\ ˈem-pə-thē \

If you were to look up the word, empathy, in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, you’d find the following:

The action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also :the capacity for this”

From time to time I make the mistake of going to comment sections of articles and posts that I happen to be reading.  It doesn’t take long for me to realize that I’ve made a mistake by doing it and yet I do it anyway.  Maybe there’s a part of me that hopes it has changed, that somehow since the last time I made this mistake that the world got a little better and more understanding.  Needless to say it didn’t go so well and was reminiscent of times past.

The one thing I could never quite understand is how people can lash out at others that they don’t even know, complete strangers going after one another because of opposing viewpoints but never making any effort to get to the heart of their own anger and why this is all coming up inside themselves. When I can’t be sensitive to another’s feelings, thoughts, and experience, I simply then project it all onto them, making them the embodiment of the demon that lies within myself, becoming enemies rather than seeking understanding of a person’s view; and that’s all it is, a view.  I’ve been the victim of it myself and I’m sure the projector at times in my life.  It’s a sign of just how unaware we are as a culture and society when we don’t take responsibility for our own baggage and prefer to share the wealth with others.

When it comes to pain and suffering we are often the worst.  We have to look tough, stoic, to others and the world.  It can explain a great deal of the opioid epidemic that has arisen in this country and our constant need to be medicated and numbed.  That pain has been taken advantage of by advertisers, politicians, and drug manufacturers alike, all of whom have benefited from our inability to deal with pain.  Dealing with our own pain, rather than numbing it, is the only answer to the epidemic but also our inability to empathize with others and to understand another person’s experience which is often different from my own.  Pain has a way of sucking us in and yet projecting outward, seemingly that we stand at the center of the world and carry the measuring stick of judgment of all life’s challenges, experiences, and pains, even if I’ve never actually experienced it myself, all in the name of defense of some one or some thing.

As a culture and society we have distanced ourselves from pain and suffering (the cross) so much that we no longer know how to handle it, embrace it, enter into it, feel it.  It’s as if we walk into the ICU of a dying patient or into a funeral home to mourn with a family and we become so uncomfortable that all we know how to do is make trite statements, hollow at best, because of the fear of going to where we hurt and in those very moments, to realize that that person is also me.  The pain of sitting with the uncomfortableness is too overwhelming in those moments that we have to do something with it.  We just can’t bring ourselves to do it and so we project it all outward, onto each other, onto the country, other countries, and to the world.  Heck, for that matter, there are plenty of examples of it in Scripture that, more often than not, we do it to God as well.  It has given us distorted images of each other and the Creator and there are examples of it everywhere, often including our own lives.  Again, if we’re willing to take a step back, become self-aware, and see what I too am doing to the other and this world.  There’s no wiping our hands entirely clean if we’re willing to take responsibility for our own undealt with pain.

It’s probably the easiest way to understand the gospels and Jesus’ own encounter with the Pharisees and other leaders of that time.  They had such venom towards him, mainly because he challenged their way of thinking and understanding of the other.  All they could do is try to divide and conquer, and in the end, they believe they won. They believe, in the short term, they have won the battle with Jesus once he is crucified, a projection of their own disdain for God and human life and the suffering one endures.  It was and is inevitable in the case of Jesus that hatred would appear to be his demise.  Hate, anger, unfinished hurt, always thinks short term in order to protect itself from deeper pain but always fails to see the big picture, avoiding it at all cost.

We see it in war, violence, resentment, hatred, bigotry, racism, disdain, blame, all rooted in this deep fear of our own pain, separating us from the other in isolating fashion.  Little do we know that when we make decisions and choices from such destructive tension, life becomes much more about survival that living life fully.  It’s as if we’re drowning in our own pain and all we can do is cling rather than to take the hand of someone who may look different, live differently, have a different experience of my own, simply because I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I may have been wrong.  When life is about winning and losing we, without a doubt, always lose even if it feels like a short-term win, protecting myself once more while gasping for air until the next attack, the next exposure of my short-coming, my imperfection, my shadow, my own pain that has taken hold of my life.

We have a lot to do in our society, a lot of work in dealing with the deep-seated pain that we continue to hold onto, clouding all our decisions and choices for the future, while at the same time blaming the future for all our problems.  We’re leaving that very future one hell of a mess to clean up if we soon don’t learn to stop, quiet ourselves, and sit in that ICU, sitting with the dying patient, and learn to die with them.  Pain and suffering has so much to teach us and is often the key to living a fuller life when we no longer dance around it but rather jump in, head first, rather than sharing it with the world.  In times when we retreat, isolate, and believe it’s about us first, we can only begin to understand such action when we’ve been there ourselves, wallowing in our own pain and suffering, feeling it’s the only way for us to survive.  I can empathize with that because I’ve been there myself.  It feels like it’s the only answer to the loneliness experienced when we suffer.  The capacity to empathize with the other, the nation, all suffering everywhere, the world, can only come when we’ve done our own work and continue to do our work in life, creating the necessary space in our lives for someone and something more than ourselves.  It’s the task at hand if we are to move forward for the way forward is through.

Is It Over Yet?

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve about had my fill, plus some, on this election cycle. When I was watching some news this morning all I kept thinking was, “Is it over yet?” It’s a lot like that child in the backseat of a car who perpetually questions whether we’ve reached our destination as the car continues to fly down the highway at seventy miles an hour, seeming endless in sight. Over and over again the question lingers because it just seems to take forever to get there, without an end in sight.

I couldn’t help but to be mindful of the fact, also, that there seems to be no other news that happens during this cycle. All we ever hear about is Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, every now and then Gary Johnson, and who’s going to try to win the duel of berating comments that does nothing more than divide and dredge up people’s most visceral reactions toward fellow human beings. How about the number of people killed in Africa by terrorists groups since the beginning of this year? There seems to be no mention of that in the news. How about the number of people around the globe and here in the States that die for not having adequate food, clothing, and shelter each year? There seems to never be a mention of that. That’s really not news and doesn’t sell to the consumers. No one seems to notice that what we are consuming is eventually going to kill us in some way, or at the least, numb us to the real problems that we face as a country and as a fellow human race. If we want to label anything deplorable, it’s the lack of empathy that we have lost towards our fellow brothers and sisters, so often numbed by screens that we can turn on and off and so often translating over into the way we relate to others.

The lack of empathy is typically the result of deep wounds that we allow to fester within us and typically avoid. This mess we call the presidential election is a good way to avoid that pain and numb it even deeper within ourselves. Now it is one thing to do that on an individual level, but when the collective psyche has been damaged and hurt, it, in many ways, leads to the reality in which we live and often scapegoating others, deflecting our own pain, onto others, often those that don’t have the ability to defend themselves, those without a voice. The people that often need that empathy the most become the villain in the story that unfolds. There’s no better way to avoid our own pain than to project it onto the one that can’t defend, can’t stand up for themselves, and in turn only deepens the wounds of others. The cycle continues. Is it over yet?

I can’t help but to think of the visceral reaction to Colin Kaepernick sitting and then choosing to kneel during the singing of the National Anthem. Whether any of us agree or not, it is the paradox of the freedom for which it stands, that one can make a conscious choice to reject it. There’s a fine line between reverence and turning something into a god. I was reminded of the great Martin Luther King, Jr who had addressed the reality regarding war that speaking is sometimes a “vocation of agony” as he would describe it. Even Scripture reminds us of the voice crying out in the desert. When we can no longer empathize with those who feel they have no voice and those who have often faced pain inflicted upon them, it’s not them that are at fault. It’s us who can no longer see beyond our own political lens that has been inflicted upon us, when demonizing the other is more the name of the game than not. It has nothing to do with money and rights. It has to do with understanding that maybe someone has a different experience that myself, whether because of color, religion, sexuality, or something else that, at times, has brought about suffering. The lack of empathy hinders us from taking a step back and saying to ourselves, maybe we have a problem that I don’t understand, and allow ourselves to reflect, have a change of heart, empathize, for the other, rather than be do quick to judge. Or as our politics likes to do, inflict it upon others.

These are sad days in the life of this country, a country that continues in many ways to reel in the pain of the tragic events of September 11, 2001. We often speak about those days that followed and how the nation had come together as one. It was a golden opportunity for us collectively to step back and begin to look at life differently and discern how we move forward in a positive way, rather than the great divide that has ensued. It was a golden opportunity to reevaluate what is most important to us as a people, hopefully one another and not political jargon that seems to dominate our lives these days. Is it any wonder why people are dissatisfied and disenfranchised by the whole process? When voices are crying out and we choose to ignore, we will undoubtably pay a price in the end, finding ourselves wandering aimlessly in life, looking for direction and purpose. Is it over yet? Maybe then I can finally move on in life and start caring about people as people again, rather than voters, skewed by politics, screens, social media, and talking heads telling me how I should think and feel.

With all that, again, my mantra is simply, “Is it over yet?” As I write this I believe there remains fifty-five days left before the 2016 presidential election. At the moment, neither candidate is appealing in any way. Neither candidate has won my vote. And it’s not even because I have a disdain for anyone, but rather, there’s no future in what is spoken and it seems to simply take you back to middle school playground antics of choosing sides with who might be the cooler kid to hang out with at this moment. There’s no prophetic message in bringing people together. There’s no sense of dream that our nation can move beyond such pain that we experience and allow ourselves to become something new. It’s not about turning back the clock to some other time. All days have passed. It’s about listening to our brothers and sisters, especially those who are hurting, and from the ground up begin to build something new as one people. Otherwise, we are simply left with the weight of another election upon us and people waiting to breathe a sigh of relief that it’s coming to an end.

Is it over yet? It’s all that comes to mind as I sometimes feel sad for what I see and hear, to the point where I need to turn it off and have my sense of humanity restored. There’s nothing like that encounter with the homeless that walk through the front yard. There’s nothing like watching the school kids playing outside during recess. They all remind me of the hope that we should all desire for our future as people and as country, and yet the constant reminder that there are greater needs that need to be addressed. Tearing people apart and destroying reputations sets the “winner” up for failure right from the beginning. If we’ve demonized the other for months on end, how do we ever see that person as leader, as someone who can help move us through the pain to the life that is desired for us rather than the destructive force we have made them into over the year. Quite frankly, there’s too much at stake right now to settle, and for any of us to be reduced to a vote and questioning whether it will ever end.

Neighborly Love

Deut 30: 10-14; Luke 10: 25-37

The gospel we hear today, the Good Samaritan, is one of those passages that is really hard to preach on. We’ve heard it a thousand times and so we know it and then have a tendency to tune it out. It makes it hard to hear it different and it makes it hard to says something different about it as well. Because it’s so familiar, even in our laws, we view it from our own particular lens. All of our lives and our baggage is viewed through the lens of the story. There’s also the backdrop of the revolving door of violence that we once again see in this city and country that really challenges us to look at the question of who is our neighbor and in what ways are we neglecting others. Lastly, there is the backdrop of the gospel itself and what was happening at that time when the story is told and written down that influences why it’s told. So there’s a lot going on to understanding and yet being challenged to hear and live in a new way through the story of the Good Samaritan, bearing in mind all of these backdrops that influence the story. Quite honestly, it would have been a whole lot easier if the story ended after the first question and answer, but Luke, unlike the others, has this way of throwing zingers into the story that make you stop, just as he does by adding the story of the elder son in the Prodigal Son parable.

One of the main backdrops of the gospel itself is this law of what it means to be clean and unclean. As a matter of fact, if you read the gospels through it’s as if they were obsessed with this law. The reality is, according to the law, the priest and the Levite in today’s gospel did nothing wrong. They did what the law had prescribed at crossing the street and avoiding the person that was beat up, robbed, and now half dead. However, their obsession with the law stands in the way of the essence of that very law of loving God and neighbor, as the scholar of the law asks of Jesus. Everything becomes about separation. They learn to separate themselves from the unclean, the impure, what they perceive as wrong and bad, all for the sake of their own self. Their entire relationship with God was tied up in this belief and still is for some, thousands of years later! As long as I separate from it and stay clean then I’m good with God and good with others. If the scholar of the law wasn’t so hung up on tripping Jesus up and winning this argument, he would have left it go at that point rather than posing the real question, then, who is my neighbor. The scholar opens the door and Jesus walks through.

In comes the Samaritan. The one the scholar would have considered the most unclean and the one that is hated enters the scene with the largest heart. There are probably a variety of reasons that we can say on behalf of the Samaritan. The Samaritan really has nothing to lose. Although the Pharisees would try to hold them to their obsession with the law, they don’t. That’s not to say that the Samaritan is perfect. They have their own issues with the Jews but the difference is, the Samaritans are already unclean and on the bottom of the barrel and they really have nothing to lose. The culpability comes on behalf of the Pharisees who are the holders of the law and have the perceived power; the Samaritans, not so much.

The one that really would find themselves in a bind is the one lying on the side of the road, beaten up, robbed, and half dead. They’re most likely a Jew coming from Jerusalem and now they have been cared for by the one hated the most and the one who is unclean, the Samaritan. We can only believe that there would be a crisis of faith on his part as to how to reconcile this obsession with the law and the experience of the essence of the same law by the one who had been separated from the rest. You know, it’s one thing to consider myself neighgor to the one that talks like me, acts like me, talks like me, looks like me, believes like me. But, you got to believe that was never the intention nor the demand of this gospel. Quite frankly, that plays from the place of comfort, from the place of the priest and Levite of ourselves. When we do this, that’s how so much violence continues to happen around us because we continue to separate and divide ourselves and deciding for ourselves who will be our neighbor rather than seeing all, especially those who are hurting the most as our neighbor. We can be complicit in violence simply by our lack of responsibility and empathy towards the other.

In his own farewell discourse today, Moses tries to convey that to the Israelites. They think they can’t do it without him, that somehow he’s the one who takes responsibility for their lives. He says in such a beautiful way that it’s not his responsibility! You don’t need to cross the sea or go up into the sky, the gift to bridge these divides is already within each of you. It’s the responsibility of all of us. We can choose to blame and not take responsibility for our own violence in our lives when we fail to forgive and reconcile or when we choose to cross the street out of fear of the one who may make me unclean, but deep down we’ll start to feel as if something is missing, something is separated and is yearning to return and unite.

We can make this story about what we normally do about going and being kind but what the heck does that mean anyway. The demand of Jesus in this story and overall is not kindness, albeit important, but rather love and mercy. If we continue to separate ourselves, and we do it with this city, that somehow that’s their problem and not ours. No. It’s all our problem because hurt is a human problem. So much violence connotes hurting people, people wanting to be heard, a voice crying out, and if we choose to ignore it, then we are no better than the priest and Levite in today’s gospel. According to the letter of the law, we’ve done nothing wrong, but at our very essence and the essence of our humanity, we are just as culpable because they are our neighbor and our neighbor is us. In what ways am I choosing to separate, often at my own doing and out of a deeply rooted fear, that which I have deemed unclean, impure, bad, or wrong, the Samaritan within myself, that helps me to empathize with the other; not just be kind to neighbor, but to love more deeply all our brothers and sisters, both here and beyond.

Winners and Losers then No One Wins

I enjoy watching sports as much as the next person. It’s ingrained in our culture and certainly a part of Americana. We all want to see our teams win; yet, with a win, someone else must lose and experience the agony of defeat. It was that way Saturday evening at Camden Yards, all tied up in the bottom of the ninth, Red Sox versus Orioles. It would take an extra inning, but the Orioles, with a walk-off home run, would pull one out on one of their fiercest rivals, the Boston Red Sox. It was a thrilling win and hopefully a turning point after a rough start to a season.

As much as winning and losing in sports is a part of the fiber of our being in this country, life isn’t always that way. Yet, it has trickled over into other aspects of our lives where I must be superior over the other, come out on top, be the winner despite the fact that someone then must lose. What does that do to the relationship? Can a relationship exist when it’s about winning and losing, rather than finding ways for a ‘win-win’, understanding, and reconciliation? Where does that leave the one that ‘lost’? What does it do to my own ego, the self-proclaimed winner in the face of the agony of such defeat and who else must I defeat to build on that thinking?

On Saturday evening, the winning and losing at Camden Yards was the backdrop of a larger reality that unfolded outside the stadium. Late in the game it was announced that fans must stay put in the stadium rather than venture out onto Eutaw Street to go wherever it is they were heading. Peaceful protests, regarding the death of Freddie Gray, turned sour with people injured, property destroyed, more than thirty arrested, and a city trying to grapple with a reality that, as we do so often, has drawn a line in the sand asking the wrong question of who’s the winner and who’s the loser, who’s right and who’s wrong, within the context of the death of a young man and yet problems that are much larger and deeper than his death. That’s what we like and it’s what we want, or so says our minds and our ego. It deepens divides that already exist and we never find resolution and healing. It gives one side proof that they’re right while the other is wrong and vice versa. It makes for great news drama and the way the story is spun by different broadcasts. It fuels tension and an already deep-seeded anger and mistrust which will always find a way to makes its way out into the world, often violently against ourselves and others. We find ourselves at a stalemate. We find ourselves between a rock and hard place, so wanting to choose sides, and how easy it is to do when one man is dead on one side and the “proof in the pudding” on the other as the violence erupted on Saturday evening and continues to unfold. Who am I to side with on this; who wins and who loses? Yet, I feel helpless, trying to sit in the tension of what is happening trying to make sense and peace with all of it.

If you’re anything like me, it’s hard to put yourself in the place of Freddie Gray. His life is not my own and his reality, if stories are correct, was nothing like the reality that I grew up and the reality I live in, despite living in the city of Baltimore. First of all, I’m some white guy trying to put myself in his place, which I can’t do; but I also believe it should not be so difficult for any of us to empathize with him, considering his life was cut short, and if it were someone in my family or yours, we too would be outraged. It’s safe to say, no one deserves that type of treatment and to be stripped of his dignity, regardless of his lived reality. However, ever-so subtly, lines are drawn and speculation is presented. He was dealing drugs. He was in trouble with the law many times over. The police were just trying to be preventative. The bottom line, so it is said, he was a troublemaker. All of that, begins to cloud my vision and what I see and the person I see as Freddie Gray. I begin to make judgment, no thanks to the news. Maybe he got what was coming to him? There’s one less ‘problem’ in the city. He brought it on himself. How can I even begin to think like that?!? I begin to make winners and losers in the case. It’s hard for my mind and my own brokenness not to devolve in such unhealthy ways and to react out of judgment; it happens in an unconscious way for all of us, especially if we’re not aware of it happening, and before you know it, sides are chosen, winners are chosen and resentment and anger builds and spills out into the streets.

But I also have a hard time putting myself in the place of police officers and politicians, including the mayor. I wouldn’t want any of their jobs. I can’t even begin to imagine what the roles they play does to one person. However, like Freddie, they too are human; something we can all relate to. They face a reality everyday unlike my own with much bigger problems that I would say, just as in the life of Freddie Gray, are beyond my understanding and can be extremely complex. The city faces problems that go way beyond politics, a reality that goes beyond judgment, it just is the case. Poverty, inequality, and so on go much deeper than the color of one’s skin or their mental state. Yet, that automatic pilot within me kicks in once again. I make judgments on what I have seen. If the police can break minor traffic laws that I’ve witnessed in my neighborhood, who’s to say what else is done when I’m not or someone else is not looking? Does it automatically put an element of doubt in my mind, especially after seeing the violence on Saturday evening? Maybe the police are right? What if I were in their place and pushed to such limits at times, what would I have done? Maybe they’re just doing their job and we all just have to live with the consequences and chalk the whole thing up as a mistake? Can we then live with such a reality since it then defines how we go forward in the future? How can I even begin to think like that; and yet I do, and maybe it’s my own uneasiness of such anger and the loss of control, but can’t that be said of everyone? Have I not been outraged at injustice and hurt in my own life, burying it deep within, only to have it spill out into my own life and actions? Again, sides are chosen, winners and losers are drawn; feeling helpless becomes the lived reality.

Winners and losers are great with sports, but in real life, when there are winners and losers, we all come out as losers and no one wins. No one wins when everything is kept on the surface, judged by behaviors, and within my thinking patterns and never moving below the surface because I will always dig my heels into the ground. We so often refuse to deal with the deeper issues at hand because it forces all of us to look at ourselves, no matter whether we are police or citizen, black or white, or however else we have drawn the line and split reality, because then we all are put in a position to change our thinking and our behavior and the way we respond to issues that present themselves, responding with love, compassion, and understanding. When we can no longer see each other as the same, and I’m not always sure that’s entirely possible, but when we no longer even try to see each other as the same, violence will always erupt because sides will be chosen, my position in the community will define where I stand, winners and losers will happen, resentment will grow deep within us, and a split reality will take shape, where in the end, a win-win becomes impossible, relationship breaks down, and unfortunately, no one wins and everyone loses.

That is the true reality of where we are at in this city, lost in the midst of a great divorce, trying to pick up pieces, not speaking to one another or simply speaking past one another, questioning the truth and lost in speculation, wondering what’s next, deciding on who’s right and wrong, what side will I choose, and so on and so on; the unending conveyor belt of questions that loom in my mind, split from my heart and quite possibly, the heart of the city. Anger, bitterness, and resentment loom on this cloudy afternoon. The city, after a tumultuous weekend and now spilling over into a new week, is left with such questions engulfed in a debate of the culture within, but also an invitation into the deeper questions on identity and who the city wants to be; can it be reconciled and healed? That can only come through honest dialogue, free of judgement and legalities, through person to person, side to side, coming to a common ground, found at its core, charm city as she’s known, a winner in my books. The city, and each of us, stands at a threshold before we are too quick to choose sides, draw lines and act out of our own judgments, a few things for all of us to ponder as we try to breathe deeply these days, trying to respond with dignity, love, and compassion. Do I go back to what has been once again and a reality that has not worked and is not working, leaving all of us lost in the end or do I use the opportunity to cross over into something new, a greater lived reality where we all come out with a win and free? It’s not just a question for the mayor or the police department or any one neighborhood; rather, it’s a question we all must sit with and reflect upon if we are to confront problems and change culture, honestly and head-on, and rise above to become what we all dream this city to be, a city that has lost a lot but lives with the opportunity for some great wins in the future.

Unbound For Our Greatest Gift

1 Thes 5: 1-6; Matthew 25: 14-30

Today’s gospel poses many challenges in the world that we live today, culturally and economically. If we simply read it at face value, it gives the illusion that Jesus is a raging capitalist, where the rich get richer and poor get poorer, without any moral compass pointing the way. Unfortunately, you will hear some preachers that support that reading of the gospel, but they’d be wrong and is not the intention of this gospel. Another challenge is that we’ve heard this gospel many times in our lives, and again, we gloss over it and limit what’s going on to the fact that God has given us talents and we are to use them. Albeit that it may be a valid point, I think it glosses over what goes on underneath the words of this gospel, which is why it’s important that we read it in its entirety rather than a shorter version.

As we hear it play out, there should be something about this third servant that we hear of that shakes us a bit and the servants relationship to the master, especially when we automatically assume that the master is God and Jesus. First and foremost, we must try to put the talents aside and convince ourselves that it’s not about money. As a matter of fact, if we keep returning to that point, it only proves how much control money does have over us. But this servant, the third of them, seems to have a different relationship with the master than the other two. They seem to listen and go and do exactly what he says and tells them to do, but something is different with the third.

It gives the appearance, in terms of relationship, that there is a level of mistrust. He has all these preconceived notions about who the master is. He thinks he’s hard. He thinks he’s cruel and to be feared. He thinks he’s stealing and getting his riches from less than stellar avenues. He thinks he is a demanding person. So all of these perceptions are preventing him from trusting the master, the master’s command, and the master’s voice, and so does what he only knows how to do when he doesn’t trust, he buries.

Now if it’s not about money, there is something of greater value that is being buried by the third servant. If we are honest with ourselves, we would admit that we have been there. The greatest gift, of the greatest value, that we bury is the will of God, the voice of God, the divine indwelling, gets squashed. The voice of the master isn’t to be trusted because we have convinced ourselves and others have told us not to trust. Think how often the scribes and pharisees would have led others to believe that. It was only their voice that should be trusted, not the voice of God within. It’s what leads Jesus to the cross and ourselves at times as well.

Now I’ve been there. I sympathize and empathize with him, and so I’ve had to wrestle with the reading this week myself. Somehow this servant, and the third servant within all of us, whom we have learned to trust more than the voice of God, but slowly be let go of; a letting go of fear. Fear has such a tremendous hold on us in our lives and it keeps us from hearing the divine indwelling and prevents us from living the will of God in our lives. Unfortunately, we’re often ok with that. As Paul tells the Thessalonians today that we like comfort, we like just skating along in life, we like security and so on, because then we never have to change and seek conversion. When we allow fear to take hold of us, it’s as if we know something is missing in our lives, and yet, we feel paralyzed by it at the same time. I sympathize and empathize with this guy because I have been there. Yet, when the treasure is found, the talent of great value, the voice of God, there’s no turning back.

The other two servants are held up as the example to the other and to us because it’s what happens when we learn to trust and let go of these preconceived notions of who and what the master really is to us. They learn to take risk and whether we like it or not, faith is a huge risk; living God’s will is a huge risk because we are often led to places where we’d rather not go and so instead, all too often, we hunker down and bury it, the greatest gift of all. To be disciples, we must trust the master’s voice. We must be willing to take the risk in stepping out there, making mistakes along the way, knowing God’s there to pick and pull us up; but we did it and that voice will grow and the kingdom of God will grow within and around us.

My friends, this Gospel does pose great challenges to us, but not for what we might believe on the surface. It challenges us in our relationship to the master and our willingness to admit that at times I too choose fear over the voice of God trying to lead me elsewhere. I too choose to bury rather than trust and allow the experience to grow in faith. This gospel is an invitation to sit with it and allow ourselves to be and to be with this third servant and ask ourselves where are relationship with the master is these days. When we can finally admit it, then we can begin to break down the walls that separate and seek forgiveness and reconciliation. Then we can learn to trust all over again and grow in faith rather than fear. Then we can allow the Kingdom of God to not only grow within us, but through our parish, this community, and ultimately, this world.