March 28, 2004

Isaiah 43:16-21 + Phillipias 3:8-14 + John 8:1-11

This is a classic story of human behavior, and an essential lesson in a spirituality that is truly repentant. The image of these scribes and the Pharisees standing there with their fingers pointing and their fists full of stones is positively chilling. So quickly, so easily, so publicly they point and accuse, blame and shame. Then all of a sudden, they are gone. Sometimes I think their encounter with Jesus is more important than hers. Certainly, we miss the wealth of this story if we only reflect upon Jesus or identify with the woman in the story. She is not the only sinner John puts before us today.

Proclaiming this gospel and pondering its truth in the midst of Lent leads us to turn our gaze inward and look at ourselves, not someone else. That is the trouble with these scribes and Pharisees, and it is the challenge Jesus puts in their face! “Look at yourselves”, he suggests, “Don’t be pointing your finger of accusation and blame at another.” The God of mercy calls us to drop the stones we are so willing and so readily hurl at another and use these remaining Lenten days for our own repentance and our own forgiveness.

There is something always troubling about this story which is a late addition to John’s Gospel suggesting that the early community had trouble with it before they inserted it into later manuscripts. Adultery is a sin committed by a woman and man. The law prescribes that both the man and the woman should be put to death. That prescription is found in both Leviticus and Deuteronomy, but there is no evidence that the law was ever enforced; in fact, to protect the innocent, more than one witness was required. While the words of Jesus to the woman give us a strong focus on God’s mercy, the absence of the other party to this sin allows us to shift our attention in the context of John’s Gospel to the scribes and Pharisees.

This is another of many confrontation stories between Jesus and these scribes and Pharisees. He confronts a kind of scribe and Pharisee that can exist in any religious group or business, or community   those who are inflexibly certain that they are right, and that the truth begins and ends with them. The scribes in this gospel are so certain Jesus is not from God that to get evidence against him they are willing to use a woman, publicly shame her, perhaps protect her male partner, and forget that they themselves are sinners.

Unlike them, Jesus condemns no one, neither the woman nor the scribes and Pharisees. Instead, by his silence, he creates some space for them to see themselves and give them room for self-recognition. It is interesting to note that the first ones to leave are the elders. The law requires that they initiate the stoning by throwing first. As they depart, we have a sense that they do so with the stones still in their hands. They will be back pointing their fingers in accusation and raging with their death demands. The next time their victim will be the one who saves them.

Somewhere in this story, we must find ourselves: either in the one who got away,

the one who knows the mercy and compassion of God, or the ones who point and accuse failing to recognize, in spite of all the signs, the presence of the one who has come to set them free. Or perhaps we can begin to find ourselves in the Holy One who is by his gentleness the very healing, loving, forgiving presence of God.

However it works, we cannot stand outside the story and be spectators or there will be no conversion in our hearts.

March 21, 2004

Joshua 5:9-12 + 2 Corinthians 5:17-21 + Luke 15:1-3,11-32

As much as we might want or as much as we might like, the parable is not about us. As much as we might be a people who take, waste, squander and pleasure ourselves, it is not about us. As much as we might be faithful, dependable, hardworking and respectful, it is not about us. It is about God, who waits, watches, runs and finds it necessary to restore what was lost and rejoice in what is found.

But what if he had not been home when the repentant returned? Or what if he had come home and met his brother first? What if they had changed the locks or moved away? What if he waited so long to home that the father died? These are questions lurking deep within this parable and in the heart of faithful people who reflect upon its wisdom and its details.

We pause for a moment today, midway to Easter. Daffodils and Pear Blossoms tell us of what is to come Even if the grass is still brown and dry. A story about God excites with a hint of what is to come. But bringing this story to life takes two movements: One must stop what he is doing, come to his senses, start home. The other must leave home and run out to greet the other. The good news we proclaim in this place is just that. The Father has left home, and we are wrapped in the cloak of Jesus Christ if we will just come to our senses and get on the road. We do not have to get all the way, just get within sight. Even if all we can do is limp to get there, God can run. The steps of repentance are slow, but the feet of forgiveness are fast. I have often wondered about the fatted calf. Do you suppose there was always one kept in readiness, in hope that the homecoming would really happen?

This is as much a story of divine behavior as as it is a story of human behavior. One look at the sons, we know ourselves in both of them. One good look at this father, and we know God. Told in this season, at Lent’s midway, it proposes that we come to our senses. It is story always told with an ending. The party has begun, the dead one is alive, the lost is found; but the father is left standing outside waiting again for the angry one to come in. There are all sorts of ideas about why Jesus died, and “The Movie” everyone is talking about has its own ideas. I think Jesus died because of the company he kept. In this part of Luke’s Gospel, the Scribes and Pharasees have been complaining because “He eats with sinners.” Jesus chose to keep the company of losers, the unwelcome, and those who had nothing to offer him except rejection and the scorn of others. The party he describes today in his story about his Father is a party for misfits and sinners. The righteous, loyal, hardworking, and all too perfect so has a hard time finding his place there, and so did the Scribes and Pharisees. But there is a place for them and for us. There is a God who stands at the door still waiting, watching, and wanting all His children at the feast. Whatever is keeping us out is not of God, and it has to go.

March 14, 2004

Exodus 3:1-8,13-15 + 1 Corinthians 10:16,10-12 + Luke 13:1-9

“Take off those shoes!” says the voice to Moses. “This is holy ground.” Is it because shoes defile “holy ground”? Is there something unclean about the shoes or sandals? Do they somehow track up an otherwise clean and orderly place? I don’t think it has anything to do with what is clean or what dirty. I think it has to do with contact — immediate, intimate, touching, contact. Feet on the ground, bare feet on the real earth, nothing in between – nothing to separate those feet from what is holy. Moses or anyone else for that matter cannot get near God while anything stands between. God wants immediate contact, and that realization scares Moses. He hides his face. The very idea brings to mind that wonderful behavior of a child who closes their eyes when they want to hide and not be seen or when there is something scary they don’t want to see.

Like Moses, we know better. We might close our eyes in an effort not to look at God, but it does not change the reality that God looks at us, a people in need of liberation. It does not change what God sees, our needs and our helplessness. The response of that God is Jesus Christ. In a sense, Jesus is God without shoes –  nothing stands between God and us. So that nothing could come between us, Jesus sets aside his “equality with God” to touch the human experience – flesh on the earth: the bare feet of God leaving human foot prints: all to give us hope, to give us a chance, to give us holiness and peace.

The two pieces of this Gospel today speak with an urgent lesson of hope. Two incidents probably well known to the people of that place at that time are told again to shake the hearer out of complacency and laziness: to disturb those who always think there will be another time or plenty of time. Thinking that the disasters mentioned are a punishment for evil is wrong thinking in the mind of Jesus. It’s like suggesting that the people in the Murrah Building or the World Trade Center or the Pentagon were being punished for their sins on those terrible days of tragedy. Jesus will have none of that thinking – human violence and natural violence have nothing to do with God or punishment. Jesus uses the memory of those events to call us to readiness suggesting that we should live at all times in readiness, prepared to die.

Then, lest that readiness lead to fear or anxiety, he completes the lesson with a story of mercy and hope. The fig tree that gets some extra time and extra attention before it is cut down for lack of fruitfulness gets one final chance.

Luke would have us see that we are now living in that final time when Jesus the caretaker prunes, waters, feeds, and trims us for bearing fruit. He offers us an insight into these days and these times, and using the urgency of the first story, we are reminded of the fragility of life and the urgency of our need for conversion.

In Lent’s third week, we are stirred from our habits, our laziness, and our easy denial to see that this is the day for our conversion and renewal. We use these days to strip away everything the stands between us and holiness itself.  We take off our shoes. We touch the divine, and the divine touches us in the flesh to make us holy, to make us clean, to make us pure of heart, and sincere in desire. The God who comes to rescue us would take us by the hand, but we must uncover our eyes, set aside our fear, and look for the face of God, the God who comes to save us and has come as one of us.

March 7, 2004

Genesis 15:5-12,17,18 + Philippians 3:17-4:1 + Luke 9:28-36

Here we are in early Lent, with purple in the church, no flowers or plants, the ashes newly washed from our heads, and ideas of Lenten discipline in the air. For some of us, the traditional practice of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving shape the season. Some of us have just today remembered that it’s Lent and we should “do something,” which probably means “giving something up.” For some, all of life feels like Lent, like a wandering in the desert, like a somber, sober facing into death. Some have given Lent little thought at all. To us all comes the Word of God today. The story of Abraham, a story of Jesus transfigured, and Paul grounding us all in Baptism. If Lent is the only time of year when prayer, sacrifice, and fasting occur, it becomes a long season, or no season at all. It is either a serious spiritual experience for us, or it is no experience at all. It either restores and reforms our lives with practices upon which we can build, or it shames us with the superficiality and empty promises that overshadow our whole lives.

The prayer, the fasting, and the sacrificial giving are all really one movement in faith, not separate and distinct from one another. Fasting without prayer is a diet.

Prayer without sacrifice is lip service. Tithing without faith is taxes. These things weave together for people of faith, and this season is a time to restore some balance where one or the other may have gown slack.

It is perhaps a good time, to look with a critical eye at not only our own lives, but at the life we share as a parish community. We have just completed the second month of this New Year. With the third year of the twenty-first century behind us, it is possible to provide an account of our life together, and in the next ten days a printed report will be mailed to every home. It will be the second year for such an annual report here at St. Mark. Today I want to give you some highlights of that report in person. If it were possible, I would personally come to your home and speak with you face to face. This is the best I can do.

The twelve months of 2003 were not years of numerical growth at St Mark. While 153 families registered into the parish, nearly the same number moved away or were removed from the parish list because of inactivity. We counted 1,103 household at this time last year, and presently include 1,109. In terms of actual Catholic people, there are 3,395 of us, and the average age is still 31. The average Sunday attendance in the past year was 1,270, down from 1400 the previous year. These are curious numbers, which suggest that only one out of three of us attends Mass every week, or that most of us attend Mass only once or twice a month. It is a troubling fact; and it sweeps the nation as I hear that the American Bishops have recognized that faithful Sunday Mass attendance is now recognized as a significant problem.

In 2003 we Baptized 41 children: nine more than the previous year. Twenty-two couples were married here: fifteen the year before. Other such statistics were be included in the report. The sacramental life of the parish is full of the spirit of faith.

I am not going to go into detailed statistics at this moment because it will distort the facts and confuse you. You will receive those shortly. What you will see is that in the past twelve months the building fund income is down because many have begun to retire the pledges. In the same time period, the Sunday collections are up. Some of that suggests that those who have completed pledges to the building fund have continued their giving at the same level by adding their previous pledged amount to their weekly offering. What you will see in number is that our weekly offering income has increased; in fact, by a little more than $200,000 over the twelve months of 2003. Expenses are down for two reasons: no capital improvements nor furnishing purchases this past year since our move into the new building is now complete. There is also one less full time staff member.

The debt continues to be the biggest burden and limitation on our ability for ministry here to grow in proportion to the population. A parish this size with one priest and two full time employees is not likely to be found in this part of the world. There may be an appearance of order and progress, but I want to tell you clearly that it is only an appearance. Things are not happening that ought to be happening, and everything is slowing down administratively. With no director of Religious Education, we are coasting, and the only way to coast is downhill. It is also time in the life of this parish to put worship first, and the musical part of that worship ought to be high priority. Even though a host of volunteers do their very best, God is not getting the best this parish can do. Too many of you stand with arms folded while others raise their voices in song and praise. We are not in the Hotel anymore, yet much is the same. God is getting what is the left, the spare time, and not the finest and best we can do. The facts indicate that we have paid down $145,224 on the principal. In proportion to the total debt in excess of $4 Million, this is a very small amount. We paid $363,541 interest on that debt this year – by my values as the leader here, we nearly spent half a million dollars to buy money. This is going to go on for a long time. For the next eight years we are locked into a payment plan that will see little progress if interest rates remain below 7.5%. Almost half of our total income goes to the debt.

In terms of our progress, there is good news here; but with it comes great challenge. Those 153 new families are replacing nearly the same number of families who have moved on in their lives to other places. Yet, those of you who have recently come need to know that others made sacrifice and commitments to provide for you, and your immediate willingness to take their place and follow their generous lead is imperative.

The challenge each of us faces day in and day out is to put God first in our lives in a real and concrete way. It cannot be promises for another day. It must be now. Last week the Word of God was proclaimed in this church, and you heard these words: “Moses spoke to the people saying: “The priest shall receive the basket from you and shall set it in front of the altar of God.” Then the sacred writer in the name of all the people went on to list some of the wonderful things God had done for those people, concluding with these words: “Therefore, I have now brought you the first fruits of the products of the soil which you, O Lord, have given me.”

God receives the first fruits from people who know what God has done for them– not the last or the left over. This order of things is given to us with all the authority of God’s Word spoken by the prophet. In reality, it means that when you buy a car, a house, a TV, a stereo, clothing, take a vacation, or go out to dinner, you do that with what is left after you have given to God, not the other way around. Several months ago in talking about the parish expenses someone said to me: “Father, after making the payment on the Lexus and the SUV, the boat, the lake house, two tuitions, and the house payment, there’s not much left for the church.” I couldn’t get home fast enough that night, and I barely slept feeling like a failure. This thinking and this behavior gives no evidence of faith’s response to the Word of God which I have given my life to proclaim.

We are about prayer here: prayer and worship. It is through prayer that the vision of today’s Gospel first took place. This means that, for the Lukan community and for those who still dare, prayer becomes the way in which the People of God can gain clarity, and see in faith salvation unfolding in their own time. There has been a vision here at ST Mark: a vision of the Kingdom of God lived and shared in a community that gathers every week to celebrate again, because once or twice a month is never enough, for the promise of Easter.

Our Gospel today speaks to the hopes and dreams of everyone who seeks to discover what the true outcome of human history may be. This vision declares that the fate of Jesus, and the church that forms around him, has a happy conclusion. Not only is the death of Jesus seen as his exodus into the life of God, but now it is not just Moses who enters into the cloud of God’s presence, everyone on that hill was surrounded by the cloud. Now all of us who stand before the Holy One and dare to make Him first in our lives, in our service, and in our dreams and visions will know a future of happiness and peace.