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Psalm Offering 1 Opus 7 was composed in the summer of 2017. Opus 7 is subtitled “The Lamentation Psalm Offerings.” The text of the Book of Lamentations is the underlying inspiration for the music. Psalm Offering 1 is dedicated to the human victims of violence.

See, O Lord, how distressed I am; my stomach churns, my heart is wrung within me, because I have been very rebellious. In the street the sword bereaves; in the house it is like death. Those who were my enemies without cause have hunted me like a bird; they flung me alive into a pit and hurled stones on me; water closed over my head; I said, “I am lost.” (Lamentations 1:20, 4:52-54)

This song is my anguished prayer to God for all mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children and friends whose hearts have been crushed by the cruel acts of violence against their loved ones. In Isaiah, chapter two, we hear the prophet speak of turning spears into pruning hooks, and swords into plowshares. The time has come for all weapons to be destroyed. May all the materials that create a weapon be melted into a molten mass never to be used for any other purpose than to be buried into the earth.

Whom better the victim of merciless death at the hands of humans than Jesus? Jesus, the Word of God, was tortured and executed without any remorse by those whom He had created.

However, St Paul in his 1st letter to the Corinthians points to the folly of the human wisdom that thought that killing the Author of Life would be a victory.

¹⁸ For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. ¹⁹ For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” ²⁰ Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? ²¹ For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. ²² For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, ²³ but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, ²⁴ but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. ²⁵ For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

A second image upon which to dwell is the dead, torn, brutalized body of Jesus held in the arms of his mother. The image of a mother mourning over the lifeless body of her son was captured tragically and poetically by Michelangelo.

“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” (Matthew 3:18)

Two images lay behind the composing of the music of the song, 1) the brutal death of Christ, symbolic of all the violence humanity has inflicted upon humanity; and, 2) a mother’s heart and soul crushed at the death of her child by that violence, symbolized by the image of Mary holding the lifeless body of her son.

The music inserted below does not bear any beautiful sounds. The first theme is brutal, harsh, dissonant cluster chords pounded on the keyboard. The second theme, is a lacrymosa, the lament of a mother over her dead child. The stark brutality of the first theme juxtaposed with the lament of the second theme.

After the first theme has been fully stated, it is followed by the second theme. Then a battle between the two themes begin. The first theme of brutal violence seemingly trying to dominate the lament of the second theme, with the lament finally winning over the violence.

(A song for my sister Mary Ruth)

I originally set this song to the words of Psalm 31, and dedicated the song to my sister, Mary Ruth. My sister died at the age of 42 years on August 10, 1997. For 25 years she suffered from Crohn’s disease. She had multiple surgeries, multiple hospital stays, and, in spite of her chronic illness worked all but the last ten years of her life as a cardiac Occupational Therapist. She got her Master of Arts in Education, and was working on a Doctorate at the time of her death. She traveled all of Europe and a great deal of the South Pacific, camped in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota, with the aid of her best friends and travel companions who were doctors. In her 42 years of life she accomplished more than I will ever accomplish during my lifetime.

I composed the setting of this psalm when I was the Liturgy and Music director of St Hubert Catholic Community, and used it at the Good Friday liturgy, at which Psalm 31 is the responsorial psalm. When my sister died in 1997, I put the music for this psalm away, thinking that it would never ever be used again in liturgy.

Last year, about this time, I was going through a lot of the music I composed for choir, and came across this song for my sister. I decided to recompose it, reimagine it as a piano composition. While the body of the sung response and verse is intact within the song, I added an introduction to the songs, which I have used as a bridge between the verses, and as a coda (ending) for the song.

I have placed the psalm text below. Note, that while the psalmist acknowledges that his enemies are plotting his death, his ultimate trust remains in God who will save him. I think I have captured this in the music.

Psalm 31

¹ In you, O Lord, I seek refuge;
do not let me ever be put to shame;
in your righteousness deliver me. ²
Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily.
Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me.
³ You are indeed my rock and my fortress;
for your name’s sake lead me and guide me,
⁴ take me out of the net that is hidden for me,
for you are my refuge.
⁵ Into your hand I commit my spirit;
you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.
⁶ You hate those who pay regard to worthless idols,
but I trust in the Lord.
⁷ I will exult and rejoice in your steadfast love,
because you have seen my affliction;
you have taken heed of my adversities,
⁸ and have not delivered me into the hand of the enemy;
you have set my feet in a broad place.
⁹ Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;
my eye wastes away from grief, my soul and body also.
¹⁰ For my life is spent with sorrow,
and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my misery,
and my bones waste away.
¹¹ I am the scorn of all my adversaries,
a horror to my neighbors,
an object of dread to my acquaintances;
those who see me in the street flee from me.
¹² I have passed out of mind like one who is dead;
I have become like a broken vessel.
¹³ For I hear the whispering of many— terror all around!—
as they scheme together against me, as they plot to take my life.
¹⁴ But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”
¹⁵ My times are in your hand;
deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.
¹⁶ Let your face shine upon your servant;
ave me in your steadfast love.
¹⁷ Do not let me be put to shame, O Lord,
for I call on you; let the wicked be put to shame;
let them go dumbfounded to Sheol.
¹⁸ Let the lying lips be stilled that speak insolently
against the righteous with pride and contempt.
¹⁹ O how abundant is your goodness
that you have laid up for those who fear you,
and accomplished for those who take refuge in you,
in the sight of everyone!
²⁰ In the shelter of your presence
you hide them from human plots;
you hold them safe under your shelter from contentious tongues.
²¹ Blessed be the Lord,
for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me
when I was beset as a city under siege.
²² I had said in my alarm, “I am driven far from your sight.”
But you heard my supplications when I cried out to you for help.
²³ Love the Lord, all you his saints.
The Lord preserves the faithful,
but abundantly repays the one who acts haughtily.
²⁴ Be strong, and let your heart take courage,
all you who wait for the Lord.

We hear at every Mass, Jesus saying, “Do this in remembrance of me.” What are we remembering? Tonight is more than memorializing or remembering a ritual that occurred over 2000 years ago. As a kid, the nuns taught me that the Latin Mass I grew up with, in which I only saw the backside of the priest throughout most of Mass and what prayers I heard him say were all in Latin, was the way that Mass was celebrated by Jesus at the Last Supper. Of course, that information was wrong. The Latin Mass I knew had only been celebrated that way for 400 years, from the time of the Council of Trent in 1563. The way Mass has been celebrated has changed quite a few times between the Last Supper that Jesus celebrated in the Upper Room to way we celebrate the Mass in our present time.

What really happened on that night 2000 years ago? Not even the Gospels can agree about that. The Gospels were written 30, 40, and 50 years after that night. The Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke insist that the Lord’s Supper was the Passover meal. John’s Gospel insists it was not the Passover meal, for the Passover wouldn’t be happening for another two days. John’s Gospel suggests it was a meal of thanksgiving, a Jewish Berakah. So, just what is that we are being commanded by Jesus to remember tonight, and every time we celebrate Mass?

The answer to that question is found in chapter 11 of Paul’s 1^st letter to the Corinthians. We heard a small portion of that reading tonight. To fully understand what we heard in the second reading, we need to hear that reading in context. This letter of Paul, written around 50 A.D., approximately 20 years after the first Last Supper, describes how the early Christian community celebrated Mass. The Corinthian Christian community was filled with horrible division. Paul introduces what we heard tonight with these words to the Corinthians, “When you meet in one place, then, it is not to eat the Lord’s supper, for in eating, each one goes ahead with his own supper, and one goes hungry while another gets drunk. Do you not have houses in which you can eat and drink? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and make those who have nothing feel ashamed? What can I say to you? Shall I praise you? In this matter I do not praise you.” Then Paul describes that which he received from the Lord Jesus which we heard proclaimed in the second reading.

What are the principle actions of the early Christian Mass which Paul describes in the entirety of chapter 11 in his letter? It is taking bread, giving thanks, breaking it and sharing it with all in the community. Then it is taking the one cup of wine, giving thanks, and sharing that one cup with all in the community. However, prior to eating the bread that is shared and prior to drinking from the one cup, Paul warns them that they must discern the body.  What is the body to which Paul refers? Paul is not just referring to the Body of Christ in Holy Communion, Paul is referring to the Body of Christ present in the community of the baptized. If they remain a divided community, if they continue to disregard the needs of the poor in their midst, they are tearing apart the body of Christ and are receiving Holy Communion unworthily. Paul warns them that if they continue to do this, they will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord. In other words, if they continue to foster division and ignore the needs of the community, they are guilty of murdering the Body of Christ and will eat and drink their own condemnation. What is Paul saying to us today? When we come to receive Holy Communion and the communion distributor says, “The Body of Christ”, we must have the awareness that we are not only saying Amen to the real presence of Jesus in the host we receive, Wwe say Amen to the real presence of Jesus in all the people around us, the Body of Christ. Before we receive Holy Ccommunion we must be at peace with the Body of Christ of our community.

Paul tells us that to celebrate Mass worthily we must: 1) take bread, give thanks to God, break the bread and share with all in the community, 2) to take the one cup of wine, give thanks and share it with all in the community, and 3) to discern the Body of Christ and to be at peace with the Body of Christ present in the faith community prior to receiving the Body and Blood of Christ present in the consecrated bread and wine. John’s Gospel expands on what Paul is teaching by giving us one more action. Jesus shows us that in order to have peace within the Body of Christ in the community, we must humbly get down on our knees and wash the feet of others.

In John’s account of the Last Supper, Jesus, the One through whom all was created, humbly gets down on his knees and washes the feet of those he had created. He washes the feet of his disciples, fulling knowing that one will betray him for money, one will deny ever knowing him, and all the rest are cowards who will abandon him to merciless people who will lead him to a merciless death. Nonetheless, out of love for all these broken, sinful people, he lovingly washes their feet, then commands them to wash the feet of others just like themselves.

To “Do This In Remembrance of Me” requires more from us than just statically being present at Mass to honor an obligation placed upon us by the Church. It is more than just remembering something ritually that happened a  long time ago in a place far, far away. The command of Jesus to “Do this in Remembrance of me” is not just directed at the priest celebrating Mass. Jesus is addressing those words to us who are his physical Body in the world.

At our baptism we were baptized into the passion, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus. At our baptism we were anointed with the chrism of salvation. We were anointed priest, prophet and king. As the Body of Christ, what we receive at Mass must compel us to act as Christ in our world and continue Christ’s saving peace not to just our community but to a world horribly broken by sin.

At Mass, as the Body of Christ, we are called to become the bread that is broken and given to all in love. We are called to become the Blood of Christ shed and shared for all in love. We are called to humbly get down on our knees and wash the feet of others, including those who will betray us, those who will deny us, and those who will abandon us. The great Pauline biblical scholar, Fr Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, in his commentary on 1^st Corinthians wrote that what Paul was telling the Corinthians, was that it was only love that gave substance to the words of consecration at the Last Supper, and it is only love that will continue to give substance to the words of consecration at Mass.

How long must we fulfill the commandment of Jesus to “Do this in Remembrance of Me?” Paul answers that question. “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” In other words, we must continue to “do this in remembrance of me” until that time when Jesus comes a second time in glory.

In conclusion, I believe the most powerful hymn that reflects what Jesus is commanding us to do tonight is the hymn by David Haas, “Now We Remain.” In the last verse we sing, “We are the presence of God, this is our call. Now to become bread and wine, food for the hungry, life for the weary. For to live with the Lord, we must die with the Lord. We hold the death of the Lord, deep in our hearts. Living, now we remain with Jesus the Christ.”

Of all the poems about Good Friday, one of the most powerful of poems is entitled, “On A Theme From Julian’s Chapter XX”. It is found in the collection of poems by Denise Levertov, BREATHING THE WATER, published by New Direction Books, (c) 1984, 1985, 1986, and 1987 by Denise Levertov.

The Julian in the title of the poem is Julian of Norwich, an anchoress, who in 1200 a.d. reportedly had a vision of the crucified Jesus. She nearly died from the experience, however, lived nonetheless, and wrote down what she experienced. Here is the poem.

Six hours outstretched in the sun, yes,
hot wood, the nails, blood trickling
into the eyes, yes –
but the thieves on their neighbor crosses
survived till after the soldiers
had come to fracture their legs, or longer.
Why single out this agony? What’s
a mere six hours?
Torture then, torture now,
the same, the pain’s the same,
immemorial branding iron,
electric prod.
Hasn’t a child
dazed in the hospital ward they reserve
for the most abused, known worse?
This air we’re breathing,
these very clouds, ephemeral billows
languid upon the sky’s
moody ocean, we share
with women and men who’ve held out
days and weeks on the rack –
and in the ancient dust of the world
what particles
of the long tormented,
what ashes.[1]
But Julian’s lucid spirit leapt
to the difference:
perceived why no awe could measure
that brief day’s endless length,
why among all the tortured
One only is ‘King of Grief’.
The onening, she saw, the onening
with the Godhead opened Him utterly
to the pain of all minds, all bodies
– sands of the sea, of the desert –
from first beginning
to last day. The great wonder is
that the human cells of His flesh and bone
didn’t explode
when utmost Imagination rose
in that flood of knowledge. Unique
in agony, infinite strength, Incarnate,
empowered Him to endure
inside of history,
through those hours when He took Himself
the sum total of anguish and drank
even the lees of that cup:

woven within the mesh of that cup, Himself
woven within it, yet seeing it,
seeing it whole, Every sorrow and desolation
He saw, and sorrowed in kinship.

---

[1] ‘On a Theme from Julian’s Chapter XX.’ This is from the longer text of Julian of Norwich’s Showings ( or Revelations ). The quoted lines follow the Grace Warrack transcription ( 1901). Warrack uses the work ‘kinship’ in her title-heading for the chapter, though in the text itself she says ‘kindness,’ thus – as in her Glossary – reminding one of the roots common to both words.

I meditate on the Da Vinci “Last Supper”
hanging on a wall in our dining room.
Number by number, so meticulously painted
by my bride at a younger age.
Jesus, with a chorus line of apostles
on either side of him, presiding
over a meal, broken and shared.

He was no stranger to breaking bread
and sharing a meal with people.
The breaking and sharing of
barley loaves and fish with
five thousand people was a catered
feast that will go down in human history.

Jesus had an annoying habit
of not choosing his dinner companions well.
The great unwashed, the scandalous,
thieves, whores, tax collectors, adulterers,
adulteresses, armed revolutionaries,
politicians, beggars, and traitors, all,
all were invited with some regularity
to sit down and share a meal with him.

And, there he is again, portrayed
on my dining room wall, surrounding
himself with the unlearned, the unwashed,
a revolutionary, a politician, a tax collector,
a traitor and other unsavory guests.
He knows one will sell him to his enemies.
He knows that one will deny ever knowing him.
He knows that all will flee and hide in cowardice
abandoning him to a merciless crowd
who will wreak upon him a merciless death.

Yet, he kneels down before
this weak minded, gutless rabble
and washes and dries their feet.
He, through whom all creation was born,
washes and dries the feet of those he created,
then commands them to follow his example
by sharing a meal, and washing the feet
of those, like themselves,
who are weak, unwashed, cowardly,
violent, traitorous, and sinful

As I reflect upon the DaVinci Last Supper
so lovingly and carefully painted by number,
I see myself among the
people sitting at table with Jesus.
Jesus invites me to sit beside him.
He takes his food and breaks it.
He shares it and eats with me,
befriending me in spite of my
cowardice and faults, and kneeling,
washes and dries my feet,
urging me to do the same for others.

May the dinner table in my Church,
may the dinner table in my home,
be the place that all who are unworthy,
all who suffer the hunger pangs of loneliness,
all who suffer from rejection, neglect, and abuse,
are welcomed by Jesus to break bread,
to eat, to find friendship,
to share stories, and to be healed
through us, his broken and failed disciples.

Recently, on my daughter, Meg’s birthday, I posted a piano song I wrote for her in 2016. I had missed posting a piano song I wrote for my daughter, Beth’s birthday on January 11th. However, I had a good excuse, we were still celebrating her wedding which was held on January 6th. So, I thought I had better make things right in this new year of 2019 by posting Beth’s song. This catches me up … so to speak.

Beth is intelligent, articulate, dedicated to serving others, and fearless, Beth reminds me most of my sister, Mary Ruth. Though she has received her Bachelor Degree in Psychology (with honors, I might add), music has been central in her life. From the time she was very little, she had a way of setting everything to music, including her song for Ruthie, “Mommie, good girl!” Early in the morning before school, she and Meg would sing and sing, knowing full well it would irritate the hell out of her brother Luke. I remember her singing Gershwin’s aria, “Summertime” from the opera, Porgy and Bess, at her high school senior choir concert. Dressed in a long black gown, standing alone in front of the curtain, the audience was spellbound as she sang that beautiful song. I just sat there, a big smile on my face, as tears streamed from my eyes. Oh, how proud I was of her!

This Psalm Offering originated in a musical sketch I initially composed as a setting for Psalm 45. It is composed in simple three-part form. Both the A and B melodies are what I would describe as sweeping, dramatic melodies moving over a range of two octaves. The song has the quality of an operatic aria. Perhaps, that is why it seems so appropriate for Beth (and, in case you might be thinking it, Beth, I am not calling you a Diva). Love you, beautiful girl!

I stated at the beginning of Lent, that the Paschal Season allows us to focus on the Paschal Mystery at play in our lives. There are three parts to the Paschal Season, namely, Lent, Holy Week, and Easter. As much as I bemoan that the only thing left of Palm Sunday anymore, e.g. the blessings of palms and a procession, the fact that this is combined into one Sunday with what once was Passion Sunday is apropos to human life.

The torture and execution of Jesus, and his subsequent resurrection from the dead, plays a major part in the lives of all who have been baptized in Christ. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, spells this out specifically. “Brothers and sisters: Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.”

This week is a time to prayerfully reflect on the Passion and Death in our lives. What Passions and Deaths are we currently experiencing? Are we battling a chronic or terminal illness? Have we been seriously injured? Are we suffering the loss of our relationships with others through a falling out, a separation and divorce, a death? Are we currently experiencing betrayals in our lives? Are we suffering from economic worries and losses in our lives? Are we experiencing a sense of God abandoning us during this critical time in our lives and find ourselves crying out with Jesus, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Whatever the Passion and Death might be in our lives this year, it is important to know that they were a part of Jesus’ Passion and Death. As the poet Denise Levertov expressed, “One only is ‘King of Grief’.

The onening, she saw, the onening with the Godhead opened Him utterly to the pain of all minds, all bodies, sands of the sea, of the desert – from first beginning to last day. The great wonder is that the human cells of His flesh and bone didn’t explode when utmost Imagination rose in that flood of knowledge.” Jesus assumed our Passions and Deaths at his death, so that we may rise with him on Easter at his resurrection.

I am hunkered down today in the land of April snow and ice. Not much is moving outside. I was to have done a Word/Communion service at Mala Strana, the nursing home and one of the assisted living facilities in New Prague. Because of the weather, I am not going to be able to do that Word/Communion. The following is the homilette I was planning on doing for the residents. Here are the scriptural readings for today.

Genesis 17:3-9

When Abram prostrated himself, God spoke to him:
“My covenant with you is this:
you are to become the father of a host of nations.
No longer shall you be called Abram;
your name shall be Abraham,
for I am making you the father of a host of nations.
I will render you exceedingly fertile;
I will make nations of you;
kings shall stem from you.
I will maintain my covenant with you
and your descendants after you
throughout the ages as an everlasting pact,
to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.
I will give to you
and to your descendants after you
the land in which you are now staying,
the whole land of Canaan, as a permanent possession;
and I will be their God.”

God also said to Abraham:
“On your part, you and your descendants after you
must keep my covenant throughout the ages.”

John 8:51-59

Jesus said to the Jews:
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
whoever keeps my word will never see death.”
So the Jews said to him,
“Now we are sure that you are possessed.
Abraham died, as did the prophets, yet you say,
‘Whoever keeps my word will never taste death.’
Are you greater than our father Abraham, who died?
Or the prophets, who died?
Who do you make yourself out to be?”
Jesus answered, “If I glorify myself, my glory is worth nothing;
but it is my Father who glorifies me,
of whom you say, ‘He is our God.’
You do not know him, but I know him.
And if I should say that I do not know him,
I would be like you a liar.
But I do know him and I keep his word.
Abraham your father rejoiced to see my day;
he saw it and was glad.”
So the Jews said to him,
“You are not yet fifty years old and you have seen Abraham?”
Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you,
before Abraham came to be, I AM.”
So they picked up stones to throw at him;
but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area.

The central concept  upon which our Judeo-Christian faith rests is the Covenant established between God and humanity. A Covenant is different from our notion of a contract. Contracts can be broken and are broken all the time. A Covenant exists forever. God entered into a Covenant with Abram. The sign of Abram’s entering into a Covenant with God was circumcision. Upon entering into a Covenant with God, Abram was utterly changed. He received a new name, Abraham. His wife, Sarai was renamed Sarah.

A Covenant is not a static agreement. Rather, a Covenant is more a fluid relationship between the participants as their understanding of the Covenant grows and changes. I love Sr Joan Chittester’s definition of God. She writes, “God is changing changelessness.” This sounds paradoxical, for how can one be changing and changeless at the same time? However, it makes total sense. God does not change, but our understanding of the mystery of God is always changing as we enter into  deeper relationship with the mystery of God’s changeless nature.

We see this at work in Abraham’s relationship with God. At the age of 76 years, God leads Abram away from his father and the city of Haran, into the unknown. Abram places his utter trust, his wealth, his future into the hands of this God who called out to him. The mystery of God gradually unfolds for Abram as he journeys with God. At 86 years, at the urging of his barren wife, Sarai, he enters into a relationship with Hagar, Sarai’s servant. Hagar gives birth to a boy, Ishmael, and her relationship with Sarai deteriorates. Sarai becomes physically abusive toward Hagar, and demands that Abram abandon Hagar and Ishmael in the desert, literally condemning Hagar and Ismael to death. God reassures Hagar that she and her infant son will be taken care of by God and will thrive. Islam will trace the origin of the religion to Ishmael, and consider Abram their father.  At the age of 100, Abraham enters formally into the covenant with God, and Sarai, at the age of 90, gives birth to Isaac. Abraham’s understanding of Covenant is not static, but ever changing.

The people of Israel’s understanding of the Covenant they have with God will also continue to change. With Moses, it deepens at the Covenant renewed by Moses with God on Mount Sinai. And, even though the people of Israel drift from the Covenant over history, God remains always faithful to them. The understanding of the Covenant that Abraham cut with God always remaining fluid up to the time of Jesus, who we hear in the Gospel, reveals to the people that he is the embodiment of God’s Covenant with the people of Israel. And, as we hear in the Gospel, the Jewish religious authorities are less than receptive of Jesus’ teaching, calling him possessed by Satan, and seek to execute him for blasphemy.

We can listen to all this and say, “So what’s the big deal? What should this mean to me?” I ask you to ponder this question. “How has my understanding of God changed for me over my lifetime? What in my life’s experience has revealed more deeply the mystery of the God I say I adore and follow? Is my faith static and unchanging, or have my faith different today than when I was 6 years old, 16 years old, 30 years old, 50 years old, 70 years old?” If our faith is vibrant and alive, we will have found that our faith has changed over the years. It is not the faith of our childhood, nor our adolescence, nor the years when we were working and raising a family, nor as we were approaching our retirement.

The years are not cyclical, with us statically going around the same circle wearing a rut in the same ground over the passage of time. Rather the years must be spherical and evolving. With the passing of every year our relationship with God must be evolving, changing. This is what these scriptures speak to us today. Abram went from being Abram to Abraham. Israel’s understanding of God changed over the years until the Covenant established by God with Abraham was born in the person of Jesus, who wedded Divine nature with human nature.

We never “graduate” from God. Our relationship with God must never be a static one in which we foolishly think we know everything we need to know about God. Rather, with the passing of each day we should discover something new about the God who loved us into existence. What is true in our human relationships (Do we ever really know everything about our spouses? Never!), is true about our relationship with God. I am going to conclude with the best scriptural passage I think describes our Covenantal relationship with God.

From Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, he writes, “Everything indeed is for you, so that the grace bestowed in abundance on more and more people may cause the thanksgiving to overflow for the glory of God. Therefore, we are not discouraged; rather, although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4: 15-18) God is “changing changelessness.”

Over my 42 years of church ministry, almost 25 years as an ordained deacon, I have had the great honor of ministering with and to Latino families. Less one is tempted to lump all Latinos into one basket, the cultures of Latin America are as distinct as the cultures that separate Bostonians from New Yorkers, Alabamans from Chicagoans, residents of Los Angeles from those of Minneapolis and St Paul. Ecuadorians are not the same as Mexicans. Though they both speak Spanish, the way it is expressed and the colloquialisms are unique to their culture. Not all Latinos like hot, spicy food. Ecuadorians, in fact, like rather bland tasting food. The one thing I have found consistent in ministering with the Latino communities I have known is a work ethic that puts mine to shame and a faith in God of which I am truly envious.

One of my closest relationships has been with Jorge, Monica, and their daughter, Julissa. Jorge always called me DE-con Bob. I helped Jorge with his English and he helped me with my Spanish. Jorge and Monica were both from Acapulco. I remember being at their home after a 12 inch snowfall. Monica expressed to me that when she lived in Acapulco, she though snow was just “movie magic.” She hadn’t known how real it was until she moved to Minnesota and had to drive in it.

Julissa, Jorge and Monica’s daughter, was born approximately the time my first grandchildren were born. Julissa played with my grandson, Owen, and my granddaughter, Alyssa.

I have lost contact with Jorge, Monica, and Julissa. While here, they were supporting their families in the Acapulco area and saving up to start a law practice in Mexico. They are both lawyers, and met each other in law school. Julissa would be 17 years old now.

I think of them often as I see the plight of many immigrant families on our southern border. I pray for these families just as I continue to pray for my good friends Jorge, Monica and Julissa. The prophet Jeremiah once prayed that Israel’s heart is turned from that of stone into a heart of flesh. I pray that the same can be done in our own nation.

Recently, I discovered AXS TV. On this cable station are interviews, old taped rock concerts etc of the “rock heroes” of my past. As I watch Dan Rather interview people like Stephen Stills, David Crosby, Eric Clapton, I think, “What happened! You guys are all old and decrepit!” It is clear that not every rock star can age as gracefully as Paul McCartney. It is equally clear that the popular saying from the 60’s, “Die young and leave a good looking corpse”, is nothing more than a hopeful sentiment. Regardless of our age, it is always tempting to live in the past. The past is not a good place to live one’s life. W. C. Fields aptly observed, “The good old days, may they never return.”

Augustine of Hippo once wrote that there is no such thing as past, present, and future. There is only the present. Within the present is what once was. Within the present is the hope of what will be. We hear this being expressed in the scriptures for this weekend. Through Isaiah, God exhorts the Israelites not to dwell on the past, but to live in the present looking to the future. Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, describes all the things of his past as nothing more than rubbish. He writes,” I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.” In the story of the woman caught in adultery, Jesus abrogates the old Law’s call to stone the woman to death by introducing God’s “new law.” Only those without sin can cast the first stone. When alone with the woman, Jesus demonstrates the tremendous depth of God’s new law of love and mercy by forgiving her sin.

Throughout all four gospels, Jesus warns us not to live in the past, e.g. to not look back as we plow the field, to not put new wine into old wineskins. The Church teaches us that we are always evolving and growing into something new. Yet, from the time of the apostles to the present, there is always a segment of the Church who refuse to evolve and wish to dwell only in the past. Neither present nor future is found in the past. Are we a Christian community who live to what we will become, or stuck in what we once were?