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

Year A, 2nd-7th, 9th-11th

2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Servants

Isaiah 49:3, 5-6—You are my servant from the womb. I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.

Psalm 40: Here am I, Lord; I come to do your will.

1 Corinthians 1:1-3—Called to be an apostle, called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of Christ Jesus.

John 1:29-34—Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, upon whom the spirit came down and rested, the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit, the Son of God.

A woman who works in a parish office—her title is Ministry Coordinator—was asked to help a senior with failing eyesight to address an envelope. Pushing out her chin, she literally looked down her nose, pursed her lips, and said, "I'm paid to work in the office. I'm not here to help people." Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure she really couldn't have meant what she said. Nevertheless, her words reflect a too-common attitude in our church offices. We think we are not there to serve but to do a job, to earn a paycheck. We think we are not required to help everyone who comes but only to help those who meet our requirements or standards. Today's scriptures call us to take care with how and why we do things.

"You are my servant," God tells Isaiah in our first reading today. You are servant to light the way to salvation to all the nations, to reach the ends of the earth. The twin messages of servant discipleship and inclusivity shout across the ages to us. We are servants from the womb. We are to be light to the nations. We are to include all, to the ends of the earth.

Paul's message in our second reading is also a dual one, that of the call to apostleship and the call to partnership with all who call upon the name of Jesus. We are indeed sent, but we are not alone. We share holiness with everyone who believes, no matter where or who they are.

John the Baptist's words of recognition echo this same call to servanthood and inclusiveness. "Behold, the Lamb of God," he cries. The lamb, the meek servant of God, comes, the one "who takes away the sin of the world." The servant lamb takes away all sin of all sinners, no matter who, no matter where.

These scriptures challenge us to look at our parish communities. Do we serve? Or do we seek to lord it over others? Do we include everyone? Or do we forget to invite some people to the meeting? We are also challenged as individuals. Where is our heart when we give our time, talent, and treasure to the community? Do we give to be of service, meek as a lamb? Or do we give to be in power, noticed and praised? Where is our heart when we form committees? Do we exclude people whose ideas challenge ours? Who come from a different family, or have less education, or more education, less money, or more money? Or do we open our hearts to all?

As we go about this week, let's take a look at how we make our decisions at work and at home and in the neighborhood. Let's answer this challenge to serve everyone.

3^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Fishers of People

Isaiah 8:23-9:3—The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; the yoke that burdened them, the pole on their shoulder, and the rod of their taskmaster you have smashed.

Psalm 27: The Lord is my light and my salvation.

1 Corinthians 1:10-13, 17—Let there be no divisions among you. Be united in the same mind and in the same purpose.

Matthew 4:12-23—Come after me, and I will make you fishers of people.

We are called to be followers of Jesus--to fish for people—and today's readings issue firm guidelines for the way we are to go about that vocation.

In the first reading, Isaiah tells us that God has smashed the yoke, the pole, and the rod of our taskmaster: we are free! We once walked in darkness, but the light has come. We have nothing to restrain us any more.

In our second reading, Paul tells us that we must be united, each of us holding the same mind and purpose. There must be no divisions among us. Each of us must focus our mind on the message; each of us must pursue the purposes of God.

Finally, Jesus' preaching in the gospel tells us that it's time to repent, time to follow him, time to fish for people instead of casting our nets in the waters of the world.

It's pretty easy to get distracted by the flotsam and jetsam of the world, all those trinkets and gewgaws held up for us by television commercials, the internet, our friends and co-workers, and even our family members. We hear messages telling us to buy beer for the Super Bowl or buy a new car before the interest rates go up. We hear that we will be worthless unless we wear a certain brand or eat at a certain restaurant. We hear that we need to get away from it all, that we deserve a break, that we are nothing unless we are enjoying ourselves spending money. And our fellow pilgrims on the journey of life are likewise being bombarded with that message.

It's hard for our youngsters, probably moreso because they are involved in the adolescent search for identity and have no tools yet to deflect the barrage of suggestion aimed at them. They ask, predictably so, "Who am I?" The answer they get from the culture, loud and clear, is, "I am no one unless I buy something."

If we are to be fishers of people, we must speak out the message of Jesus, just as loudly and as clearly as the commercial giants are doing. We must tell our children, over and over, that they are children of God, children of a good God who made them good and wants good for them. We must remind them of the value of life so that they may be strong in the face of the culture of death we are living in.

Finally, we must keep our own eyes on the prize. We must continue to gather in prayer. We must remember that we are free in God. We must persevere in casting our nets to catch the people of God.

4^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): The Call

Zephaniah 2:3, 3:12-13—Seek the Lord; seek justice; seek humility.

Psalm 146: Happy are the poor in spirit; the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

1 Corinthians 1:26-31—Consider your own calling: God chose the foolish to shame the wise, the weak to shame the strong, the lowly and despised to reduce to nothing those who are something.

Matthew 5:1-12a—Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.

Who are the foolish, the weak, the lowly and despised? Shall we look to those who set aside the pursuit of lucrative careers for service to the poor? Shall we look to people burdened with handicaps and illnesses that sap their strength? Shall we look to people with AIDS? Homosexuals? People whose ancestors came from the Middle East? Refugees? Immigrants? People on public assistance?

Will we find ourselves among them? Let's hope so.

Not a week goes by that someone doesn't ask me why I'm teaching in a Catholic school when I could be making money in the business world. Not a week goes by that someone doesn't ask me why I remain a Catholic when my Church so obviously and so consistently defines women as it does. It's not easy to explain the rationale for either decision, especially in contrast to the attractions of American society today.

Even some of my best friends question my hermit lifestyle, unable to understand any virtue to my attempts to witness to simplicity and focus on God as a valuable way to live. I could be going to movies, one of them says, instead of hauling mulch around a big city lot to fit up the ground so I can raise food for the neighborhood. Someone else will feed them at the soup kitchen. If they want a garden, they can grow their own. What good are you doing?

Or they question my wasting my brain and time and energy on inner-city teens. What good are you doing? Are you afraid to make money? Are you afraid to succeed? In the lives of too many of my acquaintances God is invisible. They cannot see God with them, God around them, God in the midst of daily drudgery and chronic pain and irreversible aging. So they cannot see God in the tiny tasks of service that disappear behind me.

This week I found that one of my students said that the best part of his life right now is that I say hello to him each morning like I'm glad to see him. That's why he's not thinking about suicide, in spite of all the dysfunction in the rest of his life. He's able to go on because his teacher says hi and smiles at him, talks to him like any other human being. I cry every time I think of that: how simple a thing it is to be Jesus to someone, and how much I take it for granted!

As we go about this week, let's re-consider our calling. Let's look at where God has us right now and make the adjustments needed to form our lives into lives of accompaniment with the foolish, the weak, the lowly, and the despised.

5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Remove Oppression

Isaiah 58:7-10—Share your bread; shelter the oppressed; clothe the naked; remove oppression, false accusation, and malicious speech. Then light shall rise for you in the darkness.

Psalm 112: The just person is a light in darkness to the upright.

1 Corinthians 2:1-5—I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling… that your faith might not rest on human wisdom but on the power of God.

Matthew 5:13-16—You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.

It's the middle of winter, but when the catalog of women's fashions came in the mail, I paged through it looking for a couple of spring blouses to replace those that finally shredded themselves into rags last year. As a hermit vowed to a life of simplicity, I had thought it would be easy to find something because I didn't expect much. It turns out that I expect way too much.

A white or plain color fabric. Some sort of sleeves. Washable. Modest: not see-through, not low-cut, loose-fitting. Not made in a sweatshop. I worked my way through four catalogs, finding not one blouse that met my requirements. In the four catalogs, in fact, only two blouses were advertised as "made in USA," the surest indication that they might not have been made in a sweatshop.

I didn't order anything. I decided to keep looking and to consider getting some fabric and sewing my own again. I understand the paucity of my effort. I'm only one person who spends very little on clothing. The fact that I go out of my way to avoid buying things made by oppressed workers will not affect the flood of garments coming from the overworked and underpaid children of less developed societies. Furthermore, no one is likely to examine the labels in my clothing to see whether or not they were made in Bangladesh or Honduras. On the other hand, when I show the videotapes documenting the sweatshop practices of large companies and urge my students to leave protest cards with the cashier when they buy clothing, I am letting people know what I stand for.

Why do I do it? Today's readings outline the rationale for my admittedly feeble attempts. Remove oppression, Isaiah demands. Your light must shine before others so that they may glorify God when they see what I'm trying to do.

This week the instructions for leading the godly life continue. We must share our food. We must give shelter to refugees. We must remove oppression from our midst. As Matthew puts it, we are the salt of the earth, the light of the world; our light must shine in our good deeds. Although these good deeds are often difficult and miniscule, we are ordered to continue in weakness and fear and trembling in order that God's power might persuade those who see us.

6^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): True

Sirach 15:15-20—If you choose you can keep the commandments; it is loyalty to do God's will. There are set before you fire and water; to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand. Before you are life and death, whichever you choose shall be given you.

Psalm 119—Give me discernment, that I may observe your law and keep it with all my heart.

1 Corinthians 2:6-10—The Spirit scrutinizes all matters, even the deep things of God.

Matthew 5:17-37—Make good to the Lord all your pledges. Say yes when you mean yes and no when you mean no.

Today's scriptures put the questions of decision-making in a clear light. The first reading directs us to make the choice of life, keeping God's commandments. The choice is between life and death, Sirach says. It may not always seem to be that obvious on the surface, but that is indeed the choice. If we are choosing to do right or wrong, it is the choice between life and death.

Saint Paul observes in the second reading that the Spirit takes a look at all the decisions we make. Whatever choice is before us, the Spirit is watching on our behalf. Matthew's pericope cautions us not to waffle: Say yes when we mean yes, and say no when we mean no.

This brief period of Winter Ordinary Time as the days of Lent approach share the starkness of the penitential season that will soon be upon us. We need to examine the decisions we are contemplating so that we might choose life.

So if I choose to ignore the greeting from another parishioner at Mass, I am choosing death over life. That kind of choice is clear when I stop to look at it, but how easy it is to walk past the person who has hurt me in some way! If I choose to say something, however factual, that reveals another's fault, I am choosing death over life. If I use materials or time at work for my own benefit, I am choosing death over life.

Let our prayer for the week be that of Psalm 119: Give me discernment, O God, that I may keep your law with all my heart.

7^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Be Perfect

Leviticus 19:1-2, 17-18—Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.

Psalm 103: 1-4, 8, 10, 12-13—The Lord is kind and merciful.

1 Corinthians 3:16-23—Are you not aware that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?

Matthew 5:38-48—Love your enemies; pray for your persecutors. You must be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect.

For over a dozen years now my New Year's resolution has been this direction for Matthew: Be perfect as God is perfect. Of course, as with all resolutions, it's a goal, and for me it's been a goal I have only occasionally reached. By this time in February, I already have countless examples of my imperfection to cite in violation of my resolution. Still, I keep trying.

Perfection is not possible for humans, and I know that. It's also important for me to remember the difference between aiming for perfection and being a perfectionist. The kind of perfection that Jesus calls for is mercy and compassion. Indeed that is much more difficult than trying to do things "perfectly."

For one thing, there are not many people in my life who need my mercy and compassion. Oftentimes the people who seem to hurt me are not intending to hurt me at all; they are not enemies or persecutors but well-intentioned folks whose chance words or actions strike me as hurtful because of some part of my past life or experience of which they have no knowledge.

More often, I am the one in need of compassion and mercy. I am the one who says the thoughtless words or does the thoughtless actions, the one who needs their forgiveness. I am the one who needs to heed the instruction in the Book of Leviticus, "You shall not bear hatred for your brother or sister in your heart," and again, "Take no revenge and cherish no grudge" and "Love your neighbor as yourself."

When Saint Paul asks whether I am aware that I am a temple of God, I have to admit that I have too often acted otherwise. Thank God that, as the psalmist writes, "the Lord is kind and merciful." It is a kindness and mercy that I strive to imitate, and I am especially grateful for God's mercy because of my great need for it.

As I go about this week, I'm going to re-make my New Year's resolution. In the end, it doesn't matter so much how many times I break it but how many times I re-make it: God is merciful!

9^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Where does this lead?

Deuteronomy 11:18, 26-28, 32: Take these words of mine into your heart and soul.

Psalm 31:2-3, 3-4, 17, 25: Lead me and guide me.

Romans 3:21-25, 28: For we consider that a person is justified by faith apart from works of the law.

Matthew 7:21-27: “Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock.

Foundations! In the physical world we’re very conscious these days of the danger of building without solid foundations. The world reels from images of the earthquake-caused tragedy in Sichuan Province last week—tens of thousands killed, hundreds of thousands injured, millions homeless. The homes and offices and schools, buildings erected years before we realized the need for earthquake-resistant construction, were unable to stand the shocks and aftershocks; they crumbled and injured and killed. Had we only known the quake was coming, we could have done something. We could have minimized the loss of life and lessened the property damage.

The same is true of spiritual life. If we know what will happen, we can take action to go in another direction. One of the practices of discernment I’ve learned over the years is to “look for the tail,” that is, to ponder what a given action or path will lead to when I’m trying to decide what to do. It’s been a good practice, but it’s not foolproof. It’s not always possible to foresee how something as variable as life will turn out. So I have to keep a vigilant eye open, watching the path as it unwinds, constantly discerning whether the way I’ve chosen is still leading to a good end.

For example, some years back I had a friend with whom I regularly met for coffee and conversation. When I first met him, I thought the friendship a good thing for both of us—theological discussions, intellectual exchanges, confidential sharing—the kind of relationship vowed celibates should seek in order to stay on track. Over time I came to learn that he wanted only my access to a computer and my ability to put together research and graphic handouts for his presentations, and when my work obligations limited my ability to provide these free services to him, he discontinued our relationship. It was a “shock” because I had ignored the signs along the way that should have told me that the basis of our friendship was not deep. Friends had questioned me, suggesting that he was using me; I felt conflict when his increasing demands to help with his work were a detriment to my job; I noticed his angry petulance when I said I couldn’t give him free storage space in my garage, and his demeaning comments about my efforts to seek formal theological education. I had mistaken the foundation of our relationship, only to find it crumble in the end. Along the way I should have been asking “where is this coming from?” and “where is this going?” I should have been looking for the tail, praying for the Lord—as today’s psalm urges—to lead me and guide me.

This week’s scriptures call us to examine our choices again and again, looking for the places where some shoring up is needed. Then we will not be surprised; when the storm comes, our house will stand.

10th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Follow Me

Hosea 6:3-6—What can I do with you? Your piety is like a morning cloud, like the dew that early passes away.

Romans 4:18-25—Abraham did not doubt God's promise, and it was credited to him as righteousness.

Matthew 9:9-13—Follow me. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.

Back when I first became aware of God's call to this life I'm now leading, I tried out various forms of devotion. Most of them quickly vanished like the morning dew. But the call, God's "follow me," remains.

Part of the reason I continue to follow the call is that I am quite often reminded that I am a sinner. It's hard to miss. I get angry and think mean, revengeful thoughts about people. I get tired and excuse myself from prayer and work. I get hungry and eat fast food instead of going home and fixing something that's good for me. And on and on.

Fortunately, Jesus hangs around with sinners like me. When I notice that I've done something like he would have done, I know it's the grace of God that allowed me to do it. When I smile at someone who's been bad-mouthing me to my colleagues, it's not I doing it; it's the grace of God compelling me. When I spend time with a cynical young office worker, listening to her diatribes against the church, it's not I who listens; it's the grace of God in me.

And so I follow, albeit mostly in a bumbling stumble. I try to show mercy, as out of character as that is for me. I know I need the healing physician, and I call out: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

11^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): Church

Exodus 19:2-6a—You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.

Psalm 100: We are your people, the sheep of your flock.

Romans 5:6-11—Indeed, if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, how much more, once reconciled, will we be saved by his life.

Matthew 9:36-10:8—Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.

Dear People of God,

Who exactly are we? We Catholic Christians stand in the long line of pilgrimage from Exodus' promise through the exhortation to give to today's media frenzy over the hierarchy's mishandling of serious abuse of power in the priesthood. Who are we? What is this Word saying to us today?

It's obvious that we have strayed considerably from the ideal of a holy nation, a kingdom of priests, that Yahweh called us when we were first called. We abdicated our royal position as leaders among leaders, allowing a few ordained clergy to take it away and twist it into their power-brokering. Jesus railed against it in his time and was crucified for it. Jesus' followers lived lives in witness to his Word, and they were killed for it. Eventually we developed a church that modeled itself after the secular world, with all its pomp and ceremony and all its lust after power, and that is what we have called church in this time.

But it is not church. Church is the people of God giving without cost. Church is a kingdom of priests, a holy nation. Church is the gathering in God's name to praise and worship and discern holy actions.

Let's get busy being church.

God bless!