Demanding Change

Matthew 17: 1-9

Did you ever wonder about the other nine?  They always seemed to be excluded or left out of some of the best moments in the gospels.  It seems, like today with the Transfiguration, that it’s always Peter, James, and his brother John who get singled out and are given the chance to experience things that the others don’t.  Let’s be real.  The three of them aren’t even the most stellar of candidates to single out.  We know Peter from hearing the stories.  Next week his faith will be tested.  He doubts.  He denies.  He runs away when things get tough.  A little further down this journey the two brothers will be fighting amongst themselves as to who’s the greatest and who should sit at the right and left of the Lord.  More often than not, these three are about power and grabbing for it in ways that never seems to end well.

Even in this gospel that we hear today they are told one thing to do and that’s to keep their mouths shut when they get down to the bottom of the mountain where the other nine are located.  Now, I’m one of six and I can tell you that if three are separated to go experience something that the others don’t, one of two things will happen.  Either they’ll come up quickly to find out what happened since it was a secret or the three will taunt the others that somehow they’re better than because they had something that the others didn’t!  It’s life and it shows where they are at on this journey, still children themselves in faith.  Like most, it won’t be until something is demanded of them before it’s all put to the test and who and what will stand the test of time.

It appears in these instances that Jesus is setting them up to fail, but maybe not fail in the sense that we often understand, but rather setting them up to fall apart and that they will do.  The journey following the transfiguration in the gospels is one on the decline.  Everything has been building to this point and from here on they will go down the mountain literally and figuratively, into Calvary, to the Cross, into their own hearts and souls.  When their lives are demanded of them as the gospels go on, they will fall apart but they have to fall apart in order to once again build community on its true foundation in Christ.  Up to the great test of the cross and their childish faith, not much has been asked of them.  And as we know, even what is asked doesn’t seem to happen, like keeping their mouths shut about these experiences.  It’s about that power that they think they have in their agendas, in their thinking of being better than, in talking about who’s the greatest, probably jealousy and all the rest that we are familiar with in our lives.  Jesus could transfigure all he wants to these three, but at the moment, it doesn’t mean much of anything but can easily be used as an experience to build themselves up.

But the whole event casts a shadow upon them which is when they become fearful.  They become fearful of themselves, more than anything and what this is all going to mean to them as the journey continues.  It’s no wonder why Peter would rather stay here, stay put, because they’ve been given something without having to give anything in return.  Nothing has yet been demanded of them in this journey of faith.  This downward journey of transformation and conversion will eventually push them to change.  We all know that none of us changes easily.  We, like them, are often pushed to the brink, to the cliff, before we will finally surrender and let go, opening ourselves to change and transformation.  It comes, so often, when our own mortality is put on the line before we can finally begin to ask what’s most important, what do we value, what gives us meaning, and quite frankly, what is it that I need to finally let go of in life.

All too often we hold on way to long rather than surrendering to the demand of the gospel to a change of heart, to grow into an adult faith of trust and mystery.  That is what is revealed to them on that mountain in today’s gospel, but for them, not yet.  For them, their center remains outside of them and beyond them and has not yet moved within.  When they are finally confronted with the cross and everything begins to crumble around them, they will be left with the opportunity to mature in their faith and become the disciples the Lord summons them to and quite frankly, promises them from the very beginning.  They will begin to form community around the eternal, around the transfigured Christ.

On this feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord, sure, it is about the Lord’s transfiguration before these three would-be disciples, but in the end, it’s about what is going to be demanded of them in their own lives.  If they could stop for a minute, maybe the most important thing that is revealed to them in this shadow is to listen.  If we can learn to listen on a deeper level, beyond all the noise of our lives, the truth and the promise will begin to reveal itself to us.  It will reveal itself to us as individuals but also as community and where it is we need to grow into the promise that is given in this moment.  The day always comes when something is demanded of us and more often than not, it’s giving up what we think has given us life or giving up what we believe has given us life but no longer nourishes and nurtures us.  That’s where true transformation can happen in our lives.  As we listen, what is it we are holding onto in our lives, individually and collectively, that holds us back from the promise.  It is in that space that surrender is being demanded to live a life of faith and trust in the promise shown in the Transfiguration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Penetrating Silence

I Kings 3: 5, 7-12; Matt 13: 44-52

The first reading, from First Kings is one that I’m quite familiar.  It’s the reading we use each year at the celebration marking the end of the Pinkard Scholars at the seminary.  There’s a lot to like about it.  Solomon finds himself, like many others in Scripture, in a position he’s not sure he’s capable of fulfilling, despite the call from God.  He’s also free to ask for anything to help him become the leader that he’s being called to at this point.  It’s almost like asking for a wish, and yet, despite all of it, Solomon asks not for what he wants but what he feels he needs in that moment in this momentous call from God.  Solomon asks for an understanding heart.

It appears that even God is taken back by the request, assuming he’d ask for a long life, riches, the life of his enemies.  Anything; and yet, he asks for a heart that understands.  Even in the request, this prayer of Solomon, shows the depth of his wisdom and understanding, a deep penetrating silence, that is already there and somehow, in the midst of the unknown, God is going to take it and use him as an instrument of that wisdom and understanding.

It’s a great reading to reflect upon in our own lives as to what the treasure, the pearl of great price, in which we’d ask of God at this moment.  Not this is not to say that our prayers are futile in some ways, but in my experience, we tend to tell God what we want, as if somehow God is the dispensary of wishes.  We know exactly the way things are supposed to be or should be and we want it that way and so that’s what we ask.  However, that’s not a treasure, nor a pearl of great price, nor the wisdom that Solomon exemplifies.  Rather, it’s so often the God we think we want rather than the God that is trying to reveal in the penetrating silence of our hearts, a deeper mystery, to be able to let go and surrender to the mystery and allow the prayer to fall within.

If there is one thing I have learned up in the mountains of Acadia this week it’s just how much noise we have in our lives.  First, with the noise that I create for myself in the busyness of life but also all the noise that surrounds us and in so many ways violates that deep penetrating silence of our hearts, to the point that we no longer know what it is that we need when God asks and gradually get swallowed up in life, unable to breathe, unable to fall into the mystery in which God is inviting each of us.

More often than not, in my experience, people have no idea what they’d really ask God for.  Sure, there are the standard prayers of praying for everyone else, for the world, and so on, but to understand and touch the deepest desire of our own heart is a whole other story.  One, we often feel unworthy to even say it or even because we already know deep down that if I do ask as Solomon does, it may just happen and something more may be demanded of me, just as it was for him.  So I hold back that desire out of fear, unworthiness, as even he thinks because of his age, and I choose to live with a constant restlessness until I can finally rest in that deep penetrating silence in my heart as Solomon does, realizing that the prayer has already begun to bear fruit in the simple act of naming the desire from deep in my heart.

Solomon is one of the key wisdom figures in Scripture and has much to teach us in our own prayer and in the barrage of noise in our own lives that often prevents us, knowingly or unknowingly, from moving to that place of deep penetrating silence in our own hearts that knows our truest desire, maybe an understanding heart as it was for Solomon.  His invitation and mirror to all of us is, that despite our own fear, our anxiety, our own feeling of unworthiness, can we step away from the noise of our lives long enough to move to that deeper place, that ocean of silence that often reveals what we truly desire and know that we have nothing to fear all at the same time.  In the end, did the disciples really understand what Jesus was trying to convey.  Probably not, but somehow it at least spoke to them on that deeper level, stirring something within them and preparing them for that descent in their own lives, in the face of the cross, to that deep, penetrating silence revealing their deepest desires and the heart open to understanding the mystery of God.

 

 

 

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.

Road Less Traveled

Genesis 12: 1-4a; II Tim 1: 8b-10; Matthew 17: 1-9

Life is difficult. It’s the first line in the book, The Road Less Traveled. The author, Dr. Peck goes onto say just after that sentence that it takes a great deal of acceptance of that statement to finally let it go and move on, accepting reality for what it is and now what we think it should be. It’s why so many choose not to take the road less traveled because it means change and letting go and remaining open to something new in our lives. We’d often rather just wallow in our challenges and difficulties, somehow victims of a God that doesn’t seem to give me what I want when I ask.

The spiritual journey is no different. It’s difficult and like life, probably why so many choose not to take the road less traveled. It’s much easier to make my relationship with God about what I do on Sunday rather than a daily affair of prayer and silence. The problem, though, is it starts to close us off from even needing God. We begin to settle for something less than we really are and plant our stakes deep in the ground, often even cutting us off from God. As much as we sell ourselves short in life, we can do the same in our spiritual lives, knowing they are so intertwined, often settling for death over life.

I think it’s why the story of Abraham and Sarah is such a model for us in our lives because they did often choose the road less traveled. Listen, pretty much everything up to this point in the bible ends in disaster. It ends with war and violence. It ends in destruction. But when Abraham and Sarah enter the story, there seems to be the dawn of a new day in salvation history. You know, the two of them have every reason to be like so many that had come before them and there lives just ending poorly. They’re 75 years old and it seems as if God never gives them what they want. They could live their lives as victims of circumstances and give up. They can just dig the stakes of their tent in deeply and settle for less. However, that’s not what they do. Here they are, well into their lives, and now being called to embark on yet another journey from a God that hasn’t come through for them the way they wanted. They don’t him and haw about it but rather set out for an unknown land. Despite their age, there’s still a sense of adventure and there’s still something that calls them forth in their lives.
Here’s the thing, unlike for most of us, there’s no going back. If we leave home we can often return to that location. For Abraham and Sarah, it was giving everything up. They were being called to pull of the stakes and take, once again, the road less traveled. They once again will head out into the unknown simply because of a message from the Lord to Abraham. It’s as if they recognize that it’s not about this world and see themselves as passing through. There’s no reason to dig in to deeply because when the Lord calls them to do what would seem impossible and even crazy to us, they go forward. They don’t allow the pain of the past or failed expectations to stop them from heading out to the unknown and once again living with this sense of adventure and child-like trust in God.

Now we couple that with today’s gospel and the disciples who witness the transfiguration. As quickly as Abraham and Sarah are willing to pull up the stakes and head out on the road less traveled, accepting the difficulties of life and yet trusting God and the unknown, Peter quickly wants to settle down. He quickly wants to build and altar, drive in the stakes of the tent, and call it quits. It’s not that they didn’t know life was difficult. They were fishermen which was not and is not an easy life. They understood that. But with Jesus, maybe they thought differently and react to what they see and decide to end the journey there.

Jesus, like Abraham and Sarah, though, still knows that the road will become much more narrow and very much less traveled as they make their way towards Jerusalem. The ultimate test will be the cross and whether they have what it takes to push through and be pushed through such pain and agony. It’s the moment when the spiritual and life intersect and we’re left with the decision whether we want to settle down, drive in the stakes, and erect the picket fence, or allow ourselves to experience yet another adventure by God calling us forth. It really is the reality of our lives anyway, always in transition, always being called forth, always being led to the great unknown, deeper mystery, that leads to the fulfillment of life that we truly desire. It’s easy to not change. But it also makes me miserable, fearful, and well, quite honestly, so self-consumed that I can’t see anything beyond my hurt and pain. We’d rather hunker down in Good Friday than experience the newness of Easter.

As we continue this journey through Lent, our prayer is that we have the perseverance that Abraham and Sarah exhibited in their lives and their own acceptance of the difficulties of life and yet not allowing themselves to become attached to it all. They remained open to change and to whatever it was that God was calling forth in that very moment. When we don’t limit ourselves to experiencing God simply on Sunday, but rather as a way of life, making the time for prayer and silence, we become more attuned to the voice of God as they did. Maybe that’s what scares us the most. When we do hear that voice, it may ask us to do something crazy or impossible, thwarting our own plans for life. But like them, when we choose the road less traveled and persevere, the promise of Easter remains a promise. It doesn’t mean it won’t be difficult. That’s a reality. But it will be an adventure, a change, free of burying our own stakes in the ground, and an openness to wherever God may lead.

Increase Our Faith

Habakkuk 1: 2-3; 2: 2-4; Luke 17:5-10

Increase our faith. It seems like a rather simple request coming from the Apostles in today’s gospel, but when we speak of any of these virtues, we seem to have a tendency to use them rather loosely. We can often throw them around without ever recognizing the magnitude of the request being made, as it is with the disciples in today’s gospel. We tend to limit faith to dogma or doctrine, something we can hold onto, but that doesn’t even begin to come close to the biblical faith that they truly desire or the faith that Jesus is going to lead them to in their journey.

It’s safe to say, though, that they’re primed for something. If you think about all that we’ve heard the past weeks and months, they really are aware of the tension that is building between Jesus and so many of the leaders. They’ve witnessed it in their interactions and in his story telling, only seeming to escalate things, allowing the drama to unfold until we come to an encounter with the Cross. It’ll be in that moment when they finally come up against something they can’t explain or rationalize, and certainly can’t control, before they can finally be pushed through and begin to make sense out of what they are asking today when they ask for an increase in faith, a faith that can move mountains.

It may be the anonymous programs where we find a deeper meaning to what it means to be faithful. It’s not something that can be taught. It’s only where we can be led in our lives and be open towards. Step one of the programs, and probably the most difficult of all of them, is to recognize and accept that we are powerless and that there is a higher being than ourselves. It’s so hard but it’s such a movement towards the faith we desire in our lives and the faith given to and show to us by Jesus.

There may be no others in Scripture where we see it exemplified than in the Prophets. Today we hear from the prophet Habakkuk. For the entire chapter Habakkuk does nothing but lament to God for all that he has seen and witnessed. All the violence, the injustice that has unfolded, the vast amount of darkness that seems to rule the land. It’s not much different than our own lives and the world in which we live. It can push us to a place where we begin to feel helpless and even lose hope, wondering why God can ever let such things happen. At times all we can do is also lament to the Lord. Finally, God gives some response to Habakkuk. The Lord hears his plight and the plight of the people, but simply assures him that it’s in God’s hands and will occur in God’s time. It’s so often at those moments of surrender when we can finally begin to let go of our own need to try to control and fix things and simply place them in the hands of God. I am powerless to so much of it and all I can do is surrender it to a higher being. It’s trust. It’s faith.

For the disciples it will come in the form of a Cross. It’s going to be the pinnacle moment of tension in their lives when they recognize that what they are truly seeking is not something they can hold onto. As a matter of fact, dogma and doctrine isn’t worth a hill of beans if there’s no faith in a higher being and a mystery always trying to reveal before and within us. Quite honestly, we can practice religion our entire lives without ever going to this deeper place, this vast place within ourselves, where we truly learn to let go of that which has power over us, and so often it’s the way we think and it is what we have believed. There’s no final point to the journey. Faith is always leading us deeper and yet beyond ourselves, into mystery with another opportunity to let go, surrender to this ever-manifesting God.

Increase our faith. It does seem so simple a request asked by the disciples in today’s gospel, but there’s nothing easy about it. It is an invitation that remains with us throughout our lives to once again be pushed where we’d rather not go, to the place of great suffering where we will once again need to give up control and our need to know and simply learn to trust. It’s God who will push us through and lead us to this place. It’s God who will push us through to this place of faith, where we once again surrender and let go, and in God’s time, allow our hearts to grow to greater depths of faithfulness.

Readiness

Acts 5: 12-16; Rev 1: 9-11, 12-13, 17-19; John 20: 19-31

If there is one thing we can take from the Easter readings, not only last week, but today with Thomas as well as next Sunday, it’s that, in order to receive God’s grace, mercy, love, whatever way you want to describe it, there must be a readiness on the part of the disciples and us. Otherwise we simply spend our lives locked, where the disciples are today, in the upper room. We don’t make it easy on God and we’re going to hold on tight often until we’re pushed to the edge. That goes for me, for you, as community, and for the disciples.

They, and we, hold on tight to many things. They’re caught up in fear, even paralyzed by it. They’re questioning and doubting what all of this has meant, if anything, this despite the fact that he has already appeared to them once! They’re caught up in their grief. Their grief is strong in the loss of their friend but also in the way they think. Jesus and the disciples always seemed to live on two different planes. He was out healing, curing, and even raising people from the dead! But they never thought that’s who he was or what they wanted of Jesus or God and so the grief runs deep for them. They thought he should be someone who would be a revolutionary who would overturn the Roman government and someone who should overturn the religious leaders of that time. But he was never that! But they never gave on that false hope that things would be different. That God would and should be different. That Jesus would and should be different.

And so here they are, locked in the upper room, paralyzed by fear and yet, at least the other disciples, knowing something has changed. They’re not only filled with fear but with joy at the same time. The readiness on the part of the disciples is not only for an openness to God’s grace and mercy, but in letting go of what they know and the way they think. The thing is, they will learn that what they think they know about God pales in comparison of what they don’t know, this mystery that they will be led into and beyond and it will change their lives forever. This will take them to places they could never imagine.

Think about it. We hear from John today in the second reading from Revelation landing on Patmos. Who the heck would decide to go to Patmos? It’s not some exotic, vacation destination that we think of when we think of Greece. It’s a rocky island with not much vegetation and life, and yet, his readiness has landed him there. But despite being ready, he still shows us today that it doesn’t take away the fear, the doubt, the questions, and wondering why he listens to God in the first place. He once again finds himself in the ready position, vulnerable and questioning, and God steps in. Like us, he falls back on what he knows and once again is going to have to imagine God in a new way and let of of what was, again. It’s never-ending! But he does and grace and mercy break into John’s life, going places he’d least expect, open to the unknown, and being led to a deeper place within and a deeper love for this never-ending mystery we call God, once crucified and now raised from the dead.

Then there are these disciples. We don’t know how their lives are changed until we get to Acts of the Apostles that we hear from throughout these fifty days. There’s a bit of a gap between the disciples we meet in today’s Gospel and where the story picks up in Acts, just as there often seems to be a gap between the fear and the joy in our own lives, holding on while letting go, what we know and what is yet unknown. By the time we meet them in Acts it’s all changed. It doesn’t mean that they don’t fear or question because they will. It’s how the community grows. But they no longer must be paralyzed by it anymore and with that the community expands and reaches new heights. They bring the sick out into the streets not even to be touched by them but to simply have their shadow fall upon them! They have been changed. They have encountered Christ crucified now raised from the dead, cross the threshold of the upper room to change the world because they first were changed and allowed themselves to be changed. There was a readiness and God stepped into the messiness of it all. God meets them in their fear, their grief, their hurt and darkness, and I suppose, even then pushes them off the cliff to change! Or so it is in my own life.

So before we’re quick to judge Thomas in today’s gospel as we have a tendency to do, we must put ourselves in his place. He and the disciples had expectations and had to let them go. He and the disciples doubted and questioned and yet learned to believe, experienced God in a new way. He and the disciples feared, and rightly so at that time, knowing their lives were at stake, but they accepted love and mercy and they were changed forever. If we’re not ready, then we must pray for a readiness of heart. We must step to the cliff, yeah, maybe look back at all we have known, and yet still step forward and out of the upper room, into this great mystery we celebrate and this great mystery that changes our lives forever. God wants more from us and we must ask if we’re ready. We may still fear and hold on, but the Easter joy and live and love and mercy will win out and we’ll be taken to new places, new experiences, and a new life that can only be possible by God!

Love Never Fails

Jer 1: 4-5, 17-19; I Cor 12: 31–13:13; Luke 4: 21-30

Love never fails. It’s hard to ignore these words from St. Paul this weekend in one of his most poetic writings to the people of Corinth. If you’ve been to a wedding, you’ve probably heard it used as couples make that commitment. But it wasn’t written for weddings, unless we’re speaking about Paul’s only desire for union with God. The reading is a self-examination of his own life and where and when he falls short of being that love. Paul understands and believes, at the very core of his being, and the core of everyone, is love, and that never fails. Yet, we know from our own lives that seeking love is never easy and comes with great cost and great commitment. As much as it never fails it’s also not so simple to understand.

Jeremiah is one such person that struggles with it. Jeremiah, along with us at times, wants love on his own terms. As a matter of fact, he wants nothing to do with Love because he’s already aware of what’s being asked. He must wrestle with the idea and the reality of love because he also knows, once it’s been found, his life is changed forever. He can never go back because nothing is ever going to fill that longing that love does. It’s only in the moment of surrender that he finally begins to become love. He thinks he’s too young. He doesn’t think he has what it takes to be the person he’s being called to be. All he can see is the pain and the rejection it’s going to afford him. He wants love on his terms, but then it’s not love. It’s the examination that Paul addresses, a gong and clashing cymbal, all talk without love. Jeremiah was going to have to surrender to Love in order to become and be love and he does. His life is changed forever. Jeremiah becomes what he had been called to be, one of the great prophets we celebrate in the Old Testament. He becomes the voice, despite the rejection and the cost, of how Israel needed to change it’s ways. They had become comfortable with fear. They had become comfortable and complacent with war and hate. But as Paul reminds us, that all passes. It is only love that never fails and that remains eternal, otherwise it’s not love.

Jesus, of course, is Love. And as we begin this weekend in the gospel all seems fine. They love what they have to hear. But they only hear what they want to hear. They only see what they want to see. As Paul challenges himself and us, we then remain shallow, surface people, without much depth to go with it. All of that will be brought to nothing, he says. But then, without even being aware of what was happening, Jesus turns the tables on the people gathered in the synagogue. In some bizarre twist, Love has no borders and seems, in the stories Jesus says, to go beyond and even come with greater awareness beyond Israel. Of course, the chosen people are infuriated with him and want to throw him off a cliff! It becomes the downward journey in the life of Jesus who will pay the ultimate price for Love. As we move towards Lent, the crowds grow more restless when it becomes the reality that it’s not love that brings them together, but rather hatred and fear. Is it not the same today? Why is it that we humans are more attracted to the dark, to hatred and fear? We see that in our culture and certainly in our politics. Maybe they point us to the reason today. Maybe we too are aware, like Jeremiah, of just what it costs to choose the greater way, the more excellent way, as Paul states. We can’t face the demand that it places before us. But like Jeremiah, once we find it within, nothing else will satisfy, nothing else will fulfill the longing from within. All we can do is surrender to it and our lives are changed for ever.

Paul provides this great poetry to us today and warrants a look on our part to see where we have come up short. We all have and all we can do is become more aware of it, and like Jeremiah, continue to surrender to Love. It does come with great cost but the cost of not surrendering to it is even greater, a life less lived and a world that never benefits from it. It’s not just about doing things. Paul is even aware of that in his own life. Anyone can do good, know much, have faith, but without love, he says, I am nothing. Nothing. It is only love that never fails. The demand of love is not just about doing and having the right words, it’s also facing the cost of the commitment to love, and the more I surrender to it, nothing else matters, because the more I become love and I become the man God has created me to be, to become love and most importantly, to be love. Love never fails.