Isaiah 60:1-6
Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6
Matthew 2:1-12
God is very compelling. God can grab your attention and hold on tight. God can capture your imagination and you find yourself spending the rest of your life following whenever and however God leads you.
That’s the kind of passion the prophet is describing in our first reading. People are coming from every direction and streaming into Jerusalem, the place where the temple is, the dwelling place of God. They have left everything, only grabbing their best things to bring as gifts. They are coming only to be close to God, to follow God, to bask in the glory of God.
There is a bite hiding in that reading though. This passage was written when the Jews were in exile. The Assyrians had completely wiped out the northern kingdom. They used a tactic of lining the streets with the bodies of their enemies stuck on poles like shish kabobs. Gross, and terrifying. Then the Babylonians had come and conquered the southern kingdom. They weren’t quite as awful. Instead they forced the people from their homes and sent them on a trail of tears a 1000 miles long. These are the people in exile the prophet is writing to, describing a vision of the perfect world, a world where enemies aren’t smashed, or slaughtered, or revenged in any way. Instead in this vision the Jewish people, home in Jerusalem, welcome their enemies. As a sign of God’s reign, the kings and soldiers and people who had oppressed them are received with hospitality. What an amazing vision of the world where the Lord’s glory has come. It is a vision, not of defeating enemies, but of converting enemies. The glory of the Lord is friends and enemies so powerfully drawn to God that they become brothers and sisters. It is a vision where people find God that compelling.
In the letter to the Ephesians, the message of welcome to the Gentiles — that would be everybody besides the Jews — echoes the prophet. The saving promise of Jesus is for all people. The Gentiles are coheirs. And it’s not a magnanimous spirit that makes the community so welcoming to these outsiders, but it is the spirit of God, the grace of God, given for the church’s benefit. Paul, their leader, had been an enemy of the church, but rather than being destroyed, he was converted. His fidelity to Jesus was grounded in something so compelling, so life-grabbing, that he left his old ways behind and spent the rest of his life following Christ.
In our gospel even in the very beginning with Jesus, when he was still a baby, the whole world was being drawn by the compelling nature of God. Magi were members of a priestly caste from Persia. Persia, of course, is modern day Iran. We’re talking about Iraneans who were being drawn by a star, drawn by a promise of a newborn king who had something wonderful to offer them. They left everything, took their best gifts and didn’t look back.
All of these readings are about life-altering passion. I’ve been gripped by some life-altering passions in my day. When I first met my husband, it was as if my whole world shifted from blue-tinged to red-tinged overnight. Within 24 hours, the focus my entire life zoomed in on him and I couldn’t see anything else. My heart throbbed and overflowed just to be near him. I was so focused on loving him that other things just didn’t matter — things like my things, or my need to be right, or even hard work. The only that mattered was spending time with him. That was passion.
I’ve felt that kind of single-mindedness again when I first met each of my children when they were born. I would happily spend the whole day just looking at them, kissing them, holding them. I remember joking that if heaven is half as good as nursing a baby of mine, sign me up. I could spend hours just feeling their skin and smelling their little baby smell. That was passion.
That’s the kind of life-snaching passion that we’re hearing about in these readings. And it’s passion for God.
When I was 27 years old and entered RCIA, I was grabbed by that kind of passion. My weeks revolved around Mass and RCIA. I loved both. Even after I was baptized, I was starving for more so I took every class I could find. It was only two years later that I entered ministry, hungry for more. Many of us have had experiences when our sense of God was strong and magnetic and pungent. For some of us it was at Evangelization Retreats, or in adoration, or in times of crisis. But at some time or another, God has grabbed us.
But like all passions, for me the intensity cooled over time. Today I don’t spend my days figuring ways to find more time with my husband. I don’t stare at my children all day. I don’t leap out of bed to read Scripture or pray.
What was it then that was so compelling about God? When you think back to those times yourself, what was so captivating about the Lord? And now that time has gone by, what keeps us pulled into God’s gravity field? Just like my relationship with my husband and my children, just because the intensity has cooled doesn’t mean the commitment isn’t just as strong, if not stronger.
I think that for me there are two things that make God so captivating that our lives become the stream into Jerusalem, that we will follow stars if only they will lead us to God. The first is the realization that the God of the Bible is truly God. That God is real. That God has universal power, that God is almighty and all-knowing, and that God acts in each of our lives every day. That God is. When we realize that the Lord is God, our world fades out of focus and God gets bigger and bigger and bigger.
The other thing is the realization that what God offers us is truly salvation and not some magic-hand shake into the cloud parlor in the afterlife. But that the Lord offers us a salvation that is for today, for right now. God’s salvation is the same thing as that irresistible pull that draws us streaming toward God. It’s a life where the trite things — like possessions, and comfort, and being right — fade in importance as our lives are overtaken by love, and justice, and commitment to God.
Realizing that God is truly the all-powerful deity and that God’s salvation is relevant today are not things that we will ourselves into believing, they are things that we simply realize from the evidence all around us. In this Christmas season, having celebrated the incarnation of the divine, having spent good time with people we love, having witnessed and been part of an outpouring of charity, there is evidence all around us.
What is it that you have to realize, from the evidence all around you, to drop everything and stream toward God?
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Holy Family A: Right Relationships
Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14
Colossians 3:12-21
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
These reading have always upset me. They just make me mad.
First you’ve got the wives be subordinate to your husbands. When I hear that, I hear echos from my past: “you’re pretty smart, for a girl,” “you shouldn’t raise your hand in class so much, guys don’t like that.” On the job I heard things like, “women are too emotional,” “you really should be home with your children,” “it’s okay to pay women less, after all, its only a second income.” And then there’s that time a month or two ago when I handed my credit card to a cashier and he asked if my husband approved of my purchase. It’s insulting. I’ve spent my whole life being treated like a less-than person.
Then there’s those readings about honoring your parents. Those hit me even harder. My parents divorced with I was four, just after my Dad came home from Vietnam. I was shuttled back and forth between an abusive mother and her boyfriend of the month and an emotionally absent father. I grew up being used and ignored. I didn’t receive the comfort and protection that all children need, and certainly didn’t experience much cherishing. My mother’s manipulation and abuse continued into adulthood, cutting me in a place so deep that I couldn’t defend myself. When I broke off all contact with her, I was asked why I was being so mean to my mother. Where was my honor? These readings about duty to parents stab me right in the place where I needed loving parents.
These verses about wives and children have been used for centuries as justification for abuse and oppression and sexism. Few parts of the Bible have been used for more evil. Perhaps the only worst one is the very next verse, “slaves obey your masters.” Satan loves these verses.
Satan can quote the Bible and does. He quoted Scripture to tempt Jesus in the desert and he can quote Scripture to tempt us.
We know that all Scripture is divinely inspired, so we have to look in these readings and find that solid holy ground without slipping into the sin that has corroded hearts. Our first step is to do an examination of conscience of where we start. Do we have with a position and find verses to support it, or do we start with Scripture and allow it to give us our positions? Do we have a conviction, like that women are less than men, and then look for verses to back us up? Or do we start with an open heart and mind and let Scripture lead us to God’s heart. Do we form Scripture or does Scripture form us?
When we approach Scripture in humility, wishing to be formed, we don’t start and end on one line. That’s Satan’s way. We read the whole passage and we strive to understand the context. You see, this passage doesn’t end with wives be subordinate to your husbands, it goes on to tell husbands to love their wives and fathers not to provoke their children. There is actually more in that reading about the duty of husbands and fathers than wives and children. In Roman times, women were the property of their husbands. They could not own land, or inherit, or get custody of their children. They were not considered valid witnesses in court and killing your wife was not considered murder. In that context, telling wives to be subordinate would be like today saying that wives shouldn’t step out on their husbands. Of course. But then we hear that husbands have duties! Husbands must love their wives! Fathers must love their children! Now that isn’t of-course. This reading is about the duties of husbands, the ones with power in the family. I’ve noticed that a lot of admonitions in the Bible are directed at the ones holding power, not the other way around.
Our Old Testament reading about honoring parents concludes with caring for parents in their old age. Without social security, or retirement, or nursing homes, old age was a very vulnerable time. This was not a teaching directed at powerless children being dominated or abused. It’s for adult children of frail parents. It’s a teaching for the ones with power.
These teachings about duties aren’t one-sided. Just as the covenant wasn’t one-sided, neither are family duties. In the covenant, God said, “you will be my people and I will be your God.” The people would worship God, follow God’s commandments, and God would love and protect the people. Honoring parents in old age presupposes a caring and nurturing childhood that leads to an an authentic expression of love and gratitude toward parents in old age.
I admit that I hear the duty to honor parents differently now being a parent myself. We have six children. Our oldest is 19 and has left home. He still carries anger and resentment at his Dad and me, and he doesn’t show much affection. I remember back to the little boy who I held, and cherished and protected, trying to do those things for him that hadn’t been done for me. But today I’m faced with a distant young adult. I want him to hear these readings about kindness and honor. I want him to remember the things we have done for him and for gratitude to well out of him from the place where he loves his family. I want him to be loyal to us, not out of duty, but because we were first loyal to him. I want him to be grateful and to help, but I want to all be an expression of love. When we honor we are expressing love.
Today we have some of Satan’s favorite verses and we have to make a choice. Does the love we have received in our families lead to full hearts and grateful care? Or will we use these verses against people, telling them what their duty is. The difference between using Scripture like Satan and using Scripture like a faithful follower is in our second reading, “over all these put on love.”
These readings are all about right relationships in families. It’s right relationship that that spouses love one another and make decisions together. It’s right relationship that parents love and nurture their children and that their children respond with love and gratitude. It’s right relationship that lead Joseph to risking his own life to protect Mary and Jesus. That is holy fathering and husbanding.
Right relationship in families can be difficult today when so few of us eat meals together. When we are pulled apart by busy-ness and electronics taking our attention away. But we see lots of examples of right relationships too— parents who lovingly provide predictable boundaries for their children, or spouses who intentionally spend time together, or family members being the first in line to care for each other in time sickness. Something as simple as regularly eating together is an example for all of us.
Right family relationships begin with love, stand on a foundation of love, and are expressions of love. How have your families felt your love?
Colossians 3:12-21
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
These reading have always upset me. They just make me mad.
First you’ve got the wives be subordinate to your husbands. When I hear that, I hear echos from my past: “you’re pretty smart, for a girl,” “you shouldn’t raise your hand in class so much, guys don’t like that.” On the job I heard things like, “women are too emotional,” “you really should be home with your children,” “it’s okay to pay women less, after all, its only a second income.” And then there’s that time a month or two ago when I handed my credit card to a cashier and he asked if my husband approved of my purchase. It’s insulting. I’ve spent my whole life being treated like a less-than person.
Then there’s those readings about honoring your parents. Those hit me even harder. My parents divorced with I was four, just after my Dad came home from Vietnam. I was shuttled back and forth between an abusive mother and her boyfriend of the month and an emotionally absent father. I grew up being used and ignored. I didn’t receive the comfort and protection that all children need, and certainly didn’t experience much cherishing. My mother’s manipulation and abuse continued into adulthood, cutting me in a place so deep that I couldn’t defend myself. When I broke off all contact with her, I was asked why I was being so mean to my mother. Where was my honor? These readings about duty to parents stab me right in the place where I needed loving parents.
These verses about wives and children have been used for centuries as justification for abuse and oppression and sexism. Few parts of the Bible have been used for more evil. Perhaps the only worst one is the very next verse, “slaves obey your masters.” Satan loves these verses.
Satan can quote the Bible and does. He quoted Scripture to tempt Jesus in the desert and he can quote Scripture to tempt us.
We know that all Scripture is divinely inspired, so we have to look in these readings and find that solid holy ground without slipping into the sin that has corroded hearts. Our first step is to do an examination of conscience of where we start. Do we have with a position and find verses to support it, or do we start with Scripture and allow it to give us our positions? Do we have a conviction, like that women are less than men, and then look for verses to back us up? Or do we start with an open heart and mind and let Scripture lead us to God’s heart. Do we form Scripture or does Scripture form us?
When we approach Scripture in humility, wishing to be formed, we don’t start and end on one line. That’s Satan’s way. We read the whole passage and we strive to understand the context. You see, this passage doesn’t end with wives be subordinate to your husbands, it goes on to tell husbands to love their wives and fathers not to provoke their children. There is actually more in that reading about the duty of husbands and fathers than wives and children. In Roman times, women were the property of their husbands. They could not own land, or inherit, or get custody of their children. They were not considered valid witnesses in court and killing your wife was not considered murder. In that context, telling wives to be subordinate would be like today saying that wives shouldn’t step out on their husbands. Of course. But then we hear that husbands have duties! Husbands must love their wives! Fathers must love their children! Now that isn’t of-course. This reading is about the duties of husbands, the ones with power in the family. I’ve noticed that a lot of admonitions in the Bible are directed at the ones holding power, not the other way around.
Our Old Testament reading about honoring parents concludes with caring for parents in their old age. Without social security, or retirement, or nursing homes, old age was a very vulnerable time. This was not a teaching directed at powerless children being dominated or abused. It’s for adult children of frail parents. It’s a teaching for the ones with power.
These teachings about duties aren’t one-sided. Just as the covenant wasn’t one-sided, neither are family duties. In the covenant, God said, “you will be my people and I will be your God.” The people would worship God, follow God’s commandments, and God would love and protect the people. Honoring parents in old age presupposes a caring and nurturing childhood that leads to an an authentic expression of love and gratitude toward parents in old age.
I admit that I hear the duty to honor parents differently now being a parent myself. We have six children. Our oldest is 19 and has left home. He still carries anger and resentment at his Dad and me, and he doesn’t show much affection. I remember back to the little boy who I held, and cherished and protected, trying to do those things for him that hadn’t been done for me. But today I’m faced with a distant young adult. I want him to hear these readings about kindness and honor. I want him to remember the things we have done for him and for gratitude to well out of him from the place where he loves his family. I want him to be loyal to us, not out of duty, but because we were first loyal to him. I want him to be grateful and to help, but I want to all be an expression of love. When we honor we are expressing love.
Today we have some of Satan’s favorite verses and we have to make a choice. Does the love we have received in our families lead to full hearts and grateful care? Or will we use these verses against people, telling them what their duty is. The difference between using Scripture like Satan and using Scripture like a faithful follower is in our second reading, “over all these put on love.”
These readings are all about right relationships in families. It’s right relationship that that spouses love one another and make decisions together. It’s right relationship that parents love and nurture their children and that their children respond with love and gratitude. It’s right relationship that lead Joseph to risking his own life to protect Mary and Jesus. That is holy fathering and husbanding.
Right relationship in families can be difficult today when so few of us eat meals together. When we are pulled apart by busy-ness and electronics taking our attention away. But we see lots of examples of right relationships too— parents who lovingly provide predictable boundaries for their children, or spouses who intentionally spend time together, or family members being the first in line to care for each other in time sickness. Something as simple as regularly eating together is an example for all of us.
Right family relationships begin with love, stand on a foundation of love, and are expressions of love. How have your families felt your love?
Friday, December 17, 2010
4th Sunday of Advent: God In Your Business
Isaiah 7:10-14
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-24
It seems that there are a good many of us who think God is polite. God will come when invited and stay away when not. If we are faithful and pray, then God will arrive, but otherwise God will maintain a polite distance. We start our prayers with, “let us put ourselves in the presence of God.” My teenagers sure do seem to think this way. They think they have a choice of whether or not God is involved in their life. The truth is that I often think that way too. I know there have been times when I have been inattentive to my prayer life and said that God is far away, as if my prayers have that much power over God.
Now we all know how wrong that assumption is. We know that we don’t put ourselves in the presence of God, we merely notice the presence of God. We don’t summon God with our prayers, we merely acknowledge that God has always been there. We don’t choose God, God chooses us. We merely reciprocate. But I think that a lot of us carry an assumption that if we drop our faith and walk away, God will just let us go. God will evaporate from our lives and be gone.
Once I was visiting with a sister from St. Gertrude’s. She taught a middle school catechesis class and told a story about a boy who felt he had a committed a grave sin. I think he was about twelve years old. As he confided to this sister about it, he said that he had committed an unforgivable sin and was obviously going to hell. He was unworthy of God. In a moment of inspiration, she replied, “Jesus died on the cross for you, he won’t give you up so easily.”
Our readings today show on right she was. God gets involved without invitation, because God won’t give up on us so easily. In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah has gone to King Ahaz, the king of Judah, the southern part of Israel. Ahaz thought they were about to be attacked, and he was right. He wanted guidance from the prophet: should we get ready for a siege? What’s the best way to win this war? But Isaiah only told him, don’t worry about it. And then Isaiah tells Ahaz to ask for a sign of God’s power. But Ahaz doesn’t want a sign, he just wants advance about this war, about this coming attack. He says “I won’t tempt the Lord,” but what he really means is, “don’t bother me with that religious stuff, just talk to me about the war.” But God did bother him and gave him a sign anyway. God wouldn’t give up on Ahaz so easily.
Now, in Isaiah’s time, about 700 years before Christ, they figured the sign would happen soon, within a year or two, and maybe it did, but seven centuries later, something miraculous did happen and the Jewish Christian Church, the community from which Matthew wrote, saw parallels between the sign Isaiah talked about and Jesus the Christ. The story recorded in today’s gospel shows God getting involved again.
See, Joseph had it all figured out. He would just divorce Mary, then she wouldn’t bring shame on her family and be stoned — that was the punishment for getting pregnant between the betrothal, usually about age twelve or thirteen, and the marriage several years later. They could both put it behind them and get on with their lives. But God had another idea. It’s a nice story that we’ve all heard many times before, but if you really look at it, the angel basically told Joseph, “your plan is terrible and here’s what you need to do instead.” You know, I’ve got to tell ya, if I was in a tough position, finally got it all figured out, and then an angel told me I had it all wrong, I’d have a hard time taking it. We don’t know if Joseph had a hard time, but we do know that he did what the angel told him.
When I hear these readings, I think, well of course God gets involved without invitation. Of course, our God, our Great God, should get involved when things aren’t right. That’s God’s job. But I sort of thought that God only caused trouble for people who deserved it, you know, like king Ahaz, and how good could he have been? But God caused trouble for Joseph too, the wonderful man chosen to raise our Lord and Savior, the one first one who Jesus would call Abba, Daddy.
The God of the Bible is getting in everybody’s business all the time, whether they want it or not. God wouldn’t give up on any of those people so easily. We can see in hindsight how God’s intervention is always for the good, but in the moment it wasn’t so obvious, and it wasn’t so easy.
It wasn’t easy for King Ahaz. The Assyrians would conquer northern Israel and it would cease to be. Judah would survive, but they would go through much hardship. God didn’t give up on them, but God didn’t take away the struggle either.
It wasn’t easy for Joseph either. After Mary delivered, King Herod ordered the execution of every baby boy. Joseph had to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt... and we don’t know what their immigration law was like. God didn’t give up on them, but God didn’t take away the struggle either.
It won’t be easy for us either. Things will happen in our lives that will be hard to live with, and maybe harder to live through. There will be struggles that God won’t take away. In fact, it may seem that God is actually causing us the trouble. But God will save us — whether we pray or notice or even if we want God. Whether we have a plan or need to concentrate on something else, God will still be there intervening for the good.
As we walk this last week before Christmas, we remember that it is God who chooses us and not we who choose God. It is God who comes to us and we merely notice. It is God who comes to us in the form a little baby, who will grow up to be the one who dies on the cross for each of us. It is God who will not let us go so easily.
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-24
(The video just has a photo while the audio plays)
It seems that there are a good many of us who think God is polite. God will come when invited and stay away when not. If we are faithful and pray, then God will arrive, but otherwise God will maintain a polite distance. We start our prayers with, “let us put ourselves in the presence of God.” My teenagers sure do seem to think this way. They think they have a choice of whether or not God is involved in their life. The truth is that I often think that way too. I know there have been times when I have been inattentive to my prayer life and said that God is far away, as if my prayers have that much power over God.
Now we all know how wrong that assumption is. We know that we don’t put ourselves in the presence of God, we merely notice the presence of God. We don’t summon God with our prayers, we merely acknowledge that God has always been there. We don’t choose God, God chooses us. We merely reciprocate. But I think that a lot of us carry an assumption that if we drop our faith and walk away, God will just let us go. God will evaporate from our lives and be gone.
Once I was visiting with a sister from St. Gertrude’s. She taught a middle school catechesis class and told a story about a boy who felt he had a committed a grave sin. I think he was about twelve years old. As he confided to this sister about it, he said that he had committed an unforgivable sin and was obviously going to hell. He was unworthy of God. In a moment of inspiration, she replied, “Jesus died on the cross for you, he won’t give you up so easily.”
Our readings today show on right she was. God gets involved without invitation, because God won’t give up on us so easily. In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah has gone to King Ahaz, the king of Judah, the southern part of Israel. Ahaz thought they were about to be attacked, and he was right. He wanted guidance from the prophet: should we get ready for a siege? What’s the best way to win this war? But Isaiah only told him, don’t worry about it. And then Isaiah tells Ahaz to ask for a sign of God’s power. But Ahaz doesn’t want a sign, he just wants advance about this war, about this coming attack. He says “I won’t tempt the Lord,” but what he really means is, “don’t bother me with that religious stuff, just talk to me about the war.” But God did bother him and gave him a sign anyway. God wouldn’t give up on Ahaz so easily.
Now, in Isaiah’s time, about 700 years before Christ, they figured the sign would happen soon, within a year or two, and maybe it did, but seven centuries later, something miraculous did happen and the Jewish Christian Church, the community from which Matthew wrote, saw parallels between the sign Isaiah talked about and Jesus the Christ. The story recorded in today’s gospel shows God getting involved again.
See, Joseph had it all figured out. He would just divorce Mary, then she wouldn’t bring shame on her family and be stoned — that was the punishment for getting pregnant between the betrothal, usually about age twelve or thirteen, and the marriage several years later. They could both put it behind them and get on with their lives. But God had another idea. It’s a nice story that we’ve all heard many times before, but if you really look at it, the angel basically told Joseph, “your plan is terrible and here’s what you need to do instead.” You know, I’ve got to tell ya, if I was in a tough position, finally got it all figured out, and then an angel told me I had it all wrong, I’d have a hard time taking it. We don’t know if Joseph had a hard time, but we do know that he did what the angel told him.
When I hear these readings, I think, well of course God gets involved without invitation. Of course, our God, our Great God, should get involved when things aren’t right. That’s God’s job. But I sort of thought that God only caused trouble for people who deserved it, you know, like king Ahaz, and how good could he have been? But God caused trouble for Joseph too, the wonderful man chosen to raise our Lord and Savior, the one first one who Jesus would call Abba, Daddy.
The God of the Bible is getting in everybody’s business all the time, whether they want it or not. God wouldn’t give up on any of those people so easily. We can see in hindsight how God’s intervention is always for the good, but in the moment it wasn’t so obvious, and it wasn’t so easy.
It wasn’t easy for King Ahaz. The Assyrians would conquer northern Israel and it would cease to be. Judah would survive, but they would go through much hardship. God didn’t give up on them, but God didn’t take away the struggle either.
It wasn’t easy for Joseph either. After Mary delivered, King Herod ordered the execution of every baby boy. Joseph had to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt... and we don’t know what their immigration law was like. God didn’t give up on them, but God didn’t take away the struggle either.
It won’t be easy for us either. Things will happen in our lives that will be hard to live with, and maybe harder to live through. There will be struggles that God won’t take away. In fact, it may seem that God is actually causing us the trouble. But God will save us — whether we pray or notice or even if we want God. Whether we have a plan or need to concentrate on something else, God will still be there intervening for the good.
As we walk this last week before Christmas, we remember that it is God who chooses us and not we who choose God. It is God who comes to us and we merely notice. It is God who comes to us in the form a little baby, who will grow up to be the one who dies on the cross for each of us. It is God who will not let us go so easily.
Friday, December 10, 2010
3rd Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 35:1-6a, 10
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11
In today’s gospel John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask a simple question — are you the one? — and what did Jesus say? I’ll tell ya what he didn’t say, he didn’t give a straight answer. Have you noticed that Jesus rarely gives a straight answer? A friend of mine says that she prefers it when God uses the 2x4 method of communication. I’m with her! I like it when God is clear and straightforward, no interpretation required. But in the gospels Jesus is constantly giving these round about responses.
Why does he do that? Well, maybe he doesn’t know the answer? Probably not. Maybe he’s just having fun with people? Possibly. Maybe he was asked the wrong question and he’s trying to steer us toward the right one. Maybe. Or maybe there is something of greater meaning that he’s trying to communicate.
There was a time when if the Church said something, everybody believed it, most everybody. There was a time when if the government said something, everybody believed it, most everybody. Those days are gone. If you want to change somebody’s mind, you can’t quote Church teachings or government statistics. People don’t find that compelling. I’ve done a lot of teaching around this diocese and I’ll tell that if I quote the bishops or even the Vatican, minds aren’t changed. If I quote government statistics, people don’t find that very convincing either. Sometimes if I quote Scripture that will sway people. But if I tell someone’s story, the room hushes and people listen. If we are looking for compelling authority, the kind of authority that can change hearts and minds, nothing beats personal experience.
I wonder if Jesus was using that kind of authority with John. When Jesus was asked if he was the one, he could have said, well the church leaders say I am, relying on their authority. But he didn’t. He could have said, the king, King Herod, says I am, relying on the government’s authority. But he didn’t. He could have answered on his own authority and just said, “yes.” But he didn’t do that either. Instead, he relied on the greatest and most consistent authority — the personal experience of people. He said, what do you see? What is happening? Open your eyes. What does your experience tell you? What does that authority that resides within your own heart have to say?
The gospel of Matthew was written so that John’s disciples’ question could be our question. Jesus, are you really the one? Haven’t we all wondered at some point in our lives, is Jesus really the one? Should I really be committed to this Catholic faith, or can I just treat it as one good thing among many and not think about it too much, the way most of America approaches their religion? Or is Jesus really the one and the worship I do here is the most real thing in my entire life?
The evidence was everywhere that Jesus was the one. He was curing the blind, the lame, the deaf and the lepers, the dead were raised and the poor were hearing the good news. Evidence was everywhere, and people still had trouble believing it. They knew the answer but didn’t know how to believe it. They wanted confirmation, someone with authority to tell them.
My kids do that sometimes. They already know the answer but they ask me anyway, especially if it involves a sibling doing something they shouldn’t. As the authority figure, I give the expected and known answer and then the day can move on. The truth is that I do it too. You know, when you go to the store with a flyer that something is on sale, but it’s not marked, so you ask the clerk if it’s on sale, just to make sure that they know.
Do you think they were asking Jesus if he was the one to make sure that he knew? It wouldn’t be the first time in the gospels that people were telling Jesus what kind of Messiah he should be.
Jesus’ response did more than answer a question. It pushed faith back on his listeners. If our faith comes from someone else telling us, then it’s only as strong as that person and only lasts until they tell us different. Jesus wanted a faith much stronger than that. He wants people who can fully claim their own experience, who can see things for themselves, and stand on their own authority as they name Jesus as the one, the Messiah. That kind of faith means that we have to pay attention, and that can be work. It means we have to think, and that can be work. It means we have to stand up even if everyone around us sees things different, and that can be real work.
As evasive as he was the John’s disciples, Jesus was worse with the crowds after they left. He extolled what an amazing prophet John was, “among those born of women,” ...that’d be everybody... “there has been none greater than John the Baptist.” He was greater than Samuel who crowned King David, he was greater Elijah, the greatest of all prophets, he was even greater than Moses, that most central figure of all of Judaism. John the Baptist was greater than all of these people, “yet, the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
The kingdom of heaven is one of those things that Jesus talked a lot about, but never very concretely, probably so that we could go on learning and entering the kingdom our entire lives, without ever having the false sense that we have it all figured out. But there are a few things can we say about the kingdom of heaven — it is ruled by Jesus as king and it is inaugurated by his reign, a reign coronated in the crucifixion and resurrection. It is a kingdom of those who live and profess themselves as subjects to Jesus, as faithful followers. At this point in the gospel of Matthew, chapter 11, in the middle, that coronation hadn’t happened. The reign had not yet come. That kingdom would be so great that even the least citizen would be greater than the greatest before.
But today, the reign has come. We are people after that coronation. We are ones who can proclaim ourselves citizens in the kingdom of heaven, but doing so means more than signing up, establishing residency (sitting in a pew), or even paying taxes (tithing). Being a citizen of the kingdom of heaven is an orientation toward Jesus, to a way of life so that if people ask us if we are Christian, we can answer the way Jesus did. What do you see? Are people being healed? Are they freed from their afflictions? Are the poor rejoicing?
Our life as a Christian is orientation toward Christ. During this Advent season, we can ask Jesus the same question as John’s disciples. Are you the one? And Jesus will answer us the same way. What do we see? What does your experience tell you? What does your heart say? And then on Christmas we can celebrate with a renewed faith. We can celebrate that we have seen the signs, we can claim our own experience, and we can stand on our own authority as we proclaim Jesus as the One.
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11
In today’s gospel John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask a simple question — are you the one? — and what did Jesus say? I’ll tell ya what he didn’t say, he didn’t give a straight answer. Have you noticed that Jesus rarely gives a straight answer? A friend of mine says that she prefers it when God uses the 2x4 method of communication. I’m with her! I like it when God is clear and straightforward, no interpretation required. But in the gospels Jesus is constantly giving these round about responses.
Why does he do that? Well, maybe he doesn’t know the answer? Probably not. Maybe he’s just having fun with people? Possibly. Maybe he was asked the wrong question and he’s trying to steer us toward the right one. Maybe. Or maybe there is something of greater meaning that he’s trying to communicate.
There was a time when if the Church said something, everybody believed it, most everybody. There was a time when if the government said something, everybody believed it, most everybody. Those days are gone. If you want to change somebody’s mind, you can’t quote Church teachings or government statistics. People don’t find that compelling. I’ve done a lot of teaching around this diocese and I’ll tell that if I quote the bishops or even the Vatican, minds aren’t changed. If I quote government statistics, people don’t find that very convincing either. Sometimes if I quote Scripture that will sway people. But if I tell someone’s story, the room hushes and people listen. If we are looking for compelling authority, the kind of authority that can change hearts and minds, nothing beats personal experience.
I wonder if Jesus was using that kind of authority with John. When Jesus was asked if he was the one, he could have said, well the church leaders say I am, relying on their authority. But he didn’t. He could have said, the king, King Herod, says I am, relying on the government’s authority. But he didn’t. He could have answered on his own authority and just said, “yes.” But he didn’t do that either. Instead, he relied on the greatest and most consistent authority — the personal experience of people. He said, what do you see? What is happening? Open your eyes. What does your experience tell you? What does that authority that resides within your own heart have to say?
The gospel of Matthew was written so that John’s disciples’ question could be our question. Jesus, are you really the one? Haven’t we all wondered at some point in our lives, is Jesus really the one? Should I really be committed to this Catholic faith, or can I just treat it as one good thing among many and not think about it too much, the way most of America approaches their religion? Or is Jesus really the one and the worship I do here is the most real thing in my entire life?
The evidence was everywhere that Jesus was the one. He was curing the blind, the lame, the deaf and the lepers, the dead were raised and the poor were hearing the good news. Evidence was everywhere, and people still had trouble believing it. They knew the answer but didn’t know how to believe it. They wanted confirmation, someone with authority to tell them.
My kids do that sometimes. They already know the answer but they ask me anyway, especially if it involves a sibling doing something they shouldn’t. As the authority figure, I give the expected and known answer and then the day can move on. The truth is that I do it too. You know, when you go to the store with a flyer that something is on sale, but it’s not marked, so you ask the clerk if it’s on sale, just to make sure that they know.
Do you think they were asking Jesus if he was the one to make sure that he knew? It wouldn’t be the first time in the gospels that people were telling Jesus what kind of Messiah he should be.
Jesus’ response did more than answer a question. It pushed faith back on his listeners. If our faith comes from someone else telling us, then it’s only as strong as that person and only lasts until they tell us different. Jesus wanted a faith much stronger than that. He wants people who can fully claim their own experience, who can see things for themselves, and stand on their own authority as they name Jesus as the one, the Messiah. That kind of faith means that we have to pay attention, and that can be work. It means we have to think, and that can be work. It means we have to stand up even if everyone around us sees things different, and that can be real work.
As evasive as he was the John’s disciples, Jesus was worse with the crowds after they left. He extolled what an amazing prophet John was, “among those born of women,” ...that’d be everybody... “there has been none greater than John the Baptist.” He was greater than Samuel who crowned King David, he was greater Elijah, the greatest of all prophets, he was even greater than Moses, that most central figure of all of Judaism. John the Baptist was greater than all of these people, “yet, the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
The kingdom of heaven is one of those things that Jesus talked a lot about, but never very concretely, probably so that we could go on learning and entering the kingdom our entire lives, without ever having the false sense that we have it all figured out. But there are a few things can we say about the kingdom of heaven — it is ruled by Jesus as king and it is inaugurated by his reign, a reign coronated in the crucifixion and resurrection. It is a kingdom of those who live and profess themselves as subjects to Jesus, as faithful followers. At this point in the gospel of Matthew, chapter 11, in the middle, that coronation hadn’t happened. The reign had not yet come. That kingdom would be so great that even the least citizen would be greater than the greatest before.
But today, the reign has come. We are people after that coronation. We are ones who can proclaim ourselves citizens in the kingdom of heaven, but doing so means more than signing up, establishing residency (sitting in a pew), or even paying taxes (tithing). Being a citizen of the kingdom of heaven is an orientation toward Jesus, to a way of life so that if people ask us if we are Christian, we can answer the way Jesus did. What do you see? Are people being healed? Are they freed from their afflictions? Are the poor rejoicing?
Our life as a Christian is orientation toward Christ. During this Advent season, we can ask Jesus the same question as John’s disciples. Are you the one? And Jesus will answer us the same way. What do we see? What does your experience tell you? What does your heart say? And then on Christmas we can celebrate with a renewed faith. We can celebrate that we have seen the signs, we can claim our own experience, and we can stand on our own authority as we proclaim Jesus as the One.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
2nd Sunday of Advent
We are a homeschooling family. Recently we got a writing program that begins with a DVD series on how to teach writing. At one point the presenter talked about the need in writing, and speaking, to reiterate things, that we need to hear things more than once in order to understand them, but we have to use different words or people just zone out. He said, “people need repetition, but abhor redundancy.” He named for me a problem I have with Advent. Repent.
John the Baptist said repent. Repent, I’ve been told, means to turn around. Now, when I was first Catholic, being baptized at 27, and I heard repent, it filled me with spiritual energy. I was making a complete change in my life, entering the Church, and taking on this faith as my own. But after a decade, and every Advent and Lent I’m being told to turn around, I’m thinking, wasn’t last year’s turn good enough? But every year I’m being told to turn around and turn around and turn around. It’s just spinning! I have to relearn what “repent” means.
I know that there is more to repentance than arbitrary reversal. Repentance is about orienting myself toward God. And I know that I need the repetition, that I need to regularly re-orient myself. It’s like when my kids get squirrelly at dinner and I tell them to sit up straight and face the table. They haven’t left the meal, but they need to re-straighten themselves. I need to re-straighten myself. But hearing the same word, repent, is redundant.
The longer I live, the more aware I am of the difference between what I say and what I do. Even when I think I’ve made big leaps in spiritual development, I later realize how many contradictions I still carry. I have said for years that I support fair trade, but if you were to audit my grocery receipts, it wouldn’t be obvious. It’s like that vignette that if they made Christianity illegal, would there be enough evidence to conflict? I talked about fair trade but I didn’t do it. Buying fair trade was a nagging tug inside me, something that I knew I should do, it was something that I talked about, but it wasn’t something that I actually did much.
Perhaps that is the turning of repentance. Not to turn around and around and around, but to turn those tugs into actions. Each one of us has tugs in our hearts, probably a lot more than one. They may not be about buying fair trade, but God tends to put these persistence urges into our hearts to simmer for a while before we take action. Advent is a time to listen to one of those naggings and to move it into action.
In our gospel reading John the Baptist called the Pharisees and Sadducees a brood of vipers. That is harsh. It’s especially harsh because if I put myself in the story, I have to admit that I am a Pharisee. Myself, and most of us here, are committed ministers. We are the ones who have studied, who have received formation, who have committed our lives in service to the Church and the community. The Pharisees were the educated, committed ones too. John said, don’t think that any of that education or formation counts for anything. “Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.” His warning resounds in my ears. I have to turn a tug into action.
In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a poetic vision of the ideal king, the king he foresaw in Jesus. Where justice would be constant, where the poor would be protected, and where conflict would be settled non-violently. After all that’s how calves and lions and can lay down together. This ideal king would be known by his fear of the Lord, his respect for the authentic power of God the Almighty, and no fear of earthly power.
I am struck by the way John the Baptist describes this same ideal king. But instead of a ruler, he describes one who separates the wheat from chaff. I have never winnowed wheat, but at John’s time I’ll bet most everybody had. It was a common experience and I decided I wanted that experience too. So this fall, I planted some wheat. I’ve never grown wheat before, and I doubt it will be more than a symbolic amount, but I wanted the experience at least once. So I planted a few rows in the garden this October and it grew a few inches high before winter settled in. In the spring it should keep growing and by the middle of summer will have turned a golden yellow. We’ll cut the stems and gather them into bundles to finish drying. Then we’ll thrash them to knock the wheat heads off, probably by whacking them inside a five-gallon bucket. Each of those wheat heads will have a little lightweight sheath on them, the chaff, that we’ll need to get off. You could pick them off one by one, but that would take forever. I’m told that it’s easier to throw them into the air, while somebody waves a fan, a winnowing fan. Those lightweight sheathes will blow away and the heavier wheat will fall down. Jesus will “gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” What we need is weight! Good fruit gives us weight.
I have met people who are so solidly authentic that they have weight. There is substance to them. They are the people who would fall to Jesus’ threshing floor, not because they have education or formation, but because they have done the much harder work of bearing good fruit, and of doing it year after year and year. They have of lived out what they say they believe, they have resolved conflicts non-violently and have dealt justly with the poor.
They are probably people who have spent many Advents and Lents turning those nagging urges into visible actions in their lives. They have repented.
John the Baptist said repent. Repent, I’ve been told, means to turn around. Now, when I was first Catholic, being baptized at 27, and I heard repent, it filled me with spiritual energy. I was making a complete change in my life, entering the Church, and taking on this faith as my own. But after a decade, and every Advent and Lent I’m being told to turn around, I’m thinking, wasn’t last year’s turn good enough? But every year I’m being told to turn around and turn around and turn around. It’s just spinning! I have to relearn what “repent” means.
I know that there is more to repentance than arbitrary reversal. Repentance is about orienting myself toward God. And I know that I need the repetition, that I need to regularly re-orient myself. It’s like when my kids get squirrelly at dinner and I tell them to sit up straight and face the table. They haven’t left the meal, but they need to re-straighten themselves. I need to re-straighten myself. But hearing the same word, repent, is redundant.
The longer I live, the more aware I am of the difference between what I say and what I do. Even when I think I’ve made big leaps in spiritual development, I later realize how many contradictions I still carry. I have said for years that I support fair trade, but if you were to audit my grocery receipts, it wouldn’t be obvious. It’s like that vignette that if they made Christianity illegal, would there be enough evidence to conflict? I talked about fair trade but I didn’t do it. Buying fair trade was a nagging tug inside me, something that I knew I should do, it was something that I talked about, but it wasn’t something that I actually did much.
Perhaps that is the turning of repentance. Not to turn around and around and around, but to turn those tugs into actions. Each one of us has tugs in our hearts, probably a lot more than one. They may not be about buying fair trade, but God tends to put these persistence urges into our hearts to simmer for a while before we take action. Advent is a time to listen to one of those naggings and to move it into action.
In our gospel reading John the Baptist called the Pharisees and Sadducees a brood of vipers. That is harsh. It’s especially harsh because if I put myself in the story, I have to admit that I am a Pharisee. Myself, and most of us here, are committed ministers. We are the ones who have studied, who have received formation, who have committed our lives in service to the Church and the community. The Pharisees were the educated, committed ones too. John said, don’t think that any of that education or formation counts for anything. “Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.” His warning resounds in my ears. I have to turn a tug into action.
In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a poetic vision of the ideal king, the king he foresaw in Jesus. Where justice would be constant, where the poor would be protected, and where conflict would be settled non-violently. After all that’s how calves and lions and can lay down together. This ideal king would be known by his fear of the Lord, his respect for the authentic power of God the Almighty, and no fear of earthly power.
I am struck by the way John the Baptist describes this same ideal king. But instead of a ruler, he describes one who separates the wheat from chaff. I have never winnowed wheat, but at John’s time I’ll bet most everybody had. It was a common experience and I decided I wanted that experience too. So this fall, I planted some wheat. I’ve never grown wheat before, and I doubt it will be more than a symbolic amount, but I wanted the experience at least once. So I planted a few rows in the garden this October and it grew a few inches high before winter settled in. In the spring it should keep growing and by the middle of summer will have turned a golden yellow. We’ll cut the stems and gather them into bundles to finish drying. Then we’ll thrash them to knock the wheat heads off, probably by whacking them inside a five-gallon bucket. Each of those wheat heads will have a little lightweight sheath on them, the chaff, that we’ll need to get off. You could pick them off one by one, but that would take forever. I’m told that it’s easier to throw them into the air, while somebody waves a fan, a winnowing fan. Those lightweight sheathes will blow away and the heavier wheat will fall down. Jesus will “gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” What we need is weight! Good fruit gives us weight.
I have met people who are so solidly authentic that they have weight. There is substance to them. They are the people who would fall to Jesus’ threshing floor, not because they have education or formation, but because they have done the much harder work of bearing good fruit, and of doing it year after year and year. They have of lived out what they say they believe, they have resolved conflicts non-violently and have dealt justly with the poor.
They are probably people who have spent many Advents and Lents turning those nagging urges into visible actions in their lives. They have repented.
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