s the way to the resurrection!

God bless!