Malachi 3, 19-20 + Psalm 98 + 2 Thessalonians 3, 7-12 + Luke 21, 5-19

Three levels of Gospel hearing are at play today, and you have heard me insist on them for years:

1)      What did Jesus say? The historical situation

2)      What is Luke saying? The historical gospel situation

3)      What are they both saying to us right now

Taking the first steps keeps us on track. Skipping either one or two, and you might miss three.

This temple Jesus speaks of was built by Herod, a non-believer. It was not built out of faith as God’s dwelling place. Herod was in league with the Romans and so were the priests who ran the place. It was a very important income producer for Herod, the priests, and the Romans who took a share of the offering income. It was as much a market place as it was a holy place. Judging from the behavior of Jesus reported to us, it was not much of a holy place at all no matter what he did to clean it up. The temple was to have been, from the time of Solomon and David who built the first one, a sign of God’s presence, a place of thanksgiving, offering, and praise. It was a sign of unity, and a place that drew people together providing their identity. Jesus has something else to offer given what the temple has become.

When Luke writes and has Jesus speaking, those who receive this Gospel know that the temple is already down. The zealots schemed an uprising, a violent revolt against the Romans. They lost, and the price they paid was the total destruction of Jerusalem including the temple. Even secular historians say that there was not one stone left upon another. Easy targets for blame were the followers of Jesus. When disasters happen and someone commits an act of violent terrorism, there must always be someone to blame, and nearly all the time it is the most innocent, indefensible, and helpless. Being a small group who were “different”, gentle, peacefully non-violent, we know who got the blame and paid a great price: those new followers of the “Way”: the followers of that crucified criminal, that insurrectionist, that blasphemer. Persecution began big time.

There have been some in our tradition over the years who interpret all of this violence, especially the destruction of Jerusalem as God’s punishment for the rejection of Christ. This assumes of course, that God is in the punishment business. There is an odd human behavior that likes to invoke authority to give credibility to their wishes. When I was a pastor, now and then I would question how something happened, and too frequently I would hear that so-and-so said Father wanted it this way when in fact Father had never given it a thought; but to get their way with a minimum of trouble, invoking an authority figure would often work. Sometimes this behavior is also a kind of wish-fulfillment. Wishing that God would punish (because they would like to do the punishing) they decide that God did it thereby excusing themselves from the whole thing to begin with.

The fact of the matter is that Jerusalem was destroyed not because anyone rejected Jesus or because his followers started trouble; but because the peaceful, loving, non-violent way of Jesus was not followed. The zealots rejected a behavior that would have kept the peace. Here is the point of proclaiming this Gospel today in this place not because it is a threat that says if you reject Christ, God will punish you;  but because the Gospel always reveals something of God’s love for us. The Gospel is GOOD NEWS for everyone. It is not BAD NEWS for the bad.

The temple could come down because it was no longer the physical sign of God’s presence. It could come down and mean nothing except a mess to clean up because there was a new source of identity, and something else to draw people together in which they could offer praise, thanks, and fulfill the law and will of God. That new temple is Jesus Christ, the temple raised up again in three days after being torn down.

Luke’s comforting and encouraging words to those early followers of Christ was that their suffering was a way of bearing witness to God’s presence. Their suffering was their hymn of praise, and living through those times with hope was testimony to their belief in the victory of love over hate, peace over violence, and life over death.

Proclaiming this Gospel today needs few words. For true believers, Jesus Christ is still the best and clearest sign of God’s presence. The presence of God and of God’s Son is the people who have inherited his name and learned from him how to live in obedience to the Will of God and in love for one another. For true believers, Jesus Christ is still where we find our identity. It will not be found in ethnic groups, behind flags, ideologies, or political parties. Our identity in Christ transcends all of those things and makes them irrelevant, inconvenient, and sometimes even an obstacle to our real identity as the living presence of God on this earth. Jesus Christ becomes the center, the gathering place, the one to whom all people will come in the pilgrimage of life as the Jews came to Jerusalem and its Temple again and again.

What we proclaim today is a new Temple not made by human hands and stones, but made by human lives sanctified and purified by the courage of sacrifice, service, non-violence, and love. What we proclaim today as we are the ones gifted and called to give flesh to the Word of God, a people whose actions and behavior, attitudes and hopes reveal God’s plan for this earth and people God has loved so much. What we proclaim is what we live. What we say to this world is simply: “If you want to find God come among us. If you want healing and forgiveness, stay with us. If you want to find life and joy, we have it abundantly. If you are hungry, we will feed you. If you are thirsty, we will give you a drink – a drink that will not leave you thirsty again. If you are afraid, we will calm your fears. If you are alone, we will stay with you. If you are in the dark, we will share the light.”

As we come to the conclusion of a full year in the Gospel of Luke, his message of hope cannot leave us unchanged. His gentleness and the beauty of his message must soften hardened hearts. His vision and his experience of the Holy Spirit from the Baptism of Jesus through the Transfiguration and on to Pentecost cannot leave us thinking for one moment that we are alone here. By that Spirit, we can live without fear, and know that we have among us whatever it takes to awaken this world to God’s presence and the joy of knowing God’s love with the promise of forgiveness and peace where God’s people are found together as one.

Ordinary Time 13  November 10, 2013

Maccabees 7, 1-2, 9, 14 + Psalm 17 + 2 Thessalonians 2, 16-3, 5 + Luke 20,

The journey of Jesus that began weeks and weeks ago with Luke Chapter 9 is now concluded. He made through Jericho last week where he invited Nicodemus and us to “Come down.” He is now in Jerusalem where he will fulfill his Father’s will, where all that he had promised would come to pass, where the temple of his body would be torn down only to rise again on the third day. Now Luke fine tunes his Gospel and begins to focus on life and the promise of Jesus. Who better to cast in this scene than the Sadducees whose position on death was that it was final. There are some who describe the Sadducees as a group who refused to believe in the resurrection. I think that description of them comes out of the negative. All that tells us is what they are NOT. The other way to think of them is that they believed in death. For the Sadducees, death was the end. There was no more. Not surprising then that when they come up against Life in the presence of Jesus Christ, there is going to be some conflict and surprises.

This ideology of the Sadducees is hardly a thing of the past. Judging from the way much of this world lives and behaves, it would be difficult to assume that many believe in or give much thought to the anything at all after death. We have an odd arrangement with death these days, a sort of denial that death will come, and with that comes a denial that there is anything after it. Denying death leaves us locked in the present going on and on as though there will be nothing more than what is right now. In refusing to believe in another life, which followers of Christ called, “The Resurrection,” death is refused. But is exactly what Jesus accepts and does in Jerusalem. He will not, he does not deny death. In this conversation with the Sadducees, he teases them with thoughts about a “Living God”, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and the prophets.

Without the resurrection, followers of Christ have nothing to say to this world. Like Jesus Christ, we stand in a relationship with the Living God, and that relationship will not reconcile with a culture of death, an ideology that refuses death, and the denial of death’s power.

Once the reality and inevitability of death is accepted there is something more to do, and something more to become. Our energy and our focus can be spent on something else, life; rather than on the denial of death. What happens, what we are, and what we do after death becomes a concern, an interest, even a motive for what we are doing here and now. We are a people of life, in life, and for life. Knowing that we shall continue to live even in the face of death changes everything. Knowing that we shall continue to live gives hope, and confidence, courage and joy. There is something to look forward to – something more than just the same old thing. This knowledge is not just some hunch or wish, or some way of hanging on in the face of death’s certainty. This knowledge is a relationship.

This is where Jesus steps in with his profound wisdom challenging the Sadducees and those like them in every age. He speaks of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the prophets and patriarchs. What do these people have in common? One thing: a relationship with Living God. What Jesus proposes is that when God has a relationship with someone, nothing, not even death, can destroy that relationship! A relationship with God is not like the relationships we have from time to time that come and go, that are broken and wounded, incomplete and fragile.

Here is the message of this Gospel. Here is where we can enter into the mystery of resurrected life. Here is where life everlasting becomes not only possible but a reality. This is the way to eternal life, the way to face death today and be around tomorrow; a relationship with the living God. I have seen people face the most impossible and terrifying things. I have seen people come through horrible and heart breaking experiences and rise up tall and strong full of life and free of resentment and anger. I have also seen it go the other way, and every time the difference between them is one thing: their relationship with the living God.

What will come for Jesus in Jerusalem is devastating and a disaster for his followers. In the midst of it, at the worst of it, he maintained his relationship with the Father. He rose from that death, and he lives. For the apostles, his death was something to be denied. It couldn’t happen. It won’t happen. They ran and they hid in denial of what did happen. Their relationship with the Father was not yet strong enough and not yet sealed. For Jesus of Nazareth, the Spirit came upon him in the Jordan. For the Apostles, there was denial, fear, and nothing but the grief of death until Pentecost, and then their relationship with the Father was sealed, and the denial was over. They preached Jesus crucified!

We are a Baptized people, Confirmed with the power and the gifts of the Spirit. We are people of life, living now and living forever because God has called us his own. With death completely tamed by this truth and this promise, there is only a life of joy and of peace for us to live. What gives us those precious gifts is not so much death, but that relationship with living God, the God who loves us. What Jesus says to those Sadducees and to anyone who lives as though death is the end of everything, there is simply one question raised: “How could God allow someone God loves to die?” In response we are simply but profoundly left to say, “He does not.” “Death is not what the Sadducees think it is. There is more, and Paul suggests that it is better. With this hope and with this promise, we might move deeply into the mystery of this Love and with the days we have work more consistently and sincerely for the sake of that love and life itself.

Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite Catholic Church Norman, OK

Wisdom 11, 22-12, 2 + Psalm 145 + 2 Thessalonians 1,11 -2,2 + Luke 19, 1-10

“Come down.” says Jesus to Zacchaeus. “Come down” says Jesus to you and me when we pick up this piece of Luke’s Gospel. “Come down, down from our arrogance and smug ways, down from your hoarding of this earth’s bounty, down from your power, down from your privilege and prestige.  Come down from your pride and from your grudges. Come down from jealousies and ambitions, superiority and judgments. Come down from everything and anything that keeps us from Joy.

Look at what happens to Zacchaeus when he comes down. He is filled with Joy. All that stuff he had accumulated had never brought him anything lasting. Maybe a moment or two of fleeting happiness, but never a hint of Joy, and it certainly never let him hear those words: “I must stay at your house today.”

This joyless world too busy pursing happiness never finds Joy. A life dedicated to the pursuit of happiness never tastes the salvation offered by Christ. This story of Joy and salvation reveals to us the path to joy and the way of salvation. Look at the movements in the life of Zacchaeus. First there is attraction. He wants to see Jesus. Without that attraction, there is nothing left to do but “pursue happiness”. So, all of life becomes one big pursuit, one big chase after an illusion. Zacchaeus however was finished with that pursuit of wealth and power and riches. He wanted to see Jesus: attraction.

The attraction then leads to a dialogue. Jesus speaks to him and Zacchaeus responds not just with words, but with action. He came down, and he came down quickly. The dialogue between them leads to conversion. Zacchaeus turns away from that pursuit, and that conversion leads to his repentance with his more than amble restitution four times over. The consequence of that Joyful attraction, dialogue, conversion, and repentance is a proclamation we all long to hear: “Today Salvation has come to this house.”

The welcome offered by Zacchaeus is more than a welcome to his home. It is at first a welcome into his heart. This is what brings Salvation, a heart attracted to and in prayer (dialogue) with Christ; and a life of continual conversion and repentance. These are the steps to Joy and to Salvation. The courage of Zacchaeus is remarkable. The strength of his attraction and his desire just to see Jesus brings him into sharp conflict with the whispering and grumbling crowd. It is the challenge still faced by those who are still really attracted to Jesus and the life Jesus invites us to share. The challenge to do something different, to be something different, the challenge to run ahead and climb a tree, to ignore the pressure and the grumbling of others is a challenge faced by anyone who awakens to that attraction that starts it all.

How tragic it might have been if Zacchaeus would have done what the crowd expected, if their grumbling would have kept him on the ground out of sight and out of hearing the invitation to “Come Down.”

I would like to image that had he stayed on the ground, had he bent to the opinion and the grumbling of the crowd, he would have spent the rest of his life saying the words that have marked with sadness far too many lives: “If only I had…..” I’ve come to believe that those words are the most and sad and tragic words we ever hear. “If only I had said something.”  “If only I had done something.”  “If only……If only….. Tragic regret over missed opportunities scars human history, and has led far too many a long way from Joy and from the Joyful One, Christ Jesus.

So we tell the story of Zacchaeus again precisely because it is not a story of regret and missed opportunity. It is the story of a Joyful life full of the promise of Salvation. “Come down.” says Jesus once again. “I must stay in your house today.”

Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite Catholic Church Norman, OK

Sirach 35,12-14 + Psalm 34 + 2 Timothy 4, 6-8, 16-18 + Luke 18, 9-14

For several Sundays we have listened in to Jesus instructing his disciples through various stories and parables in response to their request: “Lord, Teach us to Pray.” Of course, the instruction is for all disciples, and still is. Today is the final instruction, and he places the examples in the Temple. The location itself has something to say. The Pharisee belonged there which is probably why he was up front. That tax collector, because he was working for the Romans and considered a traitor, was not exactly “in” the Temple. He would have had to stay outside in some other courtyard, at some distance. So the set-up invites us to begin thinking about these polar opposites, and then join in the surprise at the end when the justification of one is affirmed and the other is left out. It’s all backwards, and to “get” the story, we have to set aside our prejudice against Pharisees, and our tendency to champion the under-dog. What Jesus says about the two of them does not make sense at all, and it should not make sense to any of us who are here, in church, with our tithe, with our long record of being faithful, and true, prayerful, and sincere. In fact, we need to put ourselves in that Pharisees’ shoes. If there were Pharisees in the crowd that day listening they would have had every reason to shout: “What?”  “What are you saying?” “We have done everything you asked of us! We kept the rules! We  listened to what you said! What do you mean that guy went home justified?” With that reaction, they have revealed a lot about themselves and even more about their relationship with God.

At this point, it is time to connect the dots, so to speak. It’s time to look more deeply into what justification consists of, where is comes from, and then wonder about whether or not it’s even worth it to pray: at least pray as we may have been praying.

If all you consider here is the words of their prayers, there is nothing better or worse about either one of the prayers these men are offering to God. Both have a relationship with God which is ultimately what prayer is all about. Both of them are honest and sincere. What’s different about them is their frame of mind. The mind, the thinking, the perception of reality in which the Pharisee functions is the problem. He does not have the mind of God. He does not connect with God or relate to God in the way God wants us to. His claim on “justification” comes from what he has done, it does not come from his relationship with God. His whole relationship with God is based on obligations and rules. In contrast, the Tax Collector has a totally different relationship with God. It is his relationship that is preferred. Prayer is all about relationship.

What we are all invited to learn from this instruction of Jesus is that our dialogue with God must be about what is on our minds and where we are in our lives. The way we live our lives day in and day out reveals the truth about us. Our failures, our sins, our imperfections are always with us. Can you hear that in the prayer of the tax gatherer? God loves us just the way we are. Yet we often think that what we do or what say will change the way God sees us. It does not. It cannot because God already has loved us. We can’t get more. So doing good things to get God’s favor or earn some heavenly points betrays something very fundamental: a deep doubt that God loves us. The good things we do, how we pray, and how we live with one another must spring from a real and personal conviction, or from faith, the belief that we are loved by God.

We come to prayer in faith with different motivations and different needs, but the highest motivation is pure love. Without that, our prayer is shallow and self-serving. All our actions and decisions, all that we say and do must come from our love of God. Otherwise, our actions are just self-serving and useless. What this parable teaches us about prayer is that is far better to simply come before God just as we are and simply ask for understanding and mercy. Our past as a church is full of great and noble men and women who were the most broken and the most vulnerable who found divine favor through their simple humility and honesty.

These people do not look upon others. Hear that in the prayer of the Pharisee. These humble and honest people of love, in their relationship with God, become the best channel of God’s love, God’s Justice, and God’s mercy because they share what they have found, they imitate what they have seen, and they give back to God the love they have discovered in their faith. These are people of Joy and people of Hope. These are the people who go home justified not because of what they have done or for that matter how they have prayed, but because of how they lived and how they have loved.

Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite Catholic Church Norman, OK

Exodus 17, 8-13 + Psalm 121 + 2 Timothy 3, 14-4,2 + Luke 18, 1-8

Luke’s Gospel is easily recognized because of his sensitive and gentle focus on widows. In a bigger picture, the women of Luke’s Gospel are given much more of a place in the work and ministry of Jesus than in the other accounts. This parable is one of nine parables found only in the Gospel of Luke It is perfect example of the way Luke shows the concern of Jesus of widows. He raises the widow’s son from the dead. He complains about the way Scribes take advantage of widows, and he holds widows as models because of their generosity toward others in need.

In the context of what Jesus has been saying to the Disciples during this part of the journey to Jerusalem, this text is certainly about prayer. However, it is not some abstract theory about prayer. It is a look into the way Jesus prays. A few verses earlier, and for us, a few weeks back, the Disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray. As I said then, they did not want a formula or set of words. They wanted to know the secret or have some access to the real prayer of Jesus. What he gave them was a relationship, not a formula. He gave them the “Father.” He drew them into an intimate relationship with His Father that restructured their relationship to one another. Since that incident and dialogue, Jesus has been refining this kind of prayer with each conversation.

What unfolds for us at this point is one more piece of how it is that Jesus prays; why it is that he prays, and what it is that he prays about inviting us to enter into that prayer with him. This is much more than a proposal that we pray with persistence. In some ways that can end up being a mindless kind of stubbornness that in some way might be heroic,  yet also senseless, repetitive, and maybe destructive.

What inspires the persistence of Jesus, and what he would pass on to us, is a vision of the Reign of God. He has a clear vision of what that must be like, a clear sense of his Father’s Will, and because of what he believes that future will hold, he remains persistent and constant, committed and undistracted by anything else or anything less.

My own opinion is that a lack of imagination, a lack of vision, more often causes people to get discouraged, give up, and quit than any real obstacle. When the cry goes up: “Why am I doing this?” it’s all over. I sometimes think that this is what gives parents such extraordinary patience and sustains them through the “terrible twos” and the “tween years”: a vision, a hope, of what that child may and can become. When that vision is clear and always inspiring, no one gives up.

This is the role of faith which Luke invites us to explore with that cry of Jesus at the end of the parable. It is faith that provides the vision and the hope. If there is no faith, there will be no reason to persevere and persist. More interesting and more specific is the issue that this widow raises in the face of a judge who is too much like the “justice” of our day and time.  Justice is what she wants. Justice is the dream and vision of Jesus: justice for widows, justice for the poor, justice for the outcasts, helpless, and powerless of his time and ours!

There is another way of looking at this parable that I find disturbingly powerful and motivating. It is a vision that Pope Francis has begun stir in many people throughout this world. In this way of thinking, the Church is the widow. Her plea and her persistence in that plea is exactly what the church must be about in this world: a consistent and never ending insistence for justice in a world too accustomed to injustice and too comfortable to address and respond to the cry of those who wait for justice.  The Gospel suggests to the church that Justice is our mission, and only by persistent demands will justice come. The Gospel suggests to us all that a vision, a dream, of what the Reign of God will be like can keep us from becoming discouraged at it’s slow realization. That vision is a time of Justice and Peace consistent with the teaching and preaching of Jesus Christ and his Church. With that vision, we could hardly ever give up or keep quiet.

2 Kings 5, 14-17 + Psalm 98 + 2 Timothy 2, 8-13 + Luke 17, 11-19

An easy lesson on gratitude here; but way more besides. None the less, it’s probably a lesson worth a review now and then in an age when the art of writing a “Thank You” note seems to have passed. An age of privilege rarely expresses thanks except when there the hope of getting more. However, somehow this leprosy has made companions of Jews and a Samaritan. How odd and unexpected. Suffering can often bring together folks who have nothing more in common or folks who are actually (as in this example) quite at odds with one another. But this terrible sickness is not all they have in common: they are outcasts and they all turn to Jesus of Nazareth in hope.

They get sent to the priest. That’s an odd command for a Samaritan to follow. There would be every reason to suspect that the Priest should refuse to see him, refuse anything to do with him. After all, he’s two-time loser: a Leper and a Samaritan. We don’t know what happened when he went to the priest, but I like to think that the priest did what was expected and threw the Samaritan out. In sense, this story has as much to do with being “in” and being “out” as it does with being grateful. The nine get back “in” when they go to the priest. That’s what the visit was all about, being restored to the “fold” so to speak ,or to the tribe. Leprosy had expelled them. The priests recognition restored them. But restored them to what or to whom?

The Samaritan has no where to go, so he returns to the one who accepted him in the first place, and in this act expresses his gratitude; and then, by that gesture, he is gathered in, restored and confirmed to be among the “saved.” The nine never hear that good news. They are content to be restored to the tribe, back into the normal life-style of the day, and as far as we can tell, they never hear those wonderful words announcing and confirming their salvation.

There is something admirable about this Samaritan just like the other one who picks up  a man left at the side of a road by robbers. He not only does what is right, he goes a little further. The nine did what they were told, and no more. The Samaritan did the same but more. Somehow that little extra makes a difference and makes a story to share about salvation, what it means, and what happens to someone who does more than just ask Jesus for something they want.

Luke writes to a church with a reminder that being included is good and brings wholeness; but we might want to consider just what group we want to be part of. Those nine seem more interested in being part of a group that is just like them; exclusive and probably considering themselves privileged. The Samaritan sought to be counted among the grateful saved.

Luke writes to a church with a reminder that just doing what you are told to do is not quite enough. That stuff makes Jesus sad. Doing a little more than is expected seems to draw one closer to the one who saves.

Luke also writes to a church with a reminder that real prayer is not just about begging for mercy and coming to Jesus just when you need or want something. It is the prayer of gratitude that shows real character, faith, and goodness. This is the prayer of the Church that we call “Eucharistic.” Absence from the Eucharistic assembly raises some serious questions then about one’s faith, one’s relationship with Jesus of Nazareth, and about just where and to whom one belongs.

It’s a good story to think about, and we probably all ought to reflect a bit on just how it is and when it is that we pray, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to think about how much more we can do than simply what is commanded of us. And finally, a little reflection on just what group we would like to and long to be a part of might not hurt either. God is Good.

Habakkuk 1,2-3,2,2-4 + Psalm 95 + 2 Timothy 1, 6-8, 13-14 + Luke 17, 5-10

My family lived in a home with a mulberry tree in the front yard. The tree was planted between the sidewalk and the street: a narrow strip about four feet wide. The developer, who obviously knew nothing about mulberry trees, probably planted them because they grow fast. In no time at all the street was a tunnel through mulberry branches; and by that time no one could not walk safely down the sidewalk because the roots of the trees pushed the concrete up and away from the street. It was a mess. As the one who had to mow the grass in that yard, I knew that the roots were everywhere right on the surface, and they were huge. So every time I hear this image, I get the point. That tree isn’t going anywhere which is probably why it was once so popular in Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plain! That tree is still there after 40 years, and the concrete sidewalk as been moved three times. It would not surprise me to hear that the house was now even a few inches higher. Mulberries don’t move. They do the moving. There is a lot to think about then with this two verse saying for apostles and for an apostolic people.

This story is a wonderful example of the extreme exaggerations common to that culture at the time. “Pluck out your eye if it is a cause for sin.” is a perfect example of this kind of story telling. In this style of exaggeration then, Jesus proposes the impossible: moving a mulberry tree! His point is that even the smallest amount of faith can make the impossible possible because, and this is the point, faith relies on God. Faith does not rely on human resources alone. God could move that tree, but no man alone could move it. When we finally get that right, finally understand that faith is about relying on God, not about what we can do, then all this makes sense. Yet our world and our times think that everything has to be big and powerful. “That is the way to get things done” thinks this world. Jesus suggests otherwise. Little faith, mustard seed faith, is all that is necessary. We don’t need a lot, we don’t need big faith. We just need enough to rely upon God. That is all.

Then comes a second and much more complex story. At first, we are almost conditioned to wonder about this master who seems so demanding and unreasonable toward a servant who has worked all day. However, the master is not the point or focus of the story. Forget him. This is a story told to disciples, not to masters. The apostles ask for increased faith,. There we go again: thinking that it takes a lot, or big faith, but the response of Jesus is to propose the attitude of a “servant.” It might even help to know that the word Luke uses in Greek is the word for “slave”; a much more significant word than “servant.”

What is remarkable about this servant is that he worked all day in the field, and then assumes household duties at night preparing and serving a meal. All of this without overtime pay or any particular recognition or affirmation. For disciples who are looking for glory and fame, a particular place or seat at the banquet of eternal life, this message is important. For us who sometimes slip into thinking that we can earn our way into grace, or that things we do will provide us special recognition by God now or on judgement day, there is a very powerful and important point to this story. It seems like we are always looking for extra credit like we may we have done in school. Service, no matter how well performed is not going to get us somewhere. It will simply be evidence that we know who we are and what is expected of us as servants. It doesn’t sound too exciting. It won’t draw a lot of attention. It never seems to bring any particular rewards. It’s just a little thing, doing what is expected, but it is what is asked of us. It is the foundation of greatness. Do well with little things, and more will be given.

This is a very real and practical message to young people and old people, to students, to mothers and fathers to teachers and all of us. Learn how to do the little things well. Don’t worry about winning awards for doing what you do because of who you are. Little things matter, and little things done well with a little faith will with the help of God have great consequences.

Amos 6, 1,4-7 + Psalm 146 + 1 Timothy 6, 11-16 + Luke 16, 19-31

There is only one way for you and me to hear this parable. We are not Abraham. We are not Lazarus or the Rich Man. They are dead. We are not necessarily the Pharisees either. We are this rich man’s brothers, and according to Abraham who speaks with great authority, we have Moses and the Prophets. There will be no other signs and no wonders to teach us, just the Word of God.

This story, unique to Luke’s Gospel is probably not a parable because one of the characters has a name (which never happens in a parable): and what a name it is! “Lazarus” meaning, “God is my helper.” The rich man has no name inviting us into the story, into the character, into his experience. He is really something, and in spite of how his life has ended and where he is, he just doesn’t seem to get it. Look at his behavior and how he talks. He speaks to Abraham as though Abraham is his peer, and in spite of his situation, he thinks Lazarus is his servant. He wants Abraham to send Lazarus first to serve him with a drink of water, and then when Abraham refuses, he comes back again with the preposterous proposal that Lazarus should leave his comfortable place and go to those brothers who still remain behind. This guy just doesn’t get it at all. This story turns on the people who do not get it, and as the Word of God, it speaks to those who have Moses and the Prophets (The Word of God) with the hope that we will get it.

This story invites us to see what wealth looks like and what poverty looks like, and it invites us to look deeper and to look within. The rich man is described by externals, his dress and his food. It’s all shallow. He is only what he looks like and how he dines. There is nothing more to him; no depth, no soul, no compassion, no ability to see beyond the gate of his comfortable house. He cannot see a future and where this will all lead. The great chasm is already there in his blindness. Lazarus on the other hand has something the rich man lacks, an identity, a name that reveals his soul, the depth of his life in his relationship to God. The rich man has no relationships at all outside of his brothers who we can assume have been dining with him walking in and out of that gate oblivious of Lazarus. The rich man is not condemned because he is rich. He ends up in torment because he thought it was all his. Lazarus is not in blessed comfort because he was poor. He is rests in blessed comfort because he never forgot that God was his helper.

Wealth then consists of fine things and plenty to eat, but it does not seem to make one “Blessed” like Lazarus or provide what Lazarus has,  “comfort.” In fact, luxury has little to do with long-term happiness, and  it is no substitute for blessed comfort.

I find it fascinating that when Abraham talks to the rich man, his address is in the passive voice grammatically, but the rich man doesn’t get that either. “You received…” says Abraham, not you earned or you deserved Abraham simply says, “you received.” I think that one of the things the rich man received was Lazarus, but he didn’t get that either. The rich man’s wants keep him from being attentive to what others need.

I want and I need to hear this story as if I am one of this man’s brothers. There is no other way for it to bring life and hope to this world. I want and need to hear this story now because this nation of which I am a part is eating itself to death and living in luxury with Lazarus at the gate. It makes me think of the people just a little ways away on an island called, Haiti. Is at our door step, brothers and sisters, the poorest nation on the earth. I want to hear this story now so that I never think that I earned anything and always remember that everything I have is a gift that I have received.

I want to remember the ancient wisdom of John Chrysostom who said this in a sermon hundreds of years ago: “Remember this without fail, that not to share our wealth with the poor is theft from the poor and deprivation of their means of life. We do not possess our own wealth, but theirs.” ……..and speaking about us, Abraham said: “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

Amos 8, 4-7 + 1 Timothy 2, 1-8 + Luke 16, 1-13

Until something hits us right in the face most of us are content to live quite simple and shallow lives in the immediate moment. It is a comfortable kind of existence where we find it easier to survive in a world filled with danger and uncertainties of all kinds. “Denial” is what we call it; a life-style that marks our time in history quite clearly. It often takes the loss of a job, a health crises, or the death of a loved one to wake us up with the question of what lies ahead. Until something like that happens, we just keep our heads down plugging along day by day hoping that the future will take care of itself. No it will not take of itself. It will be the consequence of what we do today.

I think that mothers and fathers get a less frightening opportunity with the birth of a child. I can’t tell you how often I have watched and listened to new young parents reflect upon their experience of bringing a human life into this world with all the responsibility and new dreams of the future. It is the one unavoidable moment when they must look ahead, way ahead, and adjust their lives for the future.

This is what Jesus speaks of today a world not so much different from our own. The man has lost his job, and while he may have known that it could happen at any time, he’s never thought about it or worried about. The future has always been just that: the future, a time that never seems to arrive. But, then it does, and it will not take care of itself.

The Living Word of God still speaks to all of us who live in a comfortable kind of denial about a future that never quite seems to come.
This Living Word of God speaks to all of us who have jobs and possessions, opportunities, talents, and skills.
This Living Word of God raises the same question that Jesus raised to those gathered around him. It is raised again by Luke writing to a church that had grown comfortable in their present lives. Their earlier anxious readiness and anticipation of the end, of the second coming, was slipping away. They had forgotten that an accounting would be asked of them.

In a general way, this Gospel gives reason to restore that awareness. It is a wake-up call like being written up at work, or discovering that our blood pressure is high or cholesterol is climbing. It calls us believers to look up and look ahead, to remember that this is not all there is, to live not just for today, but for tomorrow. There is here no condemnation or any suggestion that there is something wrong with wealth, riches, and possessions. There is however, a question raised about how those are to be used, and a proposal that they would best be used with regard to a future that will come.  For the wise, what we do with what we have no matter how much there is or how little is the issue.

Prudence is a virtue found in the wise, and it is an appropriately developed virtue in disciples of Jesus. Not a fearful caution and leaves one afraid to act, Prudence is a way of acting and behaving, of relating to things and people with regard the the future.

For people of faith, like you and me, that future leads us to a steady and constant nurturing of a spiritual life; a life that will survive on and on into the future. The lives of faithful believers, disciples of Jesus, are not split into the physical and spiritual, or for that matter into the present and the future. Their lives, the lives of the wise, are integrated into a wholeness that brings them to live in the present as though it was the future. They live today the way they hope it shall be forever. Their spiritual lives are integrated into their physical lives knowing that what is good for the soul is good for the body, and what happens to the body affects the soul. It gives them a way to judge and measure what pleasures and how much pleasure is good and what is harmful, because what feels good may not actually be good.

This is the wisdom of prudence. It suggests to us who seek that wisdom that the use of what we have today has consequences for the future, for our very soul, and for the kingdom of God both now and when the time comes for an accounting. The future will not take care of itself.

Exodus 32, 7-11, 13-14 + Psalm 51 + 1 Timothy 1, 12-17 + Luke 15, 1-32

Those scribes and pharisees complain because they think Jesus should be eating with them. They don’t think that those tax gatherers and sinners deserve the attention and the presence of Jesus. They are the good and holy ones who deserve the pleasure and privilege of eating with Jesus. They think Jesus owes them his attention and favor.

Now look how this thinking and this attitude of privilege frames our Gospel today. It starts with the good and holy scribes and pharisees complaining; and it ends with the good, loyal, hard working son complaining in the same way. He deserves a party, the fatted calf, but the father waits and runs out with ring a robe for that other one who does not deserve it. It’s not fair!

As I say that, I am reminded of my little five year old grand nephew with whom I spent two months this summer. Other than, “I didn’t do it.” The next most frequently heard saying from his lips was: “It’s not fair.” It was his constant compaint when his older brother got to do something, play longer, or stay up later than he did. I would say to him: “Who told you life was fair? Get over it. It is not a matter of what you deserve. It’s a matter of what you do when you know it’s not fair.” Then he would look at me, wrinkle up his forehead, and walk away disgusted. The poor child is growing up under the impression that he deserves things because he is cute and clever, and that when he behaves nicely he is going to get some prize when in fact, good behavior is nothing special. When he looks at me like that, I think I know how God feels, and certainly how Jesus felt as the scribes and pharisees complained: “It’s not fair.” I think I hear that older son saying the same thing.

It’s a troubling and challenging situation in this fifteenth chapter of Luke. Troubling to people like you and me, the faithful ones who pray, attend Mass, contribute, and listen to God’s Word. It’s challenging too because often we are tempted to think we are not getting what we deserve, God is not attentive to our prayers, while others who don’t go to church or do not seem to lead holy lives and make any sacrifice for the work of the church get along just fine and sometimes have it better than we do! It’s not fair!

So we tell once again these Gospel stories in gratitude and wonder. Grateful first of all that God is not like us who are always measuring out so carefully what is deserved, fair, and just. Because this world over which we have authority is anything but fair and just to those we judge to be undeserving.

Grateful too because we have the undeserved faith to receive this revelation about God and share the joy of those who are lost, rather than sink into complaining resentment.

There is something awesome and wonderful here too in these stories that reveal a God whose grace and love surpases even justice. These stories sustain our hope that  our God will wait and watch for us to get over ourselves and rejoice with him. The saddest thing about this last story we know so well is the refusal of the older brother to come into the party and share the joy. The refusal to rise above complaining resentment over God’s gracious love still threatens us, but yet there is hope and promise found in this eucharist we celebrate. Shared enough in the spirit of this Gospel, we are drawn, tempted, teased, and invited to joy for the truth is, we too have been found in spite of ourselves.