November 22, 2015 at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Daniel 7, 13-14 + Psalm 93 + Revelation 1, 5-8 + John 18, 33-37

There is something very political about this feast. The very establishment of this feast in history was a political statement. Yet there are some who rant and rave at courageous preachers saying that they are talking “politics” rather than “religion” from their pulpits, and that accusation always makes me wonder what those people are thinking on this feast that summarizes all we have heard from the Gospels for the last year. Calling Jesus a King is a political statement. Pilate certainly knew that, and if Jesus is a King, this is problematic not just for Pilate, but for us as well.

The culture in which live has trivialized the truth about this King who threatens Pilate so seriously. Now we have Elvis, the King of Rock and Roll, Michael Jordan or Michael Jackson, depending on your tastes. Some think Lebron James is the King of Basketball, and the American Music Awards think Justin Bieber is “King”. With this kind of silliness it is a bit difficult to see what Pilate’s problem was, and how it might be a problem for us as well, but it still is for those who take seriously the Gospel and the Resurrection. If you believe that Christ has risen from the dead, then there is a king your life, and this has real life political and social implications.

Attempts to dismiss this reality by misunderstanding or misinterpreting a response Jesus makes to Pilate is what trivializes the Kingship of Christ to begin with. If the Kingship of Christ is not of this world right now, there is no point in us being in here because it is by establishing his Kingdom here and now that we have that eternal kingdom. It has to start somewhere, and he came to start it here among us and with us. He never told us to wait. He taught how to live and what to do in order to become citizens of that Kingdom right now.

We are so removed from castles and crusades, kings and crowns however that we seem to have forgotten what it means for someone to be king. It is not about rock and roll, pop music, or basketball. It is about power and who rules your life. It is about authority. Maybe we should change the name of this feast and call it: President Sunday, or Commander in Chief Sunday, or Boss Sunday? Maybe Jesus my Coach Sunday because that is what it means – it is about who has authority and power in my life, and that is what makes this a political issues. Those who think that politics and religion don’t mix fail to get the point of John 18. Politics and Religion go together like turkey and dressing.

In the 20^th century, not long ago, during the times of racial segregation in South Africa, when the people with white skin ruled over those with dark skin, whole congregations were arrested, because they didn’t follow those rules. They claimed Christ as their king and not the government or the laws of segregation. And they were arrested. All 240 members, from  a church, babies to 90 year olds, were put in jail because they claimed Christ as their king, and insisted that Christ would not stand for segregation. It is dangerous to call Jesus king.

The Pilates of the world use their power and authority for selfish reasons with no concern for the community. Meanwhile Jesus gets on his hands and knees and washes his disciple’s feet. He sheds every last ounce of his blood caring for those whom he leads. He gives his life to bring life. The Pilates of the world bring terror, even when things are calm. Jesus brings peace, even in the midst of terror. The Pilates use violence to conquer and divide the world. Jesus tells his disciples to put away their swords. You can see why the Pilates of the world don’t like the Jesus’ of the world.

To claim Christ as your king is to give Jesus authority over your life and no one else. And the struggle is that King Jesus looks nothing like the kings we’ve come to know. He comes not as a boss but as a servant. He comes in power but in love. He comes not enhance his own life but to give it away. Jesus doesn’t waver like Pilate going back and forth from the crowd to Jesus trying to decide whether to cave in to popular ways or do what is right. Jesus has already made his choice. Jesus has decided to love this world and all the people in it. People like us. So the love of Jesus is yours. You have it. The question becomes whether that love has any impact on our life or not. Does it matter? Will we let Jesus be the light in our life guiding us? Will Jesus be our king? I think we are trying to say “yes”; but it can’t just be in here one Sunday of the year.

Sunday of the Renewal of the Church   Saint George Maronite Catholic Church in Uniontown, PA

November 8, 2015   John 10, 22-42

A man decided his wife was getting hard of hearing. So he called her doctor to make an appointment to have her hearing checked. The doctor said he could see her in two weeks, but meanwhile there was a simple, informal test the husband could do to give the doctor some idea of the dimensions of the problem.

“Here’s what you do,” he said. “Stand about 40 feet away from her, and speak in a normal conversational tone and see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response.”

That evening his wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner, and he’s in the living room, and he says to himself, “I’m about 40 feet away, let’s see what happens.”

“Honey, what’s for supper?” No response.

So he moves to the other end of the room, about 30 feet away.

“Honey, what’s for supper?” No response.

So he moves into the dining room, about 20 feet away. “Honey, what’s for supper?” No response.

On to the kitchen door, only 10 feet away. “Honey, what’s for supper?” No response.

So he walks right up behind her. “Honey, what’s for supper?”

She turns around and says, “For the FIFTH time, CHICKEN!!!!”

We laugh because this is sometimes how it is in our lives. We are either deaf to what is really going on, or we think it is the other person’s problem when really it is our own. Sometimes, we have selective hearing, and we hear what we only want to hear. This text today is all about listening and hearing – following the voice of Jesus.

Sounds easy, but in this world today, we hear a lot of voices. There are voices out there telling us who we are, what we should want, what you should be. There are voices telling us to do this, don’t do that. You’re too fat. You’re too skinny. You’ll never amount to much. You’re a sinner. You don’t measure up. You are crazy. Take these drugs. You are wrong. There are voices telling us to believe this, buy this, drive that, wear this, go there, do your homework now (always follow that voice!). There are voices on Fox News and MSNBC? Which describes reality? Who is telling the truth: Sarah Palin, Barack Obama, James Brady, the NRA, John Boehner, or Nancy Pelosi? It is too much, and it is no surprise that we turn it all off.

The essential question of faith is “Whose voice are you listening to, what voice do you hear, and what voice do you trust?” The faith task is to hone in, lean towards to the source, the authentic Divine voice and listen intently and then to act on what you hear. Saint Benedict advises his monks to listen with the ears of the heart. A heart grounded in fear is going to shape your hearing and your living. A heart grounded in suspicion is going make you skeptical of what you hear and it will shape your outlook with the ugliness of cynicism. This is a great danger for us now when so many voices sound so angry and are filled with fear. The fear sews the seeds of doubt and distrust creating a nasty and polluted environment that is self-serving and protective. Without the voice of Jesus in the midst of this din, we will go deaf to the sound of his promise and his presence.

We are the church, a community with a common desire to listen and follow Christ. That is the most important thing. For us, no other voice takes precedence. What we hear in this holy place in the reading of the Word, the singing of the hymns, the holy silences that are so rich is one powerful and healing message. We are loved. You don’t have to know the one who speaking. Your heart must interpret the message. Hear the voice of love and move toward it. In a dog-eat-dog world of competition and anger, we move through the valley of shadow with the words of love in our ear and the banner of love around our shoulders.

Hear the voice of hospitality and know that you are welcome here. You do not have to have your theological stuff together. You are welcome now, and so is everyone else. We will get ourselves together in time as we decide to stay together.

Hear the voice of generosity. It is the voice of God who has given us so much and asked so little except that we imitate this divine giving with joy and laughter.

Hear the voice of justice and compassion. It is often the cry of the homeless and the hungry, of the immigrant, and those who flee violence and oppression.

This is the voice of creation: this voice of love, hospitality, generosity, justice and compassion. This is the voice that renews the Church this Sunday. It is the voice that will renew each of us in the Spirit of Saint Maron, Saint Rafca, Saint Sharbel, and all their companion in whose footsteps we walk today with laughter and with joy and in always in peace.

The 32^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time   St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, Fl

1 Kings 17, 10-16 + Psalm 146 + Hebrews 9, 24-28 + Mark 12, 38-44

There are two points of focus in the text of today’s Gospel. We are easily drawn toward the widow either in admiration or out of our usual concern for the “underdog”, so to speak. She is the poor one who stirs us with both pity and admiration. It’s easy to preach about her, I can assure you. Her behavior is admirable, and we are naturally drawn toward the generosity she expresses so humbly. However, this text is not only about her. She just happens to pass by while Jesus is speaking to the Scribes. It is hard to tell which group, the Pharisees or the Scribes was more trouble for Jesus, but I suspect it was the Scribes. They were his most fierce opponents. The Scribes were among the most eminent in that society. They wore great and fine long robes. People were expected to stand respectfully when they passed by. They had a reserved, comfortable, and prominent seat in the synagogue directly in front of the sacred scrolls. They used their privileges to exploit others. They were forbidden to receive payment for teaching, so they depended upon private donations for their living. Subsidizing a scribe was considered a great act of piety. To cover up their unethical behavior, they would recite long prayers. The problem was not the prayer however, it was the fact that instead of being directed to God, their prayers were aimed at people for the sake of the show. The admiration of the people was the only merit they would receive, says Jesus.

The warning that comes from Jesus in this text does not suggest that holding someone in esteem is wrong, but that there is a spiritual danger here that must be acknowledged and remembered by those who are so blessed and so gifted. The danger is that “entitlement” will creep in causing someone to feel that they are owed something because of who they are or because of what they have done. This is the point of contrast Jesus makes for his disciples between the scribes and the widow.

When Jesus calls the disciples to himself in Mark’s gospel, it is a signal that something important is about to take place or that a very solemn declaration is to be given. God measures gifts given on a totally different set of calculations than we do. Which is more significant, her pennies or the big contributions that built the place? God looks to the motives. Her gift was a sacrifice. She did without something to drop in her coins. Others gave from their surplus – from what was left over after they had taken care of themselves and their comfortable needs. Her gift meant that she would rely on God now to provide her next meal. The others held back, just in case. For them there was always some doubt that God might not provide, so they should provide for themselves. I find it very remarkable that the words of praise Jesus speaks for the woman are the last words spoken by the Lord in the Temple. He overturns everything anyone might think about that place. Its greatest pillars, teachers, and leaders are not those privileged Scribes, but the little people who come there out of faith and trust in God.

When we place the present into this text, we are warned against feeling privileged and acting on that feeling. We are reminded that the church, like the temple, flourishes most and best when those overlooked, forgotten, ignored, and disregarded because of their state in life claim the place and find it to be home.

This calls to mind for me the tradition around St Lawrence the Deacon of Rome responsible for distributing the alms. In 258, by decree of the emperor, the pope and six deacons were beheaded, leaving Lawrence the ranking Church official in Rome. The city prefect called him and demanded that he hand over the treasure of the church. Lawrence responded that the church was indeed very rich, and asked for a little time to gather the treasure. He then went all over the city seeking out the poor and the infirm. On the third day, he gathered a great crowd of orphans, widows, the lame and all the sick inviting the prefect come and see the wonderful riches of God. The prefect was furious; in a rage he ordered Lawrence to be put to death on a gridiron over a slow fire leaving us to remember where richness is found and what is blessed in God’s sight.

Jesus has gathered us together and spoken very clearly about the danger of thinking we are special and the consequent behavior that follows. He has spoken again about what motivates our generosity, and about how our generosity reveals our trust in God and imitates the generosity of God who makes no distinctions about who deserves what when it comes to love and mercy.

The 31st Sunday of the year and The Feast of All Saints

St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

November 01, 2015

Revelation 7, 2-4, 9-14 + Psalm 24 + 1 John 3, 1-3 + Matthew 5, 1-12

Some years ago when I was pastor at a parish with a school, I dropped in one of the classrooms about this time of the year for a visit. They were all getting ready for the All Saints Day Mass when they paraded around dressed in costumes like the Saint they had chosen to study. So I asked the children what they thought someone had to do to become a saint. Before I had taken a breath after the question, little miss “knows all the answers” shot her hand up in the air lifting herself out of the desk announcing quite confidently that to be a saint you had to be dead. There was agreement all the way around. Another announced that you had to have a gold plate on your head. As I was writing all of this in my notebook hiding my face for fear they would think I was laughing at them, the discussion began to get very animated. Some thought you had to suffer a lot, others expressed the thought that you had to say your prayers all day long, then someone said you had obey your father and mother, clean your room, pick up your toys, and feed the dog. At which point, I closed the notebook and decided that there was work to do here. I gave them a homework assignment which was welcomed about as much as a bee sting, but nonetheless, they were assigned to ask their parents to tell them the story of their baptism: who was there, what it was like, how they felt, and where it happened. I went back the next day, and sat down to hear the stories. They were wonderfully shared the only way third graders can embellish details.

After it all ended, I suggested to them that on the day of their baptism they had already become saints, and that basically that was all it took from us; after that, God did the rest. In all their excited innocence those children revealed, as they so often do, a lot about us as adults. They thought, and sometimes we do too, that holiness is the consequence of something done. People who try to be “saints” or try to be holy usually end up being pious, and sometimes a little bit on the freaky side of pious. They are hard to be around. Conversations with them are rarely fun, and they don’t seem to smile and laugh much. They are too busy trying to be holy or look like those images on holy cards.

This day in the calendar of the Church’s celebrations gets easily sidetracked by thinking about others, or about imagining that this is a day to catch up on all the others who have no day to themselves in the list of saints on the calendar. I think not. I would propose to you that this is All Saints Day. All meaning all of us, all who are baptized into Christ, all upon whom is given the grace and gift of love, mercy, and forgiveness. I believe that the children in that third grade classroom were saints not because they were perfectly obedient, said all their prayers, cleaned their rooms, or fed the dog, but because they were third graders living and being just exactly what God made them to be at the moment.

Holiness is not something we do, it is something we are, and because of what we are, what we do agrees, confirms, and bears witness that we are as children of God. You can’t try to be holy. That’s weird. You can try to be who you are made to be, what you are made to become. The path to holiness is a one way street to sincerity, simplicity, and the truth: the truth about who we are. Mothers and Father find holiness and bear witness to that grace by simply being mom and dad. Brothers and Sisters are most holy when they live in the joyful bond of family life. Single people who live the freedom of their lives for the service and good others find their holiness in the right use of their gifts and the generosity of their lives. There is no pretense in these lives, there is no struggle to be anything other than what we were made and called to be in God’s sight. This is holiness, and this is also Happiness.

Contrary to what little miss “knows all the answers” thinks, Matthew suggests that the Blessed, the Happy, are not those who are dead, but those who are alive, fully alive, living in every moment of every day, good and bad times, able to laugh and to weep, work and play, peaceful and confident that the love of God will not fail. The truly holy, the real saints are not the sinless; but the saved who celebrate and live that salvation every day with Joy.

October 25, 2015 at St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Jeremiah 31, 7-9 + Psalm 126 + Hebrews 5, 1-6 + Mark 10, 46-52

This is the last healing event in Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is almost to Jerusalem. He has just spoken for the third and last time of the suffering and death that awaits him in Jerusalem. It is amazing to me that these disciples who have been with Jesus so long want to silence this blind man. He may be blind, but he sees something they have failed to see, and he has faith that they have still not found. He knows where to go for what he needs. When Jesus asks him what he wants, I suspect that it was for the sake of the others who have been telling him to shut up.

Bartimaeus has come to Jesus. He expresses his faith and his need, and there comes the response: “Be on your way. Your faith has healed you.” The response of Jesus is very important. He confirms the faith of Bartimaeus. Does Jesus heal the man, or is it his faith? We should pay attention to this detail revealed by the command. What faith has done for Bartimaeus is bring him to Jesus. That is the experience of his healing, coming to Jesus. What the story unfolds for us then is what faith does: bring us to Jesus in whose presence we find healing.

The faith of this man would not be discouraged or diminished by a crowd who told him to shut up. He stands up to their insult and dismissal, because this is what people of faith do; they wait and they watch no matter what for the moment when they can come into the presence of Jesus, the Son of David. In that presence whatever is needed is found, whatever is lacking is provided. The final evidence of this faith is seen in the decision Bartimaeus makes. Jesus says: “Be on your way.” Bartimaeus says by his action: “My way is your way” and he follows Jesus down the road all the way to Jerusalem we can only suppose.

So we proclaim a story of faith today that is the story of mercy. The faith we share must lead us to Jesus. The faith we share must give us courage to stand up to those who might want us to be silent. The faith we share in the company of Jesus will satisfy all our needs and free us to set our feet on the road to Jerusalem with Christ Jesus. This is a story of the Church which has at its heart the mission of faith, the mission of bringing people to Jesus Christ. There are still people who cannot see. There are still people sitting by the side of the road. There are still people living on the margins of society and at the margins of the church itself, and sometimes we tell them to keep quiet, because like that crowd following Jesus, we have not yet seen what there is to see, and taken the courage of faith seriously enough to throw aside our cloaks, our old ways and our old habits.

Mercy is the mission of the church, and mercy is our mission. Having come to Jesus ourselves, and having found the sight to see as Jesus sees, we must gather up others who are left on the side of life’s road, the homeless, jobless, and hopeless, the broken and abandoned the abused, the fear filled refugees and all from the margins of society and darkness to come with us along the way all the way to Jerusalem where, having entered into the passion and death of Christ, we shall share in his victory and his glory. There is no other way. There is no other hope. There is no place for us to find what we need.

October 18, 2015

Isaiah 53, 10-11 + Psalm 33 + Hebrews 4, 14-16 + Mark 10, 35-45  Saint John Nepomuk Church in Yukon, OK

There is a seriously complicated issue in this text that does one of two things: drive people away from God or confuse the image of God Jesus has consistently revealed leading us to ignore the contradiction causing us to miss what is revealed. To misread and therefore misunderstand these words: “as a ransom for many” can lead us to think that God’s forgiveness is conditional upon the death of a victim or that there is some kind of contract between God and the victim that God requires before there is forgiveness. This kind of thinking is an insult to the mighty love of God. So we have to dig deeper with mature minds and informed faith. Suggesting that God actually demanded the death of someone in order to liberate everyone does not go down well for me, and I hope it does not for you either. What kind of a God is this?

At some practical level it might be fruitful to spend time critiquing the attitude that is evident in the conversation of the disciples. Their “What’s in it for me” attitude is hardly admirable, and there is a lesson for us there as well. Their desire to share the glory without sharing what it takes to get there brings a warning as well, because none of us will have share in the Glory of the risen Lord if we avoid passing through the passion and death. But there is more being revealed here than something about the apostles that can teach us about true discipleship. Something about God is being revealed here that takes a little digging and thinking to realize. It also means we have to push back the boundaries we sometimes drag into our thinking about God that are not helpful.

Imagining God and God’s behavior from our experience of human nature is not helpful. It is a consequence of making God in our own image instead of the way it really is intended. Thinking that God would demand a ransom, that there is some price to be paid to purchase God’s love, mercy, and forgiveness is making God in our image. It is the same error we heard last week with that man who thought he could do something to be saved. This business of a ransom, of making people pay up, or this kind of bargaining: that’s the stuff we do, it is not the God revealed by Jesus Christ. This tendency to imagine God or God’s behavior in terms of our behavior is the way myths develop, and it was quite common at the time of Christ and still hung on as the Gospels were being formed. Mythical elements and images of God are tough to break out of. This is what Jesus confronted again and again revealing a God who does not live by our rules, act like we do, (thank goodness!) and a God not bound by man-made rules. This is what made those Pharisees and Scribes so frustrated.

The wonder and mystery of the cross is a mystery of the love that is God’s very being. “God is Love.” Even at the moment of Jesus’ death, God is love. At the moment when we might think they are most separated, they are in fact united in a single love for the salvation of the world. Bloodshed and death are signs that express love. It is not the death that saves us, but the love it signifies. The death was needed to show that love might find expression and convince the world of love’s reality. This love is expressed in the very words of Jesus at his most desperate hour. “Father forgive them” he says. Not if they say they are sorry, not if they endure terrible punishment, not if they do penance for the rest of their lives. He simply offers forgiveness without conditions or payment. That is Love. That is God. There is no swap going on here where by God punishes God’s only Son rather than punish us. Jesus does not die so that we might not die. He dies to show us how to live, and to lead us into that fullness of life marked by and revealing Love. This is Mercy. It is, what I like to call, the Divine Surprise. We who like to measure out everything and want everything to be fair and equal, are surprised to find that it is not so with God. Like the father who gives both sons all they need no matter how they behave; like the master who pays people hired at the last hour more than they earned, and like every other example Jesus has put before us, there is always a measure of joyful surprise at the Mercy of God.

As Pope Francis proclaims a year of mercy, we have every reason to join in that celebration because the mercy is not just ours to receive, but ours to give. The Son has been sent into the world and dies in this world to show us Divine Love. He is obedient and surrenders not to death so much as to the power of mercy. In this death, he forgives us all, and in his resurrection he brings us all to victory with him, freeing us for eternal life. That is a revelation worth a celebration. Let’s get on with it, and make sure that we carry it with us into this world longing for mercy and to those needing forgiveness whether they ask for it or not.

Saint Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Wisdom 7, 7-11+ Psalm 90 + Hebrews 4, 12-13 + Mark 10, 17-30

The man thinks that by keeping the rules or the “commandments” he can save himself. He is mistaken, and so are all those who continue to buy into this error on two levels. First of all, he thinks he can earn his salvation. When Jesus points out what it might take, he and the apostles who are observing all of this realize that the effort is hopelessly impossible. It is more than any of us can accomplish. Jesus responds by affirming however that God can do all things. It is only God who saves. We do not save ourselves.

The second error is not just about giving away the riches he may have. There is nothing wrong with the riches. The error comes from relying on those riches for security and safety, thinking they will get him what he wants. The issue is not the riches, but the reliance on those riches. It is this misplaced trust that Jesus corrects, not the wealth. The giving away of that wealth however is the test that reveals wherein one has placed their trust. Jesus is confronting reliance upon anything other than God. Those with many riches are not lost, they are simply more challenged than anyone else because the temptation to rely or depend on those riches is very great. Those with many riches have greater temptations and greater responsibility for their use of those riches.

Yet, wealth is not the only thing that leads us away from trusting in God. Power is just as seductive especially when seen as military might. Having the biggest bombs, army, and power has not gotten us any closer to peace. The temptation to rely on those material things is, by the lesson of this gospel, foolish. It is fellowship with Christ and trust in God that will bring and preserve peace. Investing in and attention to the social conditions that lead to violence shifts our reliance onto God’s concerns. Motivated by one’s spirituality and a sense of justice rooted in the dignity of human life is relying upon God who is mercy and whose presence is peace.

Physical beauty is another substitute for trusting in God. People who rely on their looks and cultivate those looks to build relationships are trapped by the culture in which we live. They spend more time cultivating their outward appearance while neglecting the soul and the spiritual life that has God as the center.

It is the attachments that we rely upon that keep us from true discipleship. A kind of Gospel detachment sets us free and liberates us from concerns that in the end have no way to lead us home. Misplaced attachments cause worry, anxiety, and fear. These feelings have no place in the lives and hearts of disciples who are one with Christ. The measure of worry, anxiety, and fear in our lives tells us clearly how much we have come to trust in God and rely upon God’s grace.

The disciples are astonished with what is being revealed here. The power of God and the grace of God’s love is always astonishing to those who are surprised by God’s mercy and the power of love. Such surprise is only possible when we are free and open to gifts greater than the ones we imagine and believe are so important.

The amazing thing about this encounter between Jesus and the man of wealth is that it has no conclusion. We are simply told that he went away, and that his sadness was even shared by Jesus. We can hope that he came back to experience again that look of love having discovered that he could live without all of his stuff, and that the freedom he found without it is better than the worry of how to keep it and how to earn salvation which is only possible with God who wills it for us all.

St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Genesis 2, 18-24 + Psalm 128 + Hebrews 2, 9-11 + Mark 10, 2-16

The Gospel today reminds us that ultimately the work of Jesus Christ was to restore us to the conditions of Paradise, to take us back home, back to that “Garden”, into that relationship with God once marked by obedience, fidelity, and love. The inspired writer of these verses from Genesis was interested only in asserting the equality of woman. In human terms, she is not a different kind of being from man, and is not inferior to him. She is his partner and equal. Being a “helpmate” does not imply that she is less. The union between them is so great and strong that there can be no question of breaking it without destroying their very identity. So this text is about equality between man and woman. That is what Adam is proclaiming when he says that she is “bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh”. It is a declaration of equality. They are equal. They are one.

On the basis of this understanding then Jesus says to those who would trap him that God’s plan matters more than a man-made plan, with this “arrangement” that permitted a man to divorce a woman for any frivolous reason while a woman had not right to divorce whatsoever. Jesus is turning the whole system upside down using the divorce example to confront injustice and the abuse of one person by another. While these verses may lead us off to wonderful reflections on marriage, they are really a headlong confrontation of Jesus with a cultural system that accommodates the power of one over another and tolerates the abuse of one by another. This is not God’s will.

Unity, and oneness is God’s will. So the healing of what is broken and the restoration of all the wonderful conditions of Paradise is the work of Jesus Christ. Recovering what was lost with leaving Paradise is what Jesus called, “The Reign of God.” Jesus has come to take us there, to take us home. He began that work at the very spot where the Father’s plan was interrupted by the choice of Adam and Eve to be disobedient and unfaithful. He began at a wedding in Cana. A wedding, a marriage, this magnificent union of man and woman is a sign of our hope and intention to live within the Reign of God.

This text is not a condemnation of people who have experienced the tragedy of divorce. It is an affirmation that it is not good to be alone. It is an affirmation that God has chosen man and woman to be equal partners united with God in the continuing work of creation. So to decide to build a life with another is to make an act of faith proclaiming publicly, the power of possibility. It is to declare faith in the future. When a man and woman stand before God and say, “I do,” they are really saying, “I do believe. I do believe that my tomorrows will be better because of this person I marry today. I do believe in starting a family. I do believe in continuing what began with that first man and woman.” In this way, countless men and women who enter into marriage affirm that mystery, and they proclaim that they will care for one another, no matter what. They proclaim that they believe that their future together will be brighter because this other person is a part of it. They are saying: we are part of a story stretching back to the beginnings of time. And they are saying something more: we want to continue the story, by becoming a family to one another, and welcoming children, and letting God continue his creative work. There is nothing more pro-life than that. Respecting life is about being open to life, every blessed second of it, in all its wonder and disappointments and challenges and setbacks and joys. It is saying yes to the ongoing miracle of creation, no matter how small or needy or imperfect it might be. The mystery and wonder of a woman and a man who say “yes” to God’s call to share in the ongoing creation of the world is the most visible and concrete testimony to faith we could ask for.

We will stand in a just a moment and recite the Creed to give witness to our faith and our unity while all around us in this place there are living witnesses to faith and unity in the marriages that give us all cause to rejoice. It is not good to be alone, and that is why it is so good to be here as church, as family, as faithful people who seek to know, obey, and find peace in doing the will of God and completing the work of Jesus Christ.

September 27, 2015   St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Numbers 11, 25-29 + Psalm 19 + James 5, 1-6 + Mark 9, 38-43, 45, 47-48

John sounds like a second grader on the playground complaining to the teacher that the big kids will not let him play. Again the apostles do not look so good, and the unflattering image of them we have been given the last two weeks gets one more example here. First Peter had to be put in his place behind Jesus, and then Jesus embraced a little child and spoke to them about service and being last instead of being first. John has heard all of this, and I think he does not particularly like this idea, so he changes the subject.

There are two problems that surface here with John and his friends. He clearly does not understand the meaning of the word, “disciple” which means, one who learns discipline from another. He does not understand the meaning of the word “apostle” either, because an apostle is one who is sent by another. Up to this point, they have not been disciples. They have not learned any discipline from the Master. They keep thinking it’s all about them. Their whole motive thus far in staying with Jesus is their gain. They are there because they look good hanging around Jesus of Nazareth. He’s famous, and they are close to him. They belong to an exclusive group of insiders. They think they should control who gets to see Jesus and who does not. They are clearly not ready to be sent anywhere.

John’s second problem is even more serious. He does not understand that being called to discipleship is a vocation to collaborate in God’s plan for humanity. If they had understood and accepted God’s plan as they saw it unfolding in the work of Jesus Christ, they would have been excited that someone else was successful in the struggle with evil. Instead of whining to Jesus about another person driving out a demon, they would have run up to that person rejoicing that someone was joining in the work; but they cannot do that. They are too convinced of their privileged position and completely threatened by the success of another. Instead of looking ahead toward the reign of God and Christ’s victory over death and sin, they are looking around at each other wondering who is going get the best seat, and who belongs and who does not.

The grace of God is unruly, and the Holy Spirit blows where it will. Our experience ought to tell us that we have no control over either one. Instead of being jealous and competitive, we ought to be full of excitement, admiration, and gratitude when someone excels, finds success, and in their own way with their own gifts contributes to the work of Christ in this world. Jealousy is a dark and ugly emotion that drives us away from one another and ultimately from God. A true disciple and one called to be an apostle will have their gaze fixed upon the giver of all good gifts. They will not be looking from side to side at people who are different and have different gifts. They will know from their loving relationship to Christ that they already have all that they need, and there will be no need to feel or act important. John’s concern is that there are others who, in his words, “do not follow us.” He thinks his way is the only way, forgetting that it is really about God’s way which seems by all accounts to be bigger and more inclusive than we can imagine.

There is nothing here to suggest that it is meaningless to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. There is a close link between Jesus and the disciples reflected in the solidarity of the community. When someone offers a disciple a cup of water, they give it to Christ so tight is the bond with Christ. The community, the church formed by the Holy Spirit living the very life of Christ is as open and inclusive as Christ was to Tax Collectors, Samaritans, Pharisees, women and lepers. This says a great deal to this world today struggling with the challenge of countless refugees fleeing violence and hopeless poverty. Our privileged life cannot make us exclusive. It must make us troubled and anxious to show them the face of Christ and the mercy of God. These hands, these feet, these eyes Jesus speaks of today are tools with which we see the face of Christ, lift up and hold up the fallen, and walk with them into a life that is very reign of God. This is the discipline of a disciple, and for this we have been chosen in faith and sent out in ways we could never have imagined.

St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Wisdom 2:12, 17-20 + Psalm 54 + James 3, 16-4, 3 + Mark 9, 30-37

Again the location is important. It is Capernaum. We are in the home territory now, and the mood is quiet and intimate. I find it interesting that Jesus does not rebuke or even complain that the apostles are talking about their privileges while he speaks of being handed over to death. Ancient tradition has proposed that the influence of Peter upon Mark’s Gospel can be noted throughout this Gospel. I suspect this is one of those incidents that has Peter as its source. How else would Mark know this since it was away from the crowd and in the privacy of Capernaum that this scene takes place? The silence of the Apostles when Jesus inquires about their discussion is remarkable. It would be easy to dismiss this detail by suggesting that they were embarrassed when Jesus inquired about their lively discussion. On the other hand, I would like to suggest there might be another reason for their silence. Why not imagine that finally what he was saying to them was really beginning to sink in, and they were simply silenced in awe and wonder and perhaps feeling some fear.

He has been challenging their ideas about God and about a Messiah continually. His whole life has been one constant revelation of his Father, and this “Father” is not living up their expectations, and they are beginning to catch on. They may not know what lies ahead, but this God Jesus calls, “Father” is not much like they had imagined. Then comes the final blow to their old ideas of power and privilege as he calls for a child and in a rare and tender gesture, he puts his arms around the child and proposes that God is like a child! “Whoever welcomes a child welcomes me, not me, but the one who sent me.” God is like a child! That proposal is enough to leave you silent.

No more talk of power. No more images of a distant ruler with a big stick and a book of rules.  No more talk of wrath and punishment. No more hiding out of fear or running away because a gentle shepherd is always searching, and this “father” is always waiting with a ring and robe. The contrast between their old ideas and what Jesus reveals is almost too much for them and perhaps for us as well. We like to hang on to those old images and expectations of God because that is a God we made or made-up. It is a God far too much like us instead of a God who is with us. We like that old idea of God because it justifies our hiding and our denial and fear and it excuses too much of our behavior when we are judgmental and comfortable with alienation. This God Jesus reveals is a God who serves and provides, a God who wants to forgive offences not punish and take revenge.

On the way to Capernaum, Jesus said to those who were with him: “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men who will put him to death.” When we fail to seriously explore the mystery of Jesus Christ and what it reveals about God, death, and resurrection, we are left to think that Judas is the one who delivered Jesus Christ in the hands of men. But that is not so. Neither Judas nor the Chief Priests delivered Jesus Christ into the hands of men. God did. God sent his son, his only son, into this world to be delivered up. When that truth sinks in something within us must shift and change when we begin to think and imagine God. At first it may seem cruel, but that is a remnant of the old idea that the apostles were clinging to. In truth, it is act of love and compassion that reveals to us how desperately and totally God enters into the human condition.

Making this shift or embracing this revelation moves us from thinking that God is some powerful fixer or frightening judge to discovering that God is with us in all things good and bad; living with, suffering with, and rejoicing with us always. Failing to grasp what is being revealed by this little child image Jesus proposes is what leads people to give up on God or get angry with God when a tragedy strikes. When I hear people say things like: “How could God let this happen?” or “Where is God when we need him?” I know they are like the apostles who have not yet understood the image of the little child Jesus embraces. The cry of someone holding on to that old image of God looks at the faces of those thousands of refugees fleeing the violence of Syria today and wonders how is it possible for a good God let this happen again and again. “Why doesn’t God do something?” they wonder. While the revelation we get from a little child in the arms of Jesus is that God is among those refugees waiting for us to do something. What we do for them, we do for God. The mother of a three year old refugee child washed up dead on a beach cries out in anguish, and that cry is the voice of God crying out over the conditions that caused them to flee in fear to begin with. We must get deep into this wonder of the Father Jesus reveals.

One way to do that is to listen and learn from the prayer of Jesus himself in the most dramatic and tragic moment of his life. In the garden on the night before he died, his prayer tells us everything about his relationship with his father: “Let this cup pass from me, BUT ( and there is the important part of the prayer ) Thy will be done.” It is a prayer of surrender, but not surrender to violence, but a surrender of the old and inadequate image of a God who is going to come riding in a put things right. It is, at the same time, a witness to the God Jesus reveals, a God who has taken on the entire reality of human life, a God who is never closer than when we are in trouble or afraid. In this truth we find the hope that can lead us though the darkest of hours.