Urban Hermit at 3156 Doyle Street, Toledo, OH 43608-2006 US - Year A, 12th through 22nd
| Year A, 12th through 22nd |
12th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Take Heart! Jeremiah 20:10-13—The Lord is with me, like a mighty champion: my persecutors will stumble; they will not triumph. Psalm 69: Lord, in your great love, answer me. Romans 5:12-15—Sin entered the world through human beings; the gracious gift of Jesus Christ overflows for all. Matthew 10:26-33—Fear no one. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known. What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. Everyone will find consolation in today's scriptures. "Sin entered the world through human beings," Paul writes to the Romans, and we have experienced that from both sides. People have sinned against us; we have sinned against others. We are all victims; we are all perpetrators. When we have prayed Psalm 69, "Lord, in your great love, answer me," sometimes we have sought justice and at other times we sought forgiveness. It is not easy to feel Jeremiah's confidence that the Lord is with us "like a mighty champion" when we are smarting from injustice done to us. We believe that God is with us in our trials, but we do not see our persecutors stumble. They seem to triumph, gathering to themselves the power, or the fame, or the rewards that their sins steal from us. Nor is it easy to take comfort in Matthew's encouragement. We fear. We fear that the next encounter with the toxic humor of a fellow employee will find us again unprepared for its hurt. We fear that our next experience of gossip—of false witness—will find us again vulnerable to its damage among the supervisors and colleagues whose opinions make a difference in how effectively we can go about our lives. Matthew says that "nothing is concealed that will not be revealed," but sometimes that takes a long time. Remember Galileo! Many victims of sex abuse by people in ministerial positions in our church still wait for justice. Many women religious face work until disability and death as the result of long years of economic injustice. Every one of us has a personal example to add. At the same time, it's important not to let the injustice that has been done to us define our lives. SNAP is one positive example of that: it's not VNAP—it's a survivor's network, not a victim's network. Another positive example is evident in people with cancer who rally regularly not as sufferers or victims but as survivors. Their perspective must rule our lives: We cannot serve God if we focus on waiting for justice to be done. While we must speak out for justice in every situation, we must also pray for the confidence of Jeremiah, believing that God will even things out. While we must seek to do justice for those we have wronged and forgive those who have wronged us, we must go on. Gandhi said, "There is no way to peace; peace is the way." There is similarly no way to justice because justice is the way. We are called to seek justice for the world—including ourselves—by crying out against injustice. We are called to seek justice for the world—for those whom we harm—by seeking reconciliation that includes repentance and reparation. We must be justice. There's a negative example in the sex abuse coverup scandal, when Bishops engaged in a knee-jerk reaction to protect themselves. Their policy says that—without exception—past abusers will be barred from ministry in their Church: Zero tolerance. Where would St. Paul be? Having taken part in the stoning of St. Stephen, would Paul be eligible to minister, no matter how astonishing his conversion? The gracious gift of Jesus Christ that overflows for all—the forgiveness and reconciliation that our Church celebrates—would not be recognized in him who once sought to wipe out Christianity. Matthew's words ring out for everyone: The truth will out. If you are innocent, they may vilify you and condemn you, but they cannot take away your peace. If someone has victimized you, they may try to avoid responsibility, but God will speak healing words to you and shout out the truth from the housetops. If you have done wrong and seek forgiveness, peace is yours; if they refuse to reconcile with you, it is they who deny Jesus' gracious gift. Take heart, everyone! 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Being Christian 2 Kings 4:8-11, 14-16a—Elisha, a holy man of God, received hospitality from the Shunemite woman and her family; in return she found her hope for a child. Psalm 89: Forever I will sing the goodness of the Lord. Romans 6:3-4, 8-11—Think of yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus. Matthew 10:37-42—Whoever receives you receives me. Exactly what does it mean for me to be a Christian? Does it mean I'm a member of my parish? Does it mean I belong to the Rosary Altar Society or the Men's Club? Does it mean I attend Mass there on the weekends? Does it mean I contribute to the offertory collection? Does it mean I take a dish to the funeral dinner when someone dies? Does it mean I volunteer to serve in some capacity? All those things, of course, identify me as a practicing Catholic Christian. Still, the most important earmark of my Christianity is how I act! When someone sees me, will they know I'm a Christian by how I behave? Will they see my graciousness and my forgiving nature? Or will they see my anger and arrogance? Will they see my kindness and generosity? Will they see love? Or will they see my greed and self-serving lifestyle? The Shunemite woman—a woman of influence, according to the second book of Kings—invited the prophet Elisha into her home to dine and, even more, encouraged her husband to set aside a furnished room for him whenever he passed through. Jesus' words are clear: "Whoever receives you receives me." Who are the people I cut out of my life? Who are the people I look down on? Who are the people I refuse to associate with? Is there just one person I could reach out to? As we go about this week, let's pray that we care enough about being Christian to act like it.
Zechariah 9:9-10—Rejoice heartily! Shout for joy! Your king shall come to you, banish the chariot and the horse and the warrior's bow, and proclaim peace.
Psalm 145: I will praise your name forever, my king and my God.
Romans 8:9, 11-13—You are in the Spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you.
Matthew 11:25-30—Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.
It's common to fall into frustration at the administrative duties that go along with pastoring a parish. For ministers who have serving God through the people as the first priority, it's a yoke that is not easy for him, a burden that is not light.
My prescription for the malady has been to take a full day off each week, a practice that easily falls by the wayside in the face of so many parish responsibilities. Yet that only treats the symptom.
Today's readings give us the Christian pill, a good dose of humility! It's pride that pulls me to perform all those tasks, pride that allows me to put them on my schedule in the first place. It's a heart that seeks ascendancy in the world rather than a heart that seeks to learn from the Master.
The things that seem so important: what exactly are they? A clear desk? A clean house? Appointments scheduled and kept? Another degree? A raise in pay? A promotion? Do I burden myself with the goals of the world or do I set about to make a place where the Spirit of God may dwell in me?
If the yoke does not seem easy nor the burden light, maybe it's time to take a closer look at the calendars that rule our lives. Perhaps it's not God's goals that we're scheduling for!
15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Fruitful Harvest
Isaiah 55:10-11—My word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will.
Psalm 65: The seed that falls on good ground will yield a fruitful harvest.
Romans 8:18-23—All creation is groaning in labor pains.
Matthew 13:1-23—Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.
It was 1983, and I was leaving Columbus for my old hometown, hoping to find a healthier and more stable life for my adopted son and me. With a bit of sardonic humor, I responded to a friend's question about making a living in that depressed rural area by saying I planned to start a berry farm. Over the years since then I've grown chickens and rabbits, corn and potatoes, and even berries, most of it not in rural Ohio but in urban areas. This week, however, with the fruits from two currant bushes in my city backyard, I will put up another batch of jelly that will be given away with the Urban Hermit label.
It's a small harvest. At this point the strawberries are finished and the raspberries are just starting. This year most of the plants are growing from seeds saved from last year's harvest. One of my hopes is that the garden in years to come will bring more and more fresh produce for the people who live nearby.
Sustainable agriculture. The farmer sows the seed, and some sprouts and thrives. When that happens, the hundred-, or sixty-, or thirty-fold yield is more than enough for the farmer, and so she shares with her neighbors and friends. The lesson of the land is not lost on Jesus, who points out the parallels with our spiritual life.
The cacophony of our American culture too often drowns the word that God would speak to us. In the early hours of the morning, having picked the currants and washed them, I sat at the dining room table stemming them. That simple, repetitive task took over an hour; in the silence with the plump red berries that would feed my friends it came to me how very expensive this jelly would be! The cost of the plants, the tending, the picking, the canning, the cost of the jars and lids, the cost of the sugar and pectin, the electricity to cook it, the time and the effort that I was putting in to produce 20 cups of currant jelly!
Yet it's not just 20 cups of jelly. It's food that grew here, in place of the lawn grass that displays the ability of the wealthy to waste land. It's food that grew without pesticides or herbicides or chemical fertilizers. The plants are natural, not genetically modified. It's the beginning.
On the Urban Hermit plot, the plantings of tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and squash struggles along. The neighbors are taking an interest in the garden, slowly realizing that indeed they will be welcome to share in whatever harvest comes. One by one, they hear the philosophy of connection to the land and sharing with each other. Like the currant jelly, it's a long and sometimes expensive process, but the harvest will be bountiful beyond comparison if the principles of ecological stewardship take hold in just one neighborhood.
Blessed are the eyes that see, and the ears that hear. I feel particularly blessed this week, with the long-awaited harvest and the promise of more to come.
Wisdom 12:13, 16-19—You taught your people that those who are just must be kind, and you gave your children good ground for hope that you would permit repentance for their sins.
Psalm 86: Lord, you are good and forgiving.
Romans 8:26-27—We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit intercedes with inexpressible groanings.
Matthew 13:24-43—The whole batch was leavened.
First I knocked on the wrong door, only to find a teenager who spoke no English, unable to understand my request so that he could point me in the right direction. Then I found the right door, by accident, and I watched the octogenarian as he limped forward to answer it. He had undergone surgery last week, just before his 80th birthday; my intention was to bring him one of the jars of jelly from the Urban Hermit garden.
My kindness was ill-aimed, however; his new physician-prescribed diet prohibits sugar. I urged him to keep it anyway and to give it to someone, maybe his son or granddaughter. That started his litany of woes and betrayals by granddaughter, wife and son, so I stood on his porch in the 90-degree heat and listened, trying to breath shallowly so as to not to inhale too much of the stench of his inside dog. Sometimes the ministry of presence in the neighborhood is a heavy burden.
Today's readings echo my recent experiences in the garden. The weeds sown in the wheat remind me of the uprooting of two-thirds of my first planting, a random act of vandalism. The parable of the mustard seed reminds me of the miracle of life germinating in the dark, moist soil, from whence it sprouts to feed the hungry. The parable of the yeast reminds me that, even though my efforts are small, they will have ever-widening effect, just like the leaven in bread, because of the intercession of the Spirit.
I find it comforting that Jesus used metaphors of food—planting, tending, preparing—to describe the kingdom of God. It's not an accident that we describe a good experience at church as "fruitful" or "being fed." God is our life, the one who has the care of all. It is fitting that God be made comprehensible by comparison with food.
As we go about this week, let's be mindful of the many ways God feeds us, physically and emotionally and spiritually. And let's do our best to mirror God's nurturing love to everyone whom we encounter.
17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Where Is Your Treasure?
1 Kings 3:5, 7-12—Give your servant an understanding heart.
Psalm 119: Lord, I love your commands.
Romans 8:28-30—All things work for good for those who love God.
Matthew 13:44-52—The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
When I was looking at houses, thinking to find a place with a bigger piece of land to plant things on, my search took me from one side of Lucas County to the other. I saw tract after tract of very large new homes, fully as gigantic as the turn-of-the-century mansions in the Old West End historic district.
It occurred to me that family size is much smaller today than it was then, so that the large number of rooms is being added as a luxury, not as a necessity. Then there's the size of it all. In my two-bedroom bungalow the bedrooms are 9 x 12 at the most, and there's one bathroom—a far cry from the huge suites with bath being included in the new construction. On top of that, economists report an increased trend toward forty-year mortgages, meaning that people are spending a good chunk of virtually their entire working life's income to pay for these palaces. They mistakenly believe that they have found the pearl of great price!
The need for a countercultural statement seems obvious. The urge to consume more and more, to buy bigger and bigger, to get and spend, is overwhelming the spiritual ground of our people. The average American now spends over six hours each week shopping for things other than food; that time, combined with the twenty to thirty hours spent watching television, makes a full-time job out of being a consumer. We are selling all we have so that we can throw away our lives on things that don't last.
This week's scriptures spur me to even greater attention to the urban hermit lifestyle: solitude, silence, and simplicity. The house I settled in gives me nearly half an acre, and it cost me about a third less than what I received from selling the old one. In a good year the produce of all this once-wasted lawn will feed many hungry people. This morning I gave straightneck summer squash to the neighbors; yesterday it was zucchini and green beans. Even more than the bountiful harvest, it provides a model for responsible stewardship that the people of our cities sorely need.
So I'm willing to spend my life for this: reclaiming land lost to urban development, growing things and giving them away, modeling a life of hermit-like simplicity and solitude in the midst of a bustling metropolitan area. I do not expect it to become easier, but I do expect that it will bring many opportunities to spend time in the garden with God.
18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): What Satisfies?
Isaiah 55:1-3—Why spend your money for what is not bread, your wages for what fails to satisfy? Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life.
Psalm 145: Your hand feeds us, O God; you answer all our needs.
Romans 8:35, 37-39—What will separate us from the love of Christ?
Matthew 14:13-21—When Jesus saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.
Driving through Detroit last week, I saw mile after mile of impacted, dilapidated housing alternated with abandoned commercial strips: trash in the streets and on the sidewalks and piled up against gutted structures, graffiti on every surface, ragged children watching me with hostile frowns, young men leaning toward my car with suspicious yet daring eyes. Today, driving around Toledo, I saw the same thing albeit on a smaller scale. Our central cities indeed resemble the aftermath of war.
In today's gospel Jesus withdraws by boat to a deserted place to be by himself in mourning for his cousin John, who has been beheaded. When he disembarks, the scriptures tell us, he does not find the quiet seclusion he had sought in order to pray and reflect; instead, he finds that a vast crowd has followed him from their towns. He is moved with pity for them and does not get back on the boat to seek a quieter place. Would he not be similarly moved with pity for the people of our cities today?
So Jesus goes among the people; he cures their sick. What follows that day of difficult labor is the remarkable Eucharistic banquet in the deserted countryside: More than five thousand eat and are satisfied from the five loaves and two fish. Having healed their illness, having ministered to their hungry hearts, Jesus feeds their bodies, and they are satisfied. Following Jesus brings an abundance of good things.
In the first reading Isaiah asks, "Why spend your money for what is not bread, your wages for what fails to satisfy?" It is the Eucharistic banquet that satisfies. It is following the Lord that gives life. Today, if we would not be separated from the love of Christ, we are required to follow him to the deserted places and to minister there to the people's illness. We must go where people spend their money for what fails to satisfy and share with them the abundance of God's blessings.
Of course, there are many ways in which to bring the abundance of life to people, ranging from simple charity to dismantling the complex systems that deprive people of a living wage, from Habitat for Humanity to desegregating our communities, from the St. Vincent de Paul Society to overturning the powers that operate sweatshops and pollute our environment. No one of us can do it all, but each one of us can do something. Let's listen heedfully, that all of us may have life, and have it abundantly.
19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Solitude
1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a—After the rock-crushing wind, the earthquake, and the fire, there was a tiny whispering sound.
Psalm 85: Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.
Romans 9:1-5—I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart.
Matthew 14:22-33—Jesus sent the disciples away, dismissed the crowds, and went up on the mountain by himself to pray.
How often today do we hear those who spend time alone denigrated by their acquaintances? Loner, hermit, recluse, solitary—whatever the word, it's meant as a criticism. Our culture of constant stimulation glorifies the crowd. There's a twisted kind of logic to the media messages we receive: the one who has friends around is a worthwhile person, people will want to be with you if you buy this product, the people who use this product are surrounded by crowds of the right people. Personal hygiene advertisements are most egregious in this: if no one is around you, maybe it's your body odor, so buy this deodorant and everyone will find you irresistible.
The crowd mentality works also in more subtle ways, with the patriotic craze since the terrorist attacks of 2001 providing a good example. We are now surrounded by red-white-and-blue everything. The ubiquitous "God Bless America" and "United We Stand" are embossed, stitched, printed, scrawled, and scribbled on every surface imaginable. You can see the message on bumper stickers, billboards, and TV ads; chalked on sidewalks and painted on fences and houses; worn on necklaces and bracelets and jumpers and bathing suits; and perhaps worst of all, printed in church bulletins.
Today's readings ask us to take a look at where we are and where God is. In the pericope from Matthew's Gospel, Jesus went away from others, up on the mountain by himself, to pray. The mountain typically signifies, in the Hebrew Scriptures, the place where God lives. We do not read that Jesus found God in the crowd or in his disciples or in the synagogue; he went off by himself to commune with God. While it's of course true that God is present in the people and in each individual person, we only come to that insight by going off alone to reflect on our experience and lift it to God in prayer.
In our first reading Elijah, alone in the cave, steps out to hear God in the "tiny whispering sound." God is not in the wind, the earthquake, the fire, or the crowd he has left behind. In order to understand what God is saying, we must withdraw to a peaceful place, a place where we can truly listen. And there are many counterfeits that we can mistake for the voice of God.
Similarly, Paul's message to the Romans expresses his sorrow and anguish over the failure of other Jews to see who Jesus is. We might bewail the failures we see today in our church and in our country. How unpopular it is to call for peace! How unpatriotic the person is judged who counsels restraint and reconciliation! Our government launched an unprovoked attack on a sovereign nation, and many of our citizens still thirst for blood. A few reflective voices dare raise the questions that need to be raised.
The response of our Catholic Church to revelations of episcopal cover-ups of priests' sexual crimes is but one more example of the power of the crowd mentality. The Dallas meeting focused on methods for removing accused priests from ministry, completely ignoring questions about the milieu that allows criminal activity to be hidden and continued. Assumptions about ordination that need to be questioned remain unstated and hence unexamined. Does ordination make a person above the law? Does ordination confer citizenship in a country-within-a-country where different laws apply? What about priests who embezzle from their parishes? What about priests who show up drunk for Mass—or who fail to show up at all? What about the ostensible low salary for ordained clergy that is supplemented under the table with stipends and allowances and privileges and gifts? What about priests who take advantage of their pastoral position to prey upon bereaved women? What about priests who wreak havoc in the personal lives of parish ministers through their incompetent or unjust personnel practices? What about those who operate by manipulation and deception? It's not a short list, and the media and the Bishops focus on the sex abuse problem and ignore the underlying system that allows such a sequence of events to take place.
Where are we, and where is God? If we remain in the middle of the crowd, going along with those who call for bombing people in other countries and going along with those who blame individual priests for systemic failure, then we will not be able to hear God's voice. If we listen only to the thunder of politicians, the bluster of Bishops, and the prattle of talk show hosts, we will not be able to hear God's voice. We must follow the example in today's scriptures and walk away from the crowd.
It is also necessary to remember that Jesus returns from the mountain to minister—to serve God's people in healing and feeding and miracles of every sort. The encounter in prayer leads him and guides him. He is our model, and we would do well to imitate his example. After we have prayed, we must be open to following the word of God in radical action.
20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): All Are Welcome
Isaiah 56:1, 6-7—The foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, ministering to him, loving the name of the Lord, and becoming his servants… I will bring to my holy mountain and make joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be acceptable on my altar, for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.
Psalm 67—O God, let all the nations praise you!
Romans 11:13-15, 29-32—For the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable
Matthew 15:21-28—"Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters."
The church was packed. Gathered in my parish for the Mass of Resurrection I saw the husband's family and his deceased wife's family. I saw his first wife's family and their children. I saw her first husband's family and their children. I saw friends and neighbors and fellow parishioners. They had all gathered in grief out of love for the departed friend and family member.
Yet many of them did not feel welcome at the table, even though the Presider made it clear that their love for the deceased and the Spirit's promptings to participate override any human rule that might exclude them. Their past, their personal sins, their violation of the church laws concerning remarriage after divorce, their absence from Sunday Eucharist or sacramental reconciliation, their failure to provide a Catholic school education for their children—these are the obstacles that prevented many of them from coming to the table.
Our scriptures today tell us clearly that all are welcome in God's world.
Isaiah proclaims God's command: Do God's justice! And that is defined as the practice of "foreigners" who join themselves to God and minister to God, who love God's name and become God's servants. Those are the ones—those foreigners—who will be brought to the holy mountain and be made joyful in God's house of prayer. It is not the chosen people, those who refused to hear the call; it is the outsiders who will be made welcome because of their practice of justice.
Similarly, in Romans Paul speaks to the Gentiles, rejected by the chosen people but gifted and called irrevocably by God. Paul's hope is that the chosen ones might, when they see the gifts and call of the outsiders, repent and return to following their own call.
Finally, Matthew relates the story of the Canaanite woman, showing Jesus' conversion from exclusion to inclusion. The woman begs him for a healing for her daughter, but "Jesus did not say a word in answer to her!" Not one word from the savior of the world. Not one word. She's a foreigner. She's a woman. She's begging healing for a daughter, not even a son. She is not important in his world.
And the disciples likewise reject this Canaanite: "Send her away!" So Jesus reiterates his intention to exclude this woman from the circle of believers. And when the woman continues to plead with Jesus, he rejects her a third time, using derogatory language: "It is not right to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."
But God's call is irrevocable, and the woman continues, even after this third rejection: "Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters." Finally Jesus sees the lesson God has for him: the woman's faith overrides the human boundaries of class and nation and gender. Every person has intrinsic worth out of faith, not out of the accident of birth.
How is it, then, after all these centuries, that our Roman Catholic Church continues to practice exclusion in the name of Jesus? Here in the United States some parishes make it uncomfortable for people of another ethnic group to join them. Others make people feel unwelcome because their skin is a different shade. Some send the message that divorced people have no right to approach the altar. Many reject people on the basis of their sexual orientation. All of our parishes practice some form of discrimination against women.
As we go about this week, let's take a close look at how we practice our Catholicism and pledge to change our hearts whenever we find ourselves excluding others from the altar of God.
21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): The Responsibility of Power
Isaiah 22:19-23—Those who abuse power shall be thrust from office and pulled down, and the servant will receive the authority—the key of the House of David.
Psalm 138: Lord, your love is eternal; do not forsake the work of your hands.
Romans 11:33-36—How inscrutable are God's judgments and how unsearchable God's ways!
Matthew 16:13-20—Because God reveals Christ's identity to you, you shall have the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.
Day after day, week after week, the Word of God comes to us anew, separating family members and friends, pointing the way we must go. Again this week the scriptures speak clearly to us of the situation we have been learning about in our Catholic Church. Throughout our history abusive leaders have wielded power, but God has always—in God's own time and God's own way—ousted them and brought them to justice. We've seen recently the toppling of some of our Church's priests and bishops because they covered up crimes against children in their care.
Yet God still sends this same word to us today, even though this abuse of power has been exposed for all to see. What can it mean? Is it possible that some of those who still hold power continue to abuse it? Some victims of child sexual abuse by clergy continue to call for retribution. Is it possible that other abuses of power remain to be uncovered and addressed? Of course. When those abuses, from personnel policies to embezzlement of funds to incompetence in administration, are eventually brought to light and detailed, it will not be a surprise to anyone who practices Catholicism in the 21st century in the United States of America.
So what are these scriptures calling us to? Perhaps God is reminding us that we need to exercise constant vigilance when it comes to authority on earth. The principles are clear: Those who abuse power must be called to task. When our prayer and service bring us closer to recognizing Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the living God, the key will be ours, and we shall understand that all things are from God, and through God, and for God, and we will be able to see clearly those things that must remain bound on earth and those that must be set free.
As we go about this week, let's take a close look at each of the arenas in which we personally exercise power, whether it be in a factory or an office or a classroom or a church or a home, and let's ask ourselves if the manner in which we exercise that power is consistent with the will of God. If Simon Peter, the unlettered fisherman from rural Galilee, could recognize Jesus and find himself holder of the keys, our responsibility to do so is certainly no less.
22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Following the Non-Violent Messiah
Jeremiah 20:7-9—You duped me, Lord, and I let myself be duped; you were too strong for me, and you triumphed. All day long I am an object of laughter; everyone mocks me. Whenever I speak, I must cry out. It becomes like fire burning in my heart.
Psalm 63: My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord, my God!
Romans 12:1-2—Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God.
Matthew 16:21-27—Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.
Pointing out the violence inherent in our American way of treating the world does not make a person popular, and perhaps that is even truer today then ever before. The cultural myth that it's necessary to use force against evil is spread as if it were the Gospel truth, and those of us who try to speak peace in this situation might indeed utter Jeremiah's words from today's first reading. You duped me, Lord! Again! And I fell for it!
How did we ever get in a position to feel personally compelled to speak out against violence when the rest of our society seems bent on wreaking havoc? How did we ever come to oppose capital punishment in this eye-for-an-eye society? How did we ever decide it's better to turn the other cheek than to strike out in retaliation? These are not popular positions, not the way of conformity in our culture.
So the second reading encourages us not to conform to the culture but to offer ourselves as a living sacrifice to God's will. That's a tough assignment; the prevailing cultural myth would have us act otherwise.
We must try to think as God does: Jesus' message reminds us to deny ourselves and carry the cross. The irony that the one who wishes to save his or her life will lose it, and vice versa, underscores the fact that we are required to focus on God and God's will in spite of the culture around us and in spite of the difficulty we encounter on our journey.
As we go about this week, let's re-examine our choices in light of this Word. Let's resolve again to follow the non-violent Christ to the cross, being transformed by him into that which is good and pleasing and perfect.
23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Loving and Forgiving
Ezekiel 33:7-9—I will hold you responsible.
Psalm 95: If today you hear God's voice, harden not your hearts.
Romans 13:8-10—Love is the fulfillment of the law.
Matthew 18:15-20—Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.
Sometimes it would seem as if our own personal, individual thoughts and actions are meaningless in comparison to the cosmos, or the planet, or even to human destiny. What difference, we ask ourselves, can we make in the broad scheme of things? Does what I do really matter?
Our scriptures today answer with a resounding yes. We have the power to forgive and not to forgive, and that power stretches to heaven, eternally. What great power! If we hold something against a person, our grudge and our hatred go on and on. If we forgive a person, our forgiveness stretches into eternity. It's no wonder that Paul writes to the Romans that "love is the fulfillment of the law." The law commands us to love, and when we love we keep the commandment.
Furthermore, in the reading from Ezekiel we are told that God will hold us responsible for the salvation of our neighbors. We may not turn away without attempting to right a wrong. We must act to bring good into the world.
No matter how small our area of influence, no matter how weak our abilities, each one of us is required to act morally, to forgive, to love. Our tiniest effort reaches to the stars.
