On To Emmaus

I am told by the psychologists that people can be grouped as to whether they are thinkers or feelers. According to this typology, developed by Carl Jung and popularized by the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator , thinkers process data and make decisions based on rational thought and are therefore called “head” people. Feelers or “heart” people on the other hand, process information and make decisions based on the congruity of the information with their feelings. So a thinker will walk out of the cinema saying, “That was a great movie, the plot was so clever and cohesive”. The feeler will walk out of a movie and say, “That was such a great movie, I cried and laughed all that way through”

Another school of thought suggests that the dominance of brain hemisphere will determine how we respond to the world. Left brain dominant people will favor logic and reason, whilst people whose right brain hemispheres are dominant will come at things from less structured and more intuitive, creative orientations. [Robert Theising, www.theway.org]

It would seem that the two disciples dragging themselves home to Emmaus after the trauma of Jesus’ death were trying to think the problem through with their left brains. Granted, they were exhausted with grief. The name of their home town, Emmaus means “warm springs” and I would like to speculate that after the day they had just had all they wanted was a warm soak and a good night’s rest. I sense their tired irritation in the way they respond to the unrecognized stranger who engages with them on the walk home. “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?”

The left brained reader will be pleased to know that a walk of seven miles would take about an hour and forty five minutes. Enough time to get into quite a testy discussion with someone who seemed to be obtuse. Jesus, the unrecognized companion, who always begins where we are; responds to their thinking, left brain questions and explains, from the scriptures, all the reasons why the death of Jesus was necessary. After the one hundred and five minute journey is finished, the two travelers invite the stranger home in the way middle-eastern hospitality would demand.

It is as they sit down for the evening meal, doing their duty instead of opting for the more selfish soak in the warm springs, that the stranger breaks the bread and is recognized as Jesus himself. The fellow traveler is indeed the companion! (Latin: com panis = bread sharer)

In the moment of recognition he also vanishes! Am I the only one who hears the echoes of “Don’t touch me Mary” and “He is not here, he is risen,.. he has gone ahead of them into Galilee”? It seems that one cannot really grasp nor hold onto this risen Lord. One can only glimpse with insight as these warm-spring Emmaus wonderers, bow with reverence like Thomas, “My Lord and my God” , and follow him with the other disciples to the places where he is going ahead of us, like Galilee.

The shift in the Emmaus disciples is immediate. From left brain thinking dominance, their feeling function and right brain intuition takes over. These irritable grieving men feel a warm spring rising in their hearts at the recognition of the risen Christ. It is a warmth that with a Pentecostal wind, could become a blaze!

It may happen anywhere at any time. All it needs is an open heart, an open mind and an open eye. Oh by the way, some grief, irritability and exhaustion could also help!

Adapted Renew International, Prayer Time Cycle A

Believing_Second Sunday of Easter

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nail in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’ Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.’ Thomas answered and said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed’ .
(John 20:24-29).

Jesus was crucified around 30 AD, and the Gospel of John was written sometime around 100 AD. John’s community was struggling to keep faith in the face of persecution, the absence of Jesus, and the realization that Jesus’ return was not imminent.

Despite the joy we feel as we celebrate Easter, we can’t close our eyes to the fact that the world can be a cruel and unjust place. We are surrounded by examples of poverty, neglect, abuse, and apathy. We can become burdened by these things and lose touch with the loving God who created all things good and sent Jesus to redeem us from our sins. When this happens, doubt can be like a black cloud hanging over us.

The story of “doubting Thomas” is used to communicate this limited thinking. Thomas wanted obvious, empirical evidence. He was unable to let his present experience penetrate his grief over the loss of his rabbi and friend. [Living Liturgy 2020]

Unlike Thomas, we will never “see” Jesus and put our hands into his nail marks. However, we are asked to have faith in Jesus Christ present in the world. Our thinking about faith can never be limited to nailmarks. We can see Christ at work in the world in all of our positive encounters, and we can use that to inspire us to greater belief. We can believe that we were created beautiful and holy. We can believe that things can change for the better, no matter how hopeless a situation may appear.

Let us use this Easter season to respond to Jesus’ invitation to believe in him and to accept the peace that the risen Jesus gives to us. God wants nothing more than for us to live fully and respond to his call – to break free of doubt and proclaim, “My Lord and my God!”

When have you experienced doubt? How were you able to overcome it? How did it affect your faith?

[Adapted from Word on the Go, a downloadable resource from RENEW International]

He Is Risen!

An extraordinary reversal of the way society operates occurs within this simple Easter story. To begin with, the soldiers whose job is to be brave in the face of danger faint with fear. The women, though fearful, face the earthquake, and the radiantly terrifying angels, listen to them and obey their orders. Who are these women? The first mention of them occurs at the crucifixion where they remained with Jesus through the humiliation of the cross. They had stood, faithful in love, in the midst of a murderous crowd. Now, after his death, they had come to express their grief by sitting by the tomb. Until the crucifixion Matthew had not mentioned them. It seems that they have slipped under the radar of ‘important people in the Gospel’. Yet these unimportant ones are the first preachers of the central belief of Christian faith. Another sign of their lack of importance is the fact that as women they were not regarded as suitable witnesses in Jewish Law.

With them, we see the marginalised made central to the Christian faith. These are the kind of people Jesus called ‘blessed’ in the Beatitudes. They are the poor in spirit, the ones who mourn, and they are the ones who see the first fruits of the Kingdom of Heaven. Somehow they had the ability to see past all the distractions to love that the other disciples had gotten caught up in: self-preservation, desire for fame, glory and influence. These women wanted to love and to be loved: to them was given the mission to preach his Resurrection. Within our own circles we know people on the margins: the elderly, sick, the lonely, those suffering from dementia, people overwhelmed by the challenges of life, even people in prison. This list can go on. Christian tradition has honoured service of these people: not because it gives us, who are strong and influential, an opportunity to give from our largesse but rather, with these people and through their eyes, we can see what is truly central to our faith: to love and be loved. When we love with them, we will see the Risen Jesus coming to met us.

Adapted Living Liturgy 2020

Palm/Passion Sunday

This Lent has been like no other.

On Ash Wednesday, we began with a plan for prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. But less than three weeks into Lent, life turned upside down because of COVID-19 and the precautions we were asked to take in order to prevent its spread.

As life’s normal rhythms were interrupted, so were our Lenten plans. And we entered a Lenten desert we did not expect to experience.

Our prayers shifted direction. Fasting suddenly included not attending Sunday Mass and enduring a new hunger for Jesus. We got creative with almsgiving, focusing on those within our home or how we could serve at a social distance.

Now, as Lent draws to a close, we anticipate the holiest week of the year. And we settle into the reality that we will spend it at home, too.

The good news is that, even under these unusual circumstances, Holy Week can still be one of the most prayerful weeks of the year.

Our reflections today are from Diane Bergant:

We see on TV the many times a soldier returns home to surprise his family. It is thrilling, despite the fact that this hero comes home possibly broken. I wonder what the people of Bethphage and Bethany thought as Jesus processed toward Jerusalem. It seems that their enthusiasm would quickly turn to disdain when he was captured, tried and put to death. Hero worship does not seem to enjoy a long shelf life.

We don’t usually think of Jesus as a hero, but hero he is. He is our savior; the one who handed himself over for our sake; the one who was abandoned so that we might belong. Today when the excitement of the parade is over and the waving of the palms ceases, we should spend some time reflecting on the character of our hero. On this first day of Holy Week, we should try to understand why a week of betrayal and denial, of mockery and bloodshed is called holy.

Today’s readings paint pictures of terror and viciousness. Isaiah speaks of a beating and derision; the psalmist staggers under the burden of abandonment and assault; the Gospel describes each excruciating episode of Jesus’ passion. How can such horrors be endured? But they are endured. In fact, for some incomprehensible reason, they appear to be embraced.

Traditionally during Holy Week we focus on the sufferings of Jesus. But it is not suffering, not even the suffering of Jesus, that makes this week holy. Rather, it is holy because of the inexplicable and immeasurable love that prompted that suffering. Genuine love often empowers, even transforms, us. We know that love of family can engender unselfishness, and love of country can inspire heroism. This week we see that driven by love for all, Jesus willingly accepted the consequences of his messianic role.

This week is holy because of love, but it is love misunderstood. Jesus is a hero, but not in the traditional pattern of heroism. He actually looks more like a victim. He is not triumphant as we understand triumph. Instead he appears to be a failure. Judging by one set of standards—standards not unlike those of many people of his day— he has not met our expectations. But according to another standard—the standard of unconditional love—he has far surpassed our expectations.

We will make it holy if we can begin to realize the depth of God’s magnanimous love. We will make it holy if we can bring unconditional love into the lives of those around us. We will make it holy if we live according to the paradoxical standards of Jesus who, though disgraced, is still our hero.

Adapted from Living Liturgy 2012

Worship At Home

Passion Sunday

We cry this day, “Hosanna!”, but unlike the people of the city of Jerusalem of long ago, we need not ask, “who is this?” This is Jesus, the one who models for us the mystery of life: dying to self so that we may be exalted, raised to new life.

This week we celebrate in pointed liturgies the meaning of our whole Christian living: dying to self so that God can raise us up too. This dying can be as simple as setting aside time to participate in all the Triduum liturgies or as demanding as to recognize what in our lives we still need to abandon to be exalted as daughters and sons of God living new life.

Perhaps what we need to abandon is a habit of thinking of ourselves and our own needs first, ahead of others. Perhaps it means not making ourselves the center of attention. Perhaps what we need to abandon is a lot of clutter we’ve accumulated that can tend to take our minds off what is really important. Perhaps we need to abandon the frenetic pace of our lives and cut some things out so we can concentrate on our loved one more or help those in need. In all, what we give up, what we abandon, leads to a new lease on life. Most important, it leads to new and deeper relationships and richer experiences.

With Jesus, we pray, “into your hands….”

Lazarus, Come Forth!

“I didn’t want to come back. My consciousness hovered somewhere above the body lying on the gurney. It was all over, I thought. The last sensation I remembered had been incomprehensible, then a tunnel, and a grinding noise as described in other “near death experiences.” But unlike other people who tell of “NDEs,” I saw no lights, no angels, no dead relatives, no friendly saints; rather, I found myself very much awake in a weightless, imageless, gray hyper reality. I experienced clarity, freedom and relief, and a stunning sense of the illusory nature of the life I’d left behind.

Then in the emergency room a nurse enforced an alternative plan for my life. Someone was calling me by name. No! NO! Suddenly I was back in the confines of that little life of mine. I came to consciousness frustrated, unspeakably sad — and in pain.”[Living Liturgy 2014]

Each year we celebrate a time to examine our own “near death experiences” in reflecting on our relationship with Christ. Each year in our Lenten Journey, three questions we face: For what do we thirst? What blinds us? What keeps us from being one with God? The Third Sunday of Lent, we met the Woman at the Well. This great story of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman takes us immediately from the Matthean world into the richly symbolic world of John.

Last week, the blind man sees. Why is the man born blind? All easy answers seem reasonable next to the strange and confounding answer of Jesus: that God’s work might be revealed in him.

This week, Lazarus lives. Life came to the tomb of Lazarus, as Jesus, “the resurrection and the life,” raised him from the dead. Lazarus became an unwitting part of the Jesus play. He never seemed to seek the attention. Yet, once brought to life, he became the Elvis of his time. People traveled great distances just to get a look at him. The Pharisees plotted to kill him because he was a living symbol of Christ’s power. He was living proof of Christ’s power—even over life and death. This act paved the way for his followers to understand that Christ CHOSE to die and that death could not hold him.

I wonder if Jesus did Lazarus a favor by calling him back from the dead? What I do know is that when Christ enters our lives we are no longer our own. We move from self-control and self-direction to His control and His direction. That transformation is nothing less than the power of the Spirit of God calling each and every one of us to health — to wholeness — to realizing our full potential as children of God and to the life abundant which is our inheritance. It is a change that isn’t about making us someone we’re not but making us more authentically who we are.

Second Sunday of Lent: Listening To Him

Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them; from the cloud came a voice, ‘This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.’ Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them. As they were coming down from the mountain, he charged them not to relate what they had seen to anyone, except when the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant.
(Mark 9:7-10).

This week’s Gospel reading offers us a brief look at God’s glory at a moment when Jesus was speaking of his coming passion, which was the focus of conversation immediately before and after the event described in this passage. Jesus had brought to this mountaintop several of the disciples, who had just learned that he would suffer, die, and, three days later, rise from the dead.. Jesus was transfigured before their eyes, and they were left awestruck. The voice of God proclaimed, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him” (Mark 9:7).

The disciples were given a glimpse of the glory of God, and then were charged with the task of listening to Jesus. They listened even as he was rejected, as he suffered, and as he was put to death. They listened to Jesus and knew that even death would not defeat him, for he would be raised from the dead. The disciples continued to listen to the risen Christ until the day they too would share fully in his glory.

Just as the disciples were charged with the task of listening to Christ, we are also invited to listen. Through the events of our lives, however ordinary or extraordinary they may be, Christ is present and calling out to us. Christ is in our walking and talking, in our daily encounters, and in our travels.

Christ is present, but are we listening?

Christ often speaks to us through those who have no voice in our world. He speaks through the poor, the elderly, the prisoner, and the immigrant. We may listen to Christ speaking through our friends and family, but do we listen to Christ in the rejected, the lonely, and the outcast?

Where or how is Christ speaking to you at this point in your life? Are you listening?

Adapted from Word on the Go, a downloadable resource from RENEW International

First Sunday of Lent

At the beginning of Lent there is the unique opportunity to enter a short season where we might be able to respond in a new way to the world. Many psychologists suggest 6 weeks is the ideal length of time to break a habit and pick up a new one. It is as if God invented Lent specifically to give ourselves the perfect chance of renewal and transformation.

Jesus spends forty days and nights in the desert fasting and praying. At the end of his experience he would have been hungry, would have sought companionship, would have been wanting a shower and a haircut! After forty days alone, he was vulnerable, ripe for temptation. so the devil was smart; he knew how to hit Jesus where he was most vulnerable; he tried to allure him with tantalizing temptations.

Temptations come when we are most vulnerable. It is an enticement to put our own desires and needs first, to give into our impulses without considering too seriously the consequences. Resisting temptation is resisting self-centeredness! Like Jesus, we must choose to surrender ourselves to God who alone should be the center of our lives.

The dust that shapes the journey, the cross that guides it, the color that surrounds it, the light that fades through it, the word that foretells it, The wilderness that invites it. This is Lent, and into it’s wilderness God calls us.

Adapted from Renew International: Prayer Time Cycle A

Love Your Enemies

Face it. We don’t like everyone we meet and many people don’t like us. It’s the way of the world. But, as Christians, we are called to a higher code of conduct. While we have hurt or broken relationships, even people have to “love” from a distance, how we treat them speaks volumes about our faith and our character. The trick for these distant people is to keep the door of reconciliation open. Maybe, someday, there will be forgiveness and healing. If we cannot give these people friendship, at least we can pray for them. If we must keep our distance for our own mental health, at least we can hope for a change of heart.

In our Gospel, Jesus speaks of Christian justice, not the justice of retribution, but the justice of the Kingdom. Not an “eye for an eye” but a way to show others the path to God. He shows us the way to love.

Be perfect as your Father is heaven is perfect. This verse is the capstone for Jesus’ teaching on the Law. He has taught us and shown us who God really is. To be perfect is to bring to completion. We are to teach and treat others the way Jesus does. We are to care for others the way God cares for us (both the good and the evil, the righteous and the unjust) all the time (for the sun shines and the rain pours on both), even to the point of loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us. This is a tall order, but at least we can try. For, as Christians, we are Christ for others. We teach others the way to live by our words and actions; in doing so, we reveal God. In other words, being “perfect” really means we are steady on the journey toward the fullness of Life.

Adapted from Renew International:Prayer Time Cycle A

Embrace A Larger Ethic

Importance of Ethics Education in Military Training

Sgt. Maj. Florian Emonet

Master Sgt. Lou Spinazze, senior enlisted leader for the Police Advisory Team for Train, Advise and Assist Command-South, talks with Afghan senior enlisted leaders, May 25, 2018, during a meeting at the Regional Military Training Center-Kandahar, Afghanistan. TAAC-South is composed of Soldiers from the 40th Infantry Division, California National Guard and the 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division. (U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Neysa Canfield/TAAC-South PAO)

Throughout the decades, ethics education has been a growing topic in many armed forces worldwide. Traditionally, armed forces provided ethics education in senior-level academies with a focus on officer and senior noncommissioned officers. But the new approach to modern ethics training is to ensure an ethical leadership and decision-making process at all levels by targeting entry-level military members. Soldiers at every level have to assess options and make decisions quickly (Baker, 2015). To increase military effectiveness, armed forces must implement an education on ethics in the basic training of all officers and enlisted personnel.

The Ethical Capacities of a Private

Military ethics, like medical or media ethics, are a core capacity that every service member should gain, develop, and enhance throughout their career. The primary purpose of ethics education is to provide individuals with the capacity to morally distinguish right from wrong when laws are no longer helpful. It does not intend to transform the junior Soldier into a philosopher, but instead provide rhetorical questioning skills that help them make informed decisions. At the onset, the teaching portion must be tangible. The most effective method to achieve this is to base the instruction on case studies (Micewski, 2016). The student uses the situations discussed as a reference for future difficult decision-making. Those decisions can be complex, either due to the intricacy of the parameters or the possible consequences. Many ethical decisions will have an integrity component included, but this type of multi-faceted approach is essential in a ground-level reformation of educational principles.

Identification

Soldiers will deepen their sense of patriotism if they think all actions associated with their nation are just and fair. This sense of duty helps Soldiers overcome their fears when danger is present. Pride in their country helps them choose the mission outcome above the need for their own safety. The importance of a Soldier’s acts and its far reach was best acknowledged by President Abraham Lincoln in his Gettysburg Address in 1863:

We can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here. (Lincoln, Bancroft Copy section, para. 4)

Prevention

An ethical education promotes building strong morals, which prevents internal and external misconduct. Sometimes peer pressure, or the will to show obedience can lead to the acceptance of misbehavior. Many programs are designed to eliminate inappropriate behaviors. In the U.S. Army, programs like Sexual Harassment/Assault Response & Prevention (SHARP) (U.S. Army, n.d.) or Not in my Squad (NIMS) (CAPE, 2017) seek to build the capacity of military personnel to make ethical choices, like the decision to not accept misbehavior, and to report such incidents. A success factor for prevention programs is the capacity of Soldiers to recognize that something is wrong and to act against it. Such action needs strong personal ethics and courage.

Ethics education also helps people to rationalize when the mission imperatives are in contradiction with the personal values of the individual. Knowing that a difficult decision is ethically right helps to cope and support psychological sequelae prevention (Reger & Skopp, 2012). It might also prevent disobedience in other cases. A modern example of correct ethical behavior was depicted in the movie (and book) Lone Survivor, based on the true story of Marcus Luttrell and his 4-man Navy SEAL team, in which the decision of an officer to save the life of an innocent civilian had fatal repercussions on the team and prevented mission success, while still being ethically correct (Berg, 2013).

Did you recently receive an official Article 32 Investigation Hearing summons? Were you charged with a crime and served a notice of general, summary, or special court martial? Our military law firm handles court martial cases, defending service men and women across Texas, California, Arizona, Louisiana, Florida, and the USA. Our military lawyers defend people deployed or stationed overseas globally including middle east locations like Afghanistan and Iraq; locations in Asia like Japan and South Korea; and in Europe.

DON’T GET PUSHED INTO A PLEA DEAL IF YOU ARE NOT GUILTY!

Your chain of command or others may all be putting pressure on you to accept a plea bargain in a court martial proceeding. It may even make sense for some servicemen and servicewomen who want out and don’t care about the lifelong consequences of a court martial conviction. I urge you to contact a court martial lawyer who can defend you aggressively. I have decades of experience defending clients facing courts martial, in addition to experience as a Court Martial Judge Advocate and member of the US Marine Corps.

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EXPERIENCED COURTS MARTIAL DEFENSE

Military criminal attorney Patrick J. McLain has skillfully handled hundreds of officer misconduct court martials, positive UAs, drug charges, and court martial appeal cases in his career. Our commitment is to fight with honor for your acquittal and to minimize the negative consequences to your future in all types of summary, special and general courts martial defense cases.

CASES ELIGIBLE FOR COURTS MARTIAL

In general, just about any violation of UCMJ code, or allegation thereof, is eligible for prosecution via court martial. Some of the charges heard in a court martial that you will need a defense attorney for are below.

Fraud and Larceny: fraud and larceny charges in the military include robbery, theft of government property, theft by deceit, conspiracy to defraud the military, etc.
Sex Offenses: rape, sexual assault, solicitation, child pornography, etc.
Drug Crimes: drug charges defended in court martial include possession, distribution or sale of marijuana, meth, cocaine or other illegal substances as well as refusing or failing mandatory urinalysis (UA) testing
Conduct Offenses: insubordination, unauthorized absence (AWOL), fraternization, adultery, etc.
War Crimes: violating rules of engagement (ROE), rules of war, Geneva Convention, etc.
Assault and Violent Crime: simple assault, assaulting an officer, arson, murder, manslaughter, etc.

Salt and Light

The path to leadership is a hard one. True leaders are committed to a goal or a cause. They are also willing to sacrifice time, talent, and treasure for their passion. They gather as many followers by their example as by their ideals. In fact, many measure leaders’ goals and passion by their example. Do they merely talk? Or are they willing to walk the path?

In one sense, a follower becomes a leader the moment he or she makes a commitment beyond the norm. At that point, the easy way becomes difficult. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus honored his followers who took the hard way, those who lived out the Beatitudes. Those who sacrificed for the Kingdom would be the salt of the earth and light to the world.

In 5:13, the salt referred to the leveling agent for paddies made from animal manure, the fuel for outdoor ovens used in the time of Jesus. Young family members would form paddies with animal dung, mix in salt from a salt block into the paddies, and let the paddies dry in the sun. When the fuel paddies were light in an oven, the mixed-in salt would help the paddies burn longer, with a more even heat. When the family spent the salt block, they would throw it out onto the road to harden a muddy surface.

Jesus saw his followers as leveling agents in an impure world. Their example would keep the fire of faith alive even under stress. Their example would spread faith to those mired in the cultural “dung.” But if their example rang empty, they were worthless; they would be dug into the mud under the heels of critics. [5:13]

Jesus also saw his followers as the light of a fire to the world. Placing a light fire under a basket would put the fire out. No, like a city high on a hill, the fire should be placed for all to see. So, one cannot hide faith by inaction. One must show faith in action for all to see, so those seeing the witness can be brought to faith and praise God. [5:14-16].

In essence, Jesus told his followers they cannot have it both ways. One cannot believe as a Christian, yet act as if faith did not matter. Faith leads to action and the action points to the Kingdom.

We followers of Christ become leaders when we try to answer one question. What difference has Christ made in our lives? But in a world of multiple voices and a myriad of distractions, getting the attention of our intended audience is difficult. How do we get that attention? The risk of example. To do something beyond the norm. Something that points to Christ. This is a hard, difficult road to travel for it entails doing the different, doing the unusual. It means putting our reputation on the line. But the reward is the glory of God. That is a goal worth the risk.

Adapted Renew International Prayer Time Cycle A

Presentation Of The Lord

Another Christmas has passed. The glow of the season dimly lingers on. While many pack up their lights for another season, others want to hold on, even for the briefest moments, to the promise of Christmas. Peace on earth. Goodwill toward all people.

To those who know Christ firmly hold that the Spirit of the season lives on, for that peace and goodwill is Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, the Spirit of Christmas not only lingers, it grows stronger. For God favors his child with wisdom and grace. And through his child he favors us all.

In Luke’s gospel, Joseph and Mary brought the child Jesus to the Temple for two reasons: the child’s presentation and the mother’s purification. Luke used the ceremonies, the place, and the witnesses to further proclaim Jesus as the Christ.

According to Leviticus 12:3-4, boys were circumcised eight days after birth.. According to Jewish tradition, this ceremony declared the son legitimate (i.e., “presented”) before God and the community. [2:22-23] A child’s mother was unclean for thirty-three days. Only after that period could the mother celebrate the rite of purification with an offering. [2:24] While Luke referred to the circumcision of Jesus eight days after his birth in 2:21, he combined the presentation aspect of circumcision with the purification of Mary in one ceremony, extending it to the family (see 2:22; “their cleansing”). Luke, in fact, used the purification ceremony to emphasize the presentation of Jesus, just as Hannah presented (i.e., dedicated) Samuel to God at the Temple (1 Samuel 1:22-28). The question remained, what type of service would Jesus give? Luke portrayed the rituals in the Temple to advance his theme. Jesus would serve God as the Jewish Christ of the underclass.

The monologue of the witnesses emphasized the messianic theme. Simeon, the Spirit-filled man, announced this child as the promised One who would bring about the Day of Judgement (when the nation would be saved). Simeon prayed to see the Messiah. The Spirit assured him that his prayer would be answered. [2:25-26] His Canticle was a prayer of thanks and proclamation. The child he held in his arms brought him God’s peace (his Shalom; see the Translation note for 2:29). For this Simeon gave thanks. But this child was salvation of the nation [2:30] who would return honor to God’s people [2:32]. At the same time, the non-Jews would witness his rising [2:31]. He would enlighten them with God’s wisdom [2:32].

Next, Simeon turned to Mary and proclaimed the child would cause the fall and rising of many. The fall and rising can refer to scandal and faith. It can also refer to condemnation (God’s judgment) and resurrection (his salvation). He would be a sign many opposed, but their actions would reveal their true intent. The scandal-judgment of Jesus would cause Mary deep pain. [2:33-35]

Finally, the people in the scene stressed the underclass, the large majority of those living in the ancient world. Notice those in the passage. The poor Jewish couple, Simeon who did not seem to have family, and the widow Anna who lived alone. While Joseph could support Mary with a trade, Simeon and Anna had no apparent income. As a Spirit-filled man, Simeon followed God’s lead. As a prophetess, Anna acted as social critique and religious icon. While Simeon appeared to live day-to-day, Anna was nearly homeless as a widow (unless her children or her extended family supported her; widows were synonymous with the homeless in the ancient world).

Notice who was not in the passage: priests or other Temple officials. Steeped in money and privilege, these Sadducees would later oppose Jesus in his Temple ministry. In their absence from the passage, Luke emphasized God’s presence with the common people. The Temple aristocrats were not needed as mediators. The child would be the mediator.

The Messiah, the mediator, we await is already here. The Holy Spirit opens our eyes to see this presence here and now in our daily living. Like Simeon and Anna, our very lives exude the expectation of Christ’s redemption and its fulfillment in the here and now when we allow the Spirit to act within us.

Adapted from Renew International Prayer Time Cycle A

The Kingdom of Heaven Is At Hand

Nets corral, confine, capture. Fish are corralled by the nets of fishermen. Hair is confined by the nets worn by cooks. Butterflies are captured by the nets of lepidopterists. In all these cases nets bind. Jesus called the first disciples to leave their nets, to cut the ties binding them to their present way of life. Instead of restricting them, Jesus released them to enter into a new way of looking at themselves, a new way of living, and a new way of ministering.

When John is arrested, Jesus moves to a new place and begins his ministry. When Jesus calls Peter, Andrew, James and John, they drop their nets to follow him. Discipleship is prompted by circumstances around us and persons who enter our lives. Discipleship requires the insight that these circumstances and these persons are calling us to make a move in our life – to go to new places and to take up the new work for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.

We spend our whole life trying to see the great Light that is the Savior of the world. We spend our whole life encountering Jesus, hearing his call and working to be faithful in continuing his ministry.

We practice following Jesus in the simple practical ways, the everyday things of life: the friend who needs a listening ear; the elderly parent who needs a comforting phone call; the sick child who interrupts our sleep. Jesus invites us to turn from ourselves to those in need.

In all of this we move from darkness into a great light. In all of this we are freed to follow Jesus as faithful disciples.

Adapted from Renew Internatiomal Prayer Time Cyle A

Behold!

See and understand, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!
John 1:29

When John the Baptist came, preaching repentance and offering baptism, the religious establishment were quick to try and define who he was. He repeatedly had to assert who he was not – not the Christ, not Elijah, not the Prophet. All he would say of himself was that he was preparing for someone, someone greater than himself.

Then when Jesus comes towards him, his vision clarifies: he knows what Jesus is and for what he has come: ‘the Lamb of God taking away the sin of the world.’ In the midst of witnessing to who Jesus is, John twice affirms his ignorance. His words, ‘I did not know him,’ while looking like a profession of ignorance, are actually shot through with wonder before the mystery. The irony is that it is in wonder before the person of Jesus that John comes to his fullest self- identity: the one who baptised in order to reveal the one who existed before him; the one who saw the Spirit descend and so the one could testify who was the Chosen One of God.

Later in the Gospel, John clarifies his relationship to the Jesus even more. He is the friend of the Bridegroom. His own joy complete in being less before the Christ, he is able to see and testify to who the Christ is: the one who has come down from heaven and who speaks God’s own words and who offers eternal life to the world.

Our society puts great store on having a strong and confident self-image, yet at the same time, there is a pressure to conform to the groups within which we find ourselves. What results is often a person, conflicted and unhappy. In the person of John the Baptist, we see another way to understanding who one is. John was at ease, with uncertainty. He lived peaceably in the dark wonder of mystery and ultimately, it was in relation to the person of Jesus that he found his true identity…as we will ours.

Adapted from Renew International Prayer Time Cycle A

The Baptism of Jesus

If the word ‘righteousness’ doesn’t inspire good feelings within us, it is usually because we have experienced it modified by the word ‘self’. When so modified, it becomes a perversion of its very meaning. In essence, the word ‘righteousness’ refers to right relationship, firstly with God and, flowing from that, with other people. The self-righteous person actually has warped relationships with God and people. Pride deludes them into thinking they understand God and know how other people should live. Such righteousness does not led to love, but rather bludgeons like a blunt instrument.

In Jesus’ baptism by John we see the attitude on which true righteousness is built: humility. John was right, in a sense. He should not have been baptising Jesus. But Jesus was right, in a deeper sense. To achieve what he was to do, to reorder our relationships, both with God and others, he needed to show solidarity with us from the inside. In our flesh, he had to show humbly that he was God-with-us. In his baptism, he comes as a ‘sinner’ from the midst of the people. Later in the Gospel, he will be regarded, condemned and crucified as a ‘sinner’. He showed us this way of humility, so we would be prepared to humble ourselves before God and others.

When we are so humbled, we realize that we do not understand God. Indeed, far from it. We bow down in awe at the mystery of God. Even more, we are overwhelmed at the knowledge that we are the beloved of God, the ones in whom he delights. When we know this of ourselves, we recognise that it is true of others. God loves all, deeply, passionately, with delight. Sharing in the humility of Jesus then, we can hold ourselves on the edge of mystery, and there we are given the power to love as we have been loved.

Adapted from Renew International: PrayerTime Cycle A

Looking For Jesus

Remember the character Waldo, who dressed in a red and white striped shirt, wore a bobble hat and glasses, and could be found hiding in a crowd? Wally, as he was known originally, is the creation of British illustrator Martin Handford, who first drew him in 1986, at the request of his art director at Walker Books. The challenge was to create a character that would stand out and serve as a focal point in Handford’s illustrations of crowds. The result was a lovable time traveler hidden in plain sight and manifested in four-color glory amongst ordinary folks engaged in a variety of activities. Wally is the star of books, video games, a comic strip, and a television series. Wally’s exploits have been reproduced in 29 international versions with localized names (Waldo in North America).

The celebration of the Epiphany of our Lord invites us to look for manifestations of Jesus in the world, in our communities, and in our lives. Jesus has been hidden in plain sight since birth; more than 2000 years later he is still visible yet often obscured by the glaring light and noise of the world’s powers and principalities. His inauspicious birth was not even a blip on the mental radars of the local religious and political leaders of his day until some foreigners showed up bearing gifts for an infant king identified by a star. Jesus’ next manifestation was as a refugee to Egypt, where his family fled to avoid Herod’s subsequent acts of murderous terror upon boy babies who might possibly be a threat to his throne.

Where do we expect to find this new born king and who do we expect him to be? The pattern of our lives is that of the magi: receive God’s revelation, seek the Light, follow the light, encounter the Savior, offer our gifts, pay him homage.

We cannot be limited by our own expectations, but must allow God to lead us to the real destination of our life’s journey-to the Light who is the newborn king. Then we must allow this king to shepherd us in graceful living. The real challenge is about where one’s heart lies. It is about bringing forth what is good and spending ourselves for others. In this way we become light dispelling the darkness, leading others to the Light that never fades. When we become the light, the light goes a long, long way.

Adapted Renew International Prayer Time Cycle A

Epiphany of Our Lord

I received the following in an email and offer it for our reflection today:

Light-giving God –
We are magi on a caravan of lumbering hope, traveling through grinding wind and glaring sun, chill clear nights and skin-baking days.
We come to seek Your light.

We come lumbering in hope, each of us on our own life’s journey
– traveling through times of loneliness and fear,

through heartbreak and anger,
through grief and loss,
through economic uncertainty,
through fear for loved ones caught up in war,
through our own private crises,
through the extended shock of horrific images of hurricanes and genocide,
through struggles with the mental illness of a child,
the disintegration of a parent,

the simple letting go of a child more ready to be an adult
than we are ready to allow their growth,
through the changes in a new marriage,
the welcoming of a new child,
the completion of a degree,
the vision emerging in a new work of art.

We come lumbering in hope on a journey of joys and sorrows.
We come as magi to seek Your light.

But Light-giving God,
we admit that we are also Herod the King,
trembling in fear at the news of the rising of Your light.
We admit that we are afraid that the light of Your truth may indeed rise,
and it may be threatening to us.

Like Herod,
we fear the rise of the truth of the harm we have done to others to build

our own palaces and to fortify our own power;we fear the rise of the truth that lies beneath the political spin we put on our own lives;

we fear to admit to ourselves the truth that may rise within us as we
acknowledge the pain of what we have done to others and what others have
done to us.

Light-giving God,
we come as trembling Herod, afraid of Your light.

But Light-giving God,
we are also magi wrapped in joy to arrive at the manger that cradles Your light.
We greet the rising light that Herod so fears.
We, too, fear this light, this truth.
For here we meet Your light and truth, the truth of our own powerlessness.
We are magi, wise and respected sages.
We are Herod the King, holding wealth and power.

Yet we are no more than this helpless infant,
no more than human flotsam on the tidal wave of time,
human beings, no more and no less.

Light-giving God,
let us sit in stillness in the light of this truth of our powerlessness,
until we can see Your real light cradled here,
until we are enveloped in the assuring light of this truth,
until we shine in the light of the common humanity You reveal to us here.

Light-giving God.
We lumber together in hope as Your church to lift Your Light.
Let the light that we lift be this light visible in the manger.
Let us lift not the light of our congratulation of ourselves,
not the light of belief in our own superiority,
not the light of our belief in our own narrow presuppositions,
not even the light of our own church.

Let us lift the light from You that we can encounter here,
the light of the power You make known to us
in the truth of our powerlessness,
the light we can see as we sit quietly as magi at the manger
learning to be at ease with our common humanity,
learning to be at ease with You.

Let this be the light we lift as a beacon in the darkness we know best.
As we lift that light,
may we too be lifted to know the true power that lies among us
waiting to rise as a beacon of our true hope.
Amen.

Dr. Susan M. (Elli) Elliott
January 9, 2005/revised 2008

The Holy Family

One of the great joys of the Christmas season is to behold the utter joy, innocence, beauty that light up the faces of little children. They are filled with wonder, delight, excitement. Year after year they grow into surer expectation about what happens with family and friends during Christmas. They grow into the family holiday traditions. This feast and these readings remind us that being a “holy” family is a matter of valuing the memories and traditions that make us who we are—a holy family, a holy people.

The Holy Family provides us the model we need. They were faithful and obedient to the traditions that formed who they were. They were also open to God’s astoundingly new in breaking and willing to undergo the change that divine in-breaking invited for their lives. They teach us what it means to be “in [our] Father’s house,” where we learn our religious traditions and form the memories that make us who we are as members of the larger family of God.

They teach us that we really belong to God, and everything about our living must reflect that we are most at home “in [our] Father’s house.” The Holy Family also teaches us to be obedient to the unknown and un-understood things to which God might be calling us. They teach us that our lives are about always growing “in wisdom and age and favor.”

Our families are schools of holiness, for there we learn the memories and traditions that make us who we are and who God wants us to be: holy, God’s beloved children. Holiness is finding the way to be who we are in God’s sight: people of a tradition and people open to God’s new in-breaking.

The familiarity of family life can sometimes blind us to see the goodness in each other. This feast reminds us to open our eyes and be “astonished” at the goodness of each other rather than being anxious about our own concerns. Families grow in holiness when each person in the family—from parents to the smallest child and including anyone extended the hospitality of the family—is treated as a member of God’s family and, therefore, holy. This feast of the Holy Family pushes us to seek ever anew God’s action in our lives and respond with newfound forms of fidelity.

Adapted Renew International Prayer Time Cycle A

Fourth Week of Advent: Annunciation To Joseph

In a Book of Hours created in France in the Middle Ages, there is a depiction of the Nativity that I love. In the foreground, Joseph holds the newborn Jesus on his lap. They lean their heads close toward one another as the donkey and the ox—those animals of the manger who appear in every medieval depiction of Jesus’ arrival—look on. In the background, spent from her labor, Mary is in bed, happily reading a book. Go through Books First and indulge yourself with the beautiful stories.

The medieval artist who created this illuminated page has captured the essence of Joseph. His depiction of Joseph holding his chosen son is deeply grounded in this Sunday’s gospel lection, where Matthew tells us practically everything we know of this man who became the earthly father of God. In this passage from Matthew’s opening chapter, we observe Joseph as he receives his own Annunciation. In his dreaming, he hears from an angel some of the very words that Mary heard in her waking: “Do not be afraid,” the angel tells him, just before announcing the outlandish request that God is making of Joseph.

Last week we heard Mary’s Magnificat, the song she sings in response to Elizabeth’s blessing: the song of the God who does outlandish things in this world. This week we see how the spirit of Mary’s Magnificat echoes in Joseph’s own life. Her song resounds in Joseph’s choice not to send away his pregnant fiancé but rather to cast his lot with her and with the child she will bear. Joseph’s choice mirrors Mary’s own. Each with their own response, Joseph and Mary alike bear witness to the God who reorders, disturbs, unsettles the world—the God who seeks to do this through God’s people. Through us.

The man whom I love has a son, and his son whom I love has changed how I read Joseph’s story. I am intrigued by this Joseph who claimed a child who was not his own, this man who drew a circle of family not only around Mary but also around her son, her Word-made-flesh. I think of Joseph sometimes when I am with Emile, this young man who is replete with words of his own, who, especially as a child, used them endlessly and intensely and who could alternately delight me with his love of words and wear out my contemplative soul with his abundance of them.

I love the love of word play that Emile inherited from his father, how the three of us connect through this, how he surprises me with his turns of phrase: “Have you ever taken a succulent ham on a picnic?” he once asked as a young boy. And then how he could turn words into daggers. As he moved through childhood, Emile dosed me regularly with the reality, with the earthiness, of a boy filled with words that sometimes came with lots of grit.

Emile has mellowed as a teenager, the abundance and intensity of his words settling into a different rhythm. And as he moves into his own life, his own choices, there are times I miss the sound of his voice and the presence of his words. I choose him still, and the message he bears. Ten years since first meeting this man and his child, I still choose this stretching into a vast, unknown terrain that the journey with this father and son calls me to.

Mary was not the only one who chose to leave the life she had thought would be hers. In choosing Mary and her child, in welcoming the Word into his life, Joseph had his own threshold to cross, his own radical yes to say to God. Perhaps on the night of Jesus’ birth, Joseph lifted up a father’s Magnificat in syllables lost to us; perhaps, in a shelter far from home, he wove them into a lullaby for his chosen child.

What are you choosing this day? In your waking, in your dreaming, how are you listening for and attending to the messages and the invitations that are waiting for you?

image: Brother Claude Lane, O.S.B.

Advent: Week Two

Advent is a time of expectation, as we await Christ’s return. In the second week of our Advent journey, Dan Schutte reflects on our call to extend God’s love and mercy to the world around us. This video features the song “Come, Lord Jesus” from Dan Schutte’s collection God With Us, a prayerbook and music for Advent and Christmas.

First Week of Advent: Our Deep Hunger

God has created each of us with a deep down hunger that always longs for something more, even in moments of joy and love. Join Dan Schutte’s Advent journey and reflect on this hunger, which finds fulfillment in God.

This video features the song “Beyond the Moon and Stars,” from Dan Schutte’s collection God With Us, a prayerbook and music for Advent and Christmas.

Feast of Christ The King

Today – this last Sunday of the Church Year – is the Sunday that is called “Christ the King Sunday” or “The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe”. For most of us the image of Christ as King is perhaps troublesome. We live in a democracy after all – and though our democracy may be a constitutional monarchy – our minds can’t quite wrap themselves around the whole concept of kingship, even when it is applied to Christ Jesus.

It may help us to appreciate what Christ the King Sunday is all about if we know a bit about how it came to be.

The title for this Sunday was created fairly recently – in 1925 in fact – by Pope Pius XI. Why did Pope Pius XI create this Sunday and suggest the readings that we have? Quite simply because the church needed the image of Christ the King at that moment in time.

On its first celebration, Mussolini had been the leader of Italy for three years; and a rabble-rouser named Hitler had been out of jail for a year. Hitler’s Nazi party was growing in popularity, and the world lay in a great Depression: a depression that would become far worse over the next fifteen years. In such a time, Pius XI asserted that, nevertheless, with all of those new dictators and false values in the world, Christ is King of the universe.

The feast of Christ the King, then, was and is basically a language thing, a symbol, a metaphor,designed to be a statement of life’s fundamental question for broken times such as ours. The question – who exercises dominion over whom? And the question: Who or what rules our lives and how? If we pick up on that theme, then the feast of Christ the King can makes sense for us today.

Who rules our lives? Who dominates culture? Today we assert the gospel message – the message that Christ is in charge. What makes Christ our King? He gave himself for the sake of others. Here is what it means for us to live under his reign:to give our lives for others. When we forgive those who have hurt us, reach out to those who are trying to change and grow, expand our hearts to welcome those who are marginalized. This is the way Jesus has shown us; this is what Jesus has saved us for; this is the way we embrace the kingdom of God.

Adapted from Renew International, Prayer Time Cycle C

Lion, Wolves and Lambs

With the approach of Advent, we begin to prepare for the new covenant as issued in the birth of Jesus. As Christians, we believe that God’s physical intervention in time and space is the fulfillment of Hebrew prophets; in Isaiah 65, God promises that “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.” This new earth brings a relationship with humanity so close that “Before they call, I will answer, while they are yet speaking, I will hearken to them,” and so peaceful that “The wolf and the lamb shall graze alike, and the lion shall eat hay like the ox” (Isaiah 65:24-25). The psalmist too, rejoices, “for he will rule the world with justice and the people with equity” (Psalm 98:9).

The joy of these scriptures is tempered by Jesus’ assurance that the gospel is essentially divisive in a world where injustice, deceit, and hatred are plentiful. Not only will “nation rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,” but his followers will be persecuted “because of my name.” The contrast of Jesus’ words with Isaiah’s are striking: the savior will bring peace between the lion and lamb, while the gospel is certain to bring persecution and hardship.

Luke’s emphasis on eschatological themes was certainly influenced by the situation in his community, which expected Jesus’ return at any moment, and yet his words continue to speak the truth to contemporary Christians. We still struggle with how to pursue the gospel amidst the reality of sin. The first communities wrestled with this reality and instructed, for example, that those who are “disorderly” be held in community and not rejected: “Do not regard him as an enemy, but admonish him as a brother” (2 Thessalonians 3:15).

We must continually acknowledge that we live our faith as broken people; Christianity does not make us faultless, but compels us to work together despite our limitations. Almost 2,000 years removed, despite recent events, we no longer look for signs of the end of times, but for new beginnings–the beginning of peace, justice, and true community, where one’s faults do not result in exclusion, but accountability and love.

Adapted from Renew International: Renew International: Prayer Time, Cycle C

The Question

How ridiculous we can be sometimes when we argue an untenable position! Children might argue that ice cream makes them strong. Teens might argue that drugs help them feel alive. Adults might argue that cheating on their tax return is just keeping Uncle Sam from wasting their money. Taken to extremes, this way of persuasion is reductio ad absurdum—arguments showing a position cannot be true by showing its implications are not tenable. In this gospel Luke presents us with an altercation between Jesus and the Sadducees about life after death. This is an interesting reductio ad absurdum. By having seven brothers all marry the same woman and die in succession, the Sadducees are trying to show that the very concept of life after death is absurd. How wrong they are!

Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, facing his own imminent death and resurrection. Already in Luke’s gospel Jesus has predicted his death and resurrection (Luke 9:22; 9:44; 18:32-33).Resurrection is not simply coming back to this life; it is the eternal fullness of Life. For the Sadducees, one’s immortality was contingent on having progeny (see, for example, Deut 25:5-6; Gen 38:8), the tradition and context of their argument about marrying and remarrying taken to extremes. Jesus answers them by asserting that there is no marriage and remarriage in heaven because there is no dying in heaven. In heaven, “all are alive,” in perfect union with God. The proof of Jesus’ truth is his own resurrection, his own perfect union with his Father.[Living Liturgy, 2013]

The promise of Jesus’ truth is our resurrection, our perfect union with God, our eternal fullness of Life. Belief in the resurrection brings us to encounter the God “of the living,” for whom “all are alive.” We cannot argue eternal Life because it is beyond our experience. We cannot argue eternal Life because it is mystery, promise, gift.

The basis for this belief is hope. Although hope always has a future orientation about it, when we have confidence in God’s grace to bring about change in us, when we have patience with ourselves while that change comes about, we already have something of the future in the present—we already are living this new, risen Life which is characterized by faithful relationship with God, union with God. The union enabled by risen Life is that of being “children of God” in an everlasting relationship with the living God. This is the core of our hope, borne out by the daily choices we make to be faithful followers of Jesus.

Paschal mystery living means that we live this life in a way that infuses it with the Life that is to come. The dying part of the mystery always reminds us that suffering and death pale in comparison to the categorically new Life that God offers us in Christ.

When we faithfully live our Christian life, like the brothers in the first reading we will meet with controversy. In fact, controversy may be a sign of integrity since truly living the Gospel always precipitates conflict, because Gospel values are so contrary to human selfishness and pride. This doesn’t mean that we go out looking for controversy; it does mean that when controversy happens because of the authenticity of our Christian living, we see through the controversy with hope for eternal Life. This hope is what gives us the courage of our convictions and helps us remain steadfast even to death. And through death to resurrection.

Adapted from Renew international Prayer Time Cycle C

The Humbled Be Exalted

We might chuckle at five-year-old Noah’s boast that he will grow up to be stronger than Daddy. Or cringe at sixteen-year-old Hannah’s bluster that she can text and drive with no problem. Or wonder at coworkers who brag about how deserving they are of a huge raise because they produce more than anyone else. Only time will tell if Noah, Hannah, or the coworkers actually reach what they tout. In any case, at the time of the self-praise what tends to run through our minds is that these people don’t know themselves very well. Life is about growing in self-knowledge. Prayer is the ingredient that brings honesty and accuracy to our self-knowledge.

Both the Pharisee and tax collector addressed God in prayer. The content of their prayer, however, differed greatly. The Pharisee’s prayer was about himself and was turned toward self; his prayer was about justifying himself. The tax collector’s prayer, by contrast, was turned toward God in the true self-knowledge of who he was. Jesus declared the tax collector justified, not the Pharisee. Jesus tells us that we are “justified” when we know who we are before God and open ourselves in humility to receive God’s mercy. Justification—right relationship with God—comes only from knowing ourselves as God knows us. The message Jesus teaches in this gospel is that justification comes not to those who consider themselves righteous, but to those who humbly acknowledge their need for God’s mercy. [Living Liturgy, 2013]

Let’s be honest: Sometimes when we pray we are like the Pharisee, and at other times we are like the tax collector. We are like the Pharisee when we presume we are in right relation with God and others and refuse to acknowledge truthfully our own failings and weaknesses. We are like the tax collector when we acknowledge who we really are and recognize our need for God’s mercy.

So both can teach us something. The Pharisee can teach us that religious practices are important, but not enough. They must always be performed with humility and with the goal of deepening our relationship with God. The tax collector can teach us that God doesn’t offer salvation to the perfect, but to those who acknowledge their sinfulness and cry out for God’s mercy. Like the tax collector, we must let God be God and receive the mercy offered. Though sinners, God exalts those who are in right relationship. Rather than focus unduly on our own sinfulness, we need to turn to God and ask for mercy.

Adapted from Renew International: Prayer Time Cycle C

Pray Always

In this gospel, every character mentioned is seeking justice. Justice as jurisprudence seeks to uphold the rights of all, to balance out differences, to apply uniformly principles of behavior and treatment. In our nation’s justice system, the widow of the gospel would probably be held in contempt of court for pestering the judge. The judge would probably be tried for corruption because of his dishonest ways of dealing with people. The widow seeks justice out of need; the judge renders justice out of exasperation. The widow’s persistence finally breaks down the judge. She has her day in court. She wins. And that seems to be the end of the story.

We do not know what happens to the widow after she wins her case. But this is not the end of the gospel story. If, as humans, we seek to balance fairness, then how much more might we expect from God! God bestows justice out of love for God’s “chosen ones / who call out to him day and night.” The widow had a legal relationship with the judge that ended the moment he rendered a decision. Our persistence in prayer brings far more than some transitory alleviation of a wrong. We have a personal relationship with God that continually deepens as we “pray always.” God renders divine justice—divine-human relationship—out of the nature of who God is.

God faithfully hears and answers our prayer, “securing the rights of his chosen ones.” What are these rights? To be heard by God. To be answered by God. To be loved by God into the fullness of divine-human relationship. Persistence in prayer is such a small price to pay for the most Life-giving relationship we can have!

For many setting aside any definite time for prayer during the day may seem all but impossible, especially if we are talking about ten or fifteen uninterrupted minutes. Persistence in praying always might need to take the form in our lives of developing the habit of being aware of God’s abiding Presence and blessings even in our busyness. It might mean that we learn to catch little moments for prayer (like we sometimes are able to catch moments for catnaps)—while driving to pick up the youngsters or waiting in a checkout line.

The place and manner of prayer aren’t nearly so important as the fact that we pray—always and without ceasing. This prayer sustains our relationship with a God who loves beyond measure.

Adapted from Renew International Prayer Time Cycle C

Your Faith Has Saved You

In this gospel Jesus tells the one leper who returns to give him thanks for being healed that “your faith has saved you.” What amazing words to speak to a leper, one who is removed from family and community, one who is an outcast! For Jesus, there are no outcasts. Yet only one of the ten demonstrates that being saved is being healed, is returning to the Healer, is glorifying God, is falling at the feet of Jesus, is giving thanks. Only one shows us how faith saves. Faith is not static; it is dynamic, unfolding in various movements.

The grateful leper, through his actions, teaches us much. We learn that salvation is not freedom from disease, but a new relationship with Jesus. We learn how faith saves: by being in intimate relationship with Jesus, our Healer.

The leper was healed while “Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem.” This is what happens to us when by paschal mystery living we walk with Jesus to Jerusalem: on the way we are healed of our infirmities. Gratitude is an expression of paschal mystery living because by giving thanks we acknowledge our own indebtedness—we are poor and everything we are and are becoming is because God has raised us up. [Living Liturgy, 2013]

What are our diseases that make us cry out, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!”? We may suffer the “diseases” of racism, indifference, arrogance, lust, self-centeredness, self-indulgence, self-righteousness. The dynamic that saves us is awareness that we are unhealthy, desire for healing, trust that God will heal us, gratitude for the grace God works in us, faith in the divine Healer. To what lengths will we go for this kind of healing?

By living Jesus’ dying and rising in our own simple everyday tasks, we render God the greatest thanks and worship because our lives become like that of the divine Son. Our thanks is manifestation of God’s salvation.