Sunday Readings

Mercy NOW

You know you’re in trouble when an argument veers off-topic with the declaration ‘that’s what you always do.’ Implicit is the history of faults and failures that influence the present situation. On the other hand, we tend to praise people on their success based on the same principle; it’s what they always seem to do. Human beings, whether we like it or not, are walking history books.

For all our potential to create and recreate our lives, we seem bound by our history. We put ourselves into categories based not on who we are but on what we do. Or have not done. The religious leaders in today’s Gospel were making the same mistake. They heard the preaching of Jesus. They saw the conversions. But they were choked by this understanding of where and what people were. Jesus attempts to shock them by dramatically saying that those who were unworthy were gaining the kingdom. They were not entering because of their past or their sin; they were entering because they saw the mercy of the present moment.

This Gospel can easily be turned into a public service announcement. We can read it as an equal opportunity warning to those hold difficult standards. That would be shame. This is the Gospel, not a gag order. It in no way extols sinful behavior by silencing the moral teaching of Jesus Christ. Besides, that would be missing the point anyway.

Let’s keep it more local. Let’s look at the mercy of the present moment. If we are alive, we have a history. We have a track record of virtue and vice. There are things we are proud of and thing we are not. Welcome to the human race. Having said that, are we entering the kingdom? Not later, not in the future, but now – today.

Mercy and grace are the new order of things. The Kingdom is a new way of life and living. It is knowing – deep in our souls – that we are loved and redeemed by God. And since we are, we are given the vocation to do the will of the Father. That is who we are; this is our identity. St. Paul says in Christ there is ‘neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male not female.’ All the things that make us statistics in our contemporary world mean nothing in God’s eyes. All that matters is that we are in Christ.

But the dark whisper of our history says something else. It says we are defined by our defeats and we can rest on our laurels. It also hints that our failures will taint our best efforts and our good intentions are good enough. In other words, our past will do anything to take our attention away from the only thing that ever matters. It – and I mean this one – will fight like Hades to keep us from ever thinking of the love of God.

Why? Because the message of mercy is radically disturbing. The premise of mercy received is that we were wrong. Yes, it means that the things we did or didn’t do were morally wrong, but it goes a step further. Mercy says that we were wrong mostly about God. Our past and our judgments can put up the argument that God’s love can and will find no place in us. And confined ourselves, we tend to reach out and confine others.

The truth be told, we are both of the sons in the Gospel. We all say ‘yes’ and do nothing. We all say ‘no’ and then change our minds. But what remains, and what we are called to see and live, is that we are God’s children. We are loved by our heavenly Father. Yes, we try and do His will even with mixed results. But if our behavior determined who we are in our Father’s heart, He’d be no Father. That would be a vengeful God who could never welcome anyone but the non-existent perfect.

So do not rejoice that you have conquered the challenges of life or despair because things have not turned out so well. Rejoice in a God who loves you. There is, after all, when all the history is finally written, nothing more and nothing less.

Sunday Readings

Awesome

A language that does not adapt to the times will die. And English readily adapts to the modern world. “Sick”, “bad” and “fear” can be, depending on use, good things. At other periods of history, they are not good things. One word that has undergone this change is “awesome.” Carried on the swells ridden by surfers, it has come to mean something really terrific. For example, a chocolate cake can be awesome, a roller-coaster can be awesome, and a mountain vista can be awesome. All of these descriptions point to an unnamed quality that artists and philosophers call ‘transcendent’ or ‘meaningful.’ And there is a religious quality to this. Something awesome is something touching the Divine. It – like God – demands a reverence and a respect not given to ordinary things. We are caught in wonder and stunned into silence. We say that we are witnessing history or are in the presence of greatness.

Now how does any of this tie into the Gospel of the day laborers? Why would I bring up the awesomeness of God when the best we can say is that God is unfair and seems to reward everyone the same way?

Actually the twist today is not that God is giving all the workers the same salary. It is not a condemnation of those who thought they were entitled to more or extolling the spiritually lazy who got the same. This is a Gospel about being awed by God.

You see, it is rather easy to put us (and each other) into the categories of work experience in the Kingdom. Sure great sinners who convert on their deathbed are always an inspiration as are those who have been faithful through thick and thin. We can even measure our lives by how long and hard we have and have not labored in the Master’s vineyard.

But take this one step further. Please note that the Master wanted the early workers to see the amount given to the later workers. He knew they would object that, to quote the first reading, his “ways are not our ways, his thoughts are not our thoughts.” What this parable intended to ask is why we are looking at everything else but why are we not awed by God? Why are we not stunned by God’s generosity and amazed by His grace? And why are we not shocked by the love of God for each one of us? The big fault of the early workers is the fault we can all commit. We can all grow bored with God.

Now most people would say that the crowd who shows up on Sunday is not bored with God. After all, you are here. But it is easy to grow bored with grace. It is easy to take mercy for granted and begin to presume eternal glory. After all, there are so many other things in life and religion we can’t just stay in a catatonic stare at the all-perfect good God. Right?

Actually, that is what the eternal reward of the laborer is. Theologians call it the ‘beatific vision’ – the vision of God as He is. And it is something that begins here and now. It is the awe of one who has been given a glimpse of God Himself. The Eucharist we receive is God. The mercy of forgiveness is given by God Himself. The moments of inspiration are powerful movements of God breaking through to us. Religion that looses awe in the presence of God is a nothing more than a social action committee of do-gooders. And while that has a needed place in a world that too easily abandons those in need, that is not faith.

But being awe-struck at how generous, how bountiful God is becomes a force of change like no other. If we are aware of how awesome God is and how powerful His activity can be in our life, we can never see another person as worthless – and much less ourselves. If we can be blown away by the beauty of God, nothing can be totally ugly. This is what we pray for when we ask at Confirmation that the Holy Spirit will give those to be anointed a ‘sense of awe and wonder in God’s presence.’ This is what we try to communicate by genuflecting and bowing. This why we show reverence by the way act in Church and the way we handle religious objects.

The question of this parable is asked of everyone who hears it. Do you find an awe of God moving in your life? Are you enthralled that God, who the heavens cannot contain, dwells in your heart? Are you stunned by a Divine Mercy that you could never deserve or pay for? Just think of the times you have been forgiven or comforted or inspired. It’s there. And every time we think of it, every time we remember, we go back to that place we are called to be. And while today we can only begin to formulate an image of what it will be like in the fullness of heaven, our faith says that one day we will know it fully. As the song by MercyMe says:

Surrounded by Your glory
what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus
or in awe of you be still.
Will I stand in Your Presence
or to my knees will I fall;
Will I sing Hallelujah;
Will I be able to speak at all.
I can only imagine.

And it is truly an awesome thing to imagine.

Sunday Readings

Cross View

In ‘Ordinary Time’ there are several feasts of the Church calendar that take the place of the Sunday Mass. Like the Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul, Holy Cross is one of them. We are celebrating Good Friday from the Easter vantage point. In Holy Week we see the Cross and look to Easter. Today, we look over our shoulders back on the tragedy. But why? Why look at the pain and ugliness of Calvary when we already know the glory of Easter?

The answer is rather simple. On Thursday we were reminded of it. It is the cry of the Alamo, Pearl Harbor, and, now, 9-11. It is a matter of remembering; a call to never forget. It is the road into the darkness. It is the smashing of the illusion that life is free of pain and discomfort. It is a call to keep it real and deal with reality. It is a signpost telling us that we still walk through the valley of the shadow of death, filled with the tears common to all human beings. The cross is the ugliest reminder that this is truly an imperfect world.

In the first reading, the Israelites were paying the price of infidelity. The solution was to look at something that would heal them. Those who did were saved; those who did not continued to suffer. But what they saw was not a promise of magic. It would not mystically transport them from the desert to the Promised Land. No, they were looking into the reason and occasion for their suffering, It was in facing this reality that healing and salvation was found.

Needless to say, this makes a perfect image of Christ crucified. People who are incapacitated by sin and misery find salvation in a spiritual look at the cross. It is a healing that sees a price and a solution for those who know all too well the human situation.

But we are not comfortable with this. We would prefer a powerful blessing or an effective novena to take care of all the bad in life. We’ll make pilgrimages in motor coaches and wear certain religious jewelry. But don’t make us look too closely at what is bad and unpleasant. Be positive. Say nice things or don’t say anything at all. I’m a victim and the real me deserves so much better. And if you think looking at an torture device of an ancient time is going to doing anything, don’t get too graphic.

That was the objection of so many to the Passion of the Christ. It was all too much. How can a religion with that make you feel good? Well it can’t – if that is what we are looking for in faith. If we are looking for some escapist fantasy, the cross can have no place. And since many today do want a ‘feel-good’ faith, we see the ‘prosperity gospel’ preachers and churches with no crucified Messiah. They don’t echo the hecklers telling Christ to come off the cross; they took Him down themselves!

But Jesus made it clear that there is no way off or around the cross. Salvation and strength is only possible through the cross. In the pain and difficulty we face each day, we find the cross. It can be the dullness of daily routine or the drama of an emergency. It can be a student not getting into a school or an adult getting a serious diagnosis. Whatever is hard, unwanted, or difficult – this is the cross. Comparing ours with each other is useless since this is not a competition of who has more misery. It is only what form the cross takes in our lives that matters. It is finding Christ’s cross traced in our own. And as we do, we also spy the victory. We look to our share in the suffering of Christ crucified and discover the promise of final salvation. This means that life can be trying but we win. This means that nothing is so awful that grace is totally absent. Pain is bad but not the final word. We can have every reason for despair and still claim an unreasonable hope.

The struggle of the Christian is the struggle of the cross. It is the graced-determination to look for help and healing at the heart of what is dragging us down and under. No one wants to suffer in ways small or big. But the human situation makes it unavoidable. It is also the Divine power working among us directing our hearts to see in Christ’s example the triumph of glory through suffering. Lazy human nature will always seek the path of least resistance. We are inclined to do this in almost every area of life.

But there is no other road than the royal road of the cross. The cross has given us the grace of eternal life won by Christ. His love for us kept Him on it and in our crosses, He is still there. And as we endure the crosses of our life, we hear the promise made on those wooden beams so long ago. That promise is made to us as we look to Christ crucified who whispers to us from glory, “you will be with Me in paradise.”

Sunday Readings


The Lourdes August 2008 Page is...
HERE

Setting the Record

We are now in a season of the record. Conventions, debates and all the political mechanics of the election are directed at presenting, correcting and even falsifying the records of each candidate. Spin doctors, talking points and advertisements are intended, as they say, to ‘set the record straight.’ It’s a good strategy because every human being understands this need. We all feel that if some one is wrong about us – or who wrongs us – we need to set the record straight. Or we need to set them straight. Or we need to give them a piece of our mind. Or we have to make sure they’ll never do that again. Or we make them an ‘offer they can’t refuse.’

Yes, we want to insure the accuracy of anything and any one who has anything to do with us. It’s our right, we say. It’s our obligation, we claim. It’s giving them what’s due them, we justify. But as Christians, how does this fit in with the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

In all three readings today, there is a common theme of how we can all get along especially when we won’t. Or can’t. The first reading speaks of the need to resolve. St. Paul sets the standard of argument with the Golden Rule. And Jesus offers a system of conflict resolution with an increasing number of consultants. It may seem that we are being given the needed rules for handling those all-too human aspects of the Family of God. It can seem that our religion is trying to make us play nice with each other like a recess monitor.

On the behavioral standards level, this makes perfect sense for any group. Reasonable people do not need Jesus or Dr. Phil to tell them if you have a problem with some one, go to talk with them. The Golden Rule works everywhere - with or without religion. And only the most deluded would never notice the need we all have for sorting things out with each other. The Christian approach then, must be for a different reason.

Mutual co-existence and domestic tranquilly are good and decent civic goals. And they make life better for all concerned. It is a valid social ideal that is based on individual responsibility for being a member of a human society. But for a Christian, the question is put differently. In fact, it is very distinct from the civic question. It is not so much a matter of “what can I do to insure a better life for all?” as much as it is a question of what is the good of all according to the will of God?

You may think I am splitting hairs with this but I don’t believe I am. It is a matter of the center of our universe. If I correct some one because they hurt me, it is too easy to confuse my wounded pride with the other person’ need for charity. If I draw attention to another’s way of doing some thing wrong, it may really be a well-intentioned power trip on my part. If I fail to point out some one doing a self-destructive act because I have chosen to be “kind” (as we say), then I am a coward.

But if I see correction as something truly for the good of another, I am doing a courageous and good thing. I may even find that I need to bring in others to make certain I am doing the right thing. I may find that correcting or confronting some one must be a just and graced inspiration so I can be a part of making another’s life better even if that means making myself – and them – feel bad. Such fraternal correction may even require a further sacrifice of risking the end of a friendship. In all this, there is a subtle, but powerful, thing at work here. The focus is no longer myself, but the other. And that is the Christian focus.

We so often speak of ‘taking responsibility’ and ‘getting justice’ as if it were nothing more difficult than swallowing a pill. The Christian order of things is about the ‘debt of love’ St. Paul shows us. It is a commitment to correction so that we – not merely the offending party – can strive for perfection. Going to a person we are having a problem with is not easy. That’s why we gossip and backstab – not because we can but because we are afraid of the honest alternative. We are humans whose behavior toward one another has influence on eternity itself. What and how we do as we deal with each other has the power to bind and loose here on earth and even to heaven itself.

In the end, love refuses to allow us - and others - to march blindly into the hell of human misery and even eternal damnation. Love cannot stand by idly while our neighbors destroy each other with unending feuds and grudges. And love will never accept a lie in name of political or social respect. The dignity God has given us - and those with whom we interact - is sacred. To not speak the truth in love and add the silence of our consent to evil is a desecration of the God’s dwelling place. To let some be hurt is to harm them. To silently watch another destroy the image of grace by wickedness is really only to help them in this work of sin.

But when we encourage, mentor, correct, and guide each other we ascend the mountain of the Lord together. Think, for a moment, of all those who urged you on to faith and better living by words of support or correction. They are the ones who believed that “if you see it, you are responsible for it.” Because they did, we are people of faith. Certainly not perfect, but moving along. As those before them were. And those before them. And so on.

Would we be here today without them?