A Vulnerable Mission

Amos 7: 12-15; Mark 6: 7-13

I don’t know what Jesus is talking about today.  When I travel anywhere I tend to overpack!  So I was at a conference this past week at a retreat house right on a beach in Jersey.  Now there was no swimming in that spot so it was quite nice and quiet, but I couldn’t help and watch everyone else doing what they do on the beach.  If you’ve been to the beach you probably have noticed, or have been the one, who appears to bring everything with them when they come to the beach even to the point where they can barely carry it all.  It’s crazy.  It looks as if they’re moving in despite knowing that they’re going to have to haul it back in a few hours.  I also, at times, feel like I grew up in antiquity watching them.  I saw a woman with her two daughters.  The two are running while the woman is practically hunched over carrying stuff.  I refrained from saying anything but I couldn’t understand why the kids weren’t carrying it!  If we couldn’t carry it, it didn’t get to the beach!  Not a good way to learn to live without.  We carry a lot of baggage.  If it’s true that our environment says something about our interior landscape then there are many that are carrying serious baggage.

Maybe Jesus has a point then about taking very little.  You know, for a gospel that doesn’t give a lot of specifics, Mark is pretty specific on this point.  You notice there’s not much about what they are to do but it’s very specific about what they should take and not take.  Sure, carrying a lot of stuff, like at the beach, becomes exhausting after awhile, but there are deeper reasons for sending the disciples out in such a fashion.  All that they know about Jesus up to this point is that his encounters have been with the most vulnerable.  He encounters the poor, the sick, those who have been shunned from society and outcasts for one reason or another.  They’re the people that have nothing to lose and pretty much have nothing, including no status in the life of the community.  An encounter with the most vulnerable needs to be met with a great deal of vulnerability and trust as well.  It’s the deeper reason to send them with nothing. 

Yeah, they’re pretty simple guys, simple fishermen themselves.  Although they may not be carrying much physical baggage, they still carry with them ways to avoid the most vulnerable, building walls around themselves to somehow prevent getting hurt, avoid rejection.  It becomes easy to hide behind status, role, career, our belongings, all of which prevents the authentic encounter with the vulnerable one.  As the disciples are sent out two by two today, they aren’t being sent to fix people’s problems or anything like that, but in the process of encountering the vulnerable they also become more aware of themselves.  They become aware of their own demons that act as baggage in their interior life.  It’s how they begin to become aware of it around them and to not give into the fear that they often invoke.  Will they always get it right?  Far from it.  Will they be perfect at it?  Absolutely not.  They’re not Jesus nor are they supposed to.  Will they face rejection like the prophets?  Absolutely, but that too will become a point of meeting and encountering the vulnerable and learning to trust over and over again.

The same is true for Amos in today’s first reading.  Again, a rather simple man.  He’s someone that would prefer to go back to his own way of life of shepherding.  Things seemed much easier for him as that and quite frankly doesn’t want much to do with God or being this prophetic voice.  He learns, though, today, about shaking the dust off of his feet or shaking out the sand and moving on.  Amaziah wants nothing to do with him or his message of God.  Like most of the prophets, the message often sounds quite harsh to the powers that be because they try to maintain the status quo.  They prefer to invoke fear in the people but often at the hands of the most vulnerable.  The poor become forgotten and take the brunt of what is done.  The women and children, the refugees, people fleeing the violence that is often sparked at the hands of the political authorities of their day.  Amos, as he learns of himself as well, learns the difference of when that word falls on deaf ears and moves on.  It doesn’t stop him from being the prophetic voice.  Some are just unable to hear and receive the message.  Just as at times we aren’t.  There are times when people try to reach us and we’re unable to hear and see because we trust more heavily on our own baggage rather than being open to the possibility of God.  Jesus has every reason to send them out today with very little in order not to create a barrier, separating them from the most vulnerable and learning to trust that God will give them all they need.  When it’s not being heard, they shake off the dust and carry on.

We tend to carry a lot with us.  We have all learned ways to avoid pain, suffering, being rejected, but in doing so we close ourselves off to love.  We build walls to separate ourselves rather than allowing ourselves to be vulnerable.  These readings challenge us in our own lives to be aware of what it is we use in our lives that acts as that barrier.  There are times where we need to literally go to the most vulnerable, whether the poorest of the poor on the street or even someone suffering in pain or loneliness in the home next to us.  When we go with a sense of openness and vulnerability, it does as the disciples do today, heals.  It heals not only the other but our own hearts and souls.  The most authentic encounters we can have are when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable before the other and the Other.  It’s too easy to close ourselves off but today Jesus invites us on a different path and a different encounter, one of great vulnerability, opening ourselves not only to the possibility of hurt, but more importantly a great deal of healing, love, and compassion for others and ourselves.

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Radical Compassion

Ezekiel 2: 2-5; II Cor 12: 7-10; Mark 6: 1-6

If you didn’t know, the Dali Lama celebrated his 83rd birthday this past week.  83 and still going strong, traveling around the globe.  He may be one the of the last larger than life wisdom figures out there these days and still one of the great prophetic voices going.  One of his consistent themes is compassion.  He says “compassion is the radicalism of our time”.  One, it seems illogical to the mind to have compassion and radical in the same sentence, which is the point.  Two, the fact that we as a human race have to be reminded of being compassionate says a lot about us, that we could forget something so simple.

Now, when he speaks of compassion he isn’t speaking as we often associate it.  We have a tendency to make it into a pity party of sorts for people who have less than us, have it worse off than us, and really a sense of inferiority.  That’s obviously not his point.  He takes it from a more literal sense of being moved with passion to do something in the face of injustice, suffering, hurt and pain.  He recognizes that there is no wall that separates us from the other, especially when it comes to injustice and suffering.  It’s what makes his message so prophetic even to this day, a gentle message of compassion and love, radical for our time.

When we think of the prophetic voices, though, we often think of fire and brimstone, going out and beating the message over Israel, as we often hear in the first reading throughout the year.  It’s as if they have to be the loudest voice heard and yet often gets drowned out by all the noise.  It’s what the political and religious leaders often did.  Fire and brimstone was a way of controlling the masses and invoking fear into the people they want to control.  It’s not until Ezekiel, in this case, comes to a greater understanding of his own humanity through the Word that he begins to find that prophetic voice within and more often than not, the quietest of the voices speaking from the depths of his soul.  It’s why it is so easily drowned out by all the noise and the false prophets of their time and ours. 

It certainly doesn’t mean that somehow Israel changed all its ways and everything was great.  Israel rarely changes despite being freed from slavery.  They begin to feel entitled in that way and become hard of heart and a rebellious people as he tells us today.  Like us, change is slow and happens one by one more than an entire nation.  You’d think that Israel, of all, would know and understand the power of the Word.  Ezekiel tells us today that it the very act of consuming the Word and being consumed by it when he can begin to be transformed by it and all that separates fall apart.  It’s the religious and political leaders that want the division, not the God who sets them free.  Yet, the noise gets to them.  The fear gets to them.  They gradually begin to give in and become hard of heart, obstinate, and unable to hear the prophetic voice.  It gets drowned out.  It’s not just them that are called to be the prophetic voice.  It’s all of us.  Everyone of us that comes to this font is baptized priest, prophet, and king.  We only grow in that when we, like Ezekiel, consume and become consumed by the Word, moving us to this radical compassion towards a hurting humanity.

Paul runs into the same obstacle.  He’s struggling with Corinth today as he often does because they too are becoming consumed by false prophets.  His voice and message seems to be falling on deaf ears.  They become convinced that they don’t need that message and over time they begin to exclude, separate, become us versus them, leave people out of the celebration of their Eucharist, and all the rest.  Paul struggles greatly with them because he’s aware of all that they can be and yet they give in so easily to the noise of their time.  Paul, like all the prophets, aware of their own humanity and consumed by the Word, find the quiet in their lives in order to allow that prophetic voice to grow within them.  It never seems to overtake all the noise, but one by one people are moved to that compassion where walls no longer separate and we can see the other as ourselves, the other as Christ.

As we hear in the gospel today it was no different for the Word made Flesh.  Jesus struggles upon returning home today where they too had become hardened and jaded.  All they could see and hear are their own expectations of who he is, which of course is less than he really is.  They get caught up in the chatter and the noise of their own making and the word gets lost.  They consume the noise rather than the Word.  The crazy thing is that Jesus wasn’t even doing anything magical or even spectacular.  He, as we often hear, is moved to compassion for the poor, the marginalized, the outcast, the one who has been pushed aside and considered outside the community.  They quickly take offense.  It pushes up against the noise and all that they had come to believe through the fire and brimstone, the voices yelling at them in their own time.

The readings challenge us this week to quiet ourselves from all the noise.  We have the noise coming from the media, the politicians, twitter, and all the rest claiming to be the one.  Yet, over and over they prove to be the false prophets, using that message for their own gain.  When we learn to quiet ourselves and turn off the noise of our time, the voice of God begins to break through, as we consume the Word the Word consumes us.  As with the great prophets, and the Dali Lama, we’re moved with compassion, literally moved with passion to do something, to act, to do what is right in the face of injustice, suffering, and hurt.  Otherwise, we continue to buy into what is being sold, leading us further astray, more divided, and hard of heart.  We pray for that quiet in our own lives and the reawakening of the prophetic voice within us, moving us to radical compassion.

Walking With & By Faith

Ezekiel 17: 22-24; II Cor 5: 6-10; Mark 4: 26-34

Well, it’s good to know that after some 2000 years of history Saint Paul still manages to find his way into public debate as we heard this past week when it comes to families being separated at the border.  He, probably more than anyone else in Scripture, is the most misinterpreted and abused writer in the Bible.  His writings have a way of being weaponized in order to defend things that aren’t intended, all in the name of God.

Paul, though, writes much more from a mystical point of view following his conversion, which makes him so misunderstood.  He, maybe only second to John, have the ability to do what many of the other writers cannot, that being able to stand in the tension.  Paul understands the reality of his own day and the many struggles that are faced, injustices and abuses, but he always keeps an eye on the prize.  He doesn’t see it as either or but rather sees both as long as we live on this earth and does everything try to stand in that place of tension because he understands the consequences when you don’t.

Here’s a guy, writing to Corinth today, who comes to a place where he understands the necessity of the law, body, ego, how every you want to describe it, but also love.  Paul lived a life separated from love and made the law into his own god.  It’s what made him so callous and just a ruthless leader, leading to the murder of early Christians and charging others with murdering them.  He was ruthless because there was no heart.  It’s not that Paul then miraculous abandons the law.  Again, he understand the value and it’s necessity while here but it must be held in tension with the heart, with love, otherwise the leaders to become ruthless.  In the end, he knows, that love wins out because that’s the prize he keeps his eye on and that all else will pass away.  We are, for Paul, all citizens in exile seeking shelter, seeking a home.  We, as a country, can learn something much deeper from Paul in the way we live our lives.  We want to say we’re a country of laws, and it is necessary; but when it becomes a god in and of itself, we too become ruthless towards people.  It’s part of our history and continues to be a part of our history to this day.  There are tremendous implications when we separate from the heart, from love, from God.  Paul stands in that tension and we must as well.  The same is true without the law.  We stand for nothing and have no principle.  Paul reminds his community that both are necessary.  He speaks to the elites of his own day and to ours.  They tried to exclude the poor and those deemed less worthy or a threat to their way of life.  We’re told so well today, walk by faith and not by sight.

It’s the underlying message of the gospel today as well as the farmer, in a nonsensical kind of way, tosses seeds everywhere, which to the naked eye seems wasteful.  However, that’s not necessarily the point.  The farmer knows better than anyone about what happens in places that cannot be seen with the eye.  Now I’m not talking about the corporate farmers of our day.  Rather, these guys knew the land better than anything.  They kept their ear to the ground and learned to have utter trust and faith.  Once the seeds fall into the darkened earth it’s beyond the control of the farmer.  As a matter of fact, if the farmer tries to control it we know the result.  There’s no produce in order for him and his family to live.  He does to the earth that which Paul did to the people.  We become even ruthless towards the earth, thinking it’s our and we can control it.  Yet, deep down lies the heart of God, beating in the depths of the darkness making something happen that just can’t be seen.  The farmer knows it takes trust, it takes a great deal of faith, and a great deal of patience when you walk through the darkness of the earth.  Yet, it’s where God does God’s best work.  To the eye it seems foolish what the farmer does.  To the eye it seems as if we should be able to control this the way we want.  To the eye we become disconnected from our heart and without the heart there is no love and certainly no God.

Paul probably consistently turns over in his grave.  It’s not only politicians, but also religious leaders, who take things out of context, use scripture as a weapon, and allow politics to define faith and God rather than allowing just the opposite.  That’s the brilliance of Paul.  He doesn’t avoid the realities of his own time.  He understands the injustices, the abuses, and everything else because that was his life!  He knows it and lived it.  Now, though, he stands in that tension of this life while waiting the unfolding of the kingdom, the tension of law and love, the tension of mind and heart because he knows the implications when not.  Paul sees as God sees and helps to redefine what is in that context all while trusting what cannot be seen.  For Paul, you have no other choice but to walk through the darkened earth and all that comes with it, the chaos, the fear, the anxiety, because it’s only in the unknown where the farmer learns to trust and to have faith, even the size of a mustard seed.

We pray not only for ourselves but for our country and world that like Paul, we reconnect with our heart, with love, with God, to soften where we have become callous and ruthless towards others while not losing what it is we believe and defines us.  Like Paul, we need to learn to live in that place of tension and to trust and have patience that so many that have gone before us, God will see us through and new life will grow from the darkness and the cedar will once again bloom.  The more we separate, exclude, fear, live in anxiety, and begin to believe that it’s about only what we see with our eyes, we literally lose sight of what is most important, what we cannot see and yet always at work deep within us for we are called, as Paul tells Corinth, to walk by faith and not by sight.  We are called to trust what we cannot see and like the farmer, keep our hearts and ears close to the ground for when the Lord has spoken, so will the Lord do.  We pray for the grace to walk by faith and not by sight, even if it means walking in the darkest of days.

A Royal Love

Acts 2: 1-11; I Cor 12: 3b-7, 12-13; John 20: 19-23

I’m guessing by now everyone has had their fill of the Royal Family after the wedding yesterday.  It would have been interesting to hear what the Brits had to say about the American take-over yesterday, not only with the bride, but also the choice of music at times, and of course, the one who stole the show was the preacher.  I’m guessing they’re not all to used to having such a preacher in their midst.  I’m not sure what was more enjoyable, listening to him or watching the reaction of some of the guests who were squirming in their seats a bit.  It wasn’t your typical royal wedding.  It wasn’t that he even said anything that was so extreme, but it was certainly delivered with great passion and from the fire within him.  It was a message that has been delivered now for 50 days, the redemptive love of Easter.  It was an interesting approach at a wedding but a message definitely needed.

The reaction of some of the folks that had gathered at Windsor was not much different than what the disciples received at this gathering that we hear of from Acts today, when the time of Pentecost had been fulfilled.  If you keep reading a bit the reaction of onlookers was a question of whether they were drunk and drinking too much.  But that wasn’t the case at all.  Like that message at the Royal Wedding, they had experienced that redemptive love of Easter and it, they could no longer be contained.  We’ve overused the word in our own language and so the redemptive quality of love gets lost in translation, but in many ways it reveals their smallness as a people and all that holds them back from having this love set free.  It reveals the smallness of their judgment.  It reveals the smallness of thinking they’re somehow above others, which was probably some of the squirming yesterday at the wedding.  He knew the audience that he was speaking to, the royals, celebrities, and very few common folk like ourselves, which hammers the message home all the more.  It reveals the smallness, more than anything, of their fear.

That’s where we return now in today’s gospel.  This is the same gospel we heard back on the second Sunday of Easter and now we return with greater vigor after marching through these fifty days.  The disciples, as any sense of daylight begins to fade and darkness returns, are found in one of their smallest places, trapped and locked inside the upper room.  They’ve already heard the message of Mary Magdala as well as Peter and the Beloved Disciple, but the message has yet to resonate in their hearts.  Fear continued to plague their hearts and harden them from confronting their own smallness.  The Church doesn’t just take us back to the beginning of Easter, but John in turn takes us back to the beginning of salvation history when God breathes life into man prior to the fall.  This redemptive love that Jesus now breathes into the disciples redeems all of humanity.  The disciples will be moved from within to go forth.  Like the early community of Acts, this redemptive love and forgiveness will no longer be contained.  It’s not going to take away the hostility that awaits them beyond the locked, upper room.  Rather, it is only the gift of the redemptive love by that Spirit being breathed into them that can now renew the face of the Earth, as we sang in the psalm.

We gather like that early community asking for the gift of the Spirit and the redemptive love in our own hearts that still, at times, stand hardened by our own smallness.  We create our own gods that stand in the way.  We move from the self-sacrificial love that we first heard on Holy Thursday and Good Friday to the redemptive love of Easter, Jesus breathing new life into a community that had lost its way, had been contained by fear, and living in its own smallness.  Now, though, they will be pushed forth to share what can no longer be contained.  Where there is poverty, love redeems.  Where there is hatred and violence as we’ve seen here in the States and in the Middle East this week, love redeems.  Where there continues to be refugees and people fleeing tyrants, love redeems.  If there is no love there is no God.  That was the message of the preacher today and it’s the message that gathers us here today.  The love of God through the sending of the Spirit cannot be contained within this building otherwise it’s not of God.  It’s our own doing.  It’s us telling God who God is rather than allowing that redemptive love to define us as Paul tells us today.  It’s what binds us together as a community, despite fear, judgment, sin, hurt, grudges, resentments, and all the rest that we often prefer and make us comfortable.  They also are our smallest selves.  We settle for so much less by trying to domesticate this God that tries to liberate and set us free.

As this season of Easter draws to a close now, we pray for that same Spirit to once again descend upon us and to move through us, breathing new life into where we have clung to death.  This redemptive love that liberates expands our hearts to have greater space for others who think different, live different, act different, pray different, and all the rest.  If it doesn’t, we are still trapped in that upper room, in fear, awaiting our own god rather than allowing ourselves to experience the wildness of a God who shatters our smallness in order to renew not only our own lives but the face of the earth.  Now more than ever redemptive love is needed in this world.  False versions of love seem to far outnumber in our world but it is only the liberating act of redemptive love, Christ breathing new life into our hardened hearts, where we are renewed and given the vigor to live with such passion as the first disciples.  They are us and we are them.  We pray for that Spirit now so we may be pushed through our own limits to the openness and vastness of God’s redeeming love!

Love’s Friends

Acts 10: 25-26, 34-35, 44-48; I John 4: 7-10; John 15: 9-17

You don’t need to be a biblical scholar to understand that the message of love stands at the very heart of John’s writing.  Between the second reading and the gospel today, a total of eleven verses, the word love appears eighteen times.  It stands as the core of his ethic and what it means to be a community that has Christ at its center.  The past few weeks it’s all we have heard from him is this message of love.

Today, though, he tells it in the context of friendship.  He calls his disciples friends.  Of course, friendship is near and dear to all of us.  More than anything it is our friends that accept us for who we are, warts and all.  There’s no need to hide or mask ourselves in anyway.  There’s no sense of superiority or feeling less than. If there is it really would not be friendship anyway.  Over the course of our lives they tend to be some of the most important people in our lives, accepting us, the first people we call, the ones who walk with us through struggles, the ones who love us in a very unique way, often willing to put our own needs ahead of their own.

It’s a rather unique description that would be used by Jesus in describing his own followers as they prepare to be sent forth into a hostile world.  It’s a radical message for them as a crew who would be familiar with their own tradition knowing that the only one named friend of God in Scripture is Abraham, the father of their faith, and now Jesus using the same language.  He comes down on their level and meets them there while raising them up in line with someone like Abraham.  They are friends.  Of course, it won’t take very long before they find out what this friendship is going to ask of them.  They’re not the best of friends at first, abandoning him in the darkest of times out of fear for their own lives.  Yet, he meets them where they are, in all their imperfections and nonsense, love comes down to them and calls them forth.

We have seen how that plays itself out in the earliest community of Acts of the Apostles these six weeks of Easter now and once again today Peter is confronted with this reality in relation to others.  Peter has just had a miracle done through him so Cornelius believes that he is at an elevated position.  Now, of course, we have put Peter in that position ourselves, and there’s nothing wrong with being a leader, but what Peter doesn’t forget is that it’s not about him.  As a matter of fact, when he gets out of the way, as he did today, his ministry is even more fruitful because he knows it’s not about him and it is only this love and this friendship with Jesus that continues to work in and through Peter to do what he does.  Now it’s not that they always get it right either and we’ve heard that these weeks as well.  They are constantly discerning and figuring it as they go and learning where it is that God’s leading them, but they can only do this by doing what was commanded to them in this farewell discourse of John, by remaining and abiding in their friendship with Jesus and to keep returning to that source of love.

The community at times still falls back to its old ways and old way of thinking.  The other followers of the way can’t seem to understand how the Spirit has come upon the Gentiles in the first reading today.  Israel, like Peter, has had its own struggle with having a somewhat superior status of being the chosen ones of God.  The master/slave relationship that Jesus speaks of was most familiar to them and has influenced them greatly.  It all takes time and returning to that source of love that begins to expand their hearts to understand that it doesn’t matter whether your Jewish, or followers of the Way, the early Christians, Samaritans, or Gentiles, this love far exceeds a particular group of people because the chosen-ness has nothing to do with that and everything to do with who this God is and the expansiveness of that love.  As they grow and deepen in that love it begins to make sense and the normal boundaries and judgments that have separated them begin to dissipate.  The love that transforms their hearts now transforms the world around them.  It only happens, though, when the return, abide, remain, the message that we have heard consistently from Jesus the past few weeks.  You only become love when you return to that source of love and that friendship with Jesus.

As we come ever nearer to the end of the Easter Season we return back to the beginning when we were asked as to what kind of community we’re called to be.  John has reinforced that message of love over and over for us these weeks and calls us to remain and abide in that love.  It’s the only thing that changes and transforms us.  Today, though, he calls it forth through friendship, one of the most valued of all relationships we cherish because we choose this friendship with Jesus.  We come like the disciples, messed up at times, afraid, far from perfect, masks and all at times, but he comes down to us and raises us up to that place of love to transform our hearts where we no longer need to hide from this God but rather enter into friendship in order to abide in love and become that love.

It is only love that will see the disciples through as they are sent forth into the hostile world, a world that remains hostile towards love.  Hostility, fear, war, violence know full well the power of love and will do anything to have us succumb to something less than love.  We go forth to bring that love to a world that doesn’t need more violence, separation, war, and division, but needs to be loved.  It’s the only thing that will transform it.  The more we enter more deeply into friendship with Jesus the more that love transforms our hearts and we become the hands and feet of Christ to those most in need and who are hurting.  We don’t go forth in order to be more of the same.  Rather, we go forth in order to love in a very different way as we are called to be a community of love, of friends, who don’t see ourselves as better than or even inferior towards others, rather as the most humble of ways, as friends.  Friends who share in love and are called to become love.  We pray for the grace to abide and remain in that love so that despite whatever it is we face, the world will be, as it was with Peter, transformed in and through us because we have allowed, over and over again, love to transform us.

Becoming

Acts 9: 26-31; John 15: 1-8

If you know anything about Paul’s conversion story from Acts, of which we catch the tail end today, it’s that he was the number one threat to the followers of the Way, which was the name used before Christian.  He was enemy number one and a threat to their way of life.  Not only that, but just prior to his conversion he was responsible for the death of one of the most beloved of the Way, Stephen, who was stoned to death and then on Paul’s travels has this radical transformation.

It should be no surprise then when he shows up in Jerusalem today they’re very skeptical and fearful of him.  He still looks like the Paul who was responsible for the death of many followers and early disciples and now wants to be one of the group after believed to have gone through this conversion experience.  Just think if we were in that situation, knowing all that Paul was capable of, we too would be fearful and skeptical.  He could have been trying to infiltrate the group in order to blow them up from within or to dismantle them at his own doing.  It will be, though, only as they lock arms with one another, walking through the streets of Jerusalem, will there finally be a public affirmation for who Paul had become as fellow follower and disciple.

Ironically, for the man who had become blind through this experience of radical transformation, Paul’s blindness in turn reveals the blindness of the followers of the Way and their own fearfulness and judgment.  This experience of Paul is not a one-time deal, but a call that the disciples will have to continually embrace, this call to conversion and radical transformation.  In some sense, Paul stands as the change of tide for this community for he was not an original and did not have the first-hand account of Jesus as people like Peter did and so it often created conflict as to how they understood the faith.  One thing, though, that linked them, despite their differences, was when there were difficulties, the community would pull them and draw them back into their source of life, to remain, abide, to stay with the Lord, as Jesus reminds us in today’s Gospel.

This is not to say that they all lived happily ever after.  It is well known that Paul was somewhat of a hellion!  Again, his lived experience was very different from the original disciples and so there were often misunderstandings within the community.  It makes you wonder that when we hear at the end of the reading today that he’s shipped off to Tarsus as if it wasn’t intentional!  Paul, though, understood, as we know from his writings, of that necessity of Jesus’ farewell discourse in John about where it is he receives life.  He no longer has to look at the world through the eyes of fear, narrowness, violence, or even death, but through the eyes of his own lived experience of Christ crucified.  He has to keep returning to the vine for the true life and he knows that no matter how difficult it may become or the many obstacles they will face as a community, they will be seen through when the keep returning and abiding and being nurtured by what and who gives them life.

I don’t know the exact account but that message of return, abide, and stay with is quite dominant in these chapters of John’s Gospel.  It’s almost as if Jesus knew he’d have to say it in a thousand different ways and days in order for it to begin to sink into the minds and hearts of the disciples that despite the hostility of the world that they are going to experience first-hand, there is still a greater life that you pursue in becoming his disciples.  Over and over again, like in Acts, they will be called to critique their own calling and what it is that is going to need to be surrendered and let go of, whether it’s fear creeping in or their judgments towards people like Paul or the world for that matter.  It’s so easy to become part of the problem by our own unease of the unknown and to give into fear, choosing fear over faith and love.  Over the course of their lives it will continue to be revealed to them what it means to be a disciple.  What it means today will be very different for them when that community begins to form but no matter what, they will return in order to be fed, nurtured, and to be given life.  They will become disciples and will be a presence of love to a hostile world.

Paul’s story as well as the disciples is very much our own story of becoming disciples.  It’s always changing, evolving, and being called to radical transformation ourselves.  However, at times we still cling to vines that no longer feed yet still disguise themselves as life.  We cling to our own fears, judgments, and even violence, rather than allowing our own blindness, like Paul, to be revealed to and through us in order to move us to a deeper sense of discipleship.  In a world that so often is torn by violence and division, driven by politics and individual agendas and ideologies, we must stand together with locked arms, like the followers of the Way, in order to bring about transformation to a hurting world.  We may never change the institutional structures in which we live and operate, but we can be witnesses to a changed heart, a free heart, that models not violence and fear but rather faith and love.  It is in that way that we continue to become his disciples.

It’s in the Name

Acts 4: 32-35; 1 John 5: 1-6; John 20: 19-31

Poor Thomas!  If there’s to be a study done on why labeling people is not a good thing, Thomas would be the classic study.  Doubting Thomas as we know it and all he’s really known for because of this one passage.  He was destined for such labels.  I’m still not convinced that he’s even a doubter as much as he is in disbelief and grieving at this point of the story.  None of us would be much better.  All this and Thomas is even really a huge character in John’s Gospel.  He only appears twice.  The other is at the Raising of Lazarus.  The other unique thing of Thomas is that he’s only one of two who’s name is also given in Greek, Didymus.  Simon is called Cephas at the beginning of the Gospel, who’s Peter.  Thomas is the only other so maybe the passage has more to do with his name, Didymus meaning twin or double.

The name probably describes all of them at this point of the story, living two different lives.  While they find themselves in the Upper Room they’re somewhat bursting with joy in the Risen Lord but no sooner do they step out that door fear takes over.  That inside is somewhat of a comfort for them, where they can be themselves but they end up living a double life.  They’re not there yet.  As much as they have had this experience of the Risen Lord it still has not been embodied by them.  It’s still something beyond them and what they see with their eyes and not something lived.  Like us, they’re good at compartmentalizing their faith at this point of the story, living a double life and not knowing what it all means, still unfolding for and in them.

It’s not until we get to Acts of the Apostles where we begin to see how that love manifests itself in the life of the early community.  Like the Gospel today, we’re also good at labeling the message Luke conveys twice in Acts.  We want to label it socialism or communism but it had nothing to do with creating some kind of economic structure that we’re familiar with today.  That says more about us than it does them.  But they can point the way, for us, to look at our own lives and what it is that moves us.  That’s the real message of Luke today.  It is by no means that everything was just perfect in the Early Church.  Far from it if you read Acts in its entirety.  But Luke will keep drawing them back to what gives life.  He’s going to keep drawing them back to what it is that motivates and defines the community as one of integrity.  If they’re not being motivated by love, then they need to step back and evaluate where fear is creeping in, where it’s becoming about self-interest.  When we’re motivated by fear, success, wealth, self-interest, then the gap only grows, anxiety and fear take over, and we begin to live that double life ourselves.

We need to move to a place where we recognize that we never fully embody that love.  As long as we are here and breathing our motivation and what drives us will become skewed.  We become blinded by everything else.  It’s why the wounds of Christ in the gospel are so significant and how they connect to that early community.  When that gap begins to grow and they start to become closed in on themselves, locked in the Upper Room, they are once again invited to come back.  As much as they are sent forward, they are also called to come back to that love.  To step inside the wounds, even their own, and it will once again open their eyes.  That’s the significance of the reading from Acts today.  They recognize the needs of the community through their very own woundedness.  Their eyes are open to the poor.  Their eyes are open to members of the community in need.  It’s not being motivated by economics.  They’re motivated by love.

These readings on this Second Sunday of Easter challenge us to look at what motivates us at this point in our lives.  What is it that’s pushing us forward and where do we put our faith.  That’s John’s message in the second reading today.  As much as the disciples may still fear the world beyond the locked doors in that gospel, it is only faith and love that is going to break through the locks and push them out and to embody that love that they have experienced.  It’s not meant to be kept to ourselves.  Then love is not our motivation.  Rather, when we embody that love we know we have nothing to fear and we change the world not through fear, economics, self-interest, but rather love.  Victory in the hostility of the world is not won through war but through love.  That’s the message of John on this Easter Day.  Nothing else.

Where have we allowed the gap between our lives and Love to ever increase through fear, self-interest, and motivations other than faith and love?  Where are we locked up inside, afraid that somehow I won’t have enough and so I can’t give in love, holding on for dear life?  That’s where that gap grows and like the disciples in that Upper Room, we live a double life.  Faith becomes something we simply do on Sunday morning and then go about our business, often in fear, once we walk through those doors.  Yes, we come to this place to be nourished and to be fed and the more we are fed and nourished in love, the more we have to confront the world when we step forward.  We come and are nourished in order to be sent out to be the disciples, to embody that love, and to narrow the gap between faith and our lives.  It’s an ongoing process and one that never ends but also one we don’t go at alone.  We walk this journey together in order to embody that love not just by ourselves but as a community of faith.