A Full-Hearted Love

Jeremiah 20: 10-13; Romans 5: 12-15; Matt 10: 26-33

When I’m doing weddings, I have all my couples fill out a questionnaire and of course one of the questions is what marriage means for them.  Working with young couples you get used to a lot of idealistic views and expectations that we know aren’t always the reality in our lives, no matter where we find ourselves committed.  The wedding I had yesterday, though, the groom had written something different and I then commented on it at the wedding.  He said something along the lines that it’s about giving 100%.  I’ve met many that enter into this commitment thinking it’s 50-50.  There’s two of us and we’ll somehow make it work.  But those in committed relationships for awhile know it doesn’t work that way.  As a matter of fact, it’s often what ends relationships.  No matter the case, the call is to give yourself 100%, full heart, often to someone or something bigger than yourself, to live the mission given.

I believe it’s the same message we hear from Jeremiah and Jesus in today’s first reading and gospel.  Jeremiah is probably the greatest example we have in Hebrew Scripture of the real struggle of moving to the place of fully committing to what God is asking.  He’s young, naïve, and quite idealistic, and feels as if God has somehow deceived him into this whole gig he’s got as a prophet.  He sees war, destruction, violence, and injustice, and no one wants to listen to him, and just finds himself tormented by the whole thing.  It’s not until Jeremiah begins to make the pivot in his life and see that all the injustice that is going on in the world is also happening within himself and that is preventing him from giving it his all.  He can’t fully commit to this God when his own heart remains divided, holding onto his own illusions and expectations of what it was supposed to be.  He will learn to let go and surrender to love in order to be transformed into this prophetic voice.  He will go on and give thanks to go but only after giving himself the space to struggle, and rub up against his own injustice before he can taste the freedom this God is offering him to send him on this mission.  As Paul tells us today, it’s this grace that will push us through, even when we’re not feeling 100%.  Otherwise, as he says, we’ll hold onto death and sin and our own injustice. 

The same is true for the disciples as they are sent out on mission in today’s gospel.  We jump ahead a few chapters from where we left off in ordinary time in February.  The last we heard was from the Sermon on the Mount but today the message is still practically the same.  The beatitudes end with the message that you will face persecution and today the first line is to fear no one.  Jesus is fully aware of the human condition and what it is that the disciples will face in their own lives and this commitment that they are being called to in life.  At first they are like Jeremiah, young and somewhat idealistic, but eventually the illusions start to fall away and they will find their own commitment being tested.  They will be lured by fear, the threat of losing their own lives, persecution, and great darkness.  They will witness it before their eyes and will be challenged to make the same pivot at Jeremiah to see it within themselves.  If their mission is to be agents of peace and reconciliation and a more just society, they will first have to confront their own illusions and what they hold onto for self-preservation.  Of course, we know that the twelve will move to that place and make that pivot to committing themselves with their whole heart to the mission that is being asked of them.  As we hear from Jeremiah, it’s hard but it the demand of not only the gospel and the committed relationships that we’re in, whether marriage, priesthood, or however we commit ourselves, but also the demand of being a disciple for each of us.

We all know that we can never be 100%.  It’s nearly impossible as humans and the human condition that we are all a part of, but it remains a process that we are invited into in our lives when it comes to not only our relationship with others but with God.  It’s a struggle and something we must wrestle with ourselves, a constant letting go and surrendering to find that 100% within ourselves.  More often than not, whatever we let go of or allow to die wasn’t necessary anyway.  It’s something that has offered us security or even fed into our own fears, our own way of self-preservation.  What are the fears we hold onto, our own ways of preserving ourselves?  What holds us back, knowing full well that the way we see the world around us is the world within us?  Where is the terror and injustice within our own hearts, keeping us from experiencing the freedom necessary to respond to God 100%?    Our mission is to be agents of peace and reconciliation, agents of that grace and love and we do that when we allow ourselves to become just that, especially allowing ourselves to become the love that changes our hearts forever.

Love’s Eye

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

I was talking to some new pastors this week up at the seminary so of course part of the conversation was on prayer.  It is not only central to us priests but to all of us.  I was surprised when one of them had told me that he didn’t pray.  So, of course, I asked him why, and as surprised as I was to hear that he didn’t pray I wasn’t all surprised by the why because I had heard in many times before.  When I finally sit down to pray, to stop, to quiet down, it seems at that point my mind takes off, a million miles a minute along with all my fears and anxieties, unresolved conflict, and all the rest begin to surface.  That’s the reason why you have to pray in those moments.

I use the example often, now that we are into the summer and it is hurricane season, to imagine a satellite image of a hurricane.  Most have a well-defined eye.  Crazy enough, that’s where you want to be in the hurricane.  It’s the place where the sun shines.  There’s peace and tranquility.  That’s the place of center we take with us into the storm, into the million miles a minute, otherwise the wall collapses and the storm consumes our lives.  This feast we celebrate today at the end of the Easter Season defines our center, that place of peace and tranquility that is hopefully leading us and navigating us through the storms of our own lives, as individuals, community, country, and world.  We certainly know that that’s not always the case.

When the early community begins to form and that we heard of throughout this Easter season from Acts of the Apostles, they too found themselves often trying to find that center and allowing it to be their navigation tool through often tumultuous times.  It was not an easy go for them when community was beginning to form around this new identity in Christ.  Like any community, there is self-interest, there are people that are trying to satisfy their own needs, there are people that are trying to drag us into their own storms, into the chaos of their own lives that will often challenge that center, that navigation tool.

The same was true for Corinth in whom Paul writes today.  It’s a section of that letter that we are all familiar with when he speaks of different gifts but the same spirit being manifested in the life of the community.  He’ll go onto to speak about the different parts yet one body and culminate in the next chapter with his message of love that we are familiar with from weddings.  There was dissension in the ranks of the community because they thought one person’s gift was better than the other, thinking that speaking in tongues was somehow better than the rest.  It created riffs.  Like the world we often find ourselves in today, there was selfish motivation, which of course, at that point, loses its purpose of being a gift in the first place!  One gift is not somehow better than the other, but rather, Paul will go onto say that no matter the gift and no matter the person, at the center of the community, the great navigation tool, will be that of love.  That becomes the eye of the storm and it becomes the navigation tool that the disciples will have to take into the storms that await them on that Easter day.

There seems to be no great Pentecost experience with them when we encounter them in today’s Gospel.  There they are, caught in the midst of a wild storm as the witnessed the death of Jesus, the one who had been their center up to this point.  For John, though, he’s going to want to take us back to the beginning and not to just the beginning of the gospel but back to the beginning of Genesis, when God breathes life into creation.  Here we are now, locked in the upper room, filled with fear and doubt, wondering and questioning, feeling like they’re being consumed by the storm and all that they had known falling down around them, and Jesus appears.  But not to just pick back up where they had left off on Good Friday but to give them a new center that goes deep within them and yet so far beyond them.  Jesus breathes on them, not just into their mouths, but into their very being the gift of the Spirit.  That will become their place of authority, their place of deep love, their own navigation tool as we see them go forward throughout Acts of the Apostles.

As we draw this Easter season to a close today, we pray for that same Spirit to be breathed into us, making us aware of where our center is in life.  Do we find ourselves much more comfortable in the storminess, chaos, fear and anxiety, that at times consumes our lives or are we being led to a place of peace that expands truth and makes space within us for all peoples?  Maybe we’re at a place where we need to quiet down, slow down, even if our minds want to go a million miles an hour.  That’s exactly where that navigation tool is leading us, to expand that place of peace and tranquility within us.  The last thing the world needs is more chaos, fear, and anxiety.  It leads us to reacting to everything that comes our way, sucking us into the storminess of lives and feeling overwhelmed by it all.  Like the disciples, on this day God desires to breathe that life, that Spirit into each of us so rather than being defined by the storminess we become the agents of change by brining that navigation tool, that eye, that deep source of love to an often hurting world to bring about the redemption that is freely given to each of us.

 

Disruptive Blind Spots

Sirach 35: 12-14, 16-18; 2Tim 4: 6-8, 16-18; Luke 18: 9-14

Anyone who drives is well aware of what we call “the blind spot”. We know the havoc it could cause for us as drivers if we are not paying attention to it. It’s our most vulnerable place as drivers and can cause great harm if we forget about it. The same is true, as we know, for Joe Flacco and other quarterbacks. They have their blindside. When his isn’t protected, as we’ve seen a lot recently, he finds himself on his back end more than anything. It’s his vulnerable point and has to be protected and not forgotten.

The same is true for our spiritual life and our lives in general. Like when we drive, it is our most vulnerable place and if evil and sin is going to work its way into our lives that’s precisely where it’s going to happen. Yet, we like to ignore it and are often so unaware of it that it has a tendency to control our lives, sometimes unaware that our lives can even be better than it is. They are our blindspots, our blindside, that can find a way to separate us from ourselves, from others, and from God.

In the stories we hear each week, our blind spot is often represented through the Pharisee. Even when Jesus uses other stories, they’re often about the pharisees and what they can’t see about themselves. However, as we march our way through Luke’s gospel, he seems to be more forward with them, specifically calling the one entering into prayer a Pharisee who finds himself disconnected from the tax collector and from God for that matter. Everything that he wants to point out about others are often his own faults and points of vulnerability and yet becomes blinded by them, presenting himself in a rather conceited way before God. What he does is what we often all try to do, thinking we can trick God into believing that we’re someone other than we really are, as if God is somehow not going to love us or forgive us if God really knows who we are. So what do we do? We created an affront and not always even consciously, but our blind spot is hard at work separating us and leading us to believe we can be someone other than who we are.

Paul knows it all too well. He is the master of the ego and knows all too well what life is like when the blind spot is directing life, often separating us from our own humanity. Yet, today we hear his continuation of his letter to Timothy. He’s imprisoned and nearing the end of his life, using such poetic language to speak about the constant need for turning his life over the Lord, seeking redemption and greater freedom. Everyone has abandoned him at this point because of the challenge he created in their lives. He wasn’t only good at recognizing his own blind spot but calling others out for theirs. They don’t want to hear that. And yet, to move towards holiness and wholeness in our lives, we have to come to the Lord and this Table as we are, entirely. We aren’t going to trick God into believing something about us nor are we going to trick ourselves. This sense that we have to come to the Lord perfect stands as a great obstacle to the good in our lives and an obstacle to holiness and wholeness and leading an authentic life.

Sirach also points out this need to be vulnerable before the Lord as the writer speaks of a God who shows no favorites. It is a God who is partial to the weak and hears the cry of the oppressed, a God not deaf to the orphans, or for that matter as with today’s gospel, a tax collector who acknowledges his own sinfulness and recognizes this deeper need for God’s mercy and forgiveness. It’s someone that realizes they no longer need to hide from God, no longer need to disguise or ignore their blind spot, but rather come to God as they are, in need of mercy and forgiveness. The reversals happen once again where the tax collector upstages the pharisee and God meets humanity at its most vulnerable point, redemption and salvation happens in a moment of oneness and connectedness.

As we come to this Table today, we pray we may be aware as to how we gather. Are we still trying to play games with God, presenting ourselves as “perfect” never allowing ourselves to be changed and transformed by this Eucharist. There is great freedom when we can come to accept that we don’t need to come here perfect but rather only as ourselves, sinners in need of mercy and forgiveness. Why do we want to put that pressure on ourselves to be something we aren’t? It keeps us from growing in relationship with ourselves, with others, and with God. It also becomes an obstacle from living an authentic life. We pray, like when we drive, that we are always aware of that blind spot in our own lives and to know the havoc it could play in our lives. We’re more than that not because of what it wants to tell us, but rather because of who we are, sinners, yet loved and always being called forth to mercy and forgiveness.

God, Country, and Football…and not necessarily in that order

I typically don’t hide the fact that I am a football fan. As a matter of fact, I have written about it on this blog before for a variety of reasons. I have written about how I watch it less and less, mainly because of the violence that it does to these men, who, for the short-term may have reasons such as money and fame to participate in it; but, long-term, the impact can be quite devastating. There’s also the impact it has on me and other viewers after watching hours and hours of it, week after week. Even more so, though, recently, I have tried to avoid the sport when I can, and professional sports in general, but particularly football, because of what it has become and the enmeshment of this sense of nationalism that is so often associated with it, as part of us, as the old song goes, apple pie.

This has only been fueled more by the story of Colin Kaepernick taking a knee during the national anthem, followed by other athletes who have followed his lead these past weeks. I’m not here to say whether he’s right or wrong. Quite frankly, I don’t even think that’s the issue at hand nor do I really think Kaepernick cares about whether I think he’s right or wrong, as much as some think he does. What I do want to say and speak to, though, is the deep amount of empathy that I do have for him right now and an understanding of the need for dialogue within our culture and country. As much as I thought he was a pompous ass when he first began in the NFL, there’s a different look in his eyes now that wasn’t there before and so it makes it hard not to feel for him and others like him. All he has really asked for, more than anything, is dialogue. Is that really too much to ask?

I really believe that no one can get to that place in their life unless they have faced great suffering themselves. Maybe for him it even could have come in the fact that he is no longer a starting quarterback, but I don’t know because I’m not him. It would be hard to believe that that alone would not shatter someone’s ego like none other, bearing in mind that it was just a few years ago that he was playing in the pinnacle of the sport, the Super Bowl. Some want to quickly judge him in that way. The spotlight is no longer on him and so he has to do something to get himself back to the stage, the arena, into the sanctuary of the sport. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe now he realizes he has nothing to lose. He’s already lost it all and all he has left is a deeply-held belief that now drives him to kneel when others, at times, blindly stand and recite words that don’t mean much more than a creed recited in church, words and not much more. If I give even a perception as being against, I am seen as unpatriotic, bearing the cross of being un-American, whatever that means. We seem to accept freedoms only when they meet our own standard-bearing, failing to often see that others may have a different experience than my own and a wound that stands unique to them that has brought them to their knees and to this point in their lives.

It’s easy for us to say, “God and Country” and probably sports a close third. The problem is when they all begin to enmesh. Honestly, it becomes a real danger when they begin to overlap. It becomes a danger when it’s no longer “God and Country” but rather country as god or sport as god or any other god that we try to hold onto, especially when they seem to be passing through our fingers. We as fans gather daily and weekly in this nave, gathered with the thinking that somehow their lives depend on the outcome; sometimes more emotionally attached to a game than lives being lost by violence across the country and globe. All our hope seems to be intertwined with the winning of a team or being number one in the world. When we begin to make these symbols into gods, we begin to fall down the slippery slope, attaching ourselves to something, for all intensive purposes, that aren’t real in the first place, but supposed to be symbolic and point us to something deeper, which should make us pause and reflect when someone goes against the tide rather than quick to react. In turn, we often end up using people for our own political gain rather than seeking understanding and reconciliation, a dialogue with differing points of view.

Kaepernick himself has made the point that it’s bigger than football. It’s all bigger than football or religion but it’s also much deeper than them all as well. When people are taken out of the equation and symbols and words take precedence, we have distanced ourselves from the humanity, and senseless killing begins to feel normal, detached from my own humanity. When no one speaks up, kneels down, or pleads on behalf of the people, as Moses does for Israel, we find ourselves lost in a chaotic world with a flag, or words, or a sport being the only thing consistent in our lives, feeling secure and yet so enslaved by our inability to see the other as brother and sister and to understand that they too have a story unlike my own, filled with hopes, fears, disappointments, misunderstandings, and so much more. Instead, I judge them by an action without ever trying to understand the person and allowing myself to fall into the hands of a bigger God that can somehow hold it all, even people different from myself.
It really isn’t about right or wrong.  If it is it will continue to divide us.  It’s only divisive because we allow it to be and don’t allow ourselves the invitation to step back and see why it’s causing such a reaction in myself and dialoguing with it. It’s all he has asked and somehow managed to put a mirror up to the culture and began a conversation. It really has nothing to do with Kaepernick, just as much as our spiritual life has nothing to do with Trump or Clinton, even though some will continue to think that it does. If it does, it’s because we allow that as well and we continue to seek a god elsewhere rather than in the place of our own hurts, deep within our souls, including the soul of a nation. Our reactions to these events say more about us than it does any of them, whether individually or collectively. We have been given so many such invitations over these years, which has only led to war, division, hatred, bias, judgment, violence, fear, towards anyone that is somehow different than myself. Maybe even worse than making country or sport into god, is allowing myself to be god. If there’s a starting point for any of us in these lived realities to begin to ask questions, it’s with myself and my own reactions. Until then, I will continue to empathize and silently stand with Kaepernick and others because I know it’s bigger than him and is inviting me to go deeper into my own understanding, and for that matter, my many misunderstandings that I hold onto about others.

Family Trials

Jeremiah 38: 4-6, 8-10; Hebrews 12: 1-4; Luke 12: 49-53

There are no mincing words in today’s gospel. It seems as if there’s no good news as Jesus speaks of division among family, if you believe good news is simply keeping the peace. We must, though, put it in context. For the past several weeks, probably back to the Good Samaritan in mid-July, Jesus has been, in one way or another, attacking different institutions. He doesn’t always do it by judgment directly, but rather through these rather provocative statements and stories which keep inviting the disciples into deeper understanding. He goes after the political authorities. He certainly goes after the religious institution of his day. So why not go down to the most basic of institutions that we all are a part of, family.

The time of Jesus was no different than our own. Institutions, including family, are about keeping the peace rather than seeking peace. Now we all know what that means. It’s about avoiding problems out of fear. There always seems to be the “elephant in the room” that no one is allowed to talk about out of fear how it is going to be seen by the rest of the world. It’s about avoiding these conflicts to grow and become more integrated people; it’s about keeping the peace as we have determined and anyone that tries to disrupt that is so often ostracized.

It should be no surprise to any of us that it would filter up into these larger institutions that we are a part of in this world. We have seen it in the Church over the years and the abuse scandal. It became about protecting the institution rather than the people. We certainly see it with our political parties. You even hear them say it that it’s for the party and not about the good of the country. Institution first before the people that are being impacted by it all. Even if you read any of the DOJ report on Baltimore this week you would have seen more of the same. It’s about protecting the institution rather than the good of the people. These realities are the same realities of the time of Jesus, but over these weeks he’s trying to move the disciples to see differently and hear differently. Today, he takes it to the core, the family, where so much of it begins and we learn our learned responses to dealing with life that we so often have to let go of in order to grow and become the prophetic voices of the disciples.

No one does it better than Jeremiah that we hear in today’s first reading. Who’s he up against? Political class. He’s facing the princes of his day who want him dead. Jeremiah has the conscience the size of the earth and doesn’t always know what to do with it. He struggles greatly trying to be faithful to the word of God in his life. He allows the word to change his heart and then struggles when he finds himself in these situations where he has to speak truth and raise consciousness of the leaders. So what do they do with him? He’s thrown into the cistern. He too is ostracized. They don’t try to reconcile the problems and seek the good. Rather, they blame him and try to get rid of what they think is the problem. King Zedekiah is thrown in the middle of it and is left with a choice. Is he going to keep the peace with the princes or side with Jeremiah. It’s so often advocates for the prophets that frees them and that’s the case for Jeremiah. He’s freed despite the danger that he poses to these institutions because of the interior freedom that Jeremiah continues to seek. That’s the peace that Jesus seeks for his disciples and us.

But there is a great price for living differently in that way. The writer of Hebrews speaks of the suffering that one must undergo in life with Jesus being the model for his disciples. He really isn’t about keeping the peace as we have come to know. Rather, he desires a deeper peace. It’s messy. It’s hard. It comes with great suffering and great cost with the possibility about being thrown into the cistern, sinking in the mud. But when we allow our hearts to be changed by the word and we grow as adults it comes with great freedom as it does for Jeremiah.

Unfortunately, we too continue to live at a time when prophetic voices are silenced. We don’t want to hear it on all levels of institution. We live in great fear so often and sell fear because it becomes the norm. Rather than confronting the real problems that this city faces, this country faces, and this world faces, we try rather to keep the peace and protect something that isn’t even real in the first place! We strive for our own interest rather than seeking a more just society by entering into the messiness of our lives, just as Jesus does for us.

As we continue in prayer today, we pray not only for families that do face great divisions but the divisions that exist on all levels of our lives. Rather than seeking to keep the peace we must enter into the difficult conversations to seek reconciliation in our lives and world. It begins at the most basic level of our lives, the family. We can’t expect change on greater levels if we’re not willing to do it in our own lives. Otherwise we simply blame and continue this cycle of victimhood all at the price of human lives. We pray for peace, not in the way we have come to know, but in the peace that Jesus desires for us; that our hearts may be opened to these words and change the way we see, hear, and love so that the kingdom that Jesus preaches may become a reality, a kingdom of eternal peace.

Shattered Illusions

1Kgs 19: 16, 19-21; Gal 5: 1, 13-18; Luke 9: 51-62

I think it’s safe to say that none of us have and probably will never have an experience of being homeless. It’s just not our reality. However, we know we don’t have to go far to experience it and see it, and before you know it, when we find ourselves there that sense of uncomfortableness is right there with us, especially when someone is sticking a sign in our face. But that has nothing to do with them. It’s me and you that feel uncomfortable, and maybe deep down that’s because we know it can be us and is us, in some ways.

We must be mindful when we hear this gospel today that Jesus and the would-be-disciples are those very people. They are always transient and on the go with “nowhere to rest” their heads. This call to discipleship and a commitment to the Lord is one that is to lead us beyond what makes us comfortable, secure, and safe. As a matter of fact, they are all but illusions anyway and stand in our way of growing deeper in our faith and in our commitment to the Lord. He seems rather terse in his language today, with no time for compassion for anyone, but right to the point. There’s not even a regard for going to bury the dead. Let the dead bury the dead he says to the would-be’s. For Jesus it’s about the breaking in of the Kingdom, living it, and preaching it with our lives! It seems as if it has nothing to do with what we make of life of comfort, safety, and security. As a matter of fact, he seems to lead them to just the opposite.

Him and the would-be-disciples are on their way up to Jerusalem but not without a stop in Samaria. Now, you don’t need a scripture degree to know that this is going to cause a problem for them. We all know that they don’t like the Samaritans and the Samaritans don’t like them, yet, Jesus seems to lead them to this place of conflict, to this place of uncomfortableness. Again, mindful, they are traveling with nothing so all the comforts have been taken away. They have no way to defend themselves against the Samaritans. But what’s their first reaction, James and John want to send down fire upon them. Jesus will immediately rebuke the use of violence against them, but rather move to and meet them in their uncomfortableness, the Samaritan within themselves. Violence only begets more violence. He moves them to this place of freedom within themselves.

It’s that freedom that Paul speaks of in his letter to the Galatians. It’s not freedom in what we speak about when it comes to religion and speech or bearing arms, for Paul it was something interior. That idea that Pope Francis speaks of that we need to be a poor Church is the freedom that Paul speaks of, that it goes beyond financial but rather to an interior poverty that frees us from the illusions that we create of comfort, safety, and security. He tries to lead them to that place of poverty, that homelessness within themselves rather that becoming trapped by the illusions of the flesh as he says it. Even that we have had a tendency to limit to the body and sex, but for Paul, it was the illusions we create rather than being led by the Spirit, from that place of poverty within.

And so maybe the story of Elijah and Elisha says it best. Once Elisha accepts this call to be the prophet raised up by the Lord, he goes and burns everything. Everything! All that he has and owns he knows is going to only get in the way and weigh him down from trusting that deeper place within himself. Like us, the would-be-disciples, Elisha understands the trappings of life aren’t even necessarily the material goods we hang onto, but the illusions that the create for us, that feeling of being comfortable, of being secure, and of being safe. It’s all an illusion and it’s what Paul warns against to the Galatians and it’s what Jesus warns against in the gospel to the would-be-disciples. It seems as if they had no other choice but to give it all away, to walk into the uncomfortableness of not having, and finding a fuller life through it.

As the would-be-disciples, we’re called to do the same. Again, it’s not always about the actual material goods in our lives, but rather the illusion that they give us that isn’t even real to begin with; rather, they make us feel secure, comfortable, and safe until we find ourselves encountering the one who has not, not only the homeless one but our Lord. Quite possibly the only way to experience the Lord and accept that call of the would-be-disciples is to be led as he does in the gospels today, to what is unknown or to what we think we know and have the illusions shatter. When we do, we begin to see what we’re truly missing in life and that’s life itself. It’s no longer about feeling uncomfortable when we face that homeless person but rather, knowing that, deep down, that person is me and all I have and could put my trust in is the Lord who calls, ultimately, to life itself.

Surrendering to God

1Kgs 17: 17-24; Gal 1: 11-19; Luke 7: 11-17

I don’t need to tell you that there is an obvious connection between the first reading and Gospel this weekend. As a matter of fact, it is believed that Luke took the story that was a part of the tradition and continued it and told it for the life of the community he wrote. Each has a widow who is now struggling with the death of a son. Both are given life again through their encounter with Elijah in the first reading and Jesus in the Gospel.

However, there are of course less obvious things going on in both stories, healing and life given back to others who are probably even more impacted than the guys who are given life again. As a matter of fact, we never even hear from the guys who are brought back to life! They are all, in their own way, struggling and wrestling with God and even with themselves and how the reality of death is going to impact their lives, knowing that somehow their lives are identified with the ones who have died.

There’s Elijah and his own struggle with God and himself at this point of the story. Elijah is thinking rather foolishly that somehow he is going to outrun God at this point. He’s been called to be this prophetic voice and he wants nothing to do with that anymore. He’s had to call out the way the people were creating and worshipping false gods and so, of course, they want him dead. So he takes off and now seeks shelter and food with this widow. Unbeknownst to him, he then gets blamed by the widow for the death of her son! It’s as if everything he touches some how leads to greater suffering by the others and even himself. Like the widows, he too is going to have to confront death in his own life. He would eventually have to stop running from God before he begins to realize that as he surrenders and allows things to be let go, like the way he thinks it’s supposed to be, Elijah will come into his own and find his deeper identity in God, unrelated to the call to be a prophet but at the same time gives him the interior power to go and be that voice, even in the face of death. In that moment of death, life unfolds.

Now the widow in today’s gospel since we know more about the culture in which she lives and where all of this is unfolding with her encounter with Jesus. Her very livelihood is at stake now that her only son has died. She’s obviously already lost her husband and so her livelihood goes to the son. In that time, she has no choice but to move back to her own family and has very little role or significance in the community. Her entire identity is wrapped up in these relationships and now will need to move to a deeper place in her own life. She too will have to wrestle with God and herself to see that she’s more than that. The expectations and thoughts of her, that she would have believed and held onto, will need to die. She will not only wrestle with the death of her son and the way she relates, but she will have to confront her own death, in some ways, to see herself as more than her husband or son. That can only happen in the encounter with Jesus.

Paul must confront death in his own way. He begins his letter to the Galatians telling them of his own story and conversion, how he was being called to change. For Paul, it won’t be until later where he eventually encounters the physical death for accepting his own call as prophet, but before he can even get there, he has much more that needs to die. He knows full well that the was responsible for the death of many early Christians, to the point that when he does experience this conversion, the others are skeptical of him. Paul is much like us in the death we must often face in life, the death of the ego, the way we think, the expectations of God, ourselves and others, before we can experience life more fully.  That goes for individuals and community and it’s where Paul tries to lead each of the communities that he writes to and that we hear each week.

Death is never easy, and yet, if we want to embrace the fullness of the mystery that we are and what we celebrate at this altar each week, we must learn to move to that place. Unfortunately, in the culture we live, we want to cling to what we think gives us life despite the irony that when we finally let go fullness of life will follow. All too often it’s because of our own selfishness that we don’t want to embrace the mystery in its fullness. We only want life without death, without letting go and surrendering. That’s not to say that there aren’t real physical sufferings that people face and of course, the reality of death. However, if we learn to embrace the fullness of this mystery, the more we learn to let go so we can experience the fullness of life. In what ways are we clinging to an identity or things in our lives that are preventing us from living life fully? What needs to die in order to live? The mystery we celebrate is the mystery we are, in its fullness. When we learn to accept, like Elijah and Paul, that death is real, we begin to experience the freedom we desire and the fullness of life is sure to follow.