‘Thoughts and Prayers’

Proverbs 9: 1-6; Eph 5: 15-20; John 6: 51-58

“Watch carefully how to live, not as foolish persons but as wise, making the most of the opportunity, because the days are evil.  Therefore, do not continue in ignorance (and I’d add, arrogance), but try to understand what is the will of the Lord.”  Ephesians 5: 15-17

You know, I didn’t know how I was going to preach today.  Quite honestly, I didn’t know who would show up.  Once again this Church gave us a thousand reasons to jump ship again. If you’ve been on the fence, well, good-bye, gone goes another generation. Yet, here we are, and maybe those of us who are here recognize that there’s more to all of this than the institution.  Maybe we understand, as we sang today, that our firm foundation is in something, or for that matter, someone else, in God, in Christ crucified, in the heart of Jesus.  You know I’m a Scranton guy so it’s been a little more personal.  The bishop who accepted me into formation was listed.  Heck, the bishop that ordained me, on the list for covering up and concealing and for what and to protect what.

Yet, what do we get, thoughts and prayers.  Our hearts go out to victims.  Thoughts and prayers?  Where have we heard that before.  Oh yeah, politicians every time there’s a tragedy.  Empty words.  Politicians who get caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  Politicians who are sorry for getting caught more than for what they had done.  Politicians who’d rather use prayer to push something away and to continue to live in denial that something needs to change.  Thought and prayers.  All the while that abuse of power continues to persist.  Sure there’s been a lot that has been put in place since 2002 but it hasn’t dealt with the heart of these issues and the abuse of power.  What do you end up with?  Just as Paul says, ignorance and arrogance on our part, failing people along the way.

I’ve been criticized over the years for not speaking on moral issues like this and here’s why.  Our foundation is not in morality nor is it in dogma. For that matter, our morality has been hijacked by politicians that it’s nearly impossible anyway without become one of them. Our foundation is in relationship with God, with Christ crucified, with the heart of Jesus.  Now you’re going to hear people say that the Church will carry on, and that’s true, it’s been through many scandals and crises in its history.  But like all the rest it still remains true that when it arises, it arises for the fact that the institution disconnects from its heart.  It disconnects from the heart of Jesus and ignorance and arrogance continue to persist.  I don’t preach it because I know full well it’s not our foundation and I can never live up to it.  None of us can!  Ever!  And if you want to preach high and almighty, do as I say and not as I do, you’re bound to fall and fall hard.  And for what?  To sacrifice one’s soul and one’s heart?  To protect what?  Quite frankly, it needs to fall a part just as much as our political system does.  They no longer serve the people but rather power.  Our firm foundation is in relationship with God, in Christ crucified, in the heart of Jesus that is always calling us to come home, to seek mercy, forgiveness, and love.  When we lose that, well, this is what we end up with, more of the same, ignorance and arrogance.  Thoughts and prayers.  It’s not enough.

The readings all touch upon it.  Today from the Book of Proverbs, Solomon compares lady wisdom with fools.  Now lady wisdom, as we heard today, has a sense of openness.  There’s freedom.  Lady wisdom is welcoming of all to the table and does not exclude or exude force upon people.  Lady wisdom finds power within that relationship with God.  Now we didn’t continue the reading today, but if you read on Solomon will compare that with following a fool.  Don’t follow a fool Solomon says.  A fool knows nothing and yet is enticing.  A fool looks to take advantage of one who is naïve and lacks sense.  A fool is unstable and senseless, all about themselves.  A fool cares only about self-interest, that same power that is abused.  There’s a difference.  Lady wisdom is more than just thoughts and prayers.  Lady wisdom understands the one who’s been abused and taken advantage of, welcoming all to the table, especially those who recognize that need.

Jesus personifies Lady wisdom as we’ve been hearing in the sixth chapter of John the past month.  You know, the one thing that gives hope is that it is often the crowd that begins to understand who this Jesus is.  They may not necessarily know what the words mean.  They may not necessarily know what he’s all about, but they do know there’s something different about him than who he’s often compared, to the Pharisees of his day.  They recognize he’s feeding them with something that is nourishing rather than the stones of the Pharisees.  It’s the Pharisees that want to fight Jesus because he becomes a threat to their power, ironically.  He threatens their control over the people who are also, do as I say, not as I do, holding people to a standard that no one is capable of!  Of course, it will lead to his death.  He becomes the scapegoat simply for gravitating to the poor, the abused, the disadvantaged.  Even he recognizes that it’s impossible for the heart of a Pharisee to be converted in their own ignorance and arrogance.

And it’s no different today.  What do we do, and this you will see as well because I’ve already seen it out there?  We scapegoat.  Well, if we get rid of this one it’ll take care of the problem.  If we get rid of gay people all will be well.  If we dump Vatican II it’ll fix everything.  If we get rid of whomever lacks the purity somehow it’ll make it all right.  Wrong.  That’s denial.  That’s trying to live with a 1950 Church in the year 2018.  We must return to the foundation.  Without a foundation we fall.  When the storms arise, and they always arise, we run.  Honestly, running is easy.  It’s much harder to weather a storm.  It’s much easier to blame.  It’s much easier to live in denial and offer our thoughts and prayers than to change.

Now, there’s only so much I can do as an insider in this institution, and I’m well aware of that.  However, it doesn’t mean I stop fighting.  I will continue to fight, especially for the younger priests who are going to have to live with this ongoing mess.  However, the real power is with you.  It’s with you.  What do the Pharisees as well as any institution or political system want you to believe, that you’re powerless.  You’re not.  You have the power to force institutions to change, including this one.  You have the power to push institutions to move beyond denial, beyond thoughts and prayers.  If you’re here today you already know where and who the foundation is, the one who continues to feed us with life-giving bread rather than stones of shame and guilt.  It’s all of you that need to push us forward.

And so we pray for God’s grace this day for more than thoughts and prayers.  We pray for God’s grace to return to the foundation that, never, no never, forsakes, as the hymn goes.  We pray for this Church and all of us to return to the heart of Jesus in these moments.  As I said, it’s too easy to leave and run.  The disciples did it.  Heck, we’ll hear it in John’s gospel shortly as well because it’s too hard.  We’re more than an institution when we put relationship first and allow all else to flow from the source.  We’ve had enough thoughts and prayers.  We’ve certainly had enough ignorance and arrogance.  We pray that we take Lady Wisdom’s advice to us today, to open the doors, to be vulnerable in the face of adversity, to lay aside old ways of thinking, and to personify Wisdom in the heart of Jesus.  It is this relationship with God, with Christ crucified, with the heart of Jesus that will change us and move us forward while returning us to what matters most.

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Family Lies

Genesis 3: 9-15; 2Cor 4: 13–5: 1; Mark 3: 20-35

When we hear this gospel and the question of family, it’s important to remember that we’re not reading Matthew or Luke where we hear the narratives of the Holy Family that we have become accustomed to during the Christmas season.  In Mark, who we hear from this weekend, they are nonexistent and so when family is spoken of today it’s a much larger context, we can define them as the human family that sets out with the accusation of him “being out of his mind”.  That said, when it comes to family, it’s not so much as to whether there is dysfunction it’s a matter of the degree of dysfunction within the human family.  Every family has secrets and things they don’t talk about.  No family even wants to give the perception that they are far from perfect all while believing “out there” someone has it better than ourselves, creating a sense of shame and guilt that runs deep where no one can ever speak of the elephant in the room.

We also know, from the nuclear family, that it’s often an outsider who reveals our own insanity to us.  When someone brings home a boyfriend, girlfriend, or just anyone who didn’t grow up within that family, they see things differently.  Now our immediate reaction is to typically judge that person and cast them aside as being “out of his mind” but that’s our own way of avoiding the dysfunction.  What we can do, though, is allow these things to surface and not to judge them or others but rather to allow them to be healed and redeemed.  That’s what God desires of and for the human family.  We can take that a step further also to this city or certainly as a country.  We live in denial of our own history so often.  We prefer not to look at it and avoid it all while the rest of the world already knows.  It’s why we feel so threatened by outsiders.  They have a way of revealing what we don’t like about ourselves and we’ll do anything to destroy, by word or action.  We continue to see it today with families being torn apart, refugees being shunned, anyone that is seen as a threat to our own way of life is disposable.

Jesus, though, becomes the archetypal outsider, living on the edge of the inside.  How quickly people, those in power in particular, feel threatened by his very existence.  Today, it’s the human family.  It’s a very simple question that is asked as to “who is my brother and mother”.  We can come up with obvious answers to those questions but it seems to get clouded by Jesus.  They want to immediately react and say he’s crazy, in the same way we do with people who do heinous acts, to somehow save them from themselves.  But Jesus isn’t simply referring to his immediate family as I said.  He becomes a perceived threat to the way of life for the human family.  So their response to him is to label him crazy.  They don’t want to associate with him or have any parts of him in that sense.  As soon as he begins to threaten the status quo of their lives things are turned upside down.  The very people who thought they were insiders now find themselves on the outside looking in because they don’t feel the need for redemption and refuse to look at their own sin.  It’s a fascinating play on words and turning things upside down, allowing all to surface in order to be redeemed through a God how continues to look out at humanity with great love.

It takes us to one of the most famous passages of Genesis with Adam and Eve doing what they do in the Garden.  They buy into the big lie just as we do.  They are convinced, rather easily, that if they eat from that particular tree in the middle of the garden they can be God.  There would no longer need to God and they can become self-sufficient, just as we often try.  There is, in some sense from God today a level of disappointment with the human family for what they had done and the lie they so easily believed.  God continues to look lovingly upon them as their own sin surfaces to be redeemed and reconciled.  Whereas the human family wants to quickly label God as “out of his mind” God in turn looks lovingly.  It’s not until they realize that they have become lost that they can be sought out and found by Love.  It’s not about becoming God.  Rather, it’s about seeing as God sees and to look at a hurting human family in that same way, in need of love, forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation. 

It’s Paul’s continuous point to the people of Corinth as well, whom we hear from in the second reading.  He reminds them that we have “the same spirit of faith” and that as a community which also had become reliant upon itself and self-sufficient, that it was still God who was working in and through them.  They community was becoming its own judge and determining who was in and who was out, excluding people from the table, mistreating others, and simply seeing with their own eyes rather than the eyes of God.  Paul, of course, knows this better than anyone.  He was the one who judged and deemed who was in and out until his own conversion experience.  Paul had to first find himself lost in order to be found by this God who loved and redeemed him for his own sin, sin which we’d find hard to forgive at times.  Yet, that same God who looked lovingly upon Adam and Eve looked upon Paul and his vision had been restored and he began to look at the human family in a very different way.  Paul sought a more just society, especially for those who were excluded.  Like Jesus, he learned to live on the edge of the inside and never forgetting what it’s like to be the outsider.

The human family can be quite dysfunctional; and is quite often.  It should not surprise us that our government is the same as family and also the Church.  When the human family is involved there will always be problems.  The question is do we live in denial of our own storied history or do we allow it to surface with purpose and meaning, revealing the great lies that we become attached to in order to be redeemed and reconciled, leading to a more just society.  The ones who gather around Jesus in today’s gospel always has space for new faces.  There are no walls, no divisions, nothing that separates, otherwise it’s not God.  We put ourselves on the outside looking in when we make the mistake from the Garden, of thinking we know as God knows, of thinking we can be the judge.  It becomes easier to blame and be victims rather than allow ourselves to be changed when our own sin surfaces.  The Good News, as it always is, just as in the beginning, God still looks lovingly upon us, awaiting our own desire in our lostness to be found.

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!

Go!

Acts 1: 1-11; Eph 1: 17-23; Mark 16: 15-20

I suppose they were expecting “happily ever after”.  If we go back 40 days now to Easter, the disciples had just witnessed the horrific death of their friend Jesus, then three days later raised from the dead, and I suppose expected “happily ever after”.  Everything was good again.  They’ve witnessed all he did as Luke and Mark tell us today and he’ll continue going about the mission that he had come here for in the first place and they can follow along.  Yet, and I would hope, that as adults we know enough to know that there are no fairy tales, there is no “happily ever after”.  Our lives are just not like that and nor for the disciples so when Jesus is lifted up into heaven today all they can do is look up at the sky and wonder what’s next.

Don’t we all catch ourselves staring at the sky, wondering when God’s going to do something about all the problems in the world.  I mean, can’t God do something about poverty, hunger, homelessness, refugees, war, and the countless other problems that plague the world.  It’s funny how God gets blamed for all of it while we stand idly by, at times, staring at the sky wondering why.  Yet, we hear today that the story doesn’t end with the disciples staring into space, questioning again what’s happening.  They, however, are given a command to go!  Their fairy tale ending with Jesus just isn’t going to be the reality but instead they’re told to go do something and imitate Jesus along the way, bring that healing and love to the world.

Paul tells us today that we’ve already been given the power to do something in the world.  It’s by no means an easy task that lies ahead for the disciples or us for that matter, but he reminds us today that the Spirit is already given to us and the more we learn to trust and have faith in the ascended Lord, the more we can tackle the problems of the world, bringing healing and love along the way.  It’s so easy to blame God, or others for that matter, when things aren’t getting done and people are not being cared for in our world.  It’s a whole lot easier to live in our “happily ever after” storybook than to face the realities of the world, the very realities that Jesus faced living out this mission.  Today is the day the responsibility of the mission is passed onto the disciples to simply Go!

We live in a time, though, when we’d rather blame.  The worst thing any of us can tell ourselves is that we’re helpless or powerless for that matter.  Any addict can affirm that for us.  We begin to tell ourselves, while we stare up at the sky, that the problems are so big, how can I possibly do anything about it.  It’s not my responsibility, it’s someone else’s.  Our favorite here, well that’s the government’s job.  Pass blame, victims of our own circumstances, all while gazing up at the sky waiting for a message to come from on High as to what to do, when all along the disciples are told don’t look up.  Rather, go out.  The mission is passed onto each.

Of course, it’s necessary, as I said Paul writes that we return to the source of life.  We, like the disciples, can also easily fall into the trap of thinking it’s all about us.  We begin to think we’re the savior or messiah.  Rather, Paul reminds us, as well as the gospel writers, that the Lord needed to ascend.  This mission is too big to be contained to a specific location.  It was going to need to spread from Jerusalem and Galilee to the ends of the earth but that can only happen because of today’s feast as the Lord ascends before the very eyes of the disciples, remaining with them, now in a unique way, until the end of time.  It won’t ever be happily ever after for them or for us.  There are too much hurting and suffering in our world today to even begin to think that.  Rather, like the disciples, the message of the feast is quite simple, Go!  When we allow the Lord to use us and work through us and within us, we bring the only thing that offers hope the world, the gift of our love and the love of God burning within us. 

As we celebrate this feast and prepare for the coming of the Spirit on Pentecost next Sunday, we pray for the grace to turn our gaze from the sky and unto the Lord, to be given that Spirit, enlivened within our hearts, so that we can live the command given to the disciples and continues today, to go.  No more blaming.  No more passing the buck.  Heck, no more thinking this is about “happily ever after”.  There’s too much work to be done, there is a mission to serve, so go.  Go, do something that brings love to the world.  Go, do something that brings healing to the world.  Go and allow yourself to be used by the Lord for mission and bring the good news through your lives.  Go!

#MeTooLord

1 Sam 3: 3-10, 19; I Cor 6: 13-15, 17-20; John 1: 35-42

I would guess that most are aware that the Person of the Year on Time Magazine was not a person, but rather #MeToo.  It was the “Me Too” movement that had begun months ago and then showcased in that edition of women, and some men, who had been sexually assaulted from persons of authority, abuse of power, or however you want to describe one taking advantage of the other.  The first question often asked afterwards is why does it take so long for someone to step forward in such a situation.  My personal opinion, if you even have to ask the question you probably have not done a great deal of interior work otherwise you’d know the courage it takes to confront the truth of our lives and the stories that make us up and that we become identified with, and more often than not, the negative.  They tell us we’re not good enough.  There’s something wrong with us.  I’m not worthy enough.  Yet, it often takes another person whom we can trust, someone who can love us unconditionally in return, and can help us face the truth of our lives before we can take that step forward and begin to see ourselves as something more.  That’s why it takes so long for someone to come forward because it takes us all a great deal of time to come forward in our own lives and have an encounter with the real.

It is that type of encounter that will change the course of the lives of the disciples as we hear their call this morning in John’s gospel.  As much as it is the call, this week is really a continuation of last week, Epiphany, and the Magi’s own encounter with the real.  As you remember, they have the encounter with the Christ, with truth, with that unconditional love, and their lives are sent in a different direction.  There was no going back.  The same is true for all who have the courage to step out of their own social and cultural norms.  We see what happened to many of the women in the #MeToo movement.  No sooner they come out, especially when it involves politicians or famous people, shame is almost immediately cast upon them.  It is the reality of the disciples being called forth as well today.  It’s why the call of the disciples involves often two leavings.  They leave their families and they leave their work behind, the two places where our own image and identities are thrust upon us and it’s not until the encounter, like the Magi and the disciples, where we begin to see that there’s something more about us and for our lives.  The natural inclination, even for the disciples, will be to try to return to what they had known, only to find that it’s no longer enough and the desire for more will push them forward once again.

When we hear the first reading today from Samuel, we encounter two people who seem to still be trying to step forward in a courageous way and experience God differently.  Even Eli, this wisdom figure, doesn’t seem to understand this call and encounter that Samuel has received.  He too is going to have to let go of his own expectations and who he thought this God was before it begins to make sense.  Samuel, like the disciples, will be called forth with great courage to do what seems to be the impossible, to be that voice of truth, that presence of unconditional love, to speak honestly to Eli and where he has gone astray in his own life, leading to a deeper understanding of God and himself.  So often it’s through that person we trust, that can love us unconditionally, who can be present to us in our story who then lead us to the path of freedom and to become our fullest selves.

Although it may not sound like it, it’s also what Paul is trying to convey to the Corinthian community in today’s second reading.  They are a newly converted community but like most, as it seems to begin to wear off, they want to return to their former way of lives.  He not only speaks of the body, as in ourselves, but that too because some began to look for love and intimacy in the wrong places, seeking encounters not with the Lord but with prostitutes!  Paul challenges them as a community that they must become that encounter for all who have gone astray.  They weren’t to just leave them go off; rather, lead them back to the real, to an encounter once again of unconditional love, to the Lord who gives them life.  It often feels like you’re giving up so much when taking that step forward, over and over again, but in the end we gain everything.  When we have that encounter with the Lord, the direction of our lives are changed and we no longer settle for social norms, cultural norms, and our own past that often holds us back.

As we enter into these weeks of ordinary time, we’ll continue to see that manifestation of that unconditional love in healing stories and forgiveness.  We’ll see it in the encounters Jesus has with people on the way, who’s curiosity is peeked as it was with the disciples today.  Even John knew there was more.  They would leave behind family, political affiliation, religious affiliation as it was with John, to step into and out of something new.  It takes a great deal of courage to face our own past and to become aware of the identities that we cling to in our own lives, running back at times to what gives us comfort, even if it means living in the shame of our hurt as it was with the #metoo movement.  We know it when we have the encounter with the real, with the Christ because like so many who we hear of in Scripture, when it happens, life is changed forever.   They’re never satisfied with the norms anymore and are liberated from their own fear.  We pray for that grace in our own lives, to be cracked open by the invitation to encounter the Lord in a new way, to leave behind our old identities and now seek our identity in Christ.  We encounter that in that presence, in that unconditional love, and the acceptance of the Other, who calls us forth to a fuller way of life and to no longer settle in fear for anything less than more.

Redeeming History

Isaiah 25: 6-10; Phil 4: 12-14, 19-20; Matt 22: 1-14

If we could take the First Reading from Isaiah and smack it against this gospel from Matthew, we can get somewhat of a continuation of the story of People Israel. We seem to think that everything prior to Jesus is simply “old” and could be forgotten, as if putting the past in the past is enough, but for Israel, their history continued with or without Jesus. If we pull them together, despite being some 800 years apart, we could see not just how far they have come as a people but just how much further they need to go to experience the fullness of the promise of Isaiah in today’s first reading.
Like most of us, Israel struggles with its history. As much as Cross and Resurrection is central to who we are, for Israel, and even for us, it was very much rooted in slavery and freedom and the tension between them that so often defined them. With every step forward into freedom in which they are invited, it seems as if they get stuck, being enslaved in one way or another. It may not show itself in the form of Pharaoh, but it certainly does in the form of the chief priests, elders of the people, and Pharisees, whom Jesus has been telling these rather bizarre parables to the past few weeks. Here he is in the heart of the tension, Jerusalem, with his own death beginning to seem more real. They’ve come a long way but still much further to go until, as Isaiah tells us today, the veil that veils all people is removed and the banquet is no longer an exclusive club for certain members. If anything, more often than not they become enslaved to their own way of thinking that pulls them back into slavery, separating from their heart, with a call once again to freedom.
All that being said, then we have these two parables that Jesus tells us today that seem rather unusual without quite knowing who’s who. As it would be for us, our autoreply would be to associate the king with God. However, if we do that it seems like a rather cruel one at that. We’re dealing with people, though, who were doing just that to others, putting themselves in the place of God, enslaved to the law. It was the chief priests, elders of the people, Pharisees and the like and so in some ways it’s mirroring their own behavior and once again how their history has taken a hold of them. If we could say anything about Jesus, he has a way of raising these things to a surface, not to lead to further death, but rather to be redeemed once again, forgiven, an opportunity for reconciliation.
We often live with this idea, as we do with everything that comes before Jesus, that we can simply put the past behind us. In my experience, I find that my past always finds a way to work its way back into my life, weaving itself in in different ways. Again, not to cast it into the darkness where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth, but raised to the surface for deeper redemption and forgiveness, no longer needing to pretend that it’s somehow no longer relevant, which only leads to deeper enslavement. We can’t just say that everything is in the past, as individuals and as a country, casting it into further darkness. That’s simply denying the pain of the people, often enslaved by that pain that prevents them from moving forward. I could make it look like all is well but deep down living in pain and with an unchanged heart.
That takes us to the second parable of the man not dressed the proper way, in the wedding garment. Again, it would seem rather trite if we were speaking of God, but it is a parable raising to the surface what it is the leaders of the community are doing and how they are acting. It’s not about a garment at all. Rather, it’s about limiting faith to simply making it look like we play the part. It was all about looking good while inflicting pain otherwise, as they so often did. Even at such banquet they’d wait to see who else attended to determine if it was worth them showing up. It was about being seen rather than a change of heart, all the while living in the darkness of the night. Not cast there by God, but by their own doing. For the Pharisees, the chief priests, and elders of the people, the banquet was about exclusion. It was about us versus them. It was about who’s in and who’s out. It’s about winners and losers. They may have come a far way into living into the promise, but still a long way to go where all are invited to the banquet, where there is no more division and separation, where head and heart may be one.
Paul so often exemplifies it and speaks of living in that tension in his own life, quite content with being full or going hungry, having abundance or being in need. For Paul it was not about casting life out into the darkness but embracing life where it is in this moment and not becoming enslaved to his thinking and simply sitting with the choices that lie before him. For Paul it is about surrendering himself over to God consistently, knowing the mercy of God is a necessity and that whatever rises to the surface in his own life is being raised by God for healing and redemption. If we weren’t so quick to react to our own pain and our addicting thoughts, we too can experience that sense of surrender that Paul speaks of and find the healing we need in our own lives, for a change of heart that goes beyond the surface.
The parables we’ve heard these weeks have been quite challenging. They can also be a mirror for us about how far we have come as a people, mindful of our how history, but also how much further we need to go. More often than not we are lured into the life of slavery once again, in many different forms from anger, grudges, and our own inability to see each other as one. We almost prefer to separate and divide rather than sit with our own uncomfortableness with people who may be different than us, people we’ve cast into the darkness who have something to teach us about ourselves, people we think we’ve pushed into slavery but have only cast ourselves into through our own fear and attachment to our thinking.  It was what Matthew feared of his own community, that they’d be pulled apart by these divisions. We pray for the awareness in our own lives, not only recognizing how far we have come in our lives, individually and collectively, but just how far we still need to go to experience the fulfillment of the promise. Our past will always find a way to creep into our lives, holding us back, but in such moments, as Paul tells us, when we can sit with it rather than cast aside or react to, we can finally move to a place of redemption and forgiveness through and in Love. In those moments, glimpses of the promise are revealed where all are truly welcome at this banquet and all are seen as brother and sister.

 

Our Separated Humanity

I found today extremely sad.  Yes, to the point of tears sad.  When I turned on the news this morning and heard of the shooting in Las Vegas and then saw some of the footage, I simply found myself in tears.  I was in disbelief, as if something like this just shouldn’t be happening.  And yet it was.  Again.  Not that I was the least bit surprised because I wasn’t.  Violence is the way of life here in Baltimore and other metropolitan areas but also around the globe, but for whatever reason it just struck me today, as if caught off guard.

I happened to catch a former FBI agent speaking on the broadcast, long before much was known about the shooter, other than the fact that he was a male, age 64.  My immediate thought was questioning how someone could reach that age and still harboring so much that he’s willing to take the lives of so many people so callously.  But the expert when on to speak about where he shot them from, the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay, and the significance of the place of power, atop the people, paradoxically, though, magnifying the powerlessness.  I hadn’t thought of that as he tries to get into the mind of this guy.  More than 1200 feet separated himself from the crowd below, amplifying the casualty as bullets reigned down.

More times I can count I have written on this blog about the God problem we have, and I do still believe that to be true.  We find ourselves clinging to so many false gods that have taken the place of God, of mystery, that we find ourselves wandering aimlessly in a darkened world and country.  It’s all true if we could be aware enough in our lives to begin to see that we too are a part of the problem, not just the other that we have demonized.  Thinking about this guy, though, I began to think, as much as we have a God problem, possibly even more striking is the human problem that exists in this land.

There he was, some 32 floors off the ground and entirely separated from humanity below.  Unable to see the trauma being inflicted.  Unable to see the tears nor hear the screams that we’ve had to listen to repetitively through the media.  Now, granted, these are all signs of someone who was experiencing severe psychological problems in his life, seeming to be entirely separated from humanity.  However, the slow process of attaching ourselves to our gods has a similar impact on our own lives.

Think about it.  The more the demand for certainty in our lives and the attachment to the illusion of “being right”, the less capable we have become of empathizing and sympathizing with our fellow brothers and sisters and a whole lot less space for God.  It becomes entirely about having the winning argument, as I’m sure we will witness one again when it comes to the use of guns in our society, and less about the impact so much of what we are doing has upon humanity.  The problem is that we cling so tightly to our certainty that our own eyes become clouded from seeing the tears and pain of the other nor hearing the scream and cry for help as pain reigns down and is reigned down by my own inability to love and to walk this journey with the other.

I can never fully put myself in the place of another human being.  Their story is their story just as mine is mine.  I have suffered greatly in my own life, gradually learning to release the hold of certainty in my own life and through process, trust in faith, in the unseen, in the unknown, making space not only for God but for the other and their story and to hold it as treasure.  We have put ourselves in so many losing situations.  We cling to our symbols, to our institutions, our belongings, our own lives, as if that’s all that matters.  As if that’s all that matters and we can’t care about anything else.  We have a human problem and a God problem who ever so mightily is trying to break through our own lives and to free us from ourselves.  Ourselves.  We cling so tightly and before you know it, we too find ourselves separated from humanity, the humanity of the other and our own, unable to stand with, kneel beside, listen with love, see with care, all because of this distance we have put between ourselves, creating a tension, that, although painful, hopefully leads one day to a new day, a new beginning, a re-creation of our humanity.

It’s a sad day.  It’s been sad days, weeks, months, years, of being torn apart by so much that just doesn’t matter and yet we cling.  We cling to our ideology.  We cling to our certainty.  We cling to a flag.  We cling to a nation that was.  We cling to our guns.  We cling to our rights.  We cling.  It’s what we humans often do best, cling.  Somehow thinking we can’t live without any of it.  Somehow thinking that it’s eternal and never-changing.  We cling to our false gods that over time divide, leaving a gaping hole of pain in the soul of me, you, and a nation, that can only be filled with a God who’s love surpasses all and fulfills all, a God so often unseen and yet so present, gently opening our eyes and hearts to the other and their story.  A story you don’t know.  A story we mustn’t judge.  A story that is unfolding.  A story we must learn to care about in order to understand and in order to close the gap of our own humanity.  It’s the story of the Christ. 

It’s was an extremely sad day but a day in which we are once again invited to enter into the mystery of our own lives, feel the pain of the other, and together we learn to find true freedom from what binds and hurts our hearts and souls as a nation because in the end the story is the same.  It’s a sad day when we can no longer weep for all humanity who suffers because of our inability to put ourselves in their place beyond our symbols and institutions.  The more I am freed of my own gods of judgment, condemnation, and fear, I find myself trusting in all I can trust in, a God who doesn’t reign bullets nor insults down upon humanity but rather love, understanding, and forgiveness.