Rest in God alone, my soul; just rest. - Sunday's reading reflection

When, in the past, I have heard Jesus' invitation to me to trust him and to not worry, there always seems to be some part of me that holds back. I never was very good at a "trust walk" - being blindfolded and letting someone just lead me around, blindly trusting I won't walk into something I couldn't see. I assume it is the very human part of us that clings to our survival instinct. In fact, when I reflect on it, worry is the way I protect myself from getting hurt, but it is also the way I look ahead, the way I foresee concerns, danger. It is the way I solve problems and imagine solutions. "What are the threats that are out there?" In fact, to not worry almost seems to be unconcerned about the things that I ought to be concerned about.

It takes me some deeper reflection to get into these readings and to hear the invitation more deeply, more personally. I don't think Jesus is telling me not to be concerned about anything, any more than Jesus is telling us not to care about paying our bills or providing for our daily needs or our future security.

The first part of the consolation comes from Isaiah 49. God's love for us compared to a mother's love for us. A healthy mother simply always has tenderness for the child of her womb. Our God has tenderness like that for us. The power of the next life is very consoling: "Even should she forget, I will never forget you." I need to walk around in that these days and let it soak in and comfort me. The bond, the connection, the care, the tenderness of God for me is there. I need to let myself feel it more deeply.

I need to walk around these days saying the words of Psalm 62: "Rest in God alone, my soul." "He alone is my rock and my salvation. ... Trust in him at all times." Oh, how I try to rest, rely, take comfort and shelter in so many other places, in so many other places of refuge! In those places where I regress or where I protect my vulnerability, I need to say, right in that situation, "Rest in God alone, my soul. Just rest. Just let go and find comfort and care in God alone, instead of any other escape, any other pattern."

(Adapted from Andy Alexander, SJ)

Wrapped in indignation - Sunday's reading reflection

Though the Gospel today is a big message, I think it is God telling me to pay attention to those details. Turning the other cheek does not have to be a big cinematic moment where I make the grand gesture. Turning the other cheek can mean not responding in kind when the harried cashier takes so long to attend to the person in front of me in line. Turning the other cheek can mean that I make the decision to not respond or join in when the conversation at work turns petty.  I can listen to the other side of an argument and really try to understand.

Jesus tells us to love our enemies. He didn’t say it was easy. We don’t have to like what they do, but when we love our enemies, it reminds us of our humanity, of how connected we all are. It makes us vulnerable because we often like to wrap ourselves in indignation and scorn for others. We need to take off those layers and look for that child of God, for we each are a temple of God. Sometimes we have to be foolish to find wisdom. We can be afraid to let go of those layers, to love our enemies. But by opening ourselves up, by dropping that shield of contempt, we can embrace our better selves.

In this often competitive, modern world, we make people our enemies at every turn. It’s that person who cuts me off in traffic or an annoying co-worker who frustrates me every day. I can turn the other cheek and love my enemies every single day.  That helps me remember that God is in the details.

(Adapted from Carol Zuegner)

Driven by anger, rage, or revenge? - Sunday's reading reflection

Are you ever driven by anger, rage, or revenge? The first person to hate his brother was Cain. God warned Cain: ‘Why are you angry? ..Sin in couching at the door; it’s desire is for you, but you must master it (Genesis 4:6-7). Sin doesn’t just happen to us; it first grows as a tiny seed in our heart. Unless it is uprooted, by God’s grace, it grows like a weed and chokes the vine and all its fruit. Jesus addressed the issue of keeping the commandments with his disciples.  The scribes and Pharisees equated righteousness with satisfying the outward observance of the law. Jesus showed them how short they had come. Jesus points to the heart as the seat of desire and choice. Unless evil and forbidden desires are eradicated, the heart will be corrupted. Jesus points to forbidden anger with one's brother. This is a selfish anger that broods and is long-lived, that nurses a grudge and keeps wrath warm, and that refuses to die. Harboring anger in the heart as well as anger in speech and action are equally forbidden by God.

People drew maps of body locations where they feel basic emotions (top row) and more complex ones (bottom row). Hot colors show regions that people say are stimulated during the emotion. Cool colors indicate deactivated areas.

Image courtesy of Lauri Nummenmaa, Enrico Glerean, Riitta Hari, and Jari Hietanen.

What is the antidote to anger and rage? Mercy, kindness, and forbearance spring from a heart full of love and forgiveness. God has forgiven us and he calls us to extend mercy and forgiveness towards those who cause us grief and harm.  In the cross of Jesus we see the supreme example of love and forgiveness and the power of goodness for overcoming evil. Only God’s love and grace can set our hearts and minds free from the tyranny of wounded pride and spiteful revenge. Do you harbor any anger towards another person? And are you quick to be reconciled when a rupture has been caused in your relationships? Ask God to set you free and to fill your heart and mind with his love and goodness. Paul the Apostle reminds us that "God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us" (Romans 5:5).  Through the grace and help of the Holy Spirit we can overcome malice with good, hatred with kindness, and injury with pardon.

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

Heads in the sand? - Sunday's reading reflection

What can salt and light have to teach us about God and his reign on earth? Jesus used ordinary images, such as salt and light, to convey extraordinary truths about the kingdom of God. Salt was a valuable commodity in the ancient world.  People traded with it, like we trade with gold and stock.  Salt also served a very useful purpose in hot climates before the invention of electricity and refrigeration.  Salt not only gave food flavor, it also preserved meat from spoiling.  Jesus used the image of salt to describe how his disciples are to live in the world.  As salt purifies, preserves, and penetrates, so the disciple must be as salt in the world of human society to purify, preserve, and penetrate that society for the kingdom of God and of his righteousness and peace.

Jesus also used the image of light and a lamp to further his illustration. Lamps in the ancient world served a vital function, much like they do today. They enable people to see and work in the dark and to avoid stumbling.   The Jews also understood “light” as an expression of the inner beauty, truth, and goodness of God.  In his light we see light ( Psalm 36:9).  His word is a lamp that guides our steps (Psalm 119:105). God’s grace not only illumines the darkness in our lives, but it also fills us with spiritual light, joy, and peace.  Jesus used the image of a lamp to describe how his disciples are to live in the light of his truth and love. Just as natural light illumines the darkness and enables one to see visually, so the light of Christ shines in the hearts of believers and enables us to see the heavenly reality of God’s kingdom.  In fact, our mission is to be light-bearers of Christ so that others may see the truth of the gospel and be freed from the blindness of sin and deception.

Jesus remarks that nothing can remain hidden or secret. We can try to hide things from others, from ourselves, and from God. How tempting to shut our eyes from the consequences of our sinful ways and bad habits, even when we know what those consequences are.  And how tempting to hide them form others and even from God. But, nonetheless, everything is known to God who sees all.  There is great freedom and joy for those who live in God’s light and who seek this truth.

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

Presentation of the Christ - Sunday's reading reflection

The Christmas decorations have long since been put away and the commercial world has already peaked for Valentine’s day. Nevertheless, you may be surprised to know that, until very recently, today’s feast, the Presentation of the Child Jesus in the Temple, was the Church’s formal closing of the Christmas season. Moreover, the story in today’s gospel – Mary and Joseph bringing their baby to the temple in accordance with the law – is itself the climax and conclusion of St. Luke’s entire Christmas story, as Simeon proclaims the baby Jesus  “a light of revelation to the gentiles and the glory” of His people, Israel,  We might today read that story whole (running from Luke 1:5 through 2:39) and allow ourselves both to marvel at its unity and inner-connectedness and to be challenged by what those verses call us to be and to do.

Every encounter with the Gospel is a challenge and a call for a decision.  This story is no exception.  It is our privilege and our duty as Christians to proclaim God’s salvation – by deed and word – being mindful of the response we will evoke, and remembering that the crib of Bethlehem lies in the shadow of the cross at Calvary.

(Adapted from Robert P. Heaney)

Don't be so self-preoccupied (pride); live the joy of the Gospel (faith) - Sunday's reading reflection

Shorty after Matthew’s introduction to Jesus’ public life, we hear Jesus addressing his followers with the same imagery, but now it is transferred from Jesus to the mission of those followers: “You are the light of the world a City set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father” (5:14-16). And those “you’s” are plural, meaning that Jesus speaks these words to his followers as a community. Since this is the same speech in which Jesus says, “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them” (6:1), we might hear this as a contradiction to his mandate to be the light of the world. But that latter quotation refers to specifically religious practices—fasting, almsgiving, and prayer—warning his followers not to do those things for show. But Jesus’ earlier charge to be light for the world refers to the ordinary living of the Christian life—taking care of one another and reaching out lovingly to others beyond the community, realizing that these things will be a witness to the world of love for all that the heavenly Father’s animates in Christian community. 

In this context, the reading from Paul’s second letter to the Christian community in Corinth gives us plenty to think about. We hear Paul scolding this otherwise vibrant community for their rivalries, factions based on each boasting about being mentored in the faith by a particular minister—Paul, or Apollos, or Peter--probably saying things like, “My catechist was more authoritative than yours!” Don’t we sometimes see similar divisions, even within our own faith communities, where some of us consider ourselves more “orthodox” or better informed than others because of our training, education, or sources of information? I hear Pope Francis saying, “Don’t be so self-preoccupied; live the gospel fully in all of your relationship—within the faith community and beyond it. Let your joy in the gospel be contagious, so that those who see it will recognize that this joy comes from the heavenly Father, not you.

(Adapted from Dennis Hamm, S.J.)

Taking stock is not just for grocery store workers - Sunday's reading reflection

Two thoughts dominate the readings: first, John’s dramatic call to behold the Lamb of God; second, that we do a good personal stock-taking during this first month of the new year, look where we are going, and make the practical resolutions that might raise the quality of our lives. The Baptist urges us to ask what are we fundamentally about and then seek to reset our lives. And St Paul reminds us that we are “called to be saints together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

An honest stock-taking of our spirituality may unveil the egocentric way we usually conduct our lives. To rise above this we need to recognize something outside of and larger than ourselves, the God who cares for us and for the whole human community among whom we live. Can we listen to John’s call to restore what is broken, and Jesus’ call, to bring light to the world? Do we see that it is with our cooperation that the Lamb can remove the “sin of the world?”

Facing such truths is always difficult; it calls us to not just drift along with this world’s evil, always taking the line of least resistance. Discipleship is urgent and costly, but it is also possible and is the way towards the deeper joy and fulfillment that our soul is longing for. If we properly hear the Baptist as he witnesses to Christ, our response will be a stock-taking that goes to the root of our being. It may even reveal to us the truth that sets us free.

(Adapted from ACP)

Handcuffed? - Sunday's reading reflection

The Gospel reading we have today from Matthew begins with what seems to be a bit of theological throat-clearing, but actually leads us into the heart of God’s mysterious, self-emptying love for us. We read in Matthew that John protests that he should not be one to baptize Jesus, “I am not worthy to untie the thongs of his sandals,” he says, “you should be baptizing me.” And it is true. Even more, we might rightly wonder why the sinless Jesus even needs to receive John’s baptism, a baptism of repentance.  “What does Jesus have to repent for?” we rightly ask. Matthew’s answer (and our Church’s as well) is that Jesus has nothing to repent for, nothing to wash away. So why be baptized at all then? And why by John?

In order to answer this question the great theologians of the Church remind us of what we call the whole of the paschal mystery, that is, they remind us that Jesus’ Incarnation, life, death and resurrection are of one piece, one whole movement of the divine mystery into the fragility and finitude of humanity so that we might be joined fully to God’s divinity. These theologians point out that Jesus’ baptism is a particular part of this whole, a kind of double submission, another example of the creator of the universe emptying himself to take the form of a servant, that is, our human form. The first of the two submissions is Jesus’ submission to John, the one who was sent to prepare his way. And the second submission is his acceptance of not just our human flesh (as in the Incarnation), but of our very neediness, our existential thirst for repentance and forgiveness and acceptance. In this way, these theologians read the baptism as another sign of God being Emmanuel, with us fully and completely – this time fully with us even in our need for conversion. As a part of the whole paschal mystery then, the baptism that we hear in the Gospel today is another way that the creator of the universe says to us: “To be with you I give everything. I give all to you, all my divinity, everything. Nothing will keep you from me.”

The question we are faced with today, then, as we stand in the doorway between the season of the Incarnation and the Ordinary season of Jesus’ active ministry, is the same question we are always faced with: will we accept the self-Gift of such a humble God? 

When I am honest, my own answer is both yes and no. The excitement, the yes, comes because accepting God really means accepting that the words spoken to Jesus today are spoken to us: we are God’s beloved children, with whom He is well pleased. This is who we are at root, beloved children.

The reluctance, the no, might come from anyplace beyond that doorway. We might hesitate in the doorway of acceptance because we know who we’ve been in the past, we know those gifts and flaws. But the future? We don’t know that version of ourselves yet. Or we might hesitate because we don’t know whether the gifts we’ve been given during the holidays/holy days will carry over into the rest of our lives. Or we might hesitate because we’re not sure we can trust the voice that calls us beloved, not yet. Or we might trust that voice, but still be afraid because we know where such love leads, to the cross. 

Whatever it is that handcuffs our hearts, it’s okay. Not okay to stay constrained, but okay to bring our hesitation to a God who gives up all, over and over again, to be who God is: Emmanuel, fully with us, even with us in our existential thirst, our neediness. God asks us – and never tires of asking – to accept His self gift: “Accept me, accept me, accept me.” But he does not force us. Our is not a God who will force us to be beloved.

And this for one reason: because God knows what it is to be fragile and finite. Because ours is the kind of God willing to be baptized into our very neediness. It’s because of this that we can trust Him not to break us, bruised reeds that we are. 

It’s because He is with us this fully that we can trust Him not to push us out the door of Christmas season too quickly, but instead to give us today to stand on the threshold and look out into the world of ordinary time. It’s because we are the sons and daughters of this kind of God that, this Sunday, it’s okay for us to be both ready and not ready, divided, both in and out; to stand in the doorway that leads to the rest of our lives and feel both the fear and the excitement of walking in the ordinary world with a such a God.

(Adapted from Paddy Gilger, S.J.)

Epiphany - Sunday's reading reflection

An "epiphany" is a discovery or an amazing insight. It just makes things clear, all of a sudden. The feast we are celebrating is about the historic evolution of God's relationship with us, at the birth of Jesus. The promise made to the people whom God called his "chosen people" is now given, revealed, shown, made manifest to the rest of the world. The seekers, who studied the stars for an understanding of "mysteries," are led to the mystery of a child born in a stable. They could not have comprehended the full meaning of this discovery, nor could the child's parents have fully explained it to them. However, their presence as part of this story fulfills the promises of the prophets. God's saving presence among us would be a gift for all the nations, for everyone.

For us today, we can ask for the grace that we might have an epiphany - that a light will go on and that we will be filled with a sense of being gifted with the abundance of a deep mystery. The way Paul uses the word, a mystery is something like the "plot" a playwright has in his or her mind. When the curtain opens, the mystery of the story is revealed, for all of us to see it played out.

For us today, the mystery of God's love for us is revealed in the image of the child born for us - born to be one of us, and born in poverty and powerlessness, with us. We could say "God is with us, is one of us, is with me in my darkest moments," over and over and it won't sink in. But, if we contemplate that baby - and all that that simplicity and vulnerability means - we can become deeply moved by a profound appreciation of this gift. We can kneel before him today - in our own way of expressing our reverence and awe for the holy ground on which we find ourselves. We can offer him "gifts" which recognize that we are in the presence of the God who made us and the friend who died to save us from the power of sin and death. Might we offer our simple prayer of gratitude today? Might we rest a while, savoring who we are, when we realize what God has done for us in Jesus? We don't have to stop and apologize for not having fully seen it before. We just need to let is soak in now.

I may have missed the mystery of the baby in the manger last week. If I have time to let it become clear to me today, what a gift that would be. Perhaps, I could pause, and in my imagination, enter that scene. I could pick up the child, receiving him the way I receive the Eucharist. I could say, "Amen." Amen to this gift, this love, this saving redemption, this mysterious way of surprising me into seeing my vulnerable God's love for me. I can imagine how different it will be to say "Amen" when I next receive the Eucharist! Perhaps, I can talk with the child about what I have been unable to say in prayer before.

And, this week, when we read about how this child became the healer, the calmer of storms, the feeder of crowds, and the one who brings good news to the poor, then I can continue to grow in appreciation and gratitude all week. And, the more my heart can be set on fire with this love, the more I can imagine being a light for others, sharing this wondrous light with others.

(Adapted from Andy Alexander, SJ)

On the go - Sunday's reading reflection

When I was a young wife and mother, I could never find the time to pray.  Each day was so full and with each passing year our schedule as a family grew more demanding.  How could I get the laundry done?  How could I find time to pray? 

I finally realized that no one ever came into the laundry room, and the peace of that room was the perfect place to pray.  As I sorted laundry, I prayed for each person in my family while folding pajamas, school uniform blouses and an endless number of socks.  My prayers and my spirituality were shaped in that laundry room, and I have always connected doing the family laundry with prayer.   

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family, remembering how Jesus grew up in the normal busy-ness of family life, how he was shaped as a person by both Mary and Joseph.

Pope Francis wrote in his recent exhortation that the family is “where we learn to live with others despite our differences and to belong to one another.”  That very belonging to each other is what today’s readings are about. 

In the first reading, Sirach entreats parents and children to love and honor each other.  When one generation can no longer care for the other, he calls us to “take care of your father when he is old … even if his mind fails, be considerate of him.”  He adds the care we give for the elderly “will not be forgotten, firmly planted against the debt” of our own failings. 

Our lives are complicated and families don’t always consist of two parents.  But Paul’s letter to the Colossians offers all of us the tools we need to care for each other: .  I can guess that Paul was intimately connected with family as he notes other important family skills, like “bearing with one another” which seems like an apt phrase on the harder days.  When we share a home, we not only have to forgive each other, but to be aware that we need forgiveness from each other, prompted by the example of God’s deeply loving forgiveness for us all.

The Gospel is Matthew’s story of the Holy Family fleeing to Egypt in fear of Herod, who was searching for their son.  The left their homeland and lived in a country they did not know, with languages and customs not their own, separated from their family.  When they could finally return to Israel, fear of Herod’s successor forced them to go not home, but to Galilee, where they would be less likely to be found.

But despite the stress of their situation, I picture them as holding onto each other even more closely.  That seems to be our human reaction to tragedy – we want to gather our loved ones together and hold onto each other. Even with the people who drive us crazy.  But they are family and they belong to us and we belong to them; because family is not about perfection but fidelity.  As Pope Francis says about families, “We remain steadfast in our intention to respect others, to heal wounds, to build bridges, to strengthen relationships and to ‘bear one an­other’s burdens.’”

He says when a parent speaks to a child, the parent “becomes small,” crouching down to eye level and speaking in a softer, different voice.  He says, “Someone looking in from the outside might think, ‘This is ridiculous!’” and yet parents do it “because the love of a father and mother needs to be close.”  He says God comes to us in the same “small” way of a parent, speaking to our fears with gentle love, “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, I’m here.”

Being part of a family means being faithful to our everyday lives, to loving each other on our best and worst days, and to remembering the sacredness of even the pile of socks, overflowing in the laundry room.

(Adapted from Maureen McCann Waldron)

Why don't English names communicate a story like ancient names did? - Sunday's reading reflection

What’s in a name?

What can it tell about the person who owns it? Not much, unless it happens to be a well-chosen nick-name. Names like Helen, Sharon or Jason are useful for distinguishing various members of a family; but they don’t say much about the people themselves. A name seldom tells about the personality or life-work of the one who carries it. With some Biblical names it is different. For instance, Abraham meant “Father of a great people” (Gen. 17:5) and Moses meant “Rescued from the Waters” (Ex. 2:10.) Above all, our blessed Lord has names which tell us everything about him: “Jesus” means “God saves,” “Christ” means “God’s Anointed Messiah” and the name “Emmanuel” in today’s Gospel, means “God in our midst.”

Center of our faith

How important is Jesus, really, for our religious belief? Be honest. Ask the man-in-the-street what Christianity all about, and what’s the usual answer? Something to do with loving your neighbour; keeping the law; going to church on a Sunday? Not often will there be a direct mention of Jesus Christ, who is at the very centre of our faith. Ghandi once said, If you Christians took your Christ to heart, the whole world would be Christian.

Our Bridge-builder (Pontifex)

Nowadays, one of the most positive trends is in building up community, sharing efforts and projects with others, seeking out ways find common ground with long-term enemies. In a word, bridge-building and reconciliation with our fellow human beings. The greatest bridge-builder of all, who spans the gulf between us and God, is Jesus Christ. (High-Priest: Pontifex.) “No man has ever seen God; the Only-Begotten Son, who is closest to the Father’s heart, has made him known” (Jn. 1:18.)

Who shares our Lot

At Christmas we will concentrate on the simplicity and poverty of Our Lord’s birth: how human he was, born of a young woman, not in luxurious comfort, but in the discomfort of a stable. That shows him as one of us, the human side of “Emmanuel.” This gospel however mentions the divine origin of Jesus. Although he has a human mother, he has not a human father, but was conceived in Mary by the power of God. This unique way of coming into life, with God as father, and the virgin Mary as mother, underlines who Jesus truly is: both God and man, one of ourselves and yet one with the eternal God.

St. Joseph’s Faith

If this mystery seems deep to us, it must have been baffling for St Joseph. Close to Mary as he was, and yet seeing her pregnant without any action on his part, Joseph could only accept in faith what God’s messenger told him, that the child was in Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit. With great patience and humility, Joseph accepted the part for which God had chosen him, as human foster-father to the Saviour. This faithful acceptance is just what is required of each of us, when Christ comes into our lives, as “God-with-us.

(Adapted from ACP)

Three things about happiness - Sunday's reading reflection

Today is Guadete (Rejoice) Sunday. Today the candle on the wreath is rose, not purple as on the other Sundays of Advent; to express the joy felt at the nearness of the Lord. Some people seem to be happy by nature; others melancholic by nature. As Pope Francis as been saying lately, however, Christians must be people of joy.  "Joy comes with the morning" as Scripture says.  Each day we have the chance to choose and live out joy, happiness.

Three things about happiness: first, happiness is right now. We convince ourselves that life will be better when we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids are not old enough and we will be more content when they are. After that we are frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together. The truth is there is no better time to be happy than right now.

Second, ‘If you are happy, let your face know’. Maybe we could begin to be more joyful by taking a peek in the mirror and asking ourselves: does my face look like the face of someone who has heard the good news of the Gospel, namely that I am loved unconditionally by God?

Third, joy will come to us if we set about actively trying to create it for others. If I go about my life demanding that others carry me rather than seeking to carry them; feeding off others rather than feeding them; demanding that others meet my needs rather than trying to meet theirs, joy will never find me no matter how hard I party or try to crank up good cheer.

(Adapted from ACP)

Mandela (RIP) not the first reconciler - Sunday's reading reflection

With the passing of Nelson Mandela this week we have heard often the word "reconciliation" used to describe is achievements.  He reconciled two sides that were part of a very divided country.  The readings from this weekend, however, point to even more important men who brought about reconciliation. 

Jesus tells us that John the Baptist was more than a prophet (Luke 7:26). John was the voice of the Consoler who is coming (John 1:23; Isaiah 40:1-3). He completed the cycle of prophets begun by Elijah (Matthew 11:13-14). What the prophets had carefully searched for and angels longed to see, now came to completion as John made the way ready for the coming of the Messiah, God's Annointed Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. With John the Baptist, the Holy Spirit begins the restoration to the human race of the "divine likeness", prefiguring what would be achieved with and in the Lord Jesus.

John the Baptist's life was fueled by one burning passion – to point others to Jesus Christ and to the coming of his kingdom. Who is John the Baptist and what is the significance of his message for our lives? Scripture tells us that John was filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother's womb (Luke 1:15, 41) by Christ himself, whom Mary had just conceived by the Holy Spirit. When Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth John lept in her womb as they were filled with the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:41). The fire of the Spirit dwelt in John and made him the forerunner of the coming Messiah. John was led by the Spirit into the wilderness prior to his ministry where he was tested and grew in the word of God. John's clothing was reminiscent of the prophet Elijah (see Kings 1:8). John broke the prophetic silence of the previous centuries when he began to speak the word of God to the people of Israel. His message was similar to the message of the Old Testament prophets who chided the people of God for their unfaithfuless and who tried to awaken true repentance in them. Among a people unconcerned with the things of God, it was his work to awaken their interest, unsettle them from their complacency, and arouse in them enough good will to recognize and receive Christ when he came. Are you eager to hear God's word and to be changed by it through the power of the Holy Spirit?

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

Thy Kingdom Come - Sunday's reading reflection

Do you recognize that the Lord Jesus has been given full authority and power to rule over the earth as well as heaven? Jesus was crucified for his claim to be the Messianic King who would rule not only over his people Israel but ultimately over all the nations as well. What is the significance or meaning of Jesus' kingship for us? Kingship today seems antiquated, especially in democratic societies where everyone is treated equal and free. At least, where they're supposed to be treated equal and free.  God at first did not want to give his people Israel a king. Why? Because God alone was their King and they needed no other. Nonetheless, God relented and promised his people that through David's line he would establish a kingship that would last for eternity (Psalm 89:29). 

The Jews understood that the Messiah would come as king to establish God's reign for them. They wanted a king who would free them from tyranny and from foreign domination. Many had high hopes that Jesus would be the Messianic king. Little did they understand what kind of kingship Jesus claimed to have. Jesus came to conquer hearts and souls for an imperishable kingdom, rather than to conquer perishable lands and entitlements.

When Satan tempted Jesus during his forty day fast in the wilderness, he offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world (Matthew 4:8-9). Jesus knew that the world was in Satan's power. And this was precisely why Jesus came – to overthrow Satan's power and rulership over the earth. Jesus knew that the way to victory was through submission to his Father's will and through the sacrificial offering of his life upon the cross for the sins of the world. As Jesus was dying on the cross, he was mocked for his claim to kingship. Nonetheless, he died not only as King of the Jews, but as King of the nations as well. His victory over the power of sin, Satan, and the world, was accomplished through his death on the cross and his resurrection. 

Jesus exchanged a throne of glory for a cross of shame to restore us from slavery to sin to glory with God as his adopted sons and daughters. In the Book of Revelations Jesus is called King of kings and Lord and lords (Rev. 19:16). And so he is.  As St. Paul said of God in the second reading, "He delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins."

That's a kingdom in which I want to be a citizen.  How about you?

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

The end, the beginning or both/and - Sunday's reading reflection

As we draw near to the end of the liturgical year   the Church is putting this question to each of us: “What do you see as the purpose of your life, of your existence in this world? How seriously should we take the predictions of today’s gospel about the end of this world and the day of judgment?” To help us reflect on this, we should keep ever before our minds this one great certainty, that death puts an end, absolutely and beyond recall, to all our works, all our plans, all the seemingly vital concerns which lend a certain purpose to our daily involvement. Every human soul that has cast off this worldly body goes forth into the unknown like a traveler entering into unexplored territory. Cardinal Newman once wrote about the hereafter, “Do not fear that your life shall come to an end, but rather that it shall never have a beginning.” It is when our new life begins that understanding of our present life will be clear to us, how we carried out our role in the spread of God’s kingdom.

The liturgy of these final Sundays of the Church year stress how we should look beyond our immediate worries, troubles, interests, that are largely of selfish concern. It does this by confronting us with the thought of the four last things, namely, death, judgment, heaven and hell.

It is useless speculating about time of the second coming of Christ, although the first Christians thought it would happen in their lifetime. However, the message in this Gospel is to be watchful, to let the thought of what is to come influence our present behavior, bearing in mind that the trials of life are small compared with the glory to come. Nor should we be alarmed by the imagery of wars, earthquakes, famines, stars falling from the heavens. These are Jewish apocalyptic terms employed by the early Church to denote their hope for some radical changes at  the second coming of Christ.

If we love God we need never be alarmed, for perfect love casts out all fear. But until the day when the Lord calls us, we must try to be ready and prepared to meet him. This after all is what he taught us: We must watch and we must pray.

(Adapted from ACP)

Re-sizing Zacchaues, the little man who became big through mercy received and given- Sunday's reading reflection

Jesus does not say anything about conversion, or giving up his day-job, or his fortune. Jesus says only that he desires to stay with this socially inert fellow. Zacchaeus is reduced, or re-sized to his dignity. He slides down the tree and welcomes Jesus joyfully. He also welcomes himself by reducing the size of his possessions. He fulfills the Jewish law of repayment and Luke has Zacchaeus do what the Rich Man in the previous chapter could not do, he gave half his riches to the “poor”. Conversion follows encounter; Jesus meets us and the relationship makes the difference in our actions.  What is his motivation?  My guess is that it comes from that we he himself inspired in the first reading.  

But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
and you overlook people's sins that they may repent.
For you love all things that are
and loathe nothing that you have made;

(Adapted from Larry Gillick, S.J.)

Self-congratulatory prayer gets us nowhere with God - Sunday's reading reflection

What kind of prayer is pleasing to God? Jesus told a vivid story of two people who went to the house of God to pray. Why did the Lord accept one person’s prayer and reject the other’s prayer? Luke gives us a hint: despising one’s neighbor closes the door to God’s heart. Contempt is more than being mean-minded. It springs from the assumption that one is qualified to sit in the seat of judgment and to ascertain who is good and just. Jesus' story caused offense for those who regarded "tax collectors" as unworthy of God's grace and favor. How could Jesus put down a "religious leader" and raise up a "public sinner"? Jesus' parable speaks about the nature of prayer and our relationship with God. It does this by contrasting two very different attitudes towards prayer. The Pharisee, who represented those who take pride in their religious practices, exalted himself at the expense of others. Absorbed with his own sense of self-satisfaction and self-congratulation he mainly prayed with himself. His prayer consisted of prideful boasts of what he did and of disdain for those he despised. The Pharisee tried to justify himself; but only God can justify. The tax collector, who represented those despised by religious people, humbled himself before God and begged for mercy.  His prayer was heard by God because he had remorse for his sins. He sought God with humility rather than with pride.

This parable presents both an opportunity and a warning. Pride leads to illusion and self-deception. Humility helps us to see ourselves as we really are and it inclines us to God's grace and mercy. God dwells with the humble of heart who recognize their own sinfulness and who acknowledge God's mercy and saving grace. I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and humble spirit (Isaiah 57:15). God cannot hear us if we despise others. Do you humbly seek God's mercy and do you show mercy to others, especially those you find difficult to love and to forgive?

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

Waiting is part of discipleship too - Sunday's reading reflection

The beginning of the chapter from which our First Reading is taken opens with the grumbling of the followers of Moses, because they were thirsty and God provided for them eventually. They had put God to the test by complaining to Moses who in turn prayed for flowing help.

The second half of this chapter is a win-lose proposition. The Amorites, ancient enemies of Israel, under the leadership of Amalek, came to wage war against God’s people. We hear Moses giving Joshua a battle plan, or at least an instruction to “Go get em!” Moses planned to sit up in the hillside bleachers and watch. Watching wasn’t enough, so Moses stretched out his arms and somehow that worked to the advantage of the Israelites. His arms in prayer grew weary and when they dropped so did the fortunes of the Israelites. So Aaron and Hur held up the praying arms and the victory in arms was rendered to the Jews.

The Gospel readings for the next two weekends will be centered about the theme of praying. They follow closely the final verses of the previous chapter in Luke’s account. The “kingdom of God” or “the day of the coming” are of considerable interest to the Pharisees and too, the disciples of Jesus. They do not get a direct “calendar date” answer, but are invited to watch and trust. It is into this context that the subject of prayer is inserted.

Often in the Hebrew Scriptures special care is urged for the traveler, the children, and the widow. Cf. Dueteronomy 27, 19

The first verse sets the tone. The story is addressed to the disciples lest they grow tired of the above-mentioned watching and praying. The judge of the story is a person known in the community as a person who is to care especially for the “widows”. The widow is seeking the just execution of her rights. The judge pays little attention to her banging at his door until he figures out that she might break down the door and literally “give him a black eye”. So rather than the door giving in to her pounding, he, in self-protection, gives in.

The last verse is the important one for the disciples and for us to hear. “But when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” This is not a story about praying until we get what we want. It is an encouragement to pray so that we might wait and watch for all of God’s comings and goings. It is about the aspect of faith which goes beyond believing in God as a dogmatic truism. It is about believing that the loving God cannot be manipulated like a loving father can be by the winking of his precious little daughter.

We do ask the very good question about why should we pray at all. Is there a mystical number of askings and we tire God out and bingo, here it is! Is there a certain set of words which trips the benevolent bucket? People ask me, a priest, to pray for them as if God has a special ear for priestly prayers. I do say I will pray for them, and that is exactly what I do. I pray that they take their situation to a prayer of watching and waiting for God’s presence rather than presents. What Jesus is asking of the disciples is a faith that combines with hope.

We are generally pragmatists. We put in time, effort, words, works, thought, creativity and expect - yes - demand results pdq! This is not faith, it is business. Apparently God is presently out of that kind of business and into personal and communal relating.

Why are we called to pray? We pray so that we can experience our central human truths. We are not God. We are limited. We desire union, peace, and joy. We love being human until we experience needs, losses, injuries, and fears. We are invited to kneel right down in the midst of it all and have faith, which is not always pragmatically available and not to our liking. We pray to announce our dependencies and our truth that faith, hope, watching and waiting are those things which Jesus is asking for of the disciples.

(Adapted from Larry Gillick, S.J.)

Adversity, the almighty leveler - Sunday's reading reflection

"Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" 

What can adversity teach us about the healing power of love and mercy? When adversity strikes you find out who truly is your brother, sister, and friend. The gospel records an unusual encounter between individuals who belonged to groups which had been divided and hostile towards one another for centuries. The Jews regarded the Samaritans as heretics worse than pagans.  And as a result they had no dealings with each another. In this gospel narrative we see one rare exception- a Samaritan leper in company with nine Jewish lepers. Yes, sometimes adversity forces us to drop our prejudices. When this band of lepers saw Jesus they made a bold request.  They didn't ask for healing, but instead asked for mercy.

The word mercy literally means "sorrowful at heart". But mercy is more than just compassion, or heartfelt sorrow at another's misfortune. While compassion empathizes with the sufferer, mercy goes further. It removes suffering. Mercy is also connected with justice. Thomas Aquinas said that mercy "does not destroy justice, but is a certain kind of fulfillment of justice. Mercy without justice is the mother of dissolution; (and) justice without mercy is cruelty."  Pardon without repentance negates justice. 

So what is the significance of these ten lepers asking for mercy? They know they are in need of healing, not just physical, but spiritual healing as well. They approach Jesus with contrition and faith because they believe that he can release the burden of guilt and suffering and make restoration of body and soul possible. Their request for mercy is both a plea for pardon and release from suffering. Jesus gives mercy to all who ask with faith and contrition.

Those once alienated are now members of the “kingdom”. Why do the "belongers" not return but the "non-belonger" does? Perhaps the major difference has to do with “humility”. Jesus asks about the other “nine”. I imagine that they were not ungrateful, but more likely not humble enough to admit that once they were outside — different, unwelcomed. They would have to live with their pasts into their futures. The “Kingdom” is for those who stand in their earthliness which has been blessed by the “Holy Land” who is Jesus. The Pharisees stand always at a distance greater than that of the lepers when they sought cleansing. It is not so much about who gave thanks and who did not. Jesus is dedicated to calling all of humanity away from the leprosy of self-righteous pharisaic posturing. Jesus is the Land upon which, and within which we do not posture, but take positions of living our healed conditions.

Here is a little thought. The “nine” represent most Christians - at least in this. They enjoy being freed from leprosy, but lose contact with the reality of their having been outsiders, alienated, defined by something negative. They might be grateful, but they are not sure grateful for what.

The “one” returnee represents each of us when coming to our senses; we get in touch with what it means to be redeemed by Jesus. We get in touch with our soul’s sicknesses. We touch into how disordered, depressed, angry, and/or violent we once were and immersing ourselves seven or more times in the river of the redeeming Jesus, we both enjoy the freedom from and the freedom for the living out of his touch.

“The rich suffer want and go hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no blessing.”

(Adapted from Don Schwager & Larry Gillick, SJ)

The need for affirmation - Sunday's reading reflection

In the area of discipleship, "Christian disciples can make no claim on God’s graciousness; in fulfilling the exacting demands of discipleship, they are only doing their duty." (NABRE) In the area of faith, as human beings, we want “affection”, that is getting the job done well, and “affection” a little praise or thanks. Our basic human and Christian struggle seems to be about present-time versus eternal-then. We are all in the family of God and we listen to what is “commanded”. Fr. Alexander of our staff is fond of saying, “Jesus is grateful.” Though that can bring a smile to my face, I do wish Jesus would congratulate, praise, or thank me in person, especially when I feel like Habakkuk. We are all believers in the promises, the “eternal then” and we wait and keep washing windows, mowing lawns, plowing and tending the flocks in our care. Our faithfulness to our doing such things is our service for our Master and our pledge of trust in the life to come.

I am sure that God is grateful, but if God were to send me a thank-you card each time I did something good, I think I would end up serving myself and not God.  And that wouldn't be such a good thing. Jesus himself said that he did not come to be served but to serve.

(Adapted from Larry Gillick, S.J.)