Author: Deacon Bob

THE 33^RD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, 2019

I have written about my 2^nd grade teacher, Sister Angeline many times. She was a woman of great love and was earnest about making sure us kids would go to heaven. She believed that if we were not willing to go to heaven on our own volition, she would scare us into going to heaven. My second grade year was filled with stories intent on frightening the “hell” out of us usually by telling us stories that scared us to death.

I remember vividly how she painted what the “end of the world” would be like; the fire and brimstone that would destroy the earth and how Jesus would be the severe judge, sending some people to heaven and others sentenced forever to suffer in the fires of hell. I, also, remember how if given the choice of God flooding the entire earth, eg. Noah, and Jesus coming at the end of time, e.g. fire and brimstone, I far preferred dying by drowning then by being burned alive. Placed at the time of the Cuban Missile crises and the belief that a nuclear World War would happen at any time, the thought of being vaporized in a nuclear storm only added to the imagery she painted.

As a result, my image of Jesus was not that of a savior who loved us so much that he died for us, but the Son of God who would judge us all harshly. Jesus is writing down everything we did wrong in his book, as we were told, did not help us in dispelling the angry image many of us had of Jesus. I guess, it could best be summed up in this rewording  of the song, “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.” “You better watch out. You better not cry. You better be good, I’m telling you why. Jesus Christ is coming to town.” Judging by the readings we hear today on this Sunday, Malachi 3:19-20a and Luke 21:5-19, it is easy to see how the second coming of Jesus could be perceived as very frightening and intimidating.

I know that some Christian traditions get around the horror of the second coming by speaking of the “rapture”, that is, to borrow from Star Trek, the righteous being “beamed” up to heaven before all hell breaks loose on the earth. (One of my favorite bumper stickers is one a friend had that said, “When the rapture comes, can I have your car?”). In my serious study of the Book of Revelation, I think the idea of the rapture is a misinterpretation of the scripture.

So, how we do approach the whole idea of Jesus’ second coming? Is it from a place of great fear, as I was taught as a kid by good intentioned nuns? Is it from a place of privilege as is taught by some Christian traditions, e.g. the rapture? For me, neither approach is valid. I like to approach the second coming of Jesus from the viewpoint of the liturgical season of Advent.

In the first couple Sundays of Advent, we look forward to Jesus’ second coming at the end of time, as we remember the great grace of his first coming over 2000 years ago. I adopt the posture of hopeful anticipation that our Jewish ancestors had as they eagerly looked forward to the coming of the Messiah. The second coming of Jesus is a time of great anticipation in which the brokenness and suffering of our world will finally be healed and humanity fully reconciled to God. The image that Isaiah paints for us in Isaiah 2 is of all nations coming to the mountain of God, in which all human want is satisfied, all weapons transformed from instruments of destroying humanity, into instruments building up humanity, e.g. swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, and humanity finally learning the lesson to never go to war again, but, rather, to walk in the light of God.

As we listen to the totality of the Gospels, Jesus emphasizes the overly abundant love and mercy of God, and calls all of humanity to model God’s love and mercy in the way we live. It is this that is the promise of Jesus’ second coming. Is this something to fear, or to escape via the rapture, or is it, rather, something we would want to embrace fully?

In the last verse of Marty Haugen’s great hymn “Gather Us In,” we hear, “Not in the dark of buildings confining; not in some heaven light years away. But here, in this place, new light is streaming, NOW is the kingdom, NOW is the day.”[1] What Marty writes is what Jesus taught. We must live in God’s reign not just as something that will happen at some future date, but rather we must live in God’s reign, God’s second coming NOW. While Christ’s second coming is not fully established, the second coming of Jesus has a good foothold in our world. As disciples of Jesus, we must live in the second coming of Jesus as if it is fully established. If we live our lives today fully embracing a life filled with God’s love, goodness, and abundant mercy, we will have the power of increasing the Reign of God more fully in our world.

I would like to end  for our consideration with a quote from Fr Richard Rohr’s book, Falling Upward.[2] Rohr writes in chapter 8, “Perhaps this is what Jesus means by there being “many rooms in my Father’s house” (John 14:2). If you go to heaven alone, wrapped in your private worthiness, it is by definition not heaven. If your notion of heaven is based on exclusion of anybody else, then it is by definition not heaven. The more you exclude, the more hellish and lonely your existence always is. How could anyone enjoy the “perfect happiness” of any heaven if she knew her loved ones were not there, or were being tortured for all eternity? It would be impossible. Remember our Christian prayer, “on earth as it is heaven.” As now, so then; as here, so there. We will all get exactly what we want and ask for. You can’t beat that. … Jesus touched and healed anybody who desired it and asked for it, and there were no other prerequisites for his healings. “ … How could Jesus ask us to bless, forgive, and heal our enemies, which he clearly does (Matthew 5:43–48), unless God is doing it first and always? Jesus told us to love our enemies because he saw his Father doing it all the time, and all spirituality is merely the “imitation of God” (Ephesians 5:1).

To embrace the second coming of Jesus is to live the all inclusive love of God expressed in the life and teachings of Jesus. And as Marty Haugen emphasizes, we must live it now, in this place, and in our time. The second coming of Jesus is all around us. Let us embrace it and live it.

[1] GATHER US IN, Mary Haugen, © 1982 GIA Publications, Inc.

[2] Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, by Richard Rohr, © 2011. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, CA.  pp. 101- 103, All rights reserved.

Over the Summer, I edited three volumes of poetry, namely, The Book of Ruth: The Courting Begins, The Book of Ruth: Courting In The Minnesota Valley of Tears, The Book of Ruth: The Courting Never Ends. I also copyrighted them with the United States Copyright Office.

Thr first volume began in December of 2011 as I was recovering from a MRSA infection and awaiting a second left hip replacement The poems were my Christmas present to Ruthie. It just continued to grow from there to its present form.

If there is a common theme between all of these poems it is encountering God in my lifelong relationship with my wife, Ruth.

For those who have followed this blog over the summer months, you may have read some of the new poems that I have written.

Last night, I composed a Preface for the new collection of poems. What follows is that Preface.

“On June 13, 2019, I had my retirement open house. On June 24^th, I went to the New Prague Times to do interview on my retirement and upon completing the interview fell down the front steps of the building breaking my left ankle. On June 28^th, I had the first surgery on my left ankle. On July 1^st, I officially retired from active paid church ministry. On July 12^th, I had the second surgery on my left ankle. On September 6^th, I had the third surgery on my left ankle. On October 4^th, with the aid of a walker, I walked for the first time since June 24^th. As I write this, the healing of the surgical incision is still a work in progress. The circulation in my left leg is not good, a result of the numerous surgeries and MRSA infection back in 2011. With the same incision being opened three times, it is taking some time to completely heal over. There is still just a small part not yet healed, and that part, I discovered today has an infection. Here I go again …

I give this chronology of events to illustrate that I had plans for my retirement from full time ministry and it did not include hopping around on my right foot from bed to bathroom to chair to bathroom to bed for fifteen weeks. For some reason, beyond my comprehension, God apparently had other ideas for my retirement. This is not to say that God deliberately tripped my feet up as I was descending the front steps at the New Prague Times Building on June 24th. But, all the activities to which I had been looking forward were altered far beyond anything I could have planned or imagined.

Our lives are shrouded in mystery. To use the image of Psalm 23 of walking through the Valley of Death, I was unaware of the walking, or in my case, the lack of walking beginning my retirement. As Rabbi Harrold Kushner expressed so well in his book, The Lord Is My Shepherd: Healing Wisdom of the Twenty-Third Psalm, God never says we will never experience suffering. Rather, God tells us that we will not suffer alone. God will walk with us through our suffering.[1]

I hesitate to use the words “God’s plan for me” because it implies a life of fatalism in which there is no human choice. God allows us to experience life: our loves, our sorrows, health, illness, joys, thanksgivings in all its manifestations. Contained within all these experiences is God’s grace. Sometimes, especially in those joyful times of our lives, God’s grace is easily seen and experienced. However, sometimes God’s grace is deeply hidden within the experience, especially true with the hard and painful experiences. The volumes of poetry in which I chronicle my life with Ruthie is my way of trying to part the mist of mystery in which to find God’s grace in my life.

I believe life is comprised of periods. The first period is that of our birth and the first five years in which we begin to learn to navigate the world around us. Our parents and family assist us in that navigation. The second period is comprised of our school years, in which we acquire “book knowledge” and other skills that continue to expand our knowledge of the world. While our parents remain a big part of our lives, we begin to explore, on our own, the world. We explore our interests and seek the knowledge we need for a career. The third period is using the skills we have learned to make a living at a job or career. Subsets during this period may be seeking a spouse/life-partner, raising a family, and continuing to pursue those interests that enrich us. The fourth period may be called “retirement” in which the busyness of our lives slows, giving us the opportunity to reflect over our past and looking for those significant events in which God has touched our lives with profound grace.

I have found the most significant times in which God’s grace is found are those times of great stress, illness, and physical, mental, and spiritual suffering. Scripture familiarizes us with many stories of God’s paradoxical habit of shaping people’s lives for the better in the worse of circumstances. As Paul of Tarsus notes in his second letter to the Corinthians, it is at our weakest and most vulnerable moments in our lives in which God’s grace is most profound. “[The Lord] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor 12:9-10, New Revised Standard Version Bible)

As I begin this fourth volume of poems, I have had fifteen weeks of essentially “sitting on my butt” reflecting on God’s grace in the past, and trying to ascertain God’s grace in the present. This volume of poems will continue to grow as I reflect on God’s presence in past events and attempt to seek God’s presence in the here and now. I believe God to be more immanent rather than aloof and transcendent. God is Emmanuel, “God with us.”

One thing that will always be consistent in my life’s story, is the immanent presence of God in my bride, Ruth. As I have said on numerous occasions, she is the greatest experience of God for me. In her embrace, I feel God embrace me. From her lips I hear God say, “I love you! I forgive you.” From her body, I have witnessed the creation of the world as she gave birth to our children. After all, this collection of poems is entitled: “The Book of Ruth.” Perhaps these poems will help readers reflect on the presence of God in their lives.

Robert Charles Wagner

November 12, 2019

[1] The Lord Is My Shepherd: Healing Wisdom of the Twenty-Third Psalm, by Harrold Kushner,  Alfred A Knopf, New York, 2003. See Chapter Eight for an expanded discussion of this.

WHEN YOUNG, WHEN OLDER

When young,
there is little retrospection.
Life is an adventure,
new experiences
which we sample and taste
as if at a smorgasbord,
in which we are so busy living,
we have no time for reflection.

When young,
life is full of expectation:
chasing dreams of a career,
of spouse and children,
seeking after and possessing
that which we presume
will support our expectations and dreams.

When young,
consumed with life,
dreams of God
and that which is everlasting
seem as far away as
traveling to Mars.
Eyesight is isolated to
only the here and now,
not to some galaxy far, far away.

When older,
as life naturally slows,
retrospection creeps into our lives
often unwelcome.
A lifetime of experience,
our virtues and sins accumulate,
like the scars we bear
on our bodies and spirits.
And, that galaxy that seemed
so far, far away,
is as close to us
as our neighbor’s house.

When older,
exciting vacation destinations
to exotic places
are replaced by the mundane
visits to doctors,
medical clinics and hospitals.
The weddings and baptisms diminish
replaced by a multiplying number
of wakes and funerals
not only of the ancient ones
in our lives, but that
of our siblings and friends.

When older,
as we page through the brittle pages
of old photo albums
looking at pictures of children
who became our parents,
we realize that one day,
memories of our lives
will be confined to a fading picture
of who we once were.

When older,
life becomes that of waiting in line,
grasping in our hands a numbered ticket
as if waiting to be served at a market.
The ticket we clutch holds
the diagnosis which will unite us
to the ancestors who preceded us,
and wonder whether those
upon whom we once gazed
in photo albums,
will greet us in person
as we pass from this life to the next.

When older,
we finally comprehend
that much after which we chased
when we were young
was merely a passing fancy,
a temporary diversion from
that which is ultimately
the goal of our lives,
and hope, that we will experience
the abundance of God’s mercy
which Jesus preached,
expanding upon our virtues
and less focused on our sins.

It was January 2004, the last year of my dad’s life. Dad had had a heart valve replaced when he was 80 years old, and now at the age of 89 was facing another heart valve replacement.  I took him down to Mayo Clinic in Rochester for him to get a second opinion from one of the cardiologists. The cardiologist, after having examined dad and all of dad’s tests, sat with us and said to dad, “Walter, you can have this heart valve replaced. However, I cannot guarantee that the surgery will make your life better, nor can I guarantee that it will prolong your life.” My dad, was a mechanical engineer, and I saw expressed in his face the logic that guided him professionally most of his life. He looked at the doctor and replied, “Hell, I am 89 years old. I am not going to live forever.” He decided to not have the surgery and died from congestive heart failure in November of 2004.

The scripture readings for this weekend force us to face that which my dad confronted in January 2004. We are finite beings and our bodies are going to breakdown and eventually die. While we are still alive in our bodies, we are giving a choice. Do we wish to cultivate and grow our relationship with God, or, do we wish to ignore the relationship that God offers us? The choice is exclusively ours.

The first reading from the second book of Maccabees (part of the historical books in the Catholic Bible, and in the apocrypha in the Protestant Bible) is a rather macabre, grisly tale of a Jewish mother and her seven sons being tortured, maimed, and then burned alive at the order of the Greek King Antiochus. Their crime was refusing to eat meat that had been sacrificed to the Greek gods. They chose to be in relationship with God and suffer a horrible death, rather than to destroy their relationship with God and live. In reading the full story from the second book of Maccabees (2 Maccabees 7:1-42) the mother tells her sons that their relationship with God is closer and supersedes even that of a mother for her children. The mother consuls one of her sons, “Son, have pity on me, who carried you in my womb for nine months, nursed you for three years, brought you up, educated and supported you to your present age. I beg you, child, to look at the heavens and the earth and see all that is in them; then you will know that God did not make them out of existing things. In the same way humankind came into existence. Do not be afraid of this executioner, but be worthy of your brothers and accept death, so that in the time of mercy I may receive you again with your brothers.”

The Gospel reading is the familiar story of the Sadducees challenging Jesus’ teaching about resurrection and everlasting life. They pose to Jesus, a story of a woman, who over time had married seven brothers, widowed at each marriage and who eventually died never having borne any children. They ask Jesus, if there is a resurrection, to which husband would she be married? (I must interject at this juncture, that this Gospel story always reminds me of an inappropriate Ole and Lena joke, in which Lena is married to Ole, widowed, and then, marries, Hans, widowed again, and then marries Sven, and is widowed again. The only difference from the Gospel story is that Lena had a very fruitful life having giving birth to 24 children collectively during her marriages to Ole, Hans, and Sven.) Jesus replies that life after death is not consumed with the relationships we formed during life, but rather, overwhelmingly consumed in being in relationship with God.

These two readings remind us that God entered into relationship with us at the moment we were conceived in our mother’s womb. We were named and claimed by God at that very moment. Our relationship with God is ultimately the most important relationship in our lives. God has always been in relationship with us, even when we refuse to acknowledge that very relationship. In the Gospels, Jesus points out that instead of being self-consumed and focused only in our present life, ultimate happiness rests in the relationship we cultivate with God. What is in the present is temporary. What lies beyond the present is everlasting. The pastoral letters of Paul, John, James, and Peter teach the same lesson. That which human beings consider treasure, e.g. gold, silver etc, in this world, rusts, disintegrates and passes away. That treasure that lasts forever is the relationship we have with God. Are we going to spend our lives chasing after treasure that is no more than a mirage, or are going to spend our lives pursuing a treasure that will last into eternity?

The goal of our life is not that which we will find in the present. The goal of our life must focus on that which will be.  Our life after death will mirror the relationships we have with others in this life. If our life is self-focused, and self-consumed, than the future of our life after death will be one of isolation from God and others. If our relationships with others are unloving and only formed to satisfy ourselves, eternity will be filled with the emptiness and darkness of the relationships we had. If our relationships with others were that of unselfish love for others, then those relationships will be stepping stones to an everlasting life of love, happiness and fulfillment with God. Again, this is a message we hear preached not only by Jesus in the Gospels, but repeated in the pastoral letters of Paul, Peter, John and James.  

As my dad so succinctly expressed in January of 2004, we do not live forever. Our bodies are going to wear out and eventually die. My dad was a person of great honesty, integrity and compassion. He did not fear death because he knew that the life and love that after death was going to surpass the life and love he had experienced in life. He knew that when he died, he would be swept up in God’s everlasting embrace of love. The fulfillment for which my dad strived and after which my dad sought, would be realized not in this life, but in everlasting life.

Woody Allen once said, “I don’t fear death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” None of us actively seek death. Our bodies are programmed to seek life. Let us program the lives we are living now, not for what we can find in the present, but that life which beckons beyond this life. Let us live lives that always seek the relationship we have had with God from the moment we were conceived.

HOMILY FOR THE 31^ST SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME, YEAR C

In the first reading from Wisdom, we hear, “For you love all things that are and loathe nothing that you have made; for you would not fashion what you hate. How could a thing remain, unless you willed it; or be preserved, had it not been called forth by you? (God) you spare all things, because they are yours, O Ruler and Lover of souls, for your imperishable spirit is in all things! (Wisdom 11:24-25, 26-12:1)

Human beings like to compartmentalize things. We like to group things and people into neat, little categories. We also like to do this with God. It is easy for us to isolate God to a building that we visit one hour a week, making God a prisoner of a building. Then we walk out the door of a church, thinking we have left God behind in the church and that God has no relationship with anything or anyone outside the church doors.

In the reading from the book of Wisdom, it is written that God’s imperishable spirit is in all things. As the psalmist in Psalm 139 observes, there is no place to which we can escape without God already being there. What the author of the book of Wisdom makes it so very clear that God’s spirit is present in all created things, earth, wind, water, fire. There is not one thing in heaven and earth in which God’s Spirit is absent. There is not one thing in heaven and earth that God does not love.

As we get closer to the end of the liturgical year, it is important for us to open our awareness of God not only in all that is around us, but especially God’s presence within us and in other people.

This expanded knowledge of God in and around us must reflect the relationship we have with nature. Since God is present in all created things, to deface, to diminish, to harm our environment is an indicator of our relationship with God.

The hardest thing for us to swallow is the love that God has for all people. The author of the Book of Wisdom reminds us that God loves all things and loathes nothing, for how could God create anything that God hates. If God does not hate that which God has created, nor can we. God does not love exclusively. God loves inclusively. This is something with which many of us struggle. If we truly believe that God’s Spirit is present in all people, and there is not one person that God does not love, then we cannot use, cheat, or abuse people. If we truly believe that God’s Spirit is present all people, prejudice, racism, violence, hunger, and all want would be eliminated from our world.

In the familiar story of Zacchaeus, the tax collector (Luke 19:1-10), Zacchaeus has this moment in which his eyes are open to the presence of God in the people with whom he is in relationship. Zacchaeus realizes that in the way he has harmed others, he has harmed God. He needs to correct the harm he has done. He says to Jesus, “Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.” For those who held Zacchaeus in contempt, Jesus quickly corrects them that God is present in Zacchaeus. “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham.”

As we get closer to the end of this liturgical year, and the readings point to the time of Christ’s second coming, let us open our eyes like Zacchaeus to the presence of God all around us; in nature, and most importantly, in all people.

Some pictures of the Saints I know.

left to right: my mom, my Uncle Bob, my grandfather Oscar, my Uncle Ozzie, and my Aunt Ruth (Greta, the little girl is still with us)

It is the feasts of All Saints/All Souls. I do not think of these feasts as separate, in spite of the tedious 20 minute homily I heard last night at Mass explaining the difference between the church militant, the church suffering and the church glorious. It was all a bunch of yah-dah, yah-dah, yah-dah to me.

Who are the saints in our lives? While I believe that Peter, Paul, all the rest of the apostles, Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and others are legitimate saints whose lives we must venerate, there are a lot of saints on the official Church calendar I consider hardly saints. And there are some people who should be on the calendar of saints and are omitted. For years, Archbishop Oscar Romero was declined sainthood because of Pope John Paul II’s right wing politics. Romero was a martyr for the faith, who died for his faith, which should make him an automatic saint. Ironically, John Paul II, who held up his canonization, was made a saint even though he looked the other way and knowingly did not discipline bishops and priests guilty of sexually abusing children. Under his papacy the corruption within the Roman Curia skyrocketed. The canonization process is highly political and flawed.

So who are the saints in our lives? It is those people who have tried throughout their lives to live the commandment Jesus gave us on Holy Thursday night, “love one another has I have loved you.” Think of those whose love for us has shaped our lives. Think of those who gave of themselves to us and to others in love. They used their lives gradually perfecting how to love as Jesus loves. And though their bodies wore out and died, they continue to live and love us. At funerals, I often speak about how death does not sever the bonds of love we have had with those who have died. They are no longer hampered by a body, but love more intensely then when they had a body. All we need do is think their name and they are at our side. If our loved one had been a parent, well, us kids can’t get away with anything any more. Like Santa, they now KNOW when we are naughty and nice.

You will notice that I have two of my pet dogs among the human saints pictured above. Pope Francis has preached that our pets are in heaven. If the definition of a saint is that of one who has loved as Jesus loved, those two great Pyrs loved me and my family more fully than many people. Those two dogs loved us so much that they were ready to guard us and die for us if necessary. When they died, their loss was hugely felt by all of us and we still grieve their loss.

I love how the Latino culture celebrates these two days. They keep the memory of their dead loved ones alive by celebrating their lives, picnicking at their gravesites, building a special altar with the pictures of their loved ones, cooking their favorite foods, having their favorite drinks present, and their favorite pass times. The Latinos I have known, never forget their loved ones because they believe their loved ones are always present. That is why I believe we must honor and celebrate the feast days (the day of their death is the day of their birth into everlasting life) of our deceased loved ones. We need to tell and retell the stories, especially those that were important for us. We need to keep their pictures around us, and remember them when we gather at those important family functions and banquets.

In conclusion, I would like to relate the last two days of my sister, Mary Ruth’s life. On August 8th, 1997, my sister was moved from ICU to hospice. After my sister was settled into hospice (there was no home hospice at that time), she greeted all our dead relatives in the room. She turned to my mother and I and said, “They are playing my song but I am not ready to hear it.” My mom turned to me and said quietly, “It must be the morphine.” I told mom, “Morphine is not a hallucinogen like LSD, mom. She is beginning to see what is really real from that which is temporary (as St Paul writes in the 4th chapter of his second letter to the Corinthians). Mary was correct. She was not ready to hear her song. She still had two days and died early in the morning on August 10th.

When we are born from this life to the next, I hope to see all those pictured above welcoming me home to heaven. Till that time I will keep holy their feast day (the day of their death and birth to heaven). We will light candles in memory of them at our banquet table here on earth, till we can join them around the banquet table of God promised to us by Jesus.

REFLECTION ON THE 29^TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YEAR C

We are closely approaching the end of the liturgical year. The scriptures point more and more to the end times, when we, as Christians, believe that Jesus will come again. If we have been observant, the scriptures for the past month or so have been preparing us for that time. Jesus has been teaching us for some time about what it means to live the second part of the Great Commandment, that is, loving our neighbor as ourselves. Now Jesus focuses on the first part of what it means to love God with all our mind, heart, and soul. At the end of the Gospel for today Jesus asks this question, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

What does Jesus mean by the world “faith”? When we speak the word faith, what does it mean to us? By faith, are we speaking about our own religious tradition? Or, when we speak the word, faith, does faith mean something more than our own particular religious tradition?

I remember the definition of religion I taught as a catechist. Religion is how we organize our world. A Christian is going to organize the world differently from that of one who is Jewish, or one who is Muslim. One who is a Hindu is going to organize the world differently from that of one who is Buddhist, and so on. The one consistent between all these different religions is that God is a major part of the world for all these world religions. Atheism is a religion only in so much that an Atheist organizes the world without God. How we organize the world has a distinct way of how we approach life.

Religion, in itself, is not and must not be the object of our faith. Human leadership is a part of all religion, whether it be a Rabbi, a Pope, a Bishop, an Iman, an Orthodox Patriarch, a Swami, or the Dali Lama. In as much that there is a human element to the leadership of a religion, there will always be the chance of scandal and corruption. If we place our faith in a religious institution, our faith will always have the chance of being betrayed. Let’s face it, Jewish religious authorities, both the Sanhedrin and the Pharisees (who were theologically in opposition to each other) betrayed Jesus, who was Jewish, and plotted and set up his execution by the Romans. It is the false faith placed on  religious institutions that has led to the abandonment of much of organized religion by many people.

However, the abandonment of organized religion has led to the heresy of our modern age, individualism. Individualism confines the definition of God to our own individual self. The word, God, is defined by the word, me. The only religious holiday is “my” birthday. The only religious leader to follow is “myself.” It is only “I” who holds, defines, and structures the world and no one else. The universe is only that which I see and experience, and all else that doesn’t have any effect on my life is meaningless. When we make ourselves God, and only have faith in ourselves, then the universe collapses around us. This universe confined to the individual is destructive to the human community and to all of creation.

There is a great need for religion. However, religion must lead us to God. Note the plurality in the use of the word, “us.” Religion is not just about me, but about all of us seeking God. To have faith in God is to believe that God is the source of all goodness in our lives, and all for which we long in our lives. To have faith in God is to have direction in our lives and a purpose to our lives. To have faith in God is to live beyond the narrow limit of our lives and expand our consciousness of God and be aware of God’s presence all around us. To have faith in God is to experience God as immanent to us as our own breath, at the same time sensing the transcendence of God beyond our breath. To have faith in God leads us to trust in that which lay beyond our human senses. To have faith in God leads us to embrace mystery, knowing that the word, certainty, is being content in not having all the answers. Faith in God encompasses all of this and is expressed in the way we treat others (loving our neighbor as ourselves), and, like the widow in the Gospel today, badger God for that which we need knowing that God will listen to us. Faith in God is the knowledge that God always watches our back and will always look after us. 

We are living in the end times. In fact, all of humanity has been living in the end times since the Ascension of Jesus. Jesus asks us, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” So, when Jesus comes again, will he find us standing with those who have faith in God or those who have only faith in themselves?

REFLECTION ON THE GOSPEL FOR THE 28^TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YEAR B

This gospel story, Luke 17:11-19, is a very familiar to us. For Catholics, it is the gospel chosen for Thanksgiving Day in the United States. Ten lepers, among whom one was a Samaritan, cry out to Jesus as he passes by. Their cry is not warning others to stay away because of their infectious disease, but rather they call out to Jesus, “Have pity on us!” He looks at them, and then orders them to show themselves to the priests. As they are on the way, they are healed miraculously from their leprosy.  The Samaritan, realizing he has been healed, does not go to the priests, but rather return’s immediately to Jesus. He prostrates himself at the feet of Jesus and thanks him. Jesus asks as to the whereabouts of the other nine. Jesus remarks to his disciples that this Samaritan, one who is despised by the Jewish people, is the only one who has returned to give thanks to God for his healing. Jesus then commands the Samaritan to rise and go, concluding with the words, “Your faith has saved you.”

One thing we may observe about the story is that the lepers did not wait first to be cured and then show themselves to the priests. Though still afflicted by their illness,  they believe Jesus’ words and turn to go to the priests. It was this act of faith in Jesus’ word that effected their cure. What stands out is the reaction of the Samaritan to being cured. He decides to not show himself to the priests but rather to immediately go back to Jesus and offer thanks to Jesus for restoring his life. It is because of this expression of gratitude on the part of the Samaritan that we often use this gospel story at celebrations of thanksgiving, e.g. Thanksgiving Day liturgies.

As I reflected on this story for the umpteenth time I found myself reflecting on the times in my life when I have been in the place of the Samaritan leper, and in the place of Jesus in this story.

On many occasions I have been the leper who has received the power of Christ’s healing through others in my life. The healing comes perhaps in a word expressed to me, or in some gesture of support, or an action on the part of another on my behalf. It is has been my awareness that that word, or gesture, or action that was so healing and affirming originated not in the person, but in Christ moving through that person to heal me.

And, there have been times when someone has received healing through some word, gesture or action on my part. I find it somewhat disconcerting when someone attributes healing to me, because I am very much aware of my own sinfulness and weakness. I am very much aware that any healing that is attributed to me originates not in me, but in a power that is quite beyond me, namely, that of Christ. Of course, this awareness is not something new but has been recognized and written about by many of our Christian ancestors.  For instance, St Paul writes in his 2^nd letter to the Corinthians about a pernicious sin in his life, a “thorn in his side” that never seems to leave him. He pleads to God to remove it and God refuses for it is in Paul’s weakness, his powerlessness, that the power of God’s power is revealed. St Paul concludes this observation saying,  “So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.” (2 Cor 12:9b, NRSV) And in his 1^st letter to the Corinthians, “My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.” (1 Cor 2:4-5, NRSV)

Whether we hear this gospel in the person of the Samaritan leper or in the person of Jesus, the one dominant point that the gospel story illustrates is that the power of all good originates in God. God uses us to be the conduit through which God’s goodness reaches and touches the lives of those most in need of it. This is expressed in the prayer attributed to St Francis of Assisi, “Make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me bring love. Where there is offense, let me bring pardon. Where there is discord, let me bring union. Where there is error, let me bring truth. Where there is doubt, let me bring faith. Where there is despair, let me bring hope. Where there is darkness, let me bring your light. Where there is sadness, let me bring joy. O Master, let me not seek as much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love, for it is in giving that one receives,
it is in self-forgetting that one finds, it is in pardoning that one is pardoned, it is in dying that one is raised to eternal life.”  

How the goodness and love of God works through us is veiled in mystery. It is not necessary for us to try and unveil that mystery, to try to understand the mystery. Rather, let us be content to immerse ourselves in that wondrous mystery. All that is required of us is to emulate the example of the Samaritan leper in the story and give thanks to God.

REFLECTION ON THE 27^TH SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME, YEAR C

In the Gospel for this weekend we hear Jesus speak about faith, and what it means to serve God and neighbor.

Jesus’ disciples ask hm to “increase their faith.” Jesus replies with the parable of the mustard seed. Unlike that in Matthew and Mark’s accounts, in which one having the faith of a mustard seed can move mountains, Jesus compares one having the faith of a mustard see capable of moving a mulberry tree and transplanting it in the sea. Note, that a mulberry tree has a complex root system which makes it difficult to move. Then Jesus follows up with the story of the servant coming in from the field, and being ordered to feed his master. Jesus concludes the story by stating that the servant receives no reward for serving the master. The servant is doing what the servant is required to do.

How does this story apply to us? Everything we receive from God is a gift. We are gifted by God with faith, and we are to use the faith with which we have been gifted. The one thing that all four Gospels hammer home repeatedly is that Jesus came NOT to be served, but TO SERVE! While we may like to project titles like Lord, and King upon Jesus, it was clear that Jesus’ primary title is that of a servant, who serves God and serves those who are in need. Jesus is the “Servant of God.” The point that Jesus is trying to hammer home to his disciples is that just as he came to serve God and others, THEY ARE TO DO THE SAME! It is what is expected of them.

The second part of the story is not to expect a reward for doing that which you have been called to do. We well know that for all the miracles that Jesus worked in the lives of people; for all the teachings he gave to people, the reward Jesus received in serving others was to be rejected, abandoned, and ultimately to be tortured and executed. The disciples of Jesus will, more than likely, be similarly received. If we choose to be a disciple of Jesus, there can be no motives attached to our service other than to serve. If we serve to receive accolades, honors, and prestige, Jesus’ blistering critique of the Pharisees, then we are NOT disciples of Jesus.

This is something that Bishop Welsh told my class during our ordination retreat two days before I was ordained a permanent deacon. His words were stark and to the point. He told us that if we are being ordained to receive status, honor and accolades in the Church, then we should stay home and not be ordained. Ordination is all about being of service to others. We were being ordained to be servants of the Servant of God, Jesus.

Faith and service to God and others is what is expected of us. There are no rewards attached to our faith and service on Earth. Anything recognition we receive from humanity is shallow and temporary. However, as the scriptures of the Christian Testament teach, our true treasure, and true reward await us by God. As the prophet Habakkuk states in the first readings, “For the vision still has its time,
 presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it,  it will surely come, it will not be late.  The rash one has no integrity; but the just one, because of his faith, shall live.”