July 25, 2010

Genesis 18: 20-32 + Psalm 138 + Colossians 2: 12-14 + Luke 11: 1-13

Those who say: “Lord, teach us to pray.” are not asking for a formula of words. A formula is useless if you do not know how and when to us it. Step into this scene that Luke gives us. The disciples have seen things they never dreamed of. They have seen this man, Jesus accomplish the unheard of. They have heard him open for them a future never dreamed of. They have seen him stand up to opposition and power without fear. They have heard him speak of justice, forgiveness, and love. They have also seen him pray and speak of his father. They want that for themselves: not the power stuff, but the relationship, the courage the confidence, and the vision. They know that it comes from his relationship with his father. When they say: “Teach is to pray.” They want more than a formula of words.  They want to know the secret of prayer or how to pray successfully. Perhaps not so much to get what they want, but rather to be what they are called to become.

Jesus has been calling them to a life of discipleship, and he calls us as well. That call would be frightening if we were to be in it alone. But he never asks that. He sends them out two by two if you remember how this section of Luke’s Gospel began. There is a partnership essential to discipleship. There are no “Lone Rangers” among the disciples. The only one who saw himself that way was named, Judas.

This is hard to understand in a world of individuals. This is difficult to grasp in a world that prizes individualism and disposable relationships. The private, isolated individuals who live a world of singular pronouns like “me” and “I” never get it. Their world of possessions, protection, and hoarding does not enter into the mystery of prayer as Jesus teaches. If you look closely at what he proposes,you must notice that it is all about pronouns. It never escapes me that this prayer has no singular pronouns. The very first word is “OUR” and that puts us in relationship. There is a mutuality assumed in this prayer, and it is the mutuality of discipleship. There is no hint of personal piety suggested here. It is all communal and corporate prayer. This is the prayer of disciples. Disciples request it, and they are taught this prayer together. There is no “I”, “Me” or “Mine” in this prayer, nor can there be such in the spiritual life and prayer of people formed on the way to Jerusalem.

This, my friends, is probably the one lesson about prayer that has never grown old in 2000 years. A relationship disposes us to prayer. A relationship expressed in the mutuality of these petitions. It is then a relationship that Jesus reveals here more than a verbal prayer, and he gives the disciples more than they asked for. This prayer is never better said, offered, and spoken than when it is prayed together – in your homes, and in this sacred space. This prayer is never more effective than when it draws us together as different religious traditions, as different people, as different families. Spoken alone, it is a promise of what is to come in the communion of saints, and the private longing we have to never be alone. Spoken together it is the realization of what Jesus has come to fulfill; the unity, the reconciliation, the peace and promise of the Kingdom that has come by his presence.

In ancient times, the words of this prayer were never shared with anyone not trusted and known to be followers of Christ. Catechumens were not taught this prayer until late in their formation, for the handing over of these words and this tradition was a sign of a deep and serious relationship as well as the mark of one who was to be known as a member of the family. It is not by chance or accident that we shall soon offer this prayer together beginning the Communion part of the Mass. Never more powerfully does this prayer accomplish what Jesus offered and what the disciples asked for than when it brings us to communion with one another and with the living, loving, God.

July18, 2010

Genesis 18: 1-10 + Psalm 15 + Colossians 1: 24-28 + Luke 10: 38-42

Luke the great story teller gives us one of his best today. On his way to Jerusalem, there is a stop at Bethany. Perhaps there was an invitation extended. Perhaps it was just a casual stop unannounced. None the less in a home where he is welcome, there is Jesus who always draws a crowd. Suddenly it starts. I cannot image anyone in this church who has not been there. Imagine yourself in the car with your children. It’s hot. It’s a long day. And then an angry voice from the back seat says: “He touched me!” “Mom, make him stop!”

Imagine yourself in the house. There are chores and it’s time. An angry young voice cries out: “She won’t help me!”  “I’m not picking up your stuff.” Imagine a few years later. The teen ager has left a wet towel on the bathroom floor again. You know script by heart. You are at work. Something you need is not ready because someone else has not done their part of the project so everything comes to halt and you want to tell the boss, but you don’t because you don’t want the trouble.

So here we are at Bethany which could be anywhere, and a perfectly good evening comes apart when the two hosting the party get in a fight! Can you use your imagination a little more? I can. I do. First of all, I wonder where is the brother, Lazarus? I have an idea that he saw it coming and was already out of there. He was probably tired of the two sisters bickering and was out with his buddies. It’s a good thing God did not choose me to be Jesus in this story because when the shout came from the kitchen: “Tell her to help me.” my response would not have been: “Mary has chosen the better part.” I would have said: “Tell her yourself.” “Leave me out of this.”  Poor Jesus, caught in a triangle. If he didn’t love this family so much, he probably would have hit the road. But he doesn’t. He stays, and it probably worked out just fine because we know that he comes back at least one more time.

This wonderful story that is so human and so real to us speaks truthfully about us: about our relationships and struggles to get along to share the work and share the space. It speaks about our response to the presence of Christ and the demand to be hospitable. It speaks about how we avoid confrontation; about how we expect God in Christ to fix things between us when we do not speak to one another. It speaks about how we take advantage of each other too; about how often we sit around and expect someone else to take care of things and never lift a finger to help.

But Luke did not write a Gospel to tell us stories about family life. We already know that. There is nothing to be “revealed” in this Gospel about us. I do not think Luke told this story to reveal something about a family in Bethany or any family in Norman, Oklahoma. If this is Gospel, it is about Jesus Christ. In a somewhat tender and human story something about the divine is being revealed, and it is this for which we just listen.  Herein lies the secret of this story. In a strange sort of twist, the guest becomes the host. The one who comes to be fed ends up feeding the others. It happens all the time with Jesus. Remember that wedding in Cana? It seemed that he was the guest, but he ends up being the host serving the best wine. Think about that.

The truth of the matter is; we are the guests here invited by the Lord. He wants to feed us with his presence, His word, His Spirit, His flesh. The Gospel simply asks if we can sit down long enough to eat; or if we’re too busy and have to eat and run, or maybe not accept the invitation at all today.

July 7, 2010

Deuteronomy 30: 10-14 + Psalm 69 + Colossians 1: 15-20 + Luke 10: 25-37

The culture and the society that is obsessed with boundaries and boarders is in Gospel trouble, says this powerful parable we know only too well. The priest, the Levite, the Samaritan are all boundary bound. So conscious of, so careful of, so obsessed with boundaries, they have lost the most basic relationship, their neighbor. The fences and rules with which they have protected themselves have denied them the dignity with which they were created: “Good.” That blessing, that affirmation bestowed upon us at creation goes now to someone else:
someone least expected, someone outside the boundaries created by God’s own people!
In as much as parables always reveal something about God, we must listen carefully to this too familiar parable first for what it reveals about God, and then for clues about how we might begin to unwrap or restore
the image of God within us.

So first of all, it is God at work in this parable. It is God who is neither interested nor impressed by what race we were born to or who our parents are. God is impressed when God sees God’s own character demonstrated in the life of one of God’s own creatures.
This is what makes GOOD: being like God.

Only after examining what is revealed about God in a parable do we begin to question what it proposes to us. That is not difficult for those open to grace, conversion, and the continual challenge of the Gospel. So having confirmed from the parable that God is like this Samaritan, we are invited to take the next step and look at how much like or how unlike this Samaritan is our behavior and attitude. In other words: we might begin to wonder how “good” we are.

The “good” Samaritan is not “good” because he does a good deed. His goodness is not in stopping and picking up the victim. His goodness is found in the relationship he enters into. There is more than a good deed here – there is a commitment that is ongoing and lasting enough to be there when he returns. This is not just a passing act of charity – this is going further than just passing out a band aide The man is going to come back and make sure everything is ok.

He doesn’t just expect the inn keeper to do take care of things – in a sort-of “Somebody should do something!” attitude. He accepts responsibility and in doing so a relationship is born. At that point, he becomes “good.”

The question raised by the person who started this conversation with Jesus lingers on as the parable concludes; but it only lingers for those who make, set, and limit their lives, relationships, and responsibilities by boundaries, fences, and anything else that sets us enough apart from one another to even ask the question. For the serious follower of Christ, it is a silly trivial question that makes no sense.

That Samaritan was himself an outcast marginalized man living outside the mainstream of the Jewish society of that time.
Perhaps that is why he was so sensitive and responsive to someone else being avoided and ignored by those in the fast lane of life.

It seems to me that one who really seriously follows Christ

is often going to feel like an outcast or outsider,
marginalized and out of the mainstream
in this consuming materialistic culture in which we live.
That person will be the first to be sensitive and responsive
to the sufferings of others who are left behind, avoided, and pushed aside.

The parable speaks powerfully to us about God and goodness. It raises more serious questions than, “Who is neighbor?” It proposes what it might be like for us to live together without the fences and differences we devise so easily to keep others from getting what we have and absolve ourselves from the relationships and responsibilities to which we are called by God who wants us to be good.

July 4, 2010

Isaiah 66: 10-13 + Psalm 66 + Galatians 6: 14-18 + Luke 10: 1-12, 17-20

The Gospel for today is full of interesting details that could provide the seed for countless homilies and reflections.
We have all heard enough about the harvest and the laborers over simplifying this text into countless vocation homilies as though Jesus was talking about seminarians and priests! These instructions could leave us reflecting upon an appropriate life-style for the journey to the new Jerusalem, and the details could occupy a Bible Study class for a month with the cultural issues of this time in history. But mentioned twice in this passage is the seventy-two who are sent two-by-two ahead of him to every town and place he was about to visit.

Two times is enough to get my attention.
In an age and culture of individualism and consumerism where people are consumed like products imported from abroad, we are more and more marginalized when we take seriously and personally the message of peace. We live in a world that is becoming estranged from Christian values even thought the latest round of political adds insist that this candidate or that is committed to values.
They never seem to tell what those values are beyond “family” values. Those same “value touting” politicians would be the first to make life more difficult for a single parent family increasing the cynicism and skepticism many of us have with talk about values. I always wonder: “Whose values?” The values of the Gospel are not easily confused, but they are very difficult to reconcile with the values of power and self-interest. Herein lies the challenge.

To remain Christian in more than name one must take a resolute stand against the commonly accepted axioms of this world.
Going with the flow, means going down the drain. Shrugging off injustice as though it’s just the way things are is participation in the victory of that injustice. To become a true disciple requires a demanding course of induction into the adult Christian Community.

There is no facing the reality of life in this world with the faith of a twelve or sixteen year old.

Young people not challenged, instructed, and informed are sacrificed to the idols of hedonism, and the creeping consumerism of our culture will consume them. It’s no wonder half of our young people are in bed this morning. Having learned nothing about their faith since First Communion Class they think this is all about them, what they can get out of it, and that somehow religion is a private matter.

There is nothing private about the Gospel.
There is nothing private about the Kingdom of God. The moment the Gospel is proclaimed,
the moment the Gospel is understood we move into a relationship: not a private relationship with God, but into a communion of God’s people. He sent them out two by two.
This was not for protection from violence and danger. It was because their credibility and their success rested upon their relationship and their working together. This will require that we continue work at developing a sense of solidarity held together by relationships with mature and exemplary Christians who represent Christ and his way of life. In this company and with this mission, Joy is unmistakable. Grim determination, dour isolation, and suspicious, tentative attitudes are not the consequences of discipleship with Jesus.

Now don’t think that Jesus stood there counting out 72 individual people. That is not what Luke is saying. That number is biblical short-hand for everyone.
Don’t think that Jesus waited till they were finished with their formation and passed all the tests of “disciple school”. They are only half-way to Jerusalem, and he sent them out.

He does not wait till we are “ready”. The sending comes along the way, not at the end.

The greatest challenge we face is not rejection or being laughed at. It is the risk of becoming grim, sour, cynical, defeated, and marginalized. The challenge is to let Joy in God permeate all we do and all we say. The prophet of the first reading today speaks to a people emerging from generations of exile. He challenges their sadness and their bad memories with the reality of God’s forgiveness and the comfort of reconciliation.

When those disciples returned to Jesus,
they were not whining about how hard it was.
They celebrated the fact that they could see the stranglehold of evil being lessened
and they were a part of it first in their own lives, and then in the lives of those they visited. People will be attracted to Christ and to our way of life by our joy, not by rules, regulations, and grim sacrifices. Our giving is joyful, our sacrifice is a delight, our service is an act of love.

All along the way to Jerusalem, we are and will be cautioned, again and again, not to get, but to give. Not to save up, but to surrender. Not to load up, but to let go.
And when we do, we will arrive in Jerusalem rejoicing.